#3394
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argonautas
existencia onde eses muros altos do mar
son ese medo a non recoñecerse nos actos
quen che quere entre todo ese pánico á soidade?
aquí tes de novo o mar sen o sal onde es
esa nube de naipes de haber sido auga sen vento
ninguén
© Manoel T, 2023
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#3394
#HON1#3394#230428#OTAKU#Portrait#オタク#ヲタク#メガネ#アラサー#女子#生足#部屋着#働いたら負け#働き方改革#アイマス#デレマス#双葉杏#カップヌードル#割り箸#わりばし#堕落#堕落部屋#部屋#賃貸#クロミ#堅揚げポテト#ファミマル#エルモア#ビオフェルミン#氷結
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働いたら負け
#HON1#3394#3395#3396#230428#230429#230430#OTAKU#Portrait#オタク#ヲタク#メガネ#アラサー#女子#生足#部屋着#働いたら負け#働き方改革#アイマス#デレマス#双葉杏#カップヌードル#割り箸#わりばし#堕落#堕落部屋#部屋#賃貸
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Burgruine Aggstein
Burgruine Aggstein
Die Burgruine Aggstein ist eine bekannte historische Ruine in Niederösterreich, Österreich. Hier sind einige Informationen über die Burgruine Aggstein:
- Lage: Die Burgruine Aggstein liegt im Gemeindegebiet von Schönbühel-Aggsbach, etwa 15 km westlich von Melk und etwa 80 km westlich von Wien. Sie befindet sich auf einem steilen Felsen hoch über der Donau.
- Bedeutung: Im Laufe der Jahrhunderte wechselte die Burg mehrmals den Besitzer und spielte eine wichtige Rolle in der Region. Sie kontrollierte den Handel auf der Donau und bot Schutz vor Feinden.
- Zerstörungen und Wiederaufbau: Im Laufe der Jahrhunderte wurde die Burg mehrfach zerstört und wieder aufgebaut. Insbesondere während der Ungarneinfälle im 15. Jahrhundert und während des Dreißigjährigen Krieges erlitt die Burg schwere Schäden.
- Burgruine heute: Heute ist die Aggstein eine malerische Ruine, die für Besucher zugänglich ist. Die Überreste der Burg bieten einen beeindruckenden Blick auf die Donau und die umliegende Landschaft. Die Ruine ist ein beliebtes Ausflugsziel und zieht viele Touristen an.
- Führungen und Aktivitäten: Während des Besuchs der Burgruine Aggstein können Besucher informative Führungen durch die Überreste der Burg unternehmen, um mehr über ihre Geschichte und ihre Bedeutung zu erfahren.
Es gibt auch verschiedene Veranstaltungen und Aktivitäten, die auf der Burg stattfinden, wie mittelalterliche Feste und Ritterspiele.
Geschichte
Die Geschichte der Burgruine Aggstein reicht bis ins 12. Jahrhundert zurück und ist eng mit dem Adelsgeschlecht der Kuenringer verbunden. Hier ist ein Überblick über die wichtigsten Ereignisse in der Geschichte der Burg:
- Jahrhundert: Die Burg Aggstein wurde vermutlich im 12. Jahrhundert von den Kuenringern erbaut. Die Kuenringer waren ein mächtiges Adelsgeschlecht, das in der Region um die Donau und die Wachau ansässig war.
- Jahrhundert: Die Burg Aggstein spielte eine bedeutende Rolle als strategisch wichtige Verteidigungsanlage und Kontrollpunkt entlang der Donau. Sie diente als Zollstation und sicherte die Handelswege in der Region.
- Jahrhundert: Während der ungarischen Einfälle im 15. Jahrhundert wurde die Burg Aggstein schwer beschädigt und musste wieder aufgebaut werden.
- Jahrhundert: In den nachfolgenden Jahrhunderten wechselte die Burg Aggstein mehrmals den Besitzer und war Schauplatz verschiedener Konflikte.
- Jahrhundert: Während des Dreißigjährigen Krieges im 17. Jahrhundert wurde die Burg erneut beschädigt und verlor zunehmend an Bedeutung.
- und 19. Jahrhundert: Im Laufe des 18. Jahrhunderts und bis ins 19. Jahrhundert hinein verfiel die Burg zunehmend und wurde schließlich aufgegeben.
- Jahrhundert: In den 1920er Jahren wurde mit ersten Restaurierungsarbeiten an der Burgruine Aggstein begonnen, um sie vor weiterem Verfall zu bewahren.
Heute: Die Burgruine ist ein beliebtes Touristenziel und eine malerische Sehenswürdigkeit in der Wachau-Region. Besucher können die Ruinen der ehemaligen Burg besichtigen, die eine beeindruckende Aussicht auf die Donau und die umliegende Landschaft bietet.
Führungen und Veranstaltungen, wie mittelalterliche Feste und Ritterspiele, finden oft auf der Burg statt.
Die Burgruine ist nicht nur ein Zeugnis der mittelalterlichen Geschichte Österreichs, sondern auch ein Ort, der die Fantasie der Besucher anregt und sie in vergangene Zeiten versetzt. Ihre malerische Lage an der Donau und ihre historische Bedeutung machen sie zu einem faszinierenden Reiseziel für Kultur- und Geschichtsinteressierte.
Veranstaltungen
Die Burgruine Aggstein bietet ein vielfältiges Veranstaltungsprogramm für Jung und Alt. Zu den beliebtesten Veranstaltungen gehören:
- Mittelalterliche Feste: Die Burgruine Aggstein ist ein beliebter Veranstaltungsort für mittelalterliche Feste. Hier können Besucher in die Zeit der Ritter und Burgen eintauchen und sich an Gaukeleien, Musik und Tänzen erfreuen.
- Burgführungen: Die Burgruine Aggstein bietet täglich Führungen an. Die Gäste erfahren dabei Interessantes über die Geschichte der Burg und ihre Bewohner.
- Konzerte: Die Burgruine Aggstein ist ein beliebter Veranstaltungsort für Konzerte. Hier treten regelmäßig nationale und internationale Künstler auf.
- Märkte: Die Burgruine Aggstein ist auch ein beliebter Veranstaltungsort für Märkte. Hier können Besucher regionale Produkte kaufen und sich an einem bunten Treiben erfreuen.
Das Veranstaltungsprogramm der Burgruine Aggstein wird jährlich aktualisiert. Die aktuellen Veranstaltungen finden Sie auf der Website der Burgruine Aggstein.
Öffnungszeiten
Die Burgruine Aggstein ist von März bis Oktober täglich von 9:00 bis 18:00 Uhr geöffnet.
Die letzte Führung beginnt um 17:30 Uhr.
Von November bis Februar ist die Burgruine Aggstein nur an den Wochenenden von 10:00 bis 16:00 Uhr geöffnet. Die letzte Führung beginnt um 15:30 Uhr.
Lageplan
Benutzen sie bitte den direkten Link oben "Routenplaner" um Infos für die Erreichbarkeit usw. zu erhalten.
Weitere Infos
- Weitere Angebote für Niederösterreich
- Weitere Burgruinen in Österreich
Offizielle Webseite Burgruine Aggstein
Informationen zu Eintrittspreisen und Veranstaltungen
Wetter Schönbühel an der Donau
Über einen Kommentar würden wir uns sehr freuen.
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3394
Chicago, IL
04/17/2023
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寝画 / In-Sleep Drawing (ISD) ISD#3394(Red) 2022.6.26 00:14→08:00 Japan 夢を思い出せない。 https://kenhamazaki.jp/en/?cat=12 #kenhamazaki #red #redman #isd #nega #insleepdrawing #contemporaryart #automatism #dreamjournal #red #japan https://www.instagram.com/p/CfP69VKvF3a/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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No, shipping the canonically bi character with a guy as opposed to her canon girlfriend is not lesbian erasure. If anything, you saying that is bi erasure.
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#fully furnished offices space near deira city center : contact NO +971 58 657 3394#businessadvise#dubailife#businesssetupinuae#growthbusiness#startupcommunity#advertisingandmarketing#smallbusiness#dubaibusiness#startupbusinesses#businessbuilding#realestateadvice#startingabusiness#business#businesscenter#uaeprojects#UAE#businesssetupconsultants#busienss#businesssetup#realestateinfo#businessanalysis#dedicated#nearmetro#dedicatedesk#FullyPromoted#businessadvertising#proservices#dubairealestate#setupforsuccess
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A LITTLE DEATH +18
SUMMARY: You follow Astarion into the woods with plans to kill him, though it doesn’t play out exactly how you hoped.
WORD COUNT: 3394
UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, hatesex, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, vaginal sex, astarion tends to be more dom, d/s, biting, some sadism and masochism, overstimulation, degradation, good aligned reader
You get along with most of your traveling party. Even amongst your differences, you can find it in yourselves to make peace while chasing your common goal.
You say 'most' because there's one that you just can't bring yourself to like— the damned vampire elf. He's insufferable; always questioning your leadership and ideals, not to mention his piss-poor attitude about everything.
On top of that, some of the things that come out of his mouth are downright awful. "Just let them die," he said, bearing an irritated and inconvenienced reaction to the wellbeing of the entire grove. "We're not here to babysit those in need of culling."
You haven't spoken to him since. To be honest, you've spent the time pondering if you really need someone like that around. Who's to say he won't someday see you and the others as those "in need of culling"?
As the leader of the party, you have to make the right decisions— and you think in this situation, the right decision is to get rid of him.
It's not like you've decided this in the spur of the moment, either. This tension has been building between you two since you met, and a perpetually winding coil is bound to snap and cut someone eventually.
That someone won't be you.
It's early. The night has only just begun to lift, welcoming a gentle blue in its place. You lay in your bed, staring at the tapered ceiling with your hands folded over your stomach.
You listen for the familiar rustle of fabric just outside your tent. Your body springs up as if on cue, peeking your head out to investigate silently. There he is, you watch as the elf leaves his own tent at the same time he always does.
He follows his usual path off into the woods, and this time, you'll follow him.
Before you leave, your adrenaline-ridden hand fumbles around your bedroll, searching. Finally, it graces the sensation of a wooden object, one that you conceal in your waistband beneath your shirt.
You stumble after his footfalls, careful not to lose sight of him in the shadows.
He wanders into a small clearing of trees before stopping. You halt, kneeling in the brush. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, a slight tremor to your limbs. You're not sure what has overcome you— fear? excitement?
It doesn't matter what you feel. You just need to get this over with.
You watch him inquisitively as he begins reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls the material up and over his head, tossing it to the side.
You swallow deeply, fighting the urge to avert your eyes. When you learned of his early morning walks, you didn't think it involved disrobing.
He sits in front of a ledge overlooking the valley, folding his legs together and gazing at the sky expectantly. Now would be the perfect time to reveal yourself, but you're frozen in place from observing the strange ritual before you.
It isn't until the first ray of light peeks over the horizon that you realize what madness he's up to. In all its golden glory, the sun bathes his body with a matching hue. He breathes in, letting its warmth encase his cold, dead figure.
His head turns slightly, his profile partially blocked by his shoulder. Though, you can see that his eyes fall closed while he basks.
Now...! You inhale sharply, your entire body tensing with anticipation.
"If you'd like to join me so badly, I'd prefer that you ask first."
Your heart stutters at the sound of his voice, loud and clear as if to catch the attention of another. Surely, it's not you he's talking to?
He lets out a small laugh. "Well, I won't say yes. But I'd appreciate the gesture much more than I do your... creeping." His brow lowers in a manner of disgust. Moments later, his piercing red iris is staring right back at you.
Instead of flinching, you stand impossibly still like a frightened rabbit.
"Honestly, did you think you were being clever? I could hear your every move from the minute you left your tent," there's a lilt of amusement to his tone as if your failure is humorous to him. It makes your blood boil just enough to snap you out of your daze.
Clearing your throat, you step out from behind your cover. "I apologize for my inefficiency in lurking in the shadows. It's not something we honest people often have to do."
You see the immediate frown on his face. He shoots you a glance like a dagger before quickly regaining composure. "Ever the self-deprecating one, aren't we?" he exhales.
Your shoes grow wet with morning dew as they wade through the grass. You stop directly behind him, glaring down at the back of his head.
So cocky while being so close to death. You hope you'll be half as ignorant when your time comes.
Under your newfound proximity, he seems to fall uncharacteristically quiet— as do the birds and frogs.
Though barely a hum, his voice cuts through the silence disruptively, "... Y'know," he starts slowly, "I'm not the most intuitive type, but I'm starting to feel like you're not here because you missed my company."
"Maybe you should trust your gut."
His next words seem to catch in his throat, immediately being replaced with a sigh.
Unexpectedly, he stands and faces you without caution, as if you'd hesitate to drive your stake through him at any given moment.
And, to your dismay, hesitate is exactly what you do. Your hand lingers over where you keep the stake behind your back, though never touching it.
His body blocks the day's freshly bloomed rays, leaving you in the darkness of his silhouette. You feel a twinge of intimidation, yet you do not falter. You hold his stare and refuse to give up ground.
A smirk fights its way onto his lips, carving into his previously stark expression. "Too pure-hearted to carry out the assassination attempt while you still had the upper hand?"
Your eyes flit down briefly to catch his fingers twitching at his sides. You don't know what he's thinking, but you'll assume it's a far cry from your best interests.
"This isn't something that I want to do—"
With that, something in him seems to snap— you spot the exact moment it happens as his irises are encased in a sea of white. He throws his arms in the air exasperatedly, sharply interrupting your sentence with, "Yes, it is!"
You fail to conceal the dip to your brow, startled by the suddenness of his response. You suppose his reaction is befitting of an altercation only one of you will walk away from.
Still, you pictured someone like him accepting death with a bit more grace.
"You have wanted this from the very moment we met!" his tone wavers slightly, a weary strain intertwining his words. "So what you're not going to do is sit here and tell me how righteous you are before killing me!"
Just when you think he's going to make you fight for it, he seems to collect himself back into his usual poise. "… You're going to tell me how badly you want to kill me first." His nostrils flare as he peers up at you through his dark lashes. "You will give me that much."
A heavy atmosphere lingers in the narrow space between you while you watch his face jerk with resentment. You're not sure why, but the expression makes you feel... strange.
"Say it."
Your lips move before you can create any sound, taken aback by the oddity of his command. "I... want to kill you," you say with a sense of uncertainty, hardly at a decipherable volume.
"Like you mean it.”
It’s at this moment that you realize he behaves no differently in the face of death than he does in an everyday confrontation, and you’re reminded of why you're here in the first place— of all the stress he's given you since day one, all the nose-to-nose arguing and fighting— you can kill him under the guise of protecting others from harm, but the self-centered benefits you’ll reap are almost too obvious.
"I want to fucking kill you," you spit.
So, why don't you? Why do you still stand here, waiting? Why does the stake you stayed up carving for hours, perfectly sleek and pointed, remain unconcerned?
He swallows deeply, and it seems he's wondering the same thing.
You catch the way he watches your mouth part, your exhales thick with adrenaline. Then, his gaze returns to yours, and it seems all the more obvious how his head has just barely tilted.
Something other than hatred flashes in the shadows of his furrowed brow, the separate emotions sitting side by side as if becoming one.
He grabs your arm, yanking you closer. In a single, swift motion, his other hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head, bringing your lips to his.
The sensitive skin crashes together in a burst of impulsiveness. Your hands come up to grab his face while your mouths connect painfully. It's sloppy, and you don't quite sync up. You're both trying to dominate the other, and it feels more like a battle than a kiss.
He uses his teeth to his advantage, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You lose some nerve from the metallic taste, yet it only fuels his aggression further. The red paints both of your lips, leaving a blushing stain. He harshly runs his tongue over the wound, making you wince as he agitates the sore spot.
In response, you shove him away with all your strength, anger prevalent in the action. He stumbles back, watching you intensely as he uses his forearm to wipe his mouth.
You throw off your shirt, letting the humid air embrace your breasts and torso. As you work quickly to remove your pants as well, you drop your stake in the grass, which he studies for a moment before glancing back at you.
He makes you feel like an object as his eyes graze over your skin, hungry. You approach him once more, impatiently searching for his mouth.
While he distractedly runs his palms over your body, relishing the soft, warm curves, you opt to push him into the boulder behind him. For a split second, he breaks away from the kiss and peers over his shoulder, making note of your plan.
As he puts his hands on your waist to lift you, you reluctantly allow him to place you atop the rock instead. Out of frustration, your fist hits his bare chest, to which he inattentively steadies by your wrist.
He begins kissing down your neck, and you grab at his hair while he does. You end up pulling too hard, and he bites down in retaliation. You don't bleed, but it'll leave a mark.
"Bastard," you hiss.
His hands run up and down your thighs before he traces a finger over your clothed pussy. You buck your hips as the fabric brushes against your clit, and he wastes no time in dipping beneath the garment to play with the needy bud.
He rests his weight on his opposite hand, his nose lingering closely to your neck. The erratic breaths raise goosebumps on your skin.
You lean back on your palms, giving him better access to your body. He coats his digit in your essence, toying with your clit. You twitch as you become more sensitive, which he exploits with unrelenting momentum.
He finally stops to bring his finger lower, teasing your spasming entrance. One of your hands tugs at the hairs by the base of his neck. "Astarion," you warn through gritted teeth. You hear him laugh by your ear before he shoves his finger inside you roughly.
You stifle a gasp as it fills you, the curl it harbors brushing your G-spot with every thrust. You let out small moans until you feel a deeper craving. "More," you huff, "I need more."
"Greedy whore,” he scoffs. "Just as I thought."
He leaves a quick kiss on your lips as he enters a second finger. You open your legs further to accommodate, letting out a sigh of relief as you feel your walls stretch around him.
Your slick produces squelching sounds as he thrusts in and out of you. A small groan escapes his lips, and he comments under his breath, "Gods, you're fucking tight."
You laugh pridefully, considering how many other partners he's had to compare you to. "That means a lot, coming from you."
He bears his teeth briefly in a snarl.
You glance down, noticing the hard-on in his pants. You slide your foot up his thigh mischievously, and he holds his breath as it approaches the tent in the fabric.
His fingers stutter as you push the ball of your foot against his cock, providing pressure that he needs worse than he previously thought.
His teeth rake in his bottom lip as he makes a poor attempt at containing himself. "Shit-eating little nymph, aren't you?" He addresses you with irritation prominent on his features. "Alright, then."
He pulls his fingers from you without warning, revealing the slippery substance you've left on them. With his other hand, he harshly grabs you by your jaw. "Open," he orders.
You comply, and he presses his soiled fingers to your tongue.
"Clean them."
Your mouth closes around the digits, running your tongue over and between the long, slender shapes. You taste yourself, swallowing what you gather while holding his gaze.
His eyes droop half-lidded, thick with lust. The breaths leaving his lips become heavier by the second.
The way he stares down at you— so animalistic, so needy— it makes you feel smug, but it also has you pressing your thighs together to satiate the throbbing desire in your cunt.
He pulls his fingers from your mouth, breaking a line of drool as they leave your lips.
His fingertips remain dug into your cheeks as your hearts pound in unison. It seems both of you are too proud to admit how badly you want what comes next.
You observe him; how his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, how his chest supports a thin sheen of sweat. There's a slight tremble to his figure, teeming with want that's begging to be set loose. You can't take it anymore— you'll lose this time if you have to.
"Please," your voice has never been spoken to him so gentle and pleading, "fuck me."
As if he'd been waiting to hear those words, he connects your mouths again passionately. This time, he leans you back on the cold material of the stone, the dew leaving icy pecks on your skin.
He pulls your underwear from your body, slinging them aside. Peering down, he admires how your folds and inner thighs glisten in the morning light. "You're perfect," he mutters.
As he undoes his pants, you stare between the window of your thighs at his cock being freed from his trousers. "... Yeah," you borderline whine.
Angling himself with your entrance, he tests you by pushing the tip inside. Your velvety walls immediately tighten around him, causing a groan to slip through his teeth.
He leans over you and entwines your hands with his. You wrap your legs around his waist, scooting your hips to the edge of the rock's surface, anxious for him to stretch you out.
He gets the message, slowly going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your body envelops him so desperately, and you nearly scoff at how you cling to your enemy like your savior.
Finally, he bottoms out with a choked moan, savoring the feeling of your needy pussy before fucking you at a steady pace.
He repeatedly slams into you, his tempo getting rougher as you adjust. You writhe as he hits all the right spots, waves of electricity sparking through your veins and weakening your limbs.
One of his hands slips down to lift your thigh, resting it over his shoulder. It allows him to reach further, and you arch your back as he brushes against your cervix.
You two create a symphony of pleasure, your voices complimenting each other.
His eyes follow yours, and you almost find yourself getting lost in the bloody hue. You turn your head to look away, disliking the feeling erupting in your stomach.
He nuzzles your neck as you unknowingly expose it. You feel his open mouth graze the sensitive skin, subtly running it up and down. He gets strangely quiet, his hips occasionally stuttering. Glancing over at him questioningly, you see his eyes screw shut before his bared fangs pierce your flesh.
It all happens in a matter of seconds. You yelp at the sharp, burning sensation. Your hand pulls at his hair and claws at his shoulders, but he only groans in response.
He continues fucking you while lapping up the blood spilling from your neck. The mix of pleasure and pain confuses you, but you still feel that knot growing tighter in your core.
You begin to experience some lightheadedness, but instead of hindering your enjoyment, it enhances it; it numbs your brain, and you can't think about anything other than this— other than him spreading you open and fucking you as if you're his, as if you've always been.
Your abdomen tenses and you feel your climax approaching quickly. You leave reddened grooves in his back while holding him in place with your heel. An array of noises spills from you as you arch your body into his.
"I hate you— fuck, I hate you," your voice cries out, partially slurred.
He finally pulls away with a sharp exhale, your blood drenching his chin. "I know," he responds breathlessly, leaving a trail of bloody kisses on your collarbone.
He wraps both arms around you to fuck you harder, drawing out your orgasm. Your body jolts with overstimulation, experiencing a sensation in your cunt that you can only describe as an ache. You push against him, but he holds you so tightly that it has no effect.
You notice how he’s starting to come apart; his rhythm becomes erratic, and his moans progress into a desperate whimper. All of his muscles are so taut and his face is endearingly tense— such a contrast to his typical haughty disposition. You conclude that you wouldn't mind seeing him like this more often.
You leave sickeningly sweet kisses along his jaw, caressing his face. "I know you want to cum, you stubborn prick," you say as he repeatedly knocks the breath from you. Pressing your mouth to his skin once more, you utter a quiet, "cum for me, then.”
He seems to think for a moment before making a split-second decision to pull out of you, his frustrated growl telling of his inner conflict. Aiming for your slit and thighs, he releases hot, thick ropes of cum that slowly drip towards your ass.
He stares between your legs like he's created a masterpiece; a concoction of fluids that you brought to fruition together. His thumb smears some of his seed around your folds, a worn grin making its way onto his face as his eyes flicker up at you.
"Really?" you stare back, straight-faced. "That's going to be such a pain to clean up." You know that's the exact reason he did it— why would he ever let anything be easy for you?
He laughs, ridiculous and pompous as ever. "Isn't it?" His hand runs through his unruly hair, lifting rogue strands from the sweat of his forehead. "Take my word for it when I say it's a very, very good look for you."
As you watch him fix himself up to be presentable, a sudden harrowing feeling overcomes you. It seems the euphoria from your little romp was more short-lived than you thought it'd be, and your dynamic was not so easily escaped.
"Flattery won't save your life," you state bluntly, lacking any evidence of the intimacy you two just shared.
"It won't." He walks over to your pile of clothing after tucking his shirt back in. With a still, cold expression, he drops the garments on your naked body to cover it. "But it'll make you miss me."
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion bg3#bg3 one shot#astarion one shot
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May I request a story for Ramsey Bolton where the reader is trying to get Ramsay's attention and trying her best to flirt with him but he's completely oblivious to it so she has to get bolder with her attempts. And it turns out he knew the whole time but wanted to see how far she'd go.
Ramsay Bolton*How Far Would You Go
Pairing: Ramsay x f!reader
Summary: Ramsay decides to make the reader wait before he finally gives her exactly what she's been craving,
Warnings: teasing, praise, degradation, spanking, choking, rough sex, p in v sex, male receiving oral, unsafe sex, hair pulling, hickeys (Ramsay is a slut im sorry change my mind) smut 18+
Word count: 3394
Masterlist Here
The signs were subtle at first. Ramsay noticed the smile on your lips as you called him my lord, how deep your curtsey was when he passed, how you always seemed to be just looking at him. Since coming to Winterfell as its new lord he had found himself at the centre of your attention, a lady from a relatively small noble house once loyal to the Starks but who switched to the Boltons side recently.
He noticed that when your family arrived at the great hall for dinner your eyes were on him. He had to hold back a groan when he noticed the way your mouth touched your cup, so softly pressing it against your lips, and drinking slowly, your eyes only closing for a moment so he could watch.
At first Ramsay tried to hide his own infatuation for the sake of his reputation. He didn’t want his father to think he wasn’t fully there especially with a threat of a boy baby potentially replacing everything he worked for. However, over time he noticed your actions grow bolder.
It was subtle at first. “Lord Ramsay,” you curtseyed, eyes flickering to the floor before back to him. His eyes lingered on you curiously as your cheeks grew red and you scurried away. before you had always said my lord or lord Bolton. The way your lips moved around his name entranced him.
While you were eating dinner in the great hall Roose and Ramsay Bolton approached where you were sitting with your father and uncles. “Lady (Y/N),” Roose greeted as he approached, “Perhaps you should take some air since you’re finished your supper. I must speak with your father,” he said but the words were not a request.
“Of course, my lord what a wonderful suggestion,” you said as you stood from your half full plate, “My Lords,” you curtsied slightly before walking past. As you past Ramsay you couldn’t help yourself from deliberately bumping into him causing you both to stumble. You paused to steady yourself with a hand resting on his arm, “My apologies my lord. I can be so clumsy at times,” you said batting your eyelashes before slinking off without another word, trying to not seem flustered when you realised how muscular his arms were from all his archery.
Ramsay looked after you for only a moment as you walked out before quickly sitting with his father. What he hadn’t seen was your sad face when you glanced back and realised, he wasn’t looking. You took his fathers advice however and decided to take a stroll through the godswood. Few prayed during this time, so it was rather empty to your delight.
The silence was broken by twigs snapping causing you to jump and spin around, “Ramsay,” you gasped when you noticed the silent man staring at you, “My lord you scared me,” you said, your hand on your chest.
“Apologies my lady,” he said cooly, “You should not be out here alone. It is unsafe,”
“Of course, my lord,” you said, bowing your head, “How silly of me. Perhaps you could escort me on my next walk? The godswood is so beautiful this time of year,” you said, walking closer to the man who stood like a statue, “So peaceful too. If I was to guess we are completely alone out here,” you said.
“Thinking like that is why I caught you off guard,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours but not giving anything away either, “Anyone could be out here,”
You did your best to fight back a blush as you stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to keep me safe my lord,”
Ramsay’s eyes flickered to your hand that rested on his arm, its touch lingering. When he glanced back at your eyes, he couldn’t help but notice how perfect they were in this light, “The sun will be setting soon,” he said lowly, “You should get back before its dark,”
“Will you escort me my lord?” you asked, stepping closer once more so your body was only inches from his, “It would make me feel so much better to have you at my side,”
Ramsay managed to keep his chuckle down as he nodded and turned to escort you back to the castle. You quickly stumbled to catch up with him. Without a word you linked your arm with his. He didn’t shrug you off however he didn’t even look at you when you did so. However internally Ramsay was smirking. Just how far would you go?
When you arrived back in the walls of Winterfell Ramsay dropped your arm, “My lady,” he nodded his head to leave when you grabbed his hand to stop him.
He noted how soft your hands were compared to his, “Aren’t you going to escort me to my chambers my lord? You said yourself anyone could be here,”
“I trust you to find your chambers my lady,” he said however Ramsay raised your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss, just enough to make you hooked. “Goodnight,” he said before dropping your hand and turning to leave.
You didn’t even have time to say goodnight before he walked away. you sighed and looked around the yard, grateful no one was there to see the rejection or at least close enough to notice. Instead of heading to your chambers you went straight to the kitchen, still hungry from not getting to finish dinner.
The kitchen servants were kind enough to give you some leftovers from dinner and you sat at a small table in the kitchen to eat. You were completely wrapped up in your own thoughts as you sipped your wine and ate the stew. You weren’t posed seductively, or trying to catch anyone’s attention, you weren’t gazing up at him with those fuck me eyes you had shown him so many times. But when Ramsay stood in the doorway to the kitchen, come to find himself some food, he found himself completely entrance by the sight of you. if he didn’t want to see how far you were willing to go, he would’ve bent you over that table here and now.
Your attention however was drawn when you heard a dish clatter, “My Lord,” the servants’ eyes suddenly dropped as one tried to pick up the pieces of the dish they’d dropped when they had been startled by Ramsay.
When you looked at him, he could tell you were surprised but he couldn’t help finding it amusing how you straightened your posture at his arrival. “My lady,” he said, ignoring the others in the room as he approached the table. “These are not your chambers,” he said as he stood in front of you. Ramsay noted how much he liked the position of your head so close to his crotch as you gazed up at him as he stood only inches away.
“I was hungry,” you stuttered out, “Sorry my lord,”
“Its quite alright,” he said as he put his hand out for you to take, “Let me escort you to your chambers my lady. I wouldn’t want you getting lost again,”
You took his hand, face flushing lightly as you stood as Ramsay hadn’t moved so now your bodies were almost pressed against each other. You stood in the silence for a moment before Ramsay stepped back allowing you to pass.
As you walked the halls, your arm linked with his and your eyelashes constantly batting at him, Ramsay debated with himself how far he was willing to go with this tonight. How long would he draw this out for. Your flirting had grown far bolder now as you walked the empty halls to your chamber. Ramsay did his best to hide his smirk and act oblivious as you clung to his arm and flirted more shamefully than he had heard any other lady.
When you arrived at your chamber door you unlatched it, eyes lingering on him, before stepping partially into the room, “It can get so cold in Winterfell don’t you think?”
“You should light a fire my lady,” Ramsay said cooly.
He noticed how your breath hitched, holding back a groan at his constant obliviousness. This was going to be fun. “Perhaps you could help me light it my lord?”
“I could send a servant,”
“I don’t trust another man in my chambers,”
“A woman perhaps,”
He could practically see steam pouring out your ears. You wondered whether his obliviousness was rather rejection but figured you had already came this far, “Sending for servants is pointless. Id freeze by the time they got here. My lord if you could spare just five minutes,”
Five minutes, Ramsay thought, no this would last far longer than five, “Very well my lady,” Ramsay said, gliding past you into the cold chamber.
You quickly covered the shocked expression on your face and latched the door once more turning to watch as he began to coax the flames. In silence Ramsay lit the fireplace before standing and turning to you, “Is there anything else you need from me my lady?” Ramsay asked as he approached you, just inches in front of you and his face looking down at you with the hint of a smirk.
He knew. You knew he knew. And it drove you crazy, “No my lord,” you said, disguising your own smirk.
Ramsay frowned briefly before covering it up, stepping ever so slightly closer, “Really?” he asked with fake wonder, “Because you seemed awfully desperate for me to enter your chambers,” he said, breath fanning your face, “One might wonder if you’re intentions were noble my lady,” a silent stalemate took place as you both waited for the other to make the first move.
Moments passed and eventually Ramsay decided to go for check, “I should be going my lady,” he said, trying to step passed you only for you to step and block his past, “Yes my lady?” he asked looking down at you.
“There is something you could do My Lord,” you said, your hands moving to rest on his arms.
“And that is?” he said, his face moving closer, his lips only an inch away. so far.
You decided to be bolder, however. Standing on your tip toes, you leaned up to whisper in his ear, “You could fuck me already,”
Ramsay’s hands moved suddenly making you gasp as he held your jaw tight in his grip as he brought his lips to brush against yours, “All you had to do was ask darling,” he whispered, lips bumping softly against yours as he spoke before he crashed his lips onto yours.
The kiss was heated and messy as your hands moved to his shoulders, feeling the muscles through his tunic, your finger trips trailing his collar. He released your jaw but only to pull you in closer by your waist, one hand steading you while the other moved down to grip your hip, squeezing it over the fabric of your dress.
Ramsay growled in his throat as he grew frustrated with the fabric hiding you from him. Without warning he broke the kiss to spin you around, pressing your back into his chest. The feeling of his hard chest against you making you hold your breath as he kissed your neck, his hands working on the laces on the front of your dress, “Wanna see you,” he mumbled between kisses, “Wanna see all of you,” Ramsay pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting the fabric pool around your feet as his hands moved to squeeze your breasts through your thin shift. “This can go too,” he whispered as his hands found the collar of the fabric. Before you could question him the sound of tearing fabric flooded your ears. Your skin pricked with the sudden cold, your nipples hardening as the air hit them. Ramsay wasted no time in finding them and squeezing them between his fingers as his lips sucked dark spots along your neck, “Is this what you wanted?” he asked as he left another mark, “To be my whore?”
“Yes,” you moaned, leaning into his chest as he rolled your nipples between his fingers making your body tingle, “It’s all I want,”
“I wondered how far you’d go,” he said as he removed his lips from your skin and let your nipples free. The absence made you whine. His hands found your hips, turning you to face him again, “Such a needy little thing,” he teased. One hand reached out to hold your chin, forcing you to face him. Ramsay felt himself grow hard as your eyes stared into his silently begging for his touch, “Show me how much you need me,”
Without question you sank to your knees. Ramsay smirked as he kept his eyes locked on yours as you began to work on the laces on his trousers, pulling at them desperately only making yourself struggle more, “So eager to please,” he cooed, “So good,” he said as he took over and finally unlaced the fabric. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asked, his hand still holding your jaw lightly.
As he spoke you reached into his underclothes and released his hard cock which stood proudly in front of your eyes now. It was bigger than you expected but there was nothing you craved more right now. Ramsay growled, gripping your jaw tighter at your silence causing you to finally look back up, “I asked you a question,”
“Yes, my lord,” you whispered, “I’ll be good, I promise,” your eyes flickered back to his cock which twitched at your words. “Please?” you asked, eyes gazing up at him. When he nodded you leaned forward, placing a kiss on its tip making him groan.
Ramsay’s head rolled back as you began to leave soft licks around his tip. You began to trail your tongue down his shaft before swirling it back around the tip. Just as you went to take him into your mouth Ramsay grew inpatient. His hand found your hair, tightening it in his grip. “Fuck,” he groaned as he pushed your mouth down his cock. The feeling made you gag but soon you began to bob your head up and down his length, pressing your down flat against his shaft. Ramsay’s groans and grunts were the only noise in the room beside the crackling fire. He gasped lightly when he felt your hands cup his balls, squeezing them gently in your hands, “More,” he whispered. You began to tighten your grip slightly until moans left his lips. You knew he was close, precum coating your tongue.
His hand tightened in your hair before he suddenly pulled your head off.
You were gasping, spit and precum dripping from your face and his cock, your cheeks wet with tears. Seeing your face alone was almost enough to make him cum. “Why’d you stop?” you asked between gasps for air.
Ramsay wondered how he got so lucky as he looked down at your swollen lips, “Because im not done with you yet,” he said before making you stand by your hair, “I’m not gonna be done for a while,” he said before crashing his lips onto yours.
The kiss was messy, and your hands moved to tug on his tunic, whining into the kiss for him to take them off. His hands gripped your hips, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh. “Please,” you whined.
“Do you really think you’re in the position of making orders?” he asked spanking your ass as he spoke making you gasp and him smirk.
“Please,” you whined, your lips chasing his, “I need you please Ramsay my lord fuck me,” you begged as you kissed his face between pleads.
Ramsay practically growled as he began to push you over to the bed. “Is this what you want?” he asked as the backs of your leg hit the wooden frame and Ramsay pushed you back by your shoulders causing you to fall onto the sheets, “To be fucked like some whore?” he said as he began to strip his tunic off.
Your eyes began to rake the exposed skin as he pulled his undershirt over his head. “Not some whore,” you said as you shuffled up the bed, “Your whore,”
Ramsay quickly pulled his trousers off before crawling up the bed, “You’re mine,” he growled as his teeth began to nip at your skin around your chest, “All fucking mine, okay?”
“Okay,” you gasped as his lips took your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it harshly before gently nibbling the sensitive bud. “Fuck,” you whined as his hand moved between your legs.
Ramsay ran a finger up your slit, smirking to himself and releasing your nipple despite your whines, “So wet for me,” he chuckled, “And I’ve not even done anything to you yet,” he said as he moved to rest his legs between yours, “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he said as he held his length, rubbing his tip up and down your slit already making you whimper, “that you won’t want anything else when im done with you,”
“Please” you whined as your hands gripped his shoulders, “I want you please-fuck” you gasped, your eyes tightening when you felt him push his tip in.
Ramsay’s head dropped, his eyes shutting as he groaned at the feeling. “So, fucking good,” he praised as he began to push in till he was all the way in. “So good for me,” he said, raising his head to meet your eyes. His hands moved, one to steady himself, and the other to run along your throat.
You could feel the burn as his cock stretched you out. Your hips bucked trying to create more friction. You whined when you felt him begin to pull out slightly. “Such a good slut,” Ramsay praised as he thrust back in making your gasp. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to thrust at a fast pace. You could feel a knot growing in your stomach, a burning sensation tingling your body in ways it never had.
Your hands clawed into his back, running deep scratches down his skin as he fucked you into the mattress. his breath was ragged as he tried to keep pace, but the feeling of your fingernails was making it hard not to cum. You understood the struggle as the pressure threatened to wash over you. Ramsay’s head dropped to rest between your neck and shoulder.
When his hand let go of your throat you gasped for air which turned into whines as his fingers moved to rub circles onto your clit. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked between groans. “You're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me” he praised as he kissed your neck. Ramsay could feel the way your cunt tightened around him, “Are you gonna cum for me? Come around my cock?”
A loud moan ripped through your throat as the pressure released over your body. His name fell from your lips but that did not stop Ramsay’s pace. Your moans only seemed to encourage him more as his hands moved to your legs, pushing them up to his shoulders and allowing him to hit deeper. “Fuck,” he groaned as his sloppy thrusts sped up as he fucked you through your orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your skull. “Yes,” he began to pant and with a few more thrusts you felt him stiffen above you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your legs. “Fuck,” he groaned as he came, his seed spilling inside you.
Ramsay moved to fall beside you on the bed, gasping for air as he did. After a few moments of almost seeing stars from the pleasure you rolled to the side to curl into his side. Ramsay looked down at you with half amazing and amusement. “You really are perfect, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” you said, burying your head into his chest as your cheeks flushed.
Ramsay laughed as he pulled you into his arms, “So I can fuck your brains out but can’t pay you a compliment?” he said only making your head bury away deeper, “Oh I'm going to enjoy you little one. That I'm sure of,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @fan-goddess
#ramsay bolton smut#ramsay bolton#ramsay bolton imagine#ramsay bolton x reader#ramsay snow#ramsay now smut#game of thrones smut#game of thrones show#game of thrones#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#iwan rheon#iwan rheon smut#requested#asoiaf#asoiaf smut
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Day 3394 - 19 October 2022
🪐
.//projectTiGER
#projecttiger#original#doodle#i have my meowmeow on the brain ill go back to normal soon promise#smooches her (i love her
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Prompt #3394
"But you're the greatest hero the world has ever seen! You can't just- just stop!"
The hero sighed, exhausted in a way their unwrinkled face could never show. "I fight the villain. I beat the villain. I save the city, sometimes the planet. People cheer. And then a new villain rises up, and another, and another, every year for hundreds of years. Some of them were pure evil, others just misguided kids. I took them all down, and nothing really changed. There are always more villains."
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Spider-Bat
by Kizilop
Words: 3394, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, DCU, DC Extended Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Duke Thomas
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker & Alfred Pennyworth, Peter Parker & Rogues Gallery (Batman), Barbara Gordon & Peter Parker, Cassandra Cain & Peter Parker, Stephanie Brown & Peter Parker, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Additional Tags: DC Comics References, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Space Stone | Space Gem (Marvel), Not Canon Compliant with Movie: Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Movie: Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Dimension Travel, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Teen Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Mess, Batfamily (DCU), Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Caring Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily-centric (DCU), Duke Thomas is a Batfamily Member, Peter Parker is a Batfamily Member (DCU), Peter Parker has the space stone, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), BAMF Peter Parker, I live by webtoon batfam, I will die by webtoon batfam, Webtoon Batfam
via https://ift.tt/JXbixn9
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My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Two
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Work Summary:
Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?
Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader
Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 3394
Read on AO3.
Masterlists.
Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie
Taglist info
Previous Chapter
Notes:
I don't think I mentioned this before but I'm never going to specify whether reader is full/half/adopted siblings with Steve, so she can be of any race/ethnicity. I'll try my best to be inclusive/vague in my descriptions.
Starting this week, I'm going to be updating this fic weekly (every Monday).
Warnings for shitty parents, pregnancy, vomiting (a lot), grief, depression, reader being kinda mean to steve even tho he's a good boy, reader not taking care of her hair (or herself generally), bad relationship with food, nested flashbacks
---
~ FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ~
A sharp tapping on your bedroom door roused you from sleep. You sat up suddenly, dazed and confused. Your bed was cold. You grimaced.
In the time since you’d learnt about Hawkins’ dark underside, you had gotten used to the nightmares. You could handle them. What you weren’t prepared for were the other kind of dreams.
When you slept, Eddie was alive. He would lounge beside you in your bed, drawing long forgotten laughter from deep inside you. He would hold you, kiss you, tell you that he adored you. Touch you in ways that you never wanted anyone else to touch you.
Awake, you felt hollow.
When Steve called your name through the door, you tried to say, “come in,” as naturally as possible, but your throat was tight.
He opened the door, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Hey. How are you feeling this morning?”
Now that was a question. How were you feeling this morning?
You took a quick inventory: your throat hurt; your eyes were crusty and sore from crying; you hadn’t showered in days so you felt sweaty and gross.
“I’m okay,” you said, and Steve frowned.
“I thought I could make pancakes?” he suggested. Admittedly, pancakes did sound good. “Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll make breakfast, and then we can go for a walk?”
You tried not to groan. Steve had been doing this since your parents left. You knew he was only doing it because he cared, but right now you bristled against even the gentlest suggestion that you should eat, or bathe, or exercise. You knew that Steve wasn’t judging you – you knew that – but hearing the words out loud still hurt.
But he was just trying to help you. You bit back your harsh response and nodded instead.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
A smile broke across his face. “Great!” he said, as if the thought of you doing the bare minimum was actually impressive.
You hated all of this. Steve was treating you like you were made of glass. The two of you had always good-naturedly bickered at each other, poking and prodding and making sarcastic jabs, and now the only mode he seemed capable of was gentle, earnest compassion. It sucked.
Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself as you went into your bathroom and turned on the shower. It was a quick wash, dragging soap over your body and continuing to ignore the growing problem of your hair. When you were done, you brushed your teeth quickly and then dressed in clean(ish) sweatpants and a t-shirt.
You put your hair up and out of the way, and then covered it with your hood, trying not to think about it.
Steve was just plating up the pancakes when you made it down into the kitchen. He gave you a weak smile, which you returned even weaker.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Right.” Steve took that as his cue to not ask any more stupid questions.
Staring down at your plate of pancakes, you felt suddenly ravenous. You hadn’t been eating well. As you tucked in, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you.
You cleared your throat. “You’ve got work later, right?”
“Yeah, but not until this afternoon. Plenty of time to hang out.”
He didn’t ask you if you would be okay alone in the house. Not since you’d snapped at him for treating you like a broken doll. Steve didn’t deserve that. He was trying, and you weren’t. So you decided to offer him an olive branch.
“It’ll be nice to get out of the house,” you said, as breezily as you could. Steve’s eyes widened, but a broad smile soon followed. You looked back down at your pancakes.
*
Hawkins being Hawkins, nature walks weren’t advisable, but when Steve suggested driving into town to walk around the mall, you shot him down. You really didn’t want to be anywhere where you might run into people.
So the two of you set off on foot, hiking along the edge of the woods, never straying more than 20 feet from the road. You both knew what dangers lurked in the darkness.
As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had been right about walking making you feel better. The fresh air cut into your lungs, an ache blooming in your chest. It was better than feeling numb.
Steve cleared his throat. “I was thinking that we could do a movie night some time soon. We could invite Robin.”
“Sure,” you said, non-committally.
“Or something with the kids. It’d be nice to all get together in one place again.”
All. You grimaced at the use of the word. There were some people who were never coming back, no matter how much you wished it.
Barb. Benny. Bob Newby. Chrissy Cunningham. Even Billy, for all his faults. Not that you would ever have invited him to your house.
And of course, there was Eddie. You would never get to have a movie night with him again. He’d never crawl through your bedroom window and fall asleep by your side. You would never get to kiss him again.
You stopped in your tracks, throwing your arms out to try and keep your balance.
“What is- Oh my god.” Steve jumped back as you vomited all over the patch of earth in front of you. You swayed on your feet, so he scooted around the splash zone to get to your side and put an arm around you. “Are you alright?”
You shook your head, and then bent forward to hurl again. Steve clutched at your jacket, trying not to let you fall.
You found yourself reminded of something that happened when you were a child. Your parents had been more present then than they were now, although that was a low bar. Your general needs were taken care of by nannies more often than not, but on this occasion, your parents were taking you and Steve on vacation.
It was a long drive down to the lake house, and at six years old, your feet didn’t touch the floor when you were sitting in the back of the car.
“Mommy?” you called out to her, but she was leaning on her neck pillow, sunglasses hiding the fact that she was asleep. “Mommy!”
“Keep it down,” your dad snapped, “I don’t wanna hear your whining.” You shrank back into yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What’s wrong?” Steve whispered to you. He had been staring out of the window until you’d spoken, but now his focus was on you.
“Feel sick.”
He pulled a bottle of water from his door, cracked the lid open and then handed it to you. You took a big gulp, but the water was unpleasantly warm, so you pushed it back towards him.
He must’ve seen the expression on your face, because he said, “Dad? Can we pull over? I think she’s gonna be sick.”
“We’re not gonna make it there before sunset if we keep having to stop for you damn kids. Now shut the hell up.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispered to you. He took your hand in his pressed his fingers against your wrist. “My teacher showed me a place where you can press to make you feel less sick.” As his clumsy, eight-year-old fingers fumbled to find the pressure point, you gripped the seat suddenly.
“Dad-” you tried to say, but before you could say anything else, you threw up all over yourself.
“Dad, she’s been sick.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, readjusting his rear-view mirror to get a look at you, and then let out a deep sigh. “We’ll stop at the next rest-stop.”
Hot tears pricked at your eyes. Embarrassed, you sniffed, trying to keep them in, but to no avail.
“Hey,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you all cleaned up and you’ll feel so much better.” You nodded weakly.
The next rest-stop, as it turned out, was very sparse, with only a restroom and a few benches. Your dad got out of the car and opened your door before you’d even had the chance to undo your seatbelt.
“You little shit,” he hissed. “You got it all over the upholstery. Do you know how much this cost?”
Bewildered, you stared back at him. “I don’t know, daddy.”
“Get out of the car.”
“What’s going on?” said your mom sleepily. She had evidently taken her sleeping pills for the drive.
“Get up,” he said to her. “You need to clean this up. Your daughter vomited all over it.”
“Why do I need to clean it up? She’s your daughter too and it’s your car.”
“I’m gonna take her to go get cleaned up,” Steve announced loudly. He helped you out of the car, snagged your backpack from the trunk and then took your hand. Your parents were still sniping at each other behind you as you walked away.
“Mom and dad are fighting because of me,” you said as he ushered you into the bathroom. There was only one stall, so you hoped no one came along and needed to use it.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Are they going to get a divorce?”
“No, sweetpea.” That comforted you a little.
With Steve’s help, you removed your soiled cardigan and t-shirt. He dropped them both into the sink to rinse them, and then wet some tissues for you so that you could wipe yourself down.
Ten minutes later, you were dressed in a clean t-shirt and sweater, and your dirty clothes were rinsed and shoved into a plastic bag. Steve got you a cold water from the vending machine, and the two of you sat in the sun on one of the benches while your mom cleaned up your seat in the car.
The memory made your heart hurt. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Now, Steve was ushering you back to the house, one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. At least this time you hadn’t got any on your clothes. This time, though, throwing up didn’t make you feel any less sick. If anything, you felt worse.
As soon as you were through the front door, you sprinted to the downstairs bathroom and bent over the toilet, hurling up the contents of your stomach. Your knees trembled, and you sank down into a kneeling position. You could hear the creaking of floorboards outside the door, as if Steve wasn’t sure if he should come in or not.
After a moment, his footsteps retreated. Fine. Good. You had wanted to deal with this alone anyway.
But he didn’t leave you to deal with this alone. Thirty seconds later, the bathroom door swung open and he placed a bottle of water on the floor beside you.
“Hey…” He rubbed your back soothingly. Another surge of vomit had you blinking tears out of your eyes.
Without warning, Steve pulled back your hood, probably to get your hair out of the way. You flinched.
He said your name softly, and his pitying tone convinced you that he had noticed the state your hair was in. You screwed your eyes shut and threw up again.
It took a few minutes, but eventually the vomiting subsided. It had left you sweaty and cold, with a horrible taste on your mouth. You opened the bottle of water and drank some down, trying to get rid of the burning acidity in your chest.
As you got shakily to your feet, you found that Steve was still watching you. He had a sympathetic look on his face that made you want to punch him. How dare he feel sorry for you, after everything you’d been through.
You balled up your fists, your face hot with shame.
“Hey…” he said, wincing. “Please let me help you. I want to help you.”
Reluctantly, you let him.
If there was one thing Steve knew, it was hair. At his behest, you took your second shower of the day, this time taking your time to properly shampoo and condition your hair. When you exited the bathroom, you found that Steve had stripped your bed of its sheets, which were starting to get a little musty, and put on a load of laundry.
You put on a clean, dry pair of pyjamas, and found Steve downstairs, cleaning up the bathroom that you’d spent ten minutes puking in, wearing marigold gloves.
“Get comfy on the couch,” he said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” And sure enough, he returned to you holding a whole box of hair products. “Just trust me on this, okay?”
So you did.
It took many hours, several bottles of conditioner and all sorts of other products that you’d never even heard of, but eventually, Steve managed to tackle your hair into a manageable state. You had been crying on and off – it sometimes felt like Steve was yanking your hair out of your scalp – but now you felt all cried out.
Part of you appreciated the pain. You had hardly cried since Eddie’s death. If the pain managed to break through the numbness to make you shed a few tears, that could only be a good thing.
More than once, you suggested cutting it all off. Your brother adamantly refused.
When he was done, Steve looked exceedingly proud of himself. He held up a mirror like a hairdresser, showing off his handiwork. You just put your arms around him and hugged him tight.
~ PRESENT DAY ~
Eddie couldn’t help but steal glances at you. You were sitting in an armchair, a big, cosy dressing gown hiding your baby bump, clutching a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.
Making the hot chocolate had been a struggle, since Steve wouldn’t leave Eddie alone with you. It was like the riddle where you have to get a fox, a chicken and a bag of grain across a river and you can’t leave the fox with the chicken or the chicken with the grain.
Eddie supposed that made him the fox. He balked at the idea that he could ever hurt you. Steve had never trusted him before, but they had found an uneasy truce. Now, that was all out of the window.
Steve had made Eddie come into the kitchen with him while he made the hot chocolate, leaving you alone in the living room. In a brief concession to civility, he had offered Eddie some too, but he’d declined. He thought he might puke if he ate or drank anything right now.
“Hop’s here,” Steve said suddenly, and sure enough, the crunch of tyres on the gravel of the driveway reached Eddie’s ears.
Eddie took the brief moment while Steve was answering the door to steal another glance at you, and found you looking back at him. He offered you a smile, but you quickly looked away.
It turned out to be not just the chief, but the entire Hopper-Byers clan. Eddie had never met Will, nor Eleven, but he’d heard plenty about them. The two young teens were wearing hoodies and shoes over their pyjamas.
He remembered Jonathan from school. Jonathan eyed him with suspicion, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. Joyce barely glanced at Eddie, beelining over to you to give you a hug, which you received gratefully. Eddie knew that you’d always loved Joyce. She’d been good to you when your own mother would barely even look at you.
“Munson,” said the chief. Or not the chief. Eddie didn’t really know what Hopper’s rank was now. Still, as a drug-dealer and general troublemaker, he had been all too familiar with the chief.
“Hop,” said Eddie, getting to his feet.
“Last I heard, you were dead.”
“I could say the same about you.”
To Eddie’s surprise, Hopper actually smiled at that. Perhaps Joyce’s influence had mellowed him out. Or so Eddie assumed, as they evidently seemed to be living together now.
“Are you a zombie?” he asked.
“Uhh, no?”
“Vampire?”
“Well, I have a certain thirst for blood, but that’s not new.” Eddie grinned, but Hopper didn’t.
“This isn’t a time for jokes, kid. Are you flayed?”
“Am I what?”
“Sit down. My daughter is going to tell us if you have any connection to Vecna.”
“W-What?”
Hop put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the couch. Eleven, whose short curly hair was tousled with sleep, perched on the edge of the coffee table. She closed her eyes.
“What’s she doing?” asked Eddie nervously. He’d heard a little about what she could do, and was mildly concerned that she might be about to snap his neck.
“She’s checking to see if there’s any trace of the Upside Down on you. If you’re a zombie, or one of Vecna’s puppets. If you’re dangerous. While she’s doing that, I’m gonna ask you some questions.”
“Maybe we should-” Steve started, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you cut him off.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped.
He swallowed nervously, but acquiesced. Eddie could feel all eyes on him. He felt awfully exposed.
“What happened to you in the Upside Down?” asked Hopper.
“I don’t… I don’t really remember?” Eddie tried to think, but a flash of pain lanced through his brain, and he flinched. Eleven flinched too.
“What happened?” Hopper asked her, one hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Keep asking questions,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“Well?” Hopper turned to Eddie again.
“We were… we were fighting the demobats. I got overwhelmed. There were too many of them.” He winced, blinking slowly. “They were biting at me. It hurt. A lot.”
“And then?”
“I don’t remember anything else.”
“He’s telling the truth,” said Eleven, opening her eyes. “He’s not flayed. Not a zombie. Human. Alive. Something is wrong with him. But he is human.”
“‘Something’ is wrong with him?” asked the chief.
“Well, what’s new?” Eddie forced out a smile.
The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. That was, until you huffed out a laugh. Eddie turned his head towards you, and found you wiping tears from your eyes.
After that, Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. Hopper and Joyce were talking to you and Steve about what to do now. The gist of it seemed to be to keep a close eye on Eddie. Eddie wasn’t listening. He was watching the way tears kept rolling down your cheeks sporadically. Steve was tense beside you, arms folded across his chest.
“We could take Eddie home with us?” Joyce suggested. “That way we could keep an eye on him to ensure he’s safe.”
“No way,” you said. “Absolutely not. He and I have some catching up to do.”
Joyce glanced down at your baby bump, grimaced, but then nodded. “Of course.”
“If anything happens – and I mean anything – you call us, okay?” said Hopper. “But it’s four in the morning, so I’m gonna take my family home. Is that alright?”
“Fine by me,” you said, very abruptly. Then your expression softened. “Thank you for coming over. We really appreciate it.”
“Alright.” Hopper clapped Steve on the back. “You did the right thing, kid.”
You stood up to see them out. It was evidently a struggle to pull yourself to your feet, and Eddie was about to offer you a hand when Steve stepped in and helped you out.
You stepped forward and gave Joyce a hug. Then you gave one each to Eleven and Will. And then the family were retreating out the door, piling into Hop’s car and driving away.
You and Eddie and Steve were left alone. Steve was clearly fighting off a yawn.
“Steve? Can I talk to Eddie alone for a minute?” you asked.
His expression tightened. “What for?”
“Because I want to talk to him,” you snapped. “Why else?”
“Okay…” He looked from Eddie to you and back. “I’ll go and make up the guest room. Yell if you need me.”
Eddie waited until Steve’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. He started to speak, unsure of what he really wanted to say, but was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight.
---
Notes:
When I was at university, I went through a period of being so depressed that I neglected to brush my hair for months. The more tangly it got, the worse I felt, and the less I wanted to deal with it. Eventually I went to visit my long distance bf at the time, and he asked me why I wouldn't take my hair down. With his help, I tackled it. Using a shit-ton of conditioner, he helped me brush out some of the tangles, but the stress got too much and we ended up having an argument and me having the worst panic attack I've ever had. He stayed with me until I was calm, and then he went home. I finished my hair myself, using two bottles of conditioner. The next day, it was the softest it had ever been. I never let it get that bad again.
Recently I was in hospital with a broken ankle. My family came to see me after surgery. I was so hungry, I hadn't been allowed to eat all day and I was constantly on the verge of tears. My hair was a mess. It was super tangly, so my mum brushed it for me and then plaited it so it would stay neat and not tangle. I cried the whole time because I've been pretty starved for affection.
Honestly I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all this, but it feels kinda important that you know where I'm coming from here.
Ciao.
Next Chapter
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The Tall Poles of Tooele by James Belmont
Via Flickr:
Union Pacific 6245, 3394, 3175, and 3284 pull an HKLA (Hinkle, Oregon - Los Angeles, California) merchandise train up an illusive 0.8% grade between Erda and Warner (Tooele), Utah the morning of Nov. 23, 1991.
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So basically there's this monogram neography creation method I got.
It consists solely of breaking down a complex symbol into smaller ones.
The number of final glyphs can be predicted by replacing the "x" in 2^x with the number of separate lines in the monogram.
This monogram above has a total of 12 parts. This means it can yield 4096 combinations.
That's a huge number, considering that English got 26 letters in its alphabet (excluding the apostrophe and diacritical variations of letters). It can fit the English alphabet 157 times, and there will still be some space left.
But there are some problems somewhat - the monogram here has some repeating lines, primarily the parallel ones. But that's fixable,
Just add some distinction ditty dots.
But still the question of filling it out remains open.
Say I add the entire English alphabet. That's 26. Then all possible bi-letter combinations in it. That's 676, which combined with just the letters gives 702. Tri-letter combinations would be impossible, since they yield a number greater than the total sum of symbols possible (17576).
But that does leave us with 3394 symbols out of the total 4096. The only way I see this going is by adding new letters to English, but here's the thing - where to stop?
Theoretically I could fit all the possible letters in the extended Latin script probably, at least the ones in the most widespread alphabets.
But what if I go phonetic?
There's a total of 128 phonetic symbols available on Vulgarlang.com, combing all into pairs would yield a number above that of the total possible symbols (16384). But we can do one thing.
Take all the consonants and multiply them by the vowels, and then again by two (impossible since 95x26 is 2660, and x2 yields 5320 which is greater than the total amount of glyphs possible). Which is a mathematical way of saying "create all possible combinations of vowels and consonants in CV pairs".
So say we combine every consonant with every vowel - that's 2660. Plus 5 tonal indicators, that's 2665. Plus all the newly available superscript modifiers and all the phonetic articulation superscripts (160), that's 2825.
So to recount what we have:
- All possible consonant-vowel combinations.
- All phonetic symbols.
- All phonetic secondary articulation symbols.
And we still have 1271 symbols left.
What else can we do?
Let's add a functional symbol that flips the previous letter backwards. Say, turns /ʃʌ/ into /ʌʃ/. That leaves us with 1270 symbols - a round number, which is good.
For the fun of it how about we make 360 of them numerals? A base-360, which is one of quite notable anti-primes. It will be amazing for counting, and will include countless other numeral systems inside it wouldn't it? To write in decimal just use the numerals from 0 to 9. Also this base is like the Sumerian sexadecimal but multiplied by itself. A complete beast.
Thus, 1270 - 360 = 910.
910 symbols left huh, well fuck me. Well let's consider this: let's add in all the vowels with tones applied. That'd be 28x5, thus, 140.
910 - 140 = 770.
Thus we added to the recount:
- All vowels with 5 tones applied.
- Base-360 numerals.
Next what. We still have 770 possible symbols left.
...Logographic?
Oookay. So let's consider this, we're just going to take the Swadesh list, maybe?
Swadesh 207 list includes 207 words, five of which are numerals (from 1 to 5). If we exclude them, we get 202 words:
all
and
animal
ash
at
back
bad
bark (of a tree)
because
belly
big
bird
black
blood
bone
breast
child
cloud
cold
correct
day
dirty
dog
dry
dull (as a knife)
dust
ear
earth
egg
eye
far
fat (noun)
father
feather
few
fingernail
fire
fish
flower
fog
foot
forest
fruit
full
good
grass
green
guts
hair
hand
head
heart
heavy
here
horn
how
husband
I
ice
if
in
knee
lake
leaf
left
leg
liver
long
louse
man (adult male)
man (human being)
many
meat
moon
mother
mountain
mouth
name
narrow
near
neck
new
night
nose
not
old
other
rain
red
right
river
road
root
rope
rotten
round
salt
sand
sea
seed
sharp (as a knife)
short
skin
sky
small
smoke
smooth
snake
snow
some
star
stick
stone
straight
sun
tail
that
there
they (plural)
they (singular)
thick
thin
this
to bite
to blow
to breathe
to burn
to come
to count
to cut
to die
to dig
to drink
to eat
to fall
to fear
to fight
to float
to flow
to fly
to freeze
to give
to hear
to hit
to hold
to hunt
to kill
to know
to laugh
to lie (as in a bed)
to live
to play
to pull
to push
to rub
to say
to scratch
to see
to sew
to sing
to sit
to sleep
to smell
to spit
to split
to squeeze
to stab
to stand
to suck
to swell
to swim
to think
to throw
to tie
to turn (intransitive)
to vomit
to walk
to wash
to wipe
tongue (organ)
tooth
tree
warm
water
we
wet
what
when
where
white
who
wide
wife
wind
wing
with
woman
worm
year
yellow
you (plural)
you (singular)
Now we are left with 568 symbols. I would love someone to help me here please. I'm out of ideas, I've been writing this post for an hour while brainstorming and checking if my math is right.
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