#the assassin���s blade

[swallowtail-ageha]

[mcphotovirtual]

[joncronshawauthor]

📖 Deep Dive into Writing & Engaging Reads | Author Diary - November 15, 2024🖋️📚

 Progress on “Blade of Sorrows”: This week, I reached a new milestone in the writing of “Blade of Sorrows,” the third book in the Guild of Assassins series. I’ve now penned 40,000 words, diving deeper into the intricate plot and complex character dynamics that define this series. 📘 Patreon Updates: I’ve been actively engaging with my Patreon supporters by sharing early chapters of “Forged in…

[meltotheany]

Goodreads | Amazon US | B&N | Blackwell’s | Bookshop 1.) Throne of Glass ★★ 2.) Crown of Midnight ★★★★ [2024 reread] ★★★ this is an anthology, short story collection, of five tales set prior to the events in throne of glass. they are told in chronological order, with each one building off the previous one, and ultimately showing us how celaena ended up in the salt mines when we meet her for the very first time. we also get introduced to a lot of characters who we will meet in this universe, with some backstory on how celaena met them for the very first time. ultimately, i did enjoy this, and i truly just enjoy the project of this – i wish more authors would give me short stories set in worlds, with characters, that i already am established with and love. yet, i don’t think they add too much to the throne of glass world. sometimes it felt like they were really just showcasing how celaena is a good person and sjm really, really just wants the reader to know that, but i still had a fun time reading these. i do think they add to the overall series, and i do recommend you read these, but the enjoyment is for sure going to vary from reader to reader – more than most reading experiences, i feel. down below i break down each short story in this anthology, give them individual star ratings, and list their trigger and content warnings! (my favorite being the assassin and the healer, because i am a yrene fangirl, and my least favorite probably being the assassin and the underworld, because celaena was just being too annoying in it for me lol.) ━━♡ 0.1) The Assassin and the Pirate Lord ★★★ this first short story starts off in an assassin’s guild, two years before the events of tog, and where an emergency meeting is being held by the king of assassins himself, arobynn. someone is murdering assassins, and celaena and sam are tasked with a mission to go to skulls bay, have a meeting with the pirate lord, and give him a sealed letter from arobynn himself. yet, when they get to skulls bay, they realize there is a much more heartbreaking situation going on, and sam and celaena decide to do something about it all on their own, regardless of the costs. i really liked seeing sam and celaena start to get to know each other, and start to figure out the people they want to be together, too. i also loved seeing the skulls bay setting, and why the location is the way it is currently in the book series, because of the actions in this novella. i wont lie, this read a little too white savior in 2024, but i still enjoyed reading this opener in this anthology collection, and it setting the tone for what is to come. tw/cw: death, loss of a friend, grief, slavery, human trafficking (with an emphasis on children, as well), captivity, fighting/battle, explosions, violence, blood ━━♡ 0.2) The Assassin and the Healer ★★★★ please know i am truly screaming at my 2016 review for this short story because i was fully like “this is filler, who is this girl?” lol. oh sweet summer, me shipping celaena and chaol, so hard i didn’t see the dots were dotting right before my eyes, child. this short story takes place obviously after the first, but we get to see how arobynn punished celaena for her actions in skulls bay, and continuing to punish her by sending her to train in the red desert. but while she is waiting for her boat, she is staying at an inn where she helps a worker. And that worker? ends up playing a very big role in the rest of the series. yrene towers is a healer, stuck in a small port town, while hiding her magic that is now outlawed. this story switches povs between the two women, and it was just really heartwarming. i really do love yrene, and just seeing her really want to master her gift that was passed down from all the women in her family at a healer academy, and just really want to heal and make the world a better place – it just gave me all the feels. i for sure appreciated this novella more in 2024. tw/cw: extreme physical abuse in past, abusive relations...

[bookthorns]

MARCH WRAP UP | what if i read every sjm book in one month? haha no but srsly

Hey friends, welcome to or welcome back to my blog! I started this month not really knowing what I wanted to read and then all of a sudden I got the urge to reread the ACOTAR series but I didn’t have the first book on audio (at the time) so I ended up putting it on hold on Libby (I think I was 103rd in line??? 💀). But, that put me in a weird hyperfixation position because all I could think about…

[kinhagamer]

[Para Jogar] 12 games que joguei essa semana [PC/Xbox/Playstation]

Nada como um feriado para colocar a vida em dia, digo os jogos em dia. E nada como o Game Pass para acabar com o que me restava de vida social. Testei vários jogos, alguns gostei e empolguei outros abandonei, não quer dizer que eram ruins, mas só que não fazem meu tipo, de jogo, claro. Assassin’s Creed Mirage Recomendo! Assassin’s Creed é uma das minhas franquias favoritas, então sou suspeita.…

[buckyalpine]

18+ AF Minors dni. Just a lil smutty thought with a scene I imagined. Bucky finds out Tony updated the security system for the compound and upgraded all the cameras to HD quality.

"So what you're saying is that footage would've recorded everything in the kitchen from morning to evening and the middle of the night...everything?" Bucky shuffled by Tony's desk after everyone had left the briefing about the latest Stark tech. Everyone's phones w

"Yes grandpa, that's how a security system works" Tony snorted while Bucky hummed, his mind still wandering.

"Yeah but....everything..in full detail? Including sound?"

"Yes, why, what are you doing in the kitchen" He cocked his head in confusion while the super soldier gave him a blank stare, only blinking twice in response, his cheeks growing redder with each passing second.

"Oh"

"OH"

Bucky scrambled out of the room, leaving behind a cackling Tony, his fingers desperately tapping his phone to unlock and check the security archives. He locked himself in his room, his stomach already churning when he saw the date of the video still very much accessible, dragging his finger to find the exact time-

"FUCK Sergeant!!" Bucky nearly flung the phone, quickly lowering the volume of the video, your loud, slutty moans and fucked out face clear as day. "P-please Sergeant, harder!"

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

What had started off as wholesome date night had turned into something else by the time Bucky had you alone in the compound. He'd struggled to keep his hand to himself all night with the dress you were wearing and it didn't help that the waiter at dinner shamelessly flirted with you the entire time. You didn't entertain it but it didn't stop the former assassin from growing jealous, itching to remind you who you belonged to by the end of the night.

You'd gone by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and the sight of you leaning over the counter to fill your cup was enough to break Bucky's resolve. His bedroom could wait.

"Princess" Bucky swallowed thickly hearing his voice dripping with possessiveness, watching himself cage you against the counter, purring in your ear. He could see you shiver as his lips trail up the column of your neck, preening as he licked your skin, pressing his achingly hard erection against your ass.

"B-Bucky" You whimpered, squeaking at the spank he gave you, clicking his tongue.

"Try again, baby"

"Sergeant Barnes" Your voice melted into a moan as he hummed, taking his time slipping your dress up over your hips to give himself a perfect view of your lacy covered cunt.

Bucky fully intended on deleting the video. He was going to highlight the section and get rid of it for good. He desperately tried to ignore the way his cock stirred the longer he watched, unable to tear his eyes off the way you were bent over the kitchen counter like such a good girl, waiting for him to do something.

"That's right. Your Sergeant" The clink of his belt hitting the floor made you whine. He wasn't interested in prepping you, no foreplay, this was pure possessiveness, every vein in his body itching to own you. "You're a little slut for your Sergeant, aren't you princess?"

"M'your slut" you nodded, gasping at the tear of your panties, the lacy material tossed to the side.

"Let me show I fuck my slut" Bucky didn't give you a second to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, your hips bumping against the marble countertop.

"S-SERGEANT BAR-NES!-" Bucky slapped his hand over your mouth, your broken screams muffled against his palm.

"Take it" He growled, his other hand pressing against your shoulder blades, purely using you for his pleasure, "You love how your Sergeant fucks you, my perfect little slut, mine"

"Fuck Sergeant!!" You wailed while Bucky snaked his hand to circle your clit, his cock starting to leak at the way you tightened around him. You'd never looked prettier. Your makeup was ruined. Sweat covered your body. Your eyes rolled back. Bucky replayed that part of the video over and over again, finally giving into his heavy cock begging for attention. He gave himself a squeeze hoping it would calm him down but before he knew it, he'd pulled it out and started to tug, precum glistening at the head.

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

"Pleasepleaseplease-fill-me" you slurred, unable to form sentences while Bucky's grunts grw louder, his pace faltering.

"Gonna fill you up with so much cum, you'll feel me in your pussy for days princess" Bucky fucked you like an animal, eyes feral as he kept you caged under him, his heavy balls and hard cock ready to blow, "We'll go back to that restaurant. Have that same waiter try and talk to you while I drip out between your legs. Won't even let you wear panties baby, want you to make a mess on their chair, let them see where I marked you, fuck m'cumming!!"

Bucky tightly held the base of his cock to keep from cumming as he watched himself pump you full, hips stuttering. He couldn't cum yet. Not when he knew what was coming up next. He watched himself pull out of you, cooing at your soft little whimper before decidedly acting like a deranged feral fuck again.

"Shhh, let your Sergeant clean you up again" He smirked, picking you up with 0 effort and setting you down on the counter, spreading your legs apart so he could lick up every bit of cum that dripped out of you, the most salacious sounds filling the room. He greedily lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning at the tasted of his spend mixed with yours, loving that no other man would get to taste something so good. No other man would get to watch their cum drip out of you after filling you past the brim. No other man would get to have you at your most sensitive, cleaning every bit of their cum off you with their face buried between their legs-

"F-fuck" Bucky whimpered, quickly biting his lip to shut himself up but it was no use. His chest heaved, breathy moans growing louder as he jerked himself faster. "Yes, yeah, shit-" Bucky was nearly whining at this point, his hand working at his sensitive cockhead, giving himself quick, hard strokes, "OH FUCKK" Thick ropes of cum spilled from his cock, a steady stream making a mess all over his sheets as he continued to touch himself, rewinding the video to the beginning. His hard cock wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Maybe he wouldn't delete the video just yet.

Later in the groupchat:

Tony: Everyone, please don't check the kitchen footage from two days ago at exactly 1:04 to 1:38

Sam: Why would I check that in the first place

Nat: Wasn't planning on it

Steve: I don't know how to access the footage.

Tony: Trust me. None of you should check that exact time stamp.

Tony: 🙂

*a few minutes later after everyone obviously checked the footage*

Nat: Holy shit.

Sam: BARNES YOU DIRTY DOG

Nat: That's hot

Steve: Tony, I still can't access the footage.

Sam: YALL ARE NASTY

Steve: Who is nasty?

Sam: I love it though

Y/n: 😏He's the best sergeant

Sam: HAHAHA

Nat: You guys are so cute 🥺️🥺️

Bucky: I hate you all

Sam: What you gonna do about it Sergeant

-Bucky has left the chat-

Steve: Why did Bucky leave

[brawler1993]

The Entertainment Dome Episode 220 - At Least They Had Spider-Man

This week on The Entertainment Dome, our plan to only briefly talk about the recent PlayStation showcase turns into a full discussion about what was announced and how we found the whole thing incredibly underwhelming.

[sttoru]

‘your lover may not be the best in showing his affection for you, but when he does try, it’s always in the ways you least expect.’

☀︎｜tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, slight angst, suggestive. subtly implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). size difference. mentions of hickeys. reader gets called ‘princess / little girl.’ based on an anon request.

“am home.” toji announces under his breath after locking the front door. he kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom. as expected, you were there, body wrapped in a thick blanket to protect it from the recently cold temperatures.

you smile and toji’s fatigue becomes nonexistent. it was like he hadn’t just fought for his life for almost two hours straight — making money to quite literally survive. and to provide for you in the best way he could.

“ah, hi, babe! welcome hom—” your sentence was cut short by a heavy weight settling down atop your chest. toji’s body presses you back into the mattress, big hands instantly searching for their desired destination; that being your waist.

his warm breath - the heavy sigh that carried his worries - instantly softens the look in your eyes. it was this vulnerable side of your lover that you adored most. it wasn’t a sight you got to see often after all.

toji wordlessly attaches his lips to your exposed neck as he withdraws the blanket from your body. even though he has yet to utter a single word to you, his actions told you all, “missed you, toji.”

he mumbles something incoherent in response which you could guess were words of acknowledgement. you were ticklish, your skin tingling with every peck left by the dark-haired man whom you loved dearly.

“were ya waitin’ for me?” toji’s voice was muffled, his mouth busy kissing and sucking your skin. his rough fingers move under your clothes and run up to your shoulders—freeing them from the straps of your top.

you tilt your head to the right so he could gain more access to your skin. you didn’t protest nor said anything about toji’s sudden display of affection. you rub his back and allow a hum of satisfaction to escape your throat, “mhm. was waiting for you all night.”

your voice sounds like a soothing lullaby to the older man. a heavy breath leaves his lips and his sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulder blades abruptly come to a halt.

toji rests his head in the crook of your neck. the pad of his thumb travels up and down the marks he had left—his saliva subtly glistening under the light from the bedside lamp.

“tsk. i told ya not to stay up f’me, princess.” your lover grumbles with his tired eyes half-closed, fingers not stopping their rubbing motion, “but i guess there’s no point in tellin’ you that right now.”

toji still can’t understand why you go to great lengths to show your love for him. he’s a cold hearted assassin, a man whom is feared by many including his own clan and yet you love him unconditionally.

despite it all — he still appreciates the fact that you stay up to welcome him home. even if he may not directly show that said appreciation.

“‘i told ya not to stay up for me,’” you teasingly mimic toji’s deep voice and can only laugh at your own antics afterwards. however, a sudden pinch to your side makes you squirm and yelp. it didn’t stop there; toji took the opportunity whilst you were caged underneath him to remind you of who’s boss.

soon enough your high pitched squealing and broken giggles is all the noise that fills the room.

“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji grunts as he blocks your futile attempts to escape. he could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your body writhing around the best it could and your little hands trying desperately to push him away.

you shake your head and continuously apologise between loud giggles, vision blurry from the tears of joy. there’s a triumphant smirk on toji’s face once he notices how quickly you gave up your act of confidence, “heh, that’s what i thought.”

one of his hands gathers both of your wrists and effortlessly pins them above your head. with a grin, your lover kisses his way down to your neck again — this time being more passionate.

you take the chance to calm yourself down, chest still heaving with each breath. a pout forms on your lips, but was swiftly replaced by a content smile due to the giddy feeling in your chest.

it’s playful moments like these that remind you of the many reasons why you’ve fallen in love with a man like toji. to others, he might be nothing but a monster—a ruthless and cruel individual—but to you, he’s everything you need and vice versa.

toji’s lips were soft, yet lightly rough to the touch. they’re chapped from the cold temperature he had to withstand when he was outside. you felt bad; you had been laying in bed all night, wrapped up in multiple blankets whilst your lover was quietly suffering.

you know that if you tell toji your current worries, he’ll brush it off with a simple ‘tha’s just how it is’ or a ‘don’t worry ‘bout stuff like that’. still, you cannot help but be concerned about the way he easily disregards his own health.

“toji,” you call out his name as his kisses reach the curve of your breasts. the older man lifts his head in response, eyebrows slightly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

you push down the lump in your throat. your warm hands cup his face and you could feel his stubble prickling your palms. you lower your gaze to the rest of his body — finally getting a good look at his worn out physique.

there were faint droplets of blood hidden right under the collar of his shirt. ones toji probably forgot to wipe away after his mission. his black shirt clings to his torso, the dark spots of sweat subtly evident and the small tears in the fabric proof of his hard work.

you could care less about the fact that toji hadn’t taken a shower before cuddling with you. the first thing he did when stepping into the apartment, was to search for you. that alone told you enough: he needed the comfort your presence brings him — he just didn’t know how to convey that message.

“kiss me.” you whisper and your lover immediately complies with zero hesitation; that’s exactly what he had waited for you to say. his lips crash down onto yours, his large hands hold you by your waist and his tongue brushes against yours like it was the first and last time you’d kiss.

toji’s breath hitches the moment he feels you tenderly scratch his arms with your nails. you always do that to calm his nerves after a stressful day—grazing the tips of your nails back and forth against his bare skin. and it works wonders each time.

“fuck,” the dark-haired man curses in a low tone. his grip tightens on your body and his lips detach from yours. you notice the look in his eyes once he opens them; the look of pure love for you, “i missed you so much — so fuckin’ much.”

you softly giggle at his passionate words and steal another kiss from him before settling back against the pillows. your hands travel upwards to play with his damp hair whilst your legs wrap around his waist.

toji gladly accepts your affection and settles down on top of your body again, careful not to completely crush you with his weight. his face was buried between your breasts, taking in the familiar scent of you which calms him down even more.

“i’m glad you’re back home.” you whisper lovingly whilst continuing to massage his scalp. your tired lover answers with a curt nod and a sigh — this time one of content instead of exhaustion.

“yeah, home.” toji wasn’t referring to your shared apartment. he was referring to you; his forever home. there was an overwhelming amount of love in his heart for you and only you.

if only he could properly express those feelings to you. if only he could express himself.

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[bones4thecats]

Jamil, Leona, Idia and malleus, with a s/o who is like Loid or Yor from Spy family please (where they talk about what their life was like whether the reader is a spy or an assassin)

Having An S/O Similar to Yor Briar

Type of Writing: Request Name: Having An S/O Similar to Yor Briar Characters: Jamil Viper, Leona Kingscholar, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia Requester: @marinahavik

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting something like this in a while. I’ve been busy with some of my family and friends’ issues. Also, due to this reader being inspired by Yor Briar, there are slight spoilers for the Spy x Family manga and anime. Have a great rest of your days/nights!

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Yor Briar! S/O ; An Assassin for the Al-Asim Family

🐍 You’ve been working alongside the Al-Asim family for multiple years, maybe ever since you were a young tot and needed to care for your younger brother

🐍 As one of their top assassins for any suspicious activity at such a young age, many believed you were weaker than them, especially when it was learned you didn’t know many spells, but you were rumored to have a powerful unique spell

🐍 Due to the power you held with this spell, you were put on a mission to watch over the oldest Al-Asim son, Kalim, and help around with your oldest friend, Jamil, when caring for the youthful boy

🐍 Ever since you first joined the two in Night Raven College, you and Jamil quickly became known as the parents of Scarabia

🐍 You were a terrible cook, even worse than Kalim. And Jamil learned this when he sent you a message and asked if you could put the chicken in the oven and he came back to a load of Scarabia students watching as you panicked and tried putting out a load of smoke

🐍 Many fear your anger. Including your boyfriend. This was shown on two occasions;

🐍 You had been watching your younger brother, who was 10, when a Savanaclaw student had come by and began to harass Yuri. And when you noticed that he tried to swipe him with his claws, you took out your golden stiletto-type weapons and held them to his throat, giving him the hardest glare ever. One that caused Leona to look at you with his ears slightly down and his tail fully down in fear

🐍 The second time was when someone had tried to send a duo of flying-blades towards Kalim and Jamil, only for you to knock them back and tackle them down after knocking them around like a ragdoll, much to Kalim’s admiration and Jamil’s slight fear and attraction

🐍 Jamil knows you prefer to be given missions leading you to harm those that harm others, and he respects you for that. Especially when you had stood up and refused a mission due to the need of harming one innocent person, you really were sweet

🐍 He also enjoys watching you interact the younger siblings of Kalim’s and the children around Scarabia and the Scaling Sands, just seeing how sweet and gentle you were with them versus how you were with others was cute to him

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Yor Briar! Reader ; The Sunset Savannah’s Royal Assassin

🦁 When Leona first met you, you had just begun your teachings from the previous assassin from the Kingscholar family. Your training was hard, but it made you feel good that you were going to protect such important and good people

🦁 Leona had just come outside for a nap away from his brother when he saw you using small bamboo-sticks as swords for your training as your sensei went away for a moment to speak to Kifaji

🦁 Ever since he first approached you and asked what you were doing with bamboo, you were inseparable. You both trained together, becoming stronger with both your physicality and with your magical abilities

🦁 He would rather die than admit this, but Leona loves how sweet you are outside of your job. Many guards are professional both in and out of their job, which bored the second-born prince

🦁 But you? You were very serious and seductive when working away, but you outside of it all was very homey. You would smile at him and make him feel like he gained a glimpse of the heavens at that moment

🦁 He loves to flirt with you, seeing how flustered and embarrassed you get makes him laugh. I mean, you basically kill for a living, yet you're nervous about a comment of how beautiful you were?

🦁 When he first saw you cook, he was scared shitless.

🦁 Leona knew you weren't the best at it, but watching as Ruggie and Jack ran in and out with buckets of water and fire-extinguishers made him look at you with dumbfound. Now he knows not to let you cook for his family at any time unless certain you can do it without any kind of fire

🦁 Leona also enjoys seeing you fight with the other Savanaclaw members. He knows that they're strong, and every-time they challenge him for his housewarden position, he has them fight you to prove they could go against him

🦁 He knows you can knock him on his ass, and you know these pups were no match for him. But nobody was going to voice these out loud, now were they?

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Yor Briar! Reader ; Hunter for S.T.Y.X. and Assassin for Shroud House

🎮 You have worked underneath the Shroud family since you were young. And you always heard from your superiors that the heir to the company was pathetic for locking himself away

🎮 Pushing their thoughts away, you had begun to praise the young Idia whenever you saw him working on a project of his. You had even come across him working on his Ortho-project. And seeing as you didn't judge him, rather you sympathized with him, since your younger brother, Yuri, and you were alone without parents, Idia was shocked

🎮 Idia, as you grew together, noticed that you would go out to gather some Blot-Monsters for S.T.Y.X., and when he asked his mother and father about how dangerous it was one day, they looked at each other and chuckled before telling him about his feelings

🎮 You guys are a very flustered couple. While you are by-far more physically affectionate, whenever your boyfriend had a moment of confidence, you become the ball of red underneath the blanket he gave you

🎮 He adores seeing you try helping out Ortho with his errands, but he also learned to put a piece of memory in his brother's metal brain telling him to not allow you to cook. He doesn't need a massive fire in the tech-filled kitchen again...

🎮 Seeing you go from innocent and loving to dangerous and hostile is something that Idia also loves. It makes him feel like he is worth protecting and isn't a complete waste of space. This also makes Ortho happier, his brother's dopamine and serotonin levels are rising!

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Yor Briar! Reader ; Royal Assassin for the Draconia Family

🐉 Malleus has known you for many years, you had first started working for his family a few years prior to your third-year in Night Raven College

🐉 He had seen how you would stand beside his grandmother, Maleficia Draconia, and just observe others while still holding small and daring conversations with others. He also noticed how much of a liking she and Lilia took to you, it was amazing

🐉 Now many can catch the eyes of the Queen of Briar Valley along with the Captain of their Guard. So, when it was announced that you had also caught the eye of the Prince of the land? Oh boy, did everyone believe you were a walking ball of luck

🐉 Your personality is the main reason that Malleus fell for you. You were very sweet and caring for others, despite your role of harming others that tried killing any royal or important members of the court

🐉 He also liked how you refused to harm innocent people. Normally, an assassin wouldn't care who they had to kill as long as they got their pay at the end of the day. But you? You made an important deal with the Queen herself, saying you would never lay your hands upon an innocent person, no matter what

🐉 Malleus also likes how you can defend yourself and how you use this to bond with the others. He holds Lilia, Silver, and Sebek close for a reason. They may not be blood, but they are a part of his family, and seeing you bond with them so well feels amazing

🐉 Whenever he does sleep, he dreams of you messing around with your future children, who are just like you; sweet yet dangerous. And just seeing that black ring on your finger would send his tail into a wagging state as he cuddled up to your back

🐉 And don't get me started on whenever you come out and run into a small child looking for their parent

🐉 That happened when you were taking a small walk with the Prince around the nearby woods, and when the child bumped into your leg, they apologized and told you their story. Seeing you comfort the tiny human and help direct them to their mother warmed his heart

🐉 You were the perfect person for him... there was no denying that

[todoriin]

adore me, hold me and explore me | moze x afab!reader

18+ NSFW, MDNI or i will delete your account, vanilla ass sex, no established relationship, obsessive themes from moze, cunnilingus, p in v, porn no plot

Being Feixiao’s closest advisor means you get to experience various interesting interactions.

Since joining her ranks, you feel as though you’ve lived through countless lifetimes, consulting and strategising with her and Jiaoqiu against formidable foes and expansive armies. You’ve seen the Merlin’s Claw swing her blade and slash countless enemies in half, learnt medicinal techniques from Jiaoqiu that may cure simple illnesses, like the common cold. 

However, the most interesting soul, without a double, is a certain Shadow Guard of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, one you have the pleasure of working with most intimately. Figuratively and… literally.

There’s a creak coming from the windows of your bedroom, the hinges wincing softly as they’re pushed open gently but too wide to be an action of the wind. At this stage, you’re no longer surprised by the stealthiness of the intruder, after all, you had purposefully left the windows open, waiting for the moment an intruder who could coat himself with invisibility would show up. 

Besides, it’s nearing dusk, he promised he’d visit then. 

“Good evening, Moze,” you greet, back turned to him as you look in the mirror, swiping balm over your lips before puckering them. 

A breath of satisfaction leaves you when he finally materialises before you, purple haze clouding out around his silhouette, revealing the usual, skin-tight attire he opts for daily. It’s a shade you’ve grown to love now, seeing it everyday (and taking it off for him a few times a week).

“You look nice,” he comments, words curt but sweet. 

You omit to tell him that you didn’t doll up because you doubt he’ll live longer with that information. “Thank you,” is all you say, smiling up at his reflection. Then, a cold hand comes up to your neck, fingers resting over your pulse as he traces your skin, eventually snaking back to fix your hair.

“The lipstick you wore today also looked nice,” he mumbles, meeting your gaze with his piercing one. 

You turn around in your vanity stool, swinging your legs over to the other side of the seat as you look up at him. His hands move up slightly to cup your jaw, indiscernible eyes gently admiring your features as you look up at him. Here, in your home, he can unwind, a skilled assassin let in to a haven too safe for him and the blood on his hands.

That’s why you’re perfect for him, because you know how to slice a man’s neck and leave him begging for more.

“Did you like it, Moze?”

He’s silent as ever, opting to just play with the strands of your hair. There are moments when Moze is silent because he does not wish to speak, but there are always thoughts circulating in that head of his, you realised that a year into the job when he started providing a sarcastic retort whenever he could. This time he’s silent because he doesn’t know how to respond, rendered speechless as you blink up at him. 

It’s an honour to render a man like him speechless, but you still want to have your fun.

“So quiet, I’ll take it as a no?” You ask, rising from your chair and walking past him. An arm snakes itself around your waist before you could get too far, tugging you right back against the chest of the Shadow Guard. “Use your words, Moze.”

“There are no words worthy enough to describe your beauty.”

Your mouth drops slightly as a sudden shyness creeps up your expression, an uncontrollable smile that you can’t hide behind your hands tugging on your lips. “Smooth talker,” you retort, pushing his chest lightly, but he hardly budges. 

You’re used to being the one to initiate all the conversations, as well as ending them.

“The day must have been treacherous. I’ll make some refreshments for you.”

Just as you turn to go downstairs, he’s once again tugging you back against him. This time, he leads you to the edge of the bed where he sits down with you standing between his legs, now a head shorter than you. Your positions have switched, now it is you running your fingers along the hood he keeps on his head, looking down into his multi-coloured eyes.

“No need for any of those,” he denies, “I am well.”

“Are you sure? No tea, snacks?”

“I have no desire for any of those, only you.”

You look away from him, bashful from his flirtatious words that he says in that serious tone of his. Seriously, how can he say that with a straight face?

“Okay, fine. You can have me,” you mutter and a phantom of a smile appears on his expression, eyes glimmering when you finally give him the indication he’s been waiting for. The thin strap of your top is being dragged down your shoulder and you shudder when he hovers a ghost of a kiss over your pulse point, getting flustered when you then feel him smile against your skin. “Please don’t tease.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” in an instant, your chest is bared to him and his hands creep up to explore the expanse of your body, touch gentle but purposeful, as if he was sculpting your curves himself, careful not to ruin you with any rogue or unwelcome grazes. “I’ll reap what’s mine.”

Then, he yanks your shorts off and cups the back of your thighs. A yelp leaves your lips when he suddenly switches you around so that you are now sat on the edge of the bed, and he, awaiting on his knees before you with hungry eyes.

There’s no time to think because all of a sudden, his mouth is on you, infiltrating your most sensitive part and the whimper that leaves you cannot be held back. You don’t know when your leg got on his shoulder, but it grants him more access as his tongue licks up a slow, torturous swipe up your entrance. 

“Moze!” You exclaim, legs twitching as if trying to kick him away, but he immediately holds you down you, an arm wrapping around your thigh to keep you there. 

You’re his target after all, he won’t stop until he’s through with you.

“Be good and take it,” he says against you, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking and you gulp at the sensation as filthy sounds fill the atmosphere. No matter how many close nights you’ve experienced together, you’ll never get sick of him, grip inhumanely tight to keep you still as you beg for mercy, but the feeling of his mouth is too sweet to push away. The apex of his tongue circles the nub as his spare hand crawls up, collecting the slick from your entrance before two fingers intrude, breaching your walls. 

When he curls them, you know you’re done for, falling against the mattress to try and deal with the onslaught of pleasure that Moze knows how to inflict. It keeps coming in waves and waves, and neither his fingers or tongue lets up. You didn’t even realise you were crying until you felt tears drop down your face and onto the sheets. 

He’s pumping into you, briefly curling and scissoring his fingers, and his ministrations on your clit go from suckling to tracing shapes with the bud; a cruel torture that eventually results in a buildup of tension in your lower abdomen. 

You warn him about your incoming orgasm with a shrill cry of his name and a babble of words that loosely resembles a sentence, and the only thing he says in response is:

“Let go, pretty.”

So you do, mind becoming cloudy, hazed with nothing but the feeling of pleasure. Moze has now swapped his mouth and fingers, tongue lapping up everything you give him, licking you clean whilst his thumb rubs your clit in circles, trying to prod more out of you; a routine choreographed for your demise.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against your core, letting you come down from the high as he presses a few kisses up your stomach. 

His hawkish eyes watches as your expression untwists itself, no longer contorted by overwhelming pleasure. He can’t help the way his gaze then drifts to your chest, how it rises and falls hurriedly, still trying to regain your breath after he stole it. 

Your reverie is interrupted when you feel his tongue licking your entrance once again, folds pulled back by his fingers to bare more of you, and your nerves flinch at the sensation of pleasure enhanced to the maximum. “Moze! Stop!”

He obeys, pulling away immediately, serious expression unchanged save for the little glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.

“Next time,” he gruffly promises. 

Wrapping both of your thighs around his waist, you’re maneuvred further up your mattress by the assassin, completely helpless in his grip as he moves you however he wants. You would not have wanted him to stop anyways. 

Nimble hands shed his clothes and you unabashedly admire the sight between your legs, eyes so brave to wander across a scarred body that none others will get to lay their eyes upon. You trace the curve of his defined torso, how the shadows and light dance along the crevices, enhancing his already-impressive muscles. You leisurely run your gaze further down, following his abs to his cock.

Red and leaking with precum. 

It was intimidating when you first came face-to-face with it, and whilst you’re still impressed by his size, he’s taken care of you through the process every time, walking you through the pain and adaptations whilst being completely patient with you.

You want to prepare and take care of him like he had with you, so without thinking, you reach out and begin stroking him exactly how he likes it and a grunt passes by his lips, composure faltering ever so slightly.

There is no other Moze would bare himself like this to and, as a sign of his own twisted desires, he wants you to think the same of him. He wants you in ways he cannot justify, especially the part of himself that drips with violent and obsessive tendencies.

Should he get too close, he fears he will devour you when neither of you are expecting it.

Although, recently it seems that Moze allows himself to indulge in pleasures that he hadn’t permitted before, and as his hand wraps around your wrist to stop your ministrations, he can’t help but smile at the small pout that graces your lips. Rubbing his erection along your cunt, your slick coats his underside whilst his hand leisurely travels around your torso. Your supple skin hasn’t seen the severities of the battlefield, hasn’t fought and handled the brutality of men and blades like he has; the distinction between the two of you almost makes him seem like a monster.

A monster who wants to hide you from the darkness in which he lives in. 

“What are you grinning at?” You ask from under him.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, lowering his face to yours to press delicate kisses on your skin and you shift impatiently, eyelashes fluttering and hands clenching into fists. 

He notices the subtle action, takes it as sign of desperation that he wants to devour and dissolve into his veins, as if keeping a part of you with him forever. Aligning his cockhead with your entrance, your moan is unrestrained when he finally breaches your walls.

Slowly, Moze bottoms out, hands holding your hips to press you flush against him as you squirm. He doesn’t mind the way you wriggle around trying to adjust to his thickness and length, he’ll patiently hover above you, pressing soothing kisses along your face whilst staying as still as a shadow.

Even as your walls twitch and clench, he doesn’t budge, refusing to move until you are ready for him to. In a way, being connected with you like this makes him feel closer to you, and it brings a sense of peace that he cannot find elsewhere.

You are the source of it, the centrepiece of all his desires and he cannot swallow you down anymore. 

“I’m okay now,” you whimper.

He reels his hips back, almost pulling out before slamming right back into you and you cry loudly. “You sure?”

“More, Moze, please don’t be cruel to me.”

Cruel? He wouldn’t dream of it.

Setting a bearable pace, the room is filled with a cacophony of moans and continuous ‘plap, plap, plap’s of skin meeting skin. You are still the centre of his vision, eyes hardly straying away from your expression and body, keenly watching every microreaction of yours. He notices the way you shut your eyes tighter when he angles a particular way, cock breaching the most sensitive but pleasurable parts of you. 

It’s insatiable, his appetite for you. The only thing he wants to do is bring you to endless highs, over, and over, and over again.

Gradually, his pace speeds up over time, violating your insides with the neverending push-and-pull. Every time his hips snap back to meet yours, cock buried to the hilt, you feel the strands of your sanity slipping away. All you can do is babble his name and whimpers of how good he feels, hands reaching blindly for any part of him that you can hold.

He dives right into your open touch, torso leaning down to now hover directly over yours and the added heat of his body temperature makes you feel even more lucid. His shoulders are so broad, the planes of his chest defined, and stomach so toned that it drives you insane with desire; added with his precise strokes and thick cock, you don’t ever want him to leave. You don’t ever want him to stop. 

“Moze-” his lips are pressed against yours, swallowing the moan of his name and every other small noise you make as his member relentlessly spears you. 

He kisses you again and again, never straying too far, but parting often to let you catch your breath. 

“Moze, I’m-” you cry out in between kisses, “I’m gonna-!”

“Me too,” he gruffly responds, “relax for me, you’re clenching too hard.”

His words have the opposite effect because next thing you know, you’re cumming again, spasming around his cock as his strokes try to lure more out of you, draining you for all you’re worth. When you’re done, all of your nerves are fried, limbs weak and unable to hold themselves up for long without any support, but Moze hasn’t come yet, so all you can do is take his desperate and hurried strokes as he catches up to the last bit of pleasure.

Then, he comes to a halt whilst hot ropes gush into your cunt as he twitches inside you. Suddenly, his teeth latch on to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. 

You catch your breath in unison, waiting for him to finish completely before moving again, and when the final load is emptied, he’s capturing your lips in a kiss again. It’s hot, and your muscles feel like jelly, but he’s still desperate for more of you despite being as humanly close as possible. 

So, only moments after both of you have descended from the peak, he begins moving again, gently shushing any of your protests with a light kiss that breaks down your already weak defences. 

The squelches and plaps this time are obscene as he slowly eases in and out of you, grinding weakly whenever your walls twitch around him, but none of it is enough to quell his desire.

And he won’t stop until he has his fill. 

© todoriin 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site

[joncronshawauthor]

Trial of Thieves - Chapter One (excerpt)

Fedor pressed into the shadows and checked his ravenglass dagger again, its handle icy against his palm. Light played around its edges, the midnight black seeming to bend the world around its form. Fallen leaves, turned to mulch by weeks of rain, squelched under his boots. The smells of damp and rot tickled his nostrils as rainwater dripped a rhythm from rooftops, joining the clatter of…

[novaursa]

Love love LOVE the cycle!! Thank you, both to the anon for the idea, and to you for bringing it to life!

So, what would happen if the reader picked to save Grey Ghost? Or what would happen if Larys (the bastard he is) made the reader choose one, but killed both? What would be the outcome of those different choices 🙈

✨ You are brilliant as always ✨

The Cycle (one for the price of two)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Cregan leaves with his duty to the Wall and you are left alone with a choice Larys Strong brings.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This is an alternative scenario of The Cycle. For a full introduction to the story and an entire understanding of this scenario, please read the first part.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Next part: justice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: ☺️❤️

The cold night air claws at your skin as Larys Strong’s men drag you into the courtyard of Winterfell. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body numb from fear and exhaustion, but your mind is ablaze with the impossibility of the choice laid before you. Eddard, your son, bundled in one of the assassin’s arms, lets out a small, sleepy whimper. The sight of him—so helpless, so unaware of the danger—nearly breaks you.

And there, just beyond, lies Grey Ghost, your dragon, chained and wounded, blood dripping from the deep cuts along his silver scales. He lets out a pained, guttural growl as he senses your presence, but even that fierce sound is muted by his weakness, the loss of strength that has drained him since Rook’s Rest.

Larys stands a few paces away, his thin, cold smile barely concealing his delight in this cruel game. His voice cuts through the wind, smooth and deliberate. “As I said, Lady Stark, a choice must be made. Your son… or your dragon. One will live. One will die.”

Your heart pounds so hard you think it might burst. Every second feels like a lifetime as you glance from Eddard, small and innocent, to Grey Ghost, who has been your faithful companion since you first took to the skies. How can anyone make such a decision? How can you decide who will die and who will live when you love them both with every fiber of your being?

But you know the answer, even as the agony of it burns through you. You look at Eddard, and the choice is made, your love for him overpowering everything else.

“I choose my son,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of the decision. “Please… let him live.”

Larys tilts his head, watching you with those calculating eyes, his lips curling into something resembling a smile. For a brief moment, hope flares in your chest, the faintest flicker of belief that he might actually honor your plea.

“Very well,” he says softly, gesturing to his men.

Relief surges through you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you look at Eddard, your precious boy, the reason for every breath you take. But then—your world shatters in an instant.

Larys turns to the man holding your son and gives him a slight nod. Without hesitation, the man draws his knife, a quick flash of silver in the dim light.

“No!” The scream tears from your throat, raw and desperate as you lunge forward, but it’s too late.

The blade slices through the air, slitting Eddard’s throat with a sickening efficiency. His small body goes limp, his eyes wide with shock and confusion, blood spilling down his neck, soaking into the blankets wrapped around him.

Your knees give out beneath you, collapsing onto the cold stone, a wail of anguish ripping from your chest. You crawl forward, hands shaking as you reach for him, his tiny, lifeless form slipping from the assassin’s grip into your arms. His skin is still warm as you cradle him, your tears mixing with the blood, your sobs breaking the silence of the night.

You can barely think, barely breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to die.

But Larys’s voice cuts through the haze of your grief, sharp and cruel. “You chose poorly, my lady.”

Your head snaps up, disbelief and fury burning in your eyes as you clutch your son’s lifeless body. “You—You said—” Your voice is hoarse, broken.

“I said you had a choice,” Larys says coolly. “I never said I’d honor it.”

A cold wave of realization washes over you, and with it, a burning rage unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “You lying—” Your voice falters, your throat choking on the words.

Grey Ghost lets out a low, rumbling roar, sensing your pain, his own agony and fury mixing with yours through the bond. You can feel his anger, his desire to fight, to break free of the chains that hold him down.

But Larys is not done. With a swift, uncaring gesture, he signals to the men surrounding your dragon. “Kill it.”

“No!” Your scream rips through the air, but you are powerless to stop them. You hold Eddard’s body tightly to your chest as the blades flash again, this time plunging into Grey Ghost’s flesh.

The dragon roars, thrashing weakly against his bonds, his silver scales slick with blood as the swords tear through muscle and bone. You can feel every cut, every wound, as if it were your own, the bond between you straining under the weight of his suffering.

You try to rise, to stop them, but your legs refuse to work, your body frozen in place by the sheer magnitude of your grief and rage. Grey Ghost’s roars grow weaker, each one more agonized than the last until, finally, there is silence. His massive form slumps to the ground, his once-proud wings limp and lifeless, his brilliant silver eyes dull and glassy.

You are left kneeling in the courtyard, the snow beneath you stained red with the blood of your dragon and your son. Your heart, your soul, feels as though it has been ripped from your chest, leaving only a hollow, broken shell in its place.

Larys watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turns and walks away, his men following behind him. “I’ll leave you with your… losses,” he says over his shoulder, his voice cold and distant. “Remember this night, Y/N. It’s what comes to those who stand against us.”

You sit there in the cold, your body shaking with sobs, clutching Eddard’s lifeless form to your chest, your gaze fixed on the still form of Grey Ghost. The fire of vengeance is all that remains, flickering in the ruins of your heart.

They will pay. By the gods, they will pay for this.

Winterfell stands quiet, eerily so, as Cregan rides into the courtyard. The wind bites at his skin, but it’s not the cold that chills him to the bone. It’s the silence. The absence of life in a place that should be filled with the sounds of his people, his family.

He had received no word for days, no ravens from the castle. His duties at the Wall had kept him away, but something in his gut had twisted, telling him that something was wrong. Urgently, he returned to Winterfell, only to find a scene that makes his blood run cold.

His horse’s hooves crunch against the frozen ground, but no one comes to meet him. His brow furrows as he dismounts, his hand automatically reaching for the Ice. Men who should be standing guard are missing, and as he steps further into the yard, the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks.

Grey Ghost.

The dragon lies still, a massive, broken form in the snow, chains wound tightly around its body, blood frozen into the earth beneath him. The beast’s wings are torn, its scales dulled, and there’s no mistaking the finality of its lifeless eyes.

Cregan’s heart sinks, a terrible dread twisting in his gut. His wife’s dragon is dead.

His eyes scan the yard frantically now, searching for any sign of you, his thoughts tumbling wildly. If Grey Ghost has fallen, then what of you? What of his son?

The weight of his worst fears presses down on him as he sprints through the castle, his boots echoing off the empty stone halls. His heart pounds louder than the silence that envelops the castle, every step filled with a rising panic.

Finally, he bursts into the Great Hall—and the sight before him stops his heart completely.

You are sitting in the middle of the hall, on the cold stone floor. In your arms is a small, motionless form, wrapped in bloodstained blankets. Your face is pale, hollow, streaked with tears that have long since dried on your skin. Your eyes are wide, empty, staring down at the lifeless body of your son—your sweet, innocent Eddard.

Cregan’s breath catches in his throat. “Y/N…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he rushes toward you, but you don’t move, don’t react. It’s as if you don’t even hear him.

He kneels before you, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch you, to make sure you’re real. The sight of Eddard—his son—cold and still in your arms, is a punch to his gut, a blow so devastating he feels like the air has been ripped from his lungs.

“No…” His voice cracks, thick with grief as his hands hover over Eddard’s tiny, lifeless body. “Gods, no…”

You blink slowly, as if waking from a nightmare, your gaze lifting to meet his. Your eyes, once so full of fire and life, are dull now, clouded by a sorrow so deep it seems to have swallowed you whole.

“They made me choose,” you say softly, your voice barely audible, as if the weight of what you’ve endured has crushed it. “Larys Strong… he made me choose… between Eddard and Grey Ghost.”

Cregan’s chest tightens painfully. His throat burns, and his hands shake as he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms as gently as he can. “Y/N… my love… I’m so sorry…”

You shudder in his embrace, your tears wetting his cloak as you clutch Eddard closer to your chest. “I chose him,” you choke out. “I chose Eddard… but they killed him anyway. They killed him, Cregan. They killed our son.”

His heart shatters into pieces, the grief hitting him like a wave of ice-cold water. He pulls you tighter against him, his own tears threatening to fall as he holds you and the body of his son, helpless to stop the overwhelming flood of sorrow.

“They killed Grey Ghost too,” you whisper, your voice fragile, broken. “I heard him scream… I felt him die…”

Cregan doesn’t know how to respond, his mind struggling to comprehend the cruelty of it all. The Greens had come for your blood, for vengeance, and they had taken everything. His son, your dragon—both gone. And now, you are a hollow shell of the woman you once were, shattered by a grief so terrible it may never fully heal.

“I will kill them for this,” Cregan vows, his voice low and trembling with barely contained fury. “I will hunt down every one of them, and I will make them pay for what they’ve done. I swear it.”

You don’t respond, just collapse against him, too broken to fight, too numb to even cry anymore. All you can do is hold Eddard’s tiny, lifeless form close, as if somehow you can protect him from any more harm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cregan whispers into your hair, his own tears falling freely now as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The two of you sit there, in the cold emptiness of the Great Hall, cradling the weight of your loss. The world outside is quiet, the snow falling softly, as if the gods themselves mourn what has been taken from you.

But within Cregan’s heart, something hardens. A fire ignites. He will not rest until Larys Strong and the Greens feel the pain they have caused him, feel the agony of every drop of blood they have spilled.

One day, they will pay. One day, Hour of the Wolf will come.

[sunnie-angel]

ahhh this my first time sending an ask! So pumpkin carving + Jason's s/o reader who got murdered somehow (it could be targeted or not) what do you think he'd rage like Achilles? Maybe try bring them back?

i'm so honoured to be your first ask 🥹 fingers crossed that i'll see you in my inbox again in the future. i hope this was what you wanted!

jason todd has always known his capacity for violence could be devastating. apocalyptic. has had that knowledge thrumming in his veins since the day he woke from the dead. but that knowledge has always been tempered by you. you with your sunshine smiles and hands so tender. you hold him back from the abyss, a chain around the snarling beast's muzzle, and he loves you for it.

a bullet, wrong place wrong time wrong target, blots you out. takes all that sunshine and sweetness away. even as you're gasping out your last breaths, you beg him not to lose sight of himself, of the peace that he's earned. but those are promises he cannot keep, not while he's keening and cradling a body that has betrayed him by not housing you anymore.

sing oh muse of rage, but its not the rage of achilles they should be worried about. it's the blood that runs like water through the streets, that decorate the walls of shady warehouses and gang hideouts. it's the man that's rending flesh from bone with his bare hands like its nothing. nothing matters to him anymore. nothing but the promise that even though his killer is still living, yours won't be.

terror grips the city, the kind of noxious toxic fume that not even the bats can put out. there's a new kind of monster out there and he won't rest until the debt's been paid. cronies and henchman all scrambling like rats from sinking ships turn up floating in the harbour. kingpins and commanders in pieces in the gutters. its the kind of chaos that consumes, that eclipses the heartache with the repetitive thunk of fists on flesh, the slick drag of blade against skin.

and then it's over. every last person even tangentially connected to your killer is dead. there's no one else to kill. and every day jason has to wake up to a bed with a cavernous void where you should be, drink from only one mug in a matching set, stumble around the pile of laundry you had been meaning to get to. it's no kind of living.

but there are whispers, whispers in the underground of a pit with special powers, hidden and guarded by a league of mercenaries, of assassins. it scratches at the doors to memories he'd thought long locked away. for good reason. but it's a chance, it's a choice, one he thought he would never have. jason leaves gotham behind, still echoing with his rage, one foot in the grave already and only your closed casket to keep him company.

you can request more head canons as part of sunnie's soft autumn

[felixdragonheartofficial]

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it