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starlessea2 · 8 months

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The Dawn Watch (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: As dawn breaks the morning after the tiefling party, you find a vampire basking in the sun. In the daylight, all of his pretty words start to unravel. (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N After a week of feverishly playing (and completing) BG3, here's my first Astarion writing. Part 1/3 of a WIP mini-series called the Sunlight Chronicles.

Masterlist

Sunlight was warm on your eyes. It coaxed them open and made you blink: once hard, twice fast. Your lids were heavy, yet you could hardly remember closing them in the first place. Neither could you recall dozing off in a pile of leaves.

As you pressed yourself into the ground, the forest floor rustled beneath you. A cacophony of dried foliage and bark, made somewhat comfortable by the mossy overgrowth. It took you a moment to understand your surroundings.

The tiefling party had bustled on into the early hours. It was the first reprieve you’d allowed yourself since being plucked from Baldur’s Gate and thrust into this new adventure. But, perhaps you had overindulged…

There was a fire in your belly still, laden with mead and lingerings of lust, and it had led you here: stark-naked and alone on the outskirts of camp.

A chuckle sounded behind you. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d drank you dry.”

You sprung up to your elbows. Not alone, you suddenly remembered.

Your head whipped around, settling on the figure bathed in the light of the low sun. “But alas, you were just making good on that beauty sleep. Morning, pet.”

Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you found Astarion. He was radiant. Rays of dawn had snuck through the trees, dappling between branches onto his pale skin. And his hair... Caught in that glow, it looked like leftover starlight.

The only thing letting him down was his smile. It was utterly charming, as always. But it was more obvious in the daytime; that smile was well-practised.

“Umm, good morning,” you eventually croaked back.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, too nervous to wander over his body. He noticed, of course, and so he paced before you—a small strut, hands on his hips to invite your appraisal.

You looked away. Even in the warmth of the sun, you could feel the man’s contribution to your cheeks. It incited a laugh from him.

“Oh now don’t pretend to be coy, my sweet,” he said. “Not when there was hardly any of that last night.”

You turned your head; any liquid courage you’d gotten from the party had long since worn off. But now sober, Astarion made your heart ache. His falsity was clear as day. He uttered the words you so desperately wanted to hear, but delivered them on the back of a deceitful voice.

A sigh escaped you; perhaps the only time he hadn’t lied was when he’d called you naive.

Awaiting your reply, Astarion became indignant. "What?" he asked. "Disappointed at the lack of morning cuddle? If you ask nicely, perhaps I’ll come back to join—”

"No," you said. "I just..." His eyes watched your every move, red and calculating. You took a moment to collect yourself. "I'm surprised that you stayed at all," you admitted. "Didn't take you for the type."

His hand fell over his chest. "Oh, how you wound me! I try to do the gentlemanly thing, and yet you accuse me and look at me like that."

You cocked a brow. "Like what?"

Astarion let out an exasperated sigh. "Let’s just say it’s easier to know what you're thinking when your eyes are shut.” He made a face, mortifyingly reminiscent of one you’d likely pulled the night before, and your mouth fell ajar.

If you’d been wearing shoes, you would have hurled one at him. But embarassed and barefoot, you instead dug your palms into the soil, more than ready to depart.

Astarion was roused into action. "Oh come on, my dear," he said softly. He sunk to the floor beside you, coaxing you to stay. "All in good fun."

You deliberated for a moment, watching him in your peripheral. There was a smile on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a pang of hurt made itself known. You quickly squashed it down, hoping Astarion had not noticed it in his.

Whatever feelings had bubbled over last night were absent this morning, you could just tell. Perhaps he no longer found you interesting now that he'd conquered you. Maybe he'd pursued you just to break your heart, or gods forbid, he'd been put off after sleeping with you—

“It’s just so warm.”

The words left Astarion, quiet as a whisper. But then his eyes widened and his lips formed a taut line—as though they'd never intended to let anything escape at all.

"What?" you started. But with one small glance at the man, you realised; he was talking about the sun.

For a moment, you watched him, basking in the glow like there was no place he'd rather be. You hummed in agreement. “I guess it’s something we all take for granted here.”

He nodded. It became obvious then; he hadn’t stayed for you, but for the sunrise.

“Astarion, I–”

He snapped his head. The look in his eyes cautioned you—told you the two of you weren’t that close. But something behind that almost dared you to try.

Against your better judgement, you proceeded. “You might have already guessed, but I’m no early riser." A chuckle instinctively followed. “I know Lae’zel told us not to question the shifts she allocated, but..." you paused, "who wants to take watch at the crack of dawn? Certainly not me.”

It was silent for a moment—save for the soft lilting of birds and the occasional breeze. Yet even then, the morning dawned so quiet that your breaths felt loud.

It took a few seconds for Astarion to reanimate, but when he did, it was with a smile. “Oh, my dear... If you’re struggling that badly, you could’ve just said." He sat up, readjusting to meet you straight on. “It’s not a bother swapping with you—if the night shift is more to your taste.”

Your heart felt warm. Truthfully, you liked the dawn watch, but you had a feeling it would be better appreciated by him. “That would be wonderful, thank you."

You had an inkling that Astarion recognised your ploy, but but if did, he wasn’t making a show of it. His hand wove its way into yours, and pressed it into forest bed. “My pleasure," he said. Then he leaned forward with a grin.

You anticipated a kiss, but he stopped before your neck, tracing the bloody bruise he'd bestowed with his lips—worrying last night's sore between his teeth. “It's the least I can do...”

As he mumbled against your skin, a shiver sparked through your shared connection.

“I’ll be more gentle next time." His breath fanned hot over your ear. “Both ways.”

You let out a gasp. "It's okay, we don’t have to—” The words ejected from you, all flustered and not at all how you pictured them.

Astarion offered a smirk in return, but it was accompanied by an expression you now recognised.

He thought you naive.

“Precious,” he said beneath his breath, before returning your crumpled dress to you. “Now come. We best not keep the others waiting.”

And so you followed his lead and quickly dressed: smoothing your hair and attempting to rid your cheeks of their flush.

If anyone asked, you'd say you were sun-kissed.

#astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x you #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #dnd

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hanlimz · 1 year

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synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

#enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #jungwon fluff #jungwon headcanons #jungwon reactions #enhypen #enha fluff #enha headcanons #enha reactions #jungwon imagines #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon x y/n #enhypen jungwon

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dokoni-mo · 1 year

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Warm Water || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: you find yourself exausted, but he knows just what to do.

mostly SFW // Fluff

word count : 3773

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20, Will is almost 40), dom/sub undertones, secret relationship, will is obsessive but not as much in this one, fluff, kisses, non-sexual nudity, cuddling, Willy has scars, pet names, exhaustion, hickeys, swearing, Will likes being called sir i just know it, cuddling, non-sexual intimacy, not very proofread, also just laregly a lot of rambling adfjafk idk im so tired, very very slight sexual themes so minors dni

a/n: i'm tagging my normal people for Crave (aka the peepaw chronicles) for this because it does take place in the same universe, but i'll leave it up to interpretation on whether or not you deem it cannon to the story (so im sorry if you didn't want to be tagged!!),, this is probably the most-self indulgent thing i've ever written so please bear with me,, i'm just very tired from school LMAOO and wanted to write smth more fluffy with willy and his lil bun

~~~

William Afton fucking hated baths. He hated a lot of things, but baths were probably towards the top of the list.

Even thinking about them made his skin crawl. Just the thought of sitting there, in your own dirt and grime? In a stuffy, humid room next to where the toilet is? Disgusting. He didn't consider himself to be a germaphobe, no. That wasn't it at all. He worked with children on a Monday-through-Friday basis. He wasn't scared of germs or getting sick. He'd built up quite the immune system over the years of working at the diner.

He just found the notion of sitting there like a big, sweaty dumpling inside of a soup comprised of water and your own dirt, sweat, and germs revolting.

But you liked them. You liked them a lot.

It was one of the few things William didn't quite understand about you. How could you like something so gross? You had explained your reasoning to him before when he had first found out. Something about how the warmth all around you was comforting, as well as the various different soaps and scents you could use to spruce it up. But, try as you might to explain it, he still didn't understand. Couldn't a shower do the same thing? Without you having to sit in your own filth?

Whatever. He wasn't going to argue with you about it. His bunny enjoyed many strange things, but he wasn't going to take any enjoyment away from them just because he didn't understand. He loved you. He'd never do such a thing.

As out-of-character as it was for him, he found himself buying more bath-related things to secretly store away in his bathroom. For when you came over, of course. You seemed to appreciate it when he gave the array of soaps and other liquids to you, giving him a nice kiss on the cheek. As much as he didn't understand your reasoning, your little smile was all he cared about at the end of the day. He could tolerate your conflicting views. That's what love is all about, isn't it?

William didn't share too many disagreements with you. Not as much as he initially expected when he first made you his. You were soulmates, after all. It's only natural you share similar perspectives.

It was both a blessing and a curse, however. As much as William liked how similar you were, there was a few things he wished he kept for himself and himself only. Such as the work-ethic the two of you shared.

The older man was somewhat of a workaholic. While he reserved the weekends for you and only you, he was much different during the week. He would spend extra hours at the diner frequently. And, when he wasn't at his restaurant, he was tinkering away at some side-project down in his cellar. It wasn't very healthy, but it's how he liked to do things. Gave him character, but also made his hair turn grey.

You liked his grey hairs, though. And he was still handsome with it.

But, his bunny was the same way. You being in college, you had a lot of work to do. Sometimes so much that you'd have to bring your assignments over to his house on the weekends and do them there, even though the two of you agreed long ago that the weekends were couple time. You were a driven little thing. William could see it when he got to watch you work, in the pain in your lower back and shoulders, and in the dark circles under your precious eyes when you fell asleep next to him.

Poor bunny. He didn't want you to work so hard. It hurt his heart seeing you so stressed all the time. Your schooling is important, yes, but you mustn't be so hard on yourself. You're a clever little rabbit. You don't need to devote so much of your time on work, surely not.

Besides, sometimes, William couldn't help but feel a little jealous when all your attention was on your books and papers rather than him.

This was one of those times.

With the turn of the seasons, your professors had also swamped you with several different tests and assignments to turn in sooner rather than later. You never really liked to complain about it to William, he found, but he could tell that the pressure was weighing on you. This had been the third weekend in a row that you had brought your coursework over to his house, your nose buried in the pages; your eyes on the words rather than him.

William kept you company while you worked to have himself nearby, but he couldn't help but be a little peeved. The weekends were sir and bunny's time. Not boring old college.

The brit was watching your back as you scribbled away in your notebook, sitting on the floor in front of him with his coffee table used as your make-shift desk. You had been at it since the moment you finished the breakfast he made you this morning, and now the Utah sun was just starting to creep below the horizon. Worry was in the older man's grey eyes. When was the last time he saw you stand up? Or even scurry yourself to the bathroom? Or get a drink of water? He couldn't remember. And that wasn't good.

He was a patient man, yes, and did value a college education. But William was tired of waiting for you. He barely gets to see his adorable bunny during the week. He'd rather spend this time with you curled up in his bed, closer to him on his lap, or just talking to you. But you hadn't said a word in hours. Even though you were right in front of him, he missed his bunny. And the amount you were working was getting a little ridiculous for his tastes.

"Love?" He asked you through the silence, gently reaching out a hand and rubbing circles into your back, "Are you almost done? It's getting late, little one."

He watched as you looked over your shoulder towards him, but not enough to have your full attention. You seemed just a tad annoyed with him, but he understood. When you were concentrated, you didn't much like him disturbing you.

But he didn't much like not having you in his arms right now.

"Umm..." you breathed, "I dunno, Will. I have, like... two chapters left? To take notes on? So just a little longer, okay?"

The older man felt his jaw clench, "You said that three hours ago, bunny."

"I know, I just... I need to get this done before the deadline. I'm sorry."

"And when exactly is all this due then, hm?"

"Uh... friday?"

"It's Saturday, love."

"I know, I know, just... Just gimme one more hour. Then I promise I'll be done."

William let out a sigh. You had said that three hours ago, too.

The brit watched as you went back to scribbling away in your notebook, finding himself more annoyed. Not at you, of course, but by the situation. You didn't need to work this hard, no. You were William's bunny, after all. You shouldn't ever need to lift a finger around him. But, you were a workaholic just like he was. You liked doing things yourself

He loved and hated you for it.

His fingertips still on your back, William felt his other hand reach up to smooth your hair away from your face. Even though he didn't get a direct shot of you, he could tell that you were tired. He could see the dark circles under your eyes from his spot on the couch, and the slight redness that had crept into them. Hell, your back must be aching too from sitting on the ground for so long. And didn't your pretty little head hurt? Surely it did.

Sweet bunny. You needed a break. You needed to be done for the day. Plain and simple.

Reaching forward, William pressed a few soft, warm kisses to the side of your cheek and hair as he took your pencil away from you, laying it on the table. When you turned around at him to protest, he seized the opportunity to capture your lips into his, lingering on your sweet taste for perhaps longer than he should have. He pulled back and brought his hands close, cradling your jaw a few inches away from his face.

"I think you've done far enough for today, little one." He said to you, using his thumbs to caress your cheeks, "Wouldn't you agree?"

He could feel your cheeks heat slightly under his touch, "Will, if I finish today, I'll have time to visit your office during the week. So I really need to finish."

William let out a chuckle. He always did like having you in his office. It was cute you were thinking of him.

"But you're here now, my love." He said, "And I want you now."

"I... I want you too, but-"

William shushed you before you could continue, leaning in and giving you another sweet, long kiss.

The brit pulled away, looking into your tired eyes again, "You work far too hard, bunny. You'll burn yourself out. And I want my little rabbit to be happy, yeah?"

You nodded in response.

"Of course I do. And I'd hope you'd want the same for yourself, yes?"

You nodded again, "Yes... sir."

William's soft smile widened as he let out a pleased hum, "Good bunny. Now, why don't we relax a bit, hm? You've definitely earned it, my darling."

He watched as your cheeks heated up some more, your eyes flickering downward, "I... I think I'm gonna be too tired to-"

The brit chuckled, "No, love, no. I'm not talking about that. I was thinking of something a little different for tonight."

"Like what?"

"You still like baths, right bunny?"

"Yeah? Why?"

William couldn't believe he was saying this. But, he knew it'd have to be something special to get you away from your work. Luckily, he knew just what to do. Even if it wrecked his pride just a hair.

"Would you care to join me for one?"

You furrowed your brow in confusion at his words, but a soft smile still remained out of amusement.

"Join you? For a bath?" You asked.

"Yes, love."

You let out a little laugh, "Will, you hate baths. You've made that really clear over these last few months."

William let out a hum, brushing some more hair away from your face, "Yes, I do. But I love you far more than I hate them. And I know they're always relaxing for you, love. And I want to help you do just that. You're tired, bunny. I can see it."

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Just let me take care of you." He continued, "Like I promised I would. Can you do that for me, love?"

The older man saw how your smile widened at his words, "Fine, fine. Just promise me you're not gonna complain the whole time."

"Of course not, bunny. Now, come here. Let me pick you up, yeah?"

William took you wrapping your arms around his neck as you accepting his invitation. Leaning down a little more, he scooped you up into his arms and held you close, pressing a kiss to your blushy cheek a you giggled as his strength. Your legs wrapped around his waist, he carried you all the way from his living room into his master-bathroom, placing you down so you could sit on the lidded-toilet.

Rolling up his dress-shirt sleeves, William opened up the cabinet under his sink and looked at the vast array of bath materials he had collected for you. He pulled out each one and laid them on the ground, making sure the labels were pointed towards you so that you could read them.

Once all of the products were out, the brit closed the cabinet and took a knee in front of you for you to discuss with him which ones you wanted to use.

"Do you even know what these things are?" You asked, picking up a clear bottle to read it more closely.

"If I'm being honest, love," he said, "I have no idea. The woman at the shop helped me pick a lot of them out."

You giggled again, "Well, this here is a bubble-bath. You put it in the water while it's running and it makes a lot of bubbles. And that baggie is bath salts. It just makes the bath, like... mineral-y."

The older man quirked a brow, "Mineral-y?"

"It's hard to describe! It's just good for your skin."

"I see." William reached down and picked up a pinkish jar, "What about this? It doesn't look like you've used it that much."

"Oh, those are petal-soaps. They look like flower petals but they're actually soap. They dissolve in the water after a while. They make the water smell like roses too! I was saving them for a special occasion."

"Well, is this a special enough occasion?"

"Getting the Mr. Afton into a bath? Hell yeah it is."

William chuckled, "You flatter me, bunny."

You smiled back at him, "The petals and the bubble-bath will be nice. That's what I wanna use."

"If you say so, love."

With your final approval on the products being used, William shifted himself over to his large, porcelain-white bath, reaching in and stopping the drain before turning the hot-water valve on. The sound of the water hitting the dry tub filled the air, the pipes creaking just a tad at the rare usage. While the water poured down, the brit used the opportunity to pour in some of the bubble bath liquid. William then let the water run for a few minutes more, leaving his fingertips under the water until it warmed up.

"Is this too hot for you, bunny?" He asked. You reached forward past the older man to feel the water.

"Nah, it's good. I like it to be real warm."

"Perfect. Wait here then."

Shaking the water off his hand, William stood up from his kneeling position over to one of the longer, taller cabinets nearby. Reaching inside, he pulled out a few of his favorite soft, lush purplish-grey towels, walking back over and handing one to you.

"Here, love." He said, "So you don't freeze to death before the bath fills up."

You took the towel with a soft thank you as you stood up from your seat on the toilet. You turned away from the brit as you pulled your shirt off over your head, his eyes fixated on your bare back as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. As you slipped off your pants and underwear, William could see the ghosts of former hickeys he had given you past weekends on your shoulders and thighs. You were a good bunny and didn't try and cover them up with any makeup or anything, just like he wanted. The more recent ones were fading, though.

He'd have to fix that soon.

He continued to watch as you kicked all your clothes into a pile by the foot of the bath and wrapped the towel around you. Your nude body no longer available for him to see, he went back to removing his own clothes.

Once they were all off, and neatly folded on the edge of his sink, William wrapped his towel around his lower half and stepped closer to you. You were watching the water fill up and he snaked his long, scarred arms around your middle, pulling you close to his chest. He could feel how you smiled as he pressed his kisses into your hair.

"I love you, bunny." He mumbled against you, feeling your little hands glide over the scars on his forearms as you leaned back against him.

"I love you too, Will." you responded.

He continued his assault of kisses onto your cheek and jaw, "Are you feeling any better, my love?"

"Definitely. I didn't even realize how tired I was."

William let out a hum as his kisses found your neck, "You have been working for almost 12 full hours, bunny."

"Oh my god, really?"

"Mhm."

You let out a groan, "Oh my god, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, Will. I didn't even realize. You must've been so bored."

"Don't apologize, little one. I know how much your Uni means to you."

"Yeah, but still... I feel bad. I don't want you to be bored. And we only get to see each other on weekends. It doesn't help I already pissed half of it away."

"It's not your job to entertain me, love. You know just having you here is enough."

"But I don't wanna be just enough. I wanna be like... better. Because you do so much for me. I... I feel like I don't try hard enough sometimes. And I'm sorry."

William let out a sympathetic hum and he lifted your chin up to him, giving your lips a sweet, reassuring peck.

"Everything about you is perfect, bunny. I wouldn't change one thing about you. You try more than you realize."

"How?"

"Well, you did say you were working so late because you wanted to see me in my office, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

"And why is that?"

"Because I know you like it when I do."

William gave you another kiss, "See?"

You smiled at your own silliness, standing on your tip-toes to kiss him one last time, "Fine, fine. You win."

William smiled to match your own, "You worry too much, bunny. I understand what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I love you, and nothing's going to ever change that."

"What if I was ugly?"

"You're not ugly, love."

"But what if I was?"

"I'd still love you."

"What if, like, I only spoke in rhymes or something?"

"It'd be... odd, but I'd still love you."

You giggled, "What if I burned down the diner?"

"Well... you know, I never really liked it much. You'd honestly be doing me a favor, love. So I'd probably love you even more."

"Should I go do it then?"

"Maybe later, bunny. Looks like our bath is full."

Giving you one last kiss on your cheek, William padded over to the running faucet and turned off the valve. In his peripheral, he saw you grab the can of the fake petals and open it up, grabbing a fistful and throwing the small soaps on top of the bubbles. The reddish-pink hue contrasted greatly over the white bubbles and water, making the bath look rather pretty. William was impressed.

William allowed himself to step into the bath first, unwrapping his lower half, folding and placing the towel on the ground nearby. The bubbles dispersing around him, William made sure that water was still a good temperature for you before he sat down in the bath. Once situated, he held out his hand for you.

Placing your soft, small palm in his, you let your towel drop to the floor as you got in the bath yourself. Using his hand as a balance, you sunk your legs in beneath the bubbles as you sat down in the water as well. William spread his bare legs apart beneath the water to make room for you, holding onto your waist and guiding you to lean back against him. You followed his silent order, your bare back against his scarred chest as you rested your head on his strong shoulder. The man pressed a few kisses to your hair as he wrapped his arms around you beneath the water. You relaxed against him easily, and your eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling around you.

"Is it too hot, bunny?" He asked you, already knowing what you would say, but still wanting to make sure.

"It's perfect, Will." You mumbled, "Thank you."

The brit felt himself smile, "There's no need to thank me, little one. I'm just happy I got you to myself now."

You breathed out a laugh, "Didn't like third-wheeling my textbook, hm?"

"Not at all." He pressed another kiss to your cheek, "You're mine. I should never be the third wheel."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to."

"I know. It's alright. Just relax, bunny."

Leaning down to press more kisses into the back of your neck, William lifted up his wet hands out of the water, making a splash echo through the bathroom. Steadily, he grabbed onto your shoulders and rubbed firm, massaging circles into your back with his thumbs and the heels of his palms. You shut your eyes tighter at the feeling, a few low groans escaping the back of your throat.

"Feel good?" He asked. All you could do was nod as he chuckled, "Good. I'm glad. Your muscles are quite firm, love. You shouldn't be sitting on the floor like that for so long."

"If I got on the couch," you said, "I knew you wouldn't let me get off it again and back to work."

William laughed, "You know me far too well, bunny."

"You're just very predictable sometimes."

"Oh? Am I now?"

You nodded again, "Only sometimes though. Like today when I woke up, I would've never guessed you'd be in here with me right now."

"I can't say I predicted that either, love."

You breathed out a laugh, "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay, Will."

"No, no." William pressed more kisses to the back of your neck, rubbing deeply into your more firm muscles, "I actually think it's rather nice in here."

"Really? Or are you just trying to not make me feel bad?"

"I mean it, love. It's nice. But, perhaps I'm biased. How could I not enjoy being so close to my precious rabbit, hm?"

Your smile grew as you leaned back against his chest again, making his arms return to their home around your waist. You had scooted down so that your head rested more so on his collarbone, allowing you to look up at him more clearly, and him at you.

"Along with predictable," you said, "You're also really cheesy sometimes."

"Oh, you love it though, don't you bunny?"

"I do." You leaned up and gave the brit a kiss on the jaw, "And I love you too. Thank you for everything tonight, Will. I really appreciate it."

The older man felt his heart swell in his chest as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Anytime, my love. Anytime."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee @violetlmfaoo

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!! as well as anyone who didn't want to be tagged (pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all Willy works :)) )

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #afton x reader #dave miller x reader

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vinnieswife · 1 year

Text

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ materialist ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

last updated! 30/01/2023

✾ = smut!

Celebrities ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Vinnie Hacker

Hyperactive ✾

Goodbye ✾

Knife play✾

Morning sex ✾

Public play✾

Panic attack ✾

Punishment ✾

Nsfw alphabet ✾

Dirty secret ✾

Mirror play ✾

Birthday girl ✾

Soft!dom Vin ✾ (head cannon)

Such a brat ✾

Live stream ✾

Tired Vin

Lazy day

Trust issues

Play date

Out of the ring

Jacob Elordi

Only indoors

Hard day

The date

Jude Bellingham

Our bet ✾

Pussy drunk ✾

Relieve after a bad game ✾

Hayden Chistensen

Young lovers on the set

Being in love with your co-star

Dating rumors

Harry Potter ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Remus Lupin

Autumn

Anime ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

MY HERO ACADEMIA ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Katsuki Bakugo

Bath and cuddles?

Father!katsuki

Dabi / Touya Todoroki

A…bath?

Kissing his scars

Morening with Touya

JUJUTSU KAISEN ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Sukuna Ryomen

Past lover

Our secret ✾

Sukuna’s memories

Under the sunset

Cuddles

Megumi Fushiguro

Evening with Megumi

Formula 1 ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Charles Leclerc

Some time together

Arthur Leclerc

Your firsts with artie

Stress killer ✾

Pierre Gasly

Nightmares

Dc / Marvel ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Alex Summers

Detention

Jason Todd

thank you

Dick Grayson

You don’t know how to shut up ✾

Star Wars ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Anakin Skywalker

Dating Ani

Face riding ✾

Macgyver ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Angus Macgyver

Work day morning

Bozer’s friend

His free day

Avatar ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Neteyam

back massage

protective teyam

“are you that ticklish?”

lost

Chronicles of Narnia ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Peter Pevensie

Late night project

After the battle

Pirates of the caribbean ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　

Henry Turner

A pirates love

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whatevergreen · 4 months

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“You Can Have Fun Too” poster, created by Mick Hicks for SFAF, 1984

"In 1984, Rick Crane, director of the (San Francisco AIDS Foundation) at the time, hired famed local photographer Mick Hicks to photograph two men for a safe-sex poster to be put in the city’s gay bars, baths, and other locations. Hicks worked for virtually all the LGBTQ newspapers in the Bay Area and had spent a year and a half photographing people with AIDS, chronicling their struggle with the disease. He quickly accepted the commission.

At the same time, a young Black man named Robert Gray, a native San Franciscan raised in the Bayview Hunter’s Point area of the city, and a proud sixth-generation descendant of the Georgetown 272 (a group of 272 African slaves who were sold, in 1838 by the Jesuit priests who ran George University to keep the school afloat), was rather well known in the Castro and Tenderloin areas. “I had started meeting and dating guys in my junior year in high school,” he told me. “I went to high school four or five blocks from the Castro. I would find my way up through the bar scene during that time, sneaking into gay bars and discos.” Of course, he realized that AIDS was rampant through the city.

One day, as 24-year-old Robert wandered down Castro Street, a man approached him and asked if he would pose for a photo for a safe-sex poster for San Francisco AIDS Foundation. “The gentleman advised me that a young photographer named Mick Hicks was looking for two subjects, one Black male and one white male, for the poster. Having seen so many of my personal friends succumb to this deadly virus, I felt it was something I needed to do to help stop the spread of this horrific disease. I asked myself, ‘Why not?’ With AIDS affecting so many of my gay brothers and sisters, I felt it was my responsibility to do something to contribute to AIDS awareness and prevention. I needed to take action, whatever I could do to be a voice of action and help my community.” He agreed on the spot to do the poster.

“You Can Have Fun (and be safe too)” read the final poster. The image that Hicks created featured Robert, shot from the back, embracing a white model (Hicks’ partner Nick Cuccia), his white arm and bubble-butt standing out prominently against Robert’s skin. Even the Chronicle columnist Herb Caen took notice of the photo. The sex-positive message of the poster advocated “mutual masturbation,” “erotic massage,” “imagination and fantasies,” and “limiting social drugs.” The poster portrayed and promoted gay sex as normal, expected behavior, and emphasized the pleasure that could be had while still protecting oneself against transmission of the virus. The poster caused a huge sensation and started appearing in gay bars, discos, and bathhouses from San Francisco to New York. Mr. Gray told me, “As the young kids would say today, ‘it went viral,’ no pun intended!”

(Castro, San Francisco postcard, 1984)

Regrettably, the poster also launched a two-pronged backlash, one prong based in religious prudery, the other in racism.

By asserting that gay sex could be both fun and safe, the poster was the first to portray gay sex as normal, healthy, and fun. Even before AIDS, gay sex had been viewed as aberrant, “unnatural.” As an offshoot of that prejudice, AIDS was thought by many as a visitation of the wrath of God on immoral men who were violating God’s law. How many times did we hear in the early 1980s, “At least AIDS is killing all the right people”? The poster’s sex-positive message was condemned as an affront to decency and family values.

Even more lamentably, the poster inadvertently shone a light on the racial animus within San Francisco’s gay community. As Rick Crane told the Bay Area Reporter in 2014, “Gays as a group were considered second-class citizens and, ironically, gays themselves were treating gay blacks the same way — as second-class citizens.” Although racial tensions had eased somewhat from the flashpoints of the ‘60s and ‘70s, there was still a clear racial divide in the bars in the Castro. The Pendulum was the Castro’s only gay bar where black men and white men went comfortably to meet; the other Castro bars catered primarily to whites. The Trap, located in the Tenderloin district, also catered to interracial couples. Thus, some of the bars and other establishments refused to display the poster, deeming it “unacceptable.” Regarding the response to the poster, Gray said, “I would go into bars, and I would hear the chatter amongst people about the poster. I heard some really positive things, but also some really negative, racially motivated things.

(Below: "Thyrell And Chris Outside The Pendulum Bar SF", 1986 by Jim James aka Photojimsf)

“At the time that I did the poster,” he continued, “I had no idea that it would be so controversial. Honestly, had I known this upfront, I might not have done it. But looking back on it now, I would do it again because it was the right thing to do.” But still, he laments, “Who would have thought that a photo would open my eyes to the racism within the gay community? We are so much more alike as a people than different. One would think we could get along better and come together for a cause greater than us individually. Being a proud Black gay man, I must fight harder than most for myself and for those who come after me.”

These days, Robert Gray is still that proud Black gay man who changed the face of safe-sex advocacy. Sixty-two years old now, nearly forty years since he posed for the SFAF poster, he is semi-retired and lives in Vallejo, California. He is now a widower, having lost his partner of 42 years (his husband since 2013). He remains quite proud of the poster to this day, even if that pride is somewhat tempered by what he considers a lack of recognition for his work. “I thought over time I would see the poster in the gay pride parades or that I would be given some special honor from major players in the movement, like GLAAD. There is still a lot of racism in the gay community.”

Adapted from a February 18, 2022 article by Hank Trout:

https://www.sfaf.org/collections/status/why-did-a-safe-sex-poster-spark-controversy-in-1984/

#lgbtq #lgbt+#race #blm #san francisco #aids #hiv

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christophersslut · 3 days

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"Chronicles of the Dark Heart"

Chapter 1:The Encounter

In the dimly lit alley, Chris stumbled upon his ex-lover, a woman he hadn't seen in years. Their eyes met, and a chill ran down his spine as he recognized the familiar glint of danger in her gaze. She stood there, bathed in the flickering light of the neon signs, an aura of mystery and menace surrounding her.

"Chris," she said, her voice low and icy. "Fancy seeing you here."

Chris's heart raced as memories of their tumultuous relationship flooded back. He remembered the passion, the fights, and the eventual bitter breakup. But what he couldn't remember was why he had ever fallen for her in the first place.

Despite the warning bells going off in his mind, Chris couldn't resist the pull of their shared past. "Hey," he replied, trying to sound casual. "It's been a while."

The female reader smirked, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Too long," she said cryptically. "But I suppose some things are worth the wait."

Unnerved by her cryptic words, Chris shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about her, something dark and sinister lurking beneath the surface.

But before he could gather his thoughts, she was already moving closer, her presence overwhelming him. "Let's catch up," she suggested, her voice honeyed but tinged with malice. "There's a little diner around the corner. I'll even buy you a coffee."

Despite the warning bells ringing loudly in his mind, Chris found himself nodding in agreement. He knew he should walk away, cut ties with his dangerous past once and for all. But something, perhaps morbid curiosity or a twisted sense of nostalgia, compelled him to follow her into the night.

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mxtxfanatic · 1 year

Text

This:

During the few months that he and Wei Wuxian had lived together, he had committed himself to correcting Wei Wuxian’s body clock, but his efforts had been in vain so far. After the disciples had sent the bath water, Lan Wangji would dress Wei Wuxian properly and carry him into the bath. Wei Wuxian would continue to sleep as he soaked in the water. When Lan Wangji pushed him gently, he would grab his hand, kissing his palm and his knuckles a few times and place it at his face and continue sleeping. When he was pushed until he became annoyed he would tut several times and pull Lan Wangji down with his eyes still shut and cup his face, kissing him and murmuring, “Be good, be good, don’t play around. I’m begging you, just a while more and I’ll wake up. Mn.”

—Chapt. 115: Side Story: Family Banquet 2 - Honeymoon Chronicles, chiaki_himura

...is my favorite thing about post-canon wangxian. The small displays of intimacy get me every time. Also:

Although he knew that even if the house started burning up in flames, Wei Wuxian would simply switch location and continue sleeping, Lan Wangji persisted in waking him up every morning from maoshi, and then get kissed and touched sixty over times without his expression changing.

Lan Wangji is definitely doing this for the kisses at this point 🤣

#human reads mdzs: take 2 #they are so soft for each other!

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mynameis-noe-body · 7 months

Text

Wonderland Chronicles

Tarrant Higtopp (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsleigh

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.

Alice has seven, beautiful pieces of cloth — which is a very fine number, for clothes. And he knows about that, surely, he made them with his own magical hands, and his good heart, obviously. Tarrant loves to believe there's a little bit of love in every of his artworks and Alice's dresses are his most fabulous creations. She has two majestic, opulent suits — with long coat and embroidered pants — that she loves to wear during the most elegant nights at Marmoreal Castle, with Queen Mirana and the whole court. Then, there's her night gown, which is made of the finest silk — and Caterpillar knows that better than anyone else in the Underlands — and is of the loveliest shade of avory, as pale as the big moon in their night sky. She wears a lilac jumpsuit when she's about to travel through the lands on the back of the Bandersnatch, who's the most affectionate towards their Champion. And — last but not least — there are those three tea-lenght dresses, cut and sewn from long fabrics of organza, lace and tulle, painted of the most intense shade of cobalt, or vivid cerulean or perhaps light blue sky. Yes — every shade of blue is Alice: among the softest clouds and in the deepest water, everywhere there's a little bit of blue that reminds him of his pretty, pretty Alice.

Tarrant is the happiest as she comes at his door wearing one of those three dresses, because that means they are going to spend some time together, and that would be one of the best days ever (as any day spent with Alice is the most beautiful of them all). And that one is a very fine day. Time has fallen asleep somewhere, and it seems the sun itself has stopped in the middle of the afternoon to leave them happily bathed in his warm light; sitting on a big picnic blanket, the Hatter opens his wicker basket. «Come on — hop hop — time to jump out of the cupboard, little friends. We have a very important guest to entertain!» and suddenly, two small cups of fine porcelain and a puffy teapot pop up and land on the blanket. «Oh, good. Tea's ready.»

«I wish cups and teapots could make tea on their own in the Upland, too. I could not imagine Mother's surprise at this!» Alice says; her little smile is the extremely satisfying.

Tarrant, however, suddenly feels Sadness thighting her hands around his neck. «Why, Alice — are you already planning to leave? I couldn't bear it, honestly. You've just come back» to me, he would add, but he isn't sure how she would take that. Brave she is, yes, but sometimes too unfocused on her Muchness to see what truly happens around her.

She shakes her head. The yellow porcelain cup jump on the open palm of her hand and she sips the green tea. «No, Hatter. This time I've come back for good, I promise.»

And she had promised, many moons ago, that she had wanted to stay this time. Business were finally done and gone in the Upland, that very strange place had no more sense to her; evil people there, and no fun at all. Not for a woman, anyway. While there, they had valiant Queens and brave Warrior lasses. Tarrant had made her tell the story of how she had chased a dream through a painting to fall down there all over again; a big tableau on the wall above the fireplace, she had painted just little details here and there: a white rabbit, big scarlet mushrooms and singing flowers, two funny children in white and red stripes and — obviously — a Mad Hatter. And when she had seen them walking together down the green, grassy road, she knew she only had to reach out. She didn't even bother to say goodbye.

He smiles at the thought, and his eyes sparkles emerald. «Well that's the best news, Alice! Many things I desire to show you.»

«Tell me about that.» Alice lets the cup go, and lays on the blanket; her golden hair are scattered around her just-right-seized head as a mane, her pale, soft skin shines in the lovely light of the day, a sweet breeze blows on her cheeks and goosebumps runs on her chest. Nice breast — round and soft under her garments, plump as ripe fruits and oh-so sweet, he'd die so happy is he could just... if 'is greedy slurvish tongue could tast' ta' bonnie lass — nice 'n' slow, just a lil' bite — «Hatter!» she exclaims, and his eyes, which had become so purple just a few seconds ago, turns back green.

«I beg your pardon.» Oh — good Absolem and all his little caterpillars — those thoughts have been haunting him for quite some time now. He doesn't wants to ruin their friendship, but the Madness is getting stronger. Harder to control when she's around him. She smells like spring and cupcakes, and such lov— no, not again. «Right, where were we? Ah yes, our new adventures, dearest Alice. I plan to bring you to the Merry Lake, maybe fishing, and you'll need a new hat obviously! A nice boater with black 'n' white stripes. Then, I'll bring you to the Fairy Forest, to catch flying seahorses, and you'll wear a cartwheel — pink, yes! Or maybe just coral and blue. Oh, I must not forget, I still need to show you how to pick spurtberries!»

Alice laughs loudly. She sits up again, next to him and Tarrant isn't sure he's breathing again. Her scent is intoxicating, the warmest desire inflames his loins — dear, the gods couldn't compare her fine beauty — such a bonnie gurl, mmmh, yes, I wanna lick ta' lips 'n' bite her neck, luvely creature my Alice. Mine. Mine to tast' fffuck — «...a spurtberry?» her voice breaks into his mad mad head and he smiles back.

«I believe I'm distracted today, Alice, thinking about hats... A fez! Yes! Forgive me, love. What were you saying?»

He doesn't notice, at first, but then her cheeks turns of the prettiest shade of red, like two ripe, sweet peaches, and her eyes grow big and wide, her short breath on his face betrays some new emotion. He's so bewitched by her image — the tip of her tongue wet her lips, and he wants nothing more than to kiss her, and taste her, and let his mouth run down her skin of the neck to bite her there, and on the swell curve of her breasts — he forgets he's just called her love.

Alice's heart is thundering in her chest, but she doesn't know what do with it. Would it be so scandalous to touch him? She let her hand caress his knee, softly, with reverence. «What is a spurtberry, Tarrant?»

Oh, his name. Such a sweet sound on her lips. He closes his eyes — his iris are turning purple and it isn't good, very much not good — and he tries a smile. «Spurtberries! Yes, delicious. Wait, I may have some here» and he opens the basket again; his whole arm search for that plate deep inside the casket, as if it was as the deep as the heart, and finally he finds them. Round, bright red berries, as big strawberries, as round as blueberries and as sweet as currant. He takes one between his fingers and smiles. «Here, try it» he shows her how to bite.

And she bites. Her theet sink into the soft texture of the fruit while she hums her delight. It looks so innocent, his two slim fingers feeding her hungry lips and however, it feels so naughty and erotic — the way is index barely touches her lower lip, the moan in her throat as delicious juices flow down in her belly, that scarlet tint dripping down on the palm of his hand, and now on her chin too, and now — good gods, her white neck now painted in red. That single drop slides down on her skin, and slowly disappear behind the hem of the cobalt neckline. She has worne that dress, that one that shows so much of her fine body, and her think naked ankles; it wraps her like a previous gift. And her chest swells with fresh air, their dreamy gazes meet in mid air.

She barely breathes, and he knows now how their lips are just few inches away. Her sapphire eyes sparkle with want and desire. «Tarrant» she whispers.

«Yes?» — it pains him so much, please, he silently begs her, please I'm so miserable, my dear Alice.

«Don't you want to taste it, too?» and she smiles, teasing.

Tarrant smirks. «Yes.» And he kisses her.

Sure and firm his lips press on hers, and they catch fire. There's everything in that kiss, how they've missed each other, how deep is their need to belong, finally; they move together, the kiss depeens and their tongues make love amog their lips. It's slow and sensual, she's so sweet he thinks he could die right there, on the lovely softness of her mouth, listening to her little voice moaning his name. He growls. Gods — he hasn't felt this wild in a while, she inflames his desires. Hot, it feels so hot suddenly he aruptly takes off his cravat and unbutton his jacket, but that only turns on Alice's Muchness, for her bare hands grab the back of his neck, and his frizzy hair, and she takes him so tight — her mouth is so lovely open, her tongue slides over his upper lip and he snarls. Fuck. Yes. And he bites her, moaning her name, and suck lavishly on her tongue.

«Mmh — oh me' dear Alice, me' bonnie, luvely lass — lemme just, there, lemme taste your sweetness. Gods, lemme giv' ya everthin'» and he sucks on her neck. Her desperate cry of pleasure is the most perfect music. He's drinking on her, licking the purple trace of juice on her body, his tongue gliding down her naked chest. A kiss, another kiss. And he sucks, hard, leaving big red marks on her, if his name written on her skin. Her hands in his hair urge him; she's always been so greedy — his Alice — hungry for more, impatient and eager. There's no way he can open his mouth more or he'd swallow her all. He has to stop — he must. When he breathes into her breasts her scent fills his soul and he can just feel it, how hard he is. No pain has ever been so sweet. «Lemme luv you, lass. I want to tell you, how deep my live for you is, my Alice. Mine.» He presses his lips closed on her skin. «I will show you, luv — how I can give you the greatest pleasure with the tip of my tongue, and how you'll feel with my finger on your pretty, wet quim. Are you, Alice? Wet?»

It is, she is. Alice has no words, there's a hot warm feeling spreading between her legs and she's whimpering, begging him with wide, liquid eyes to touch her more, to kiss her more. Yes — those lips on her breasts feel so good, so soft and hungry. She embraces him, sliding her hand on his back; she just need so much of him against her body — more skin, more everything. «Off, Tarrant. Please, show me!»

They rip their clothes off: he takes off his waistcoat, his white shirt and he opens his breeches — it feels good, his hard clothed cock against her thigh as she fumbles with her gown. Avory long legs are now bare before his thirsty gaze. His fingers are rough, calloused on her skin and she squirms under his touch. Steady, yes — his Alice never wears stockings, or corset. Naughty, naughty girl. He licks his lips as a kitten in front of a delicious bowl of sweet cream. Her cream, yes, between her legs, on the soft flesh of her pink, virgin cunt. What a sight. «Do not be afraid, luv. Trust your mad, mad Hatter — for only good may come from such a sinful folly. Open your legs, open for me — yes, nice and wide my brave Alice.» He gently takes off his hat, and smirks maliciously as he sinks into that arousal.

He presses his lips on her wet flesh, kissing his way down her cunt; she suddenly whimper and whine, like a little cat begging for more. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands as her legs slowly open more, more, and she offers everything and every bit of pleasure she may give. Yes — she's gone for good, Madness has caught her finally, taken her to the warm ocean of lust in which she's drowing now. And it feels more than good. She was made for this. «Oh — Tarrant! More — God, more!»

«No gods here, love — just your faithful Hatter. Delicious, lovely Alice. Lemme ea'tis pretty pussie here.» Tarrant shoves his tongue inside her, there where sweet juices drips out of her sex and onto his lips, he licks and suck, and his skilled fingers caresses her most sensitive part. His thumb presses on that little bundle of nerves, her small clit, the lovely pearl between those pinky lips and she moans his name. Again. Greedy, ravenous, he's feeding on her — yes.

Alice grabs his hair, and finally starts to ride his face: she rocks her hips up and down, up and down taking everything, bucking into his hot mouth. More — she needs more, there yesyesyesyes. She's so empty, but of what she does not know. There something wrong, a void, and she's crying again for him. «Empty — so empty, Tarrant please! I need... I need —»

«I ken what ya need, luv.»

He lies on the blanket, taking her in his arm, kissing her cheek. His crotch humping against her thigh feels so good... And he can't wait anymore, two wide fingers thrust in, all the way in — inside her, so soft and tight, that virgin cunt takes him so well, it was made to be marked by his touch. And she arches her back so he can press into the perfect spot. «There, Tarrant!» and he knows what he's doing: come — his fingers sing into her soul, into her loins, turning on the burning flame of a sweet orgasm into her cunt. Licking his lips, he watches her losing control; her nails press deep in the flesh of his back, and can't help himself but wish to bring those scratches on his skin forever.

He bucks his hips against her, thrusting his hard cock on her soft hips, more and more, wetting his garments with precum and moaning in her ear. «Nngh — fffuck, Alice my luv, jus' like tha' — feel so good — good gurl.» And as she's rocking against the palm of his hand and his fingers shove deep inside, he's pressing his cock harder on her softness. It feel too perfect to last. There they are, shuddering hard as he sinks his theet on her neck, sucking another red love-bite, moaning her name — AliceAliceAlice — and she screams her pleasure, sobbing against his warm body, tears of happiness sliding down her pinky cheecks. Then, it subsides, slowly like the waves on the shore, and all that's left are their whispers of love. They kiss, barely pecking their lips, smiling happy together.

Tarrant eyes turns of the most intense, deepest green as she breathes against his neck, going limp in his arms. «Are you well, dearest?»

Alice smiles and reaches out to grab a little red Berry. She bites, scarlet juices dripping on her fingers; she let it slides on his chest — and he hisses, smiling knowingly. «Never better, Tarrat» she licks his neck. «But I believe now, it is my turn.»

#mad hatter #tarrant hightopp #alice in wonderland #alice kingsleigh #Mad Hatter x Alice #alice x tarrant #smut

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rapha-reads · 2 years

Note

do you have any merthur fic recommendations that have happy endings?

Do I ever ! Strap on, I've got quite the list.

Tagged Angst With A Happy Ending :

Take A Letter, Merlin by Caledonia/@iamcaledonia (7870 words, Modern Era)

Arthur is an emotionally repressed workaholic who is unhappily married. Merlin is his loyal and competent personal assistant. One Monday, Merlin comes to work to find that, over the weekend, Arthur has dictated a letter for Merlin that is about to change both of their lives. A song fic inspired by the 1969 classic, 'Take A Letter, Maria' by R. B. Greaves.

Kiss Today Goodbye, by Cithara/@citharaposts (5337 words, Canon Era, Divergence from s02e13)

When Arthur regains consciousness in time to hear Merlin confront the dragon, his world is turned on its head by the revelations that follow.

Turning the Page, by @schweetheart and @queerofthedagger (19050 words, Canon Divergence, Epistolary)

Without intending to, Arthur pushes Merlin just one step too far. Now he's left without his manservant but a hundred questions, a world of hurt, and guilt that clings to him like a shadow. Well, and a notebook filled with drawings because apparently, Merlin can draw on top of being a sorcerer. No matter how often Arthur tells himself that he just wants to forget, he can't help but come back to the collection of sketches and notes, a chronicle of all that Merlin has done.

Maybe their story isn't quite over yet.

The Knights of the Table, by DrJackAndMissJo/@drjackandmissjo (9198 words, Modern Era, Food Critic and Chef AU)

'Can you even believe this guy?" Gwaine asked, offended and almost breathless as he popped himself on Percival’s counter. There was no need for any of the other men to ask who he was talking about. Everyone knew about the devilish creature that wrote the restaurant and food reviews on Camelot Weekly. “What makes you even think it’s a guy?” asked Lance as he took the newspaper from the Irish man, “I’m pretty sure that it is a demon sent straight from hell to torture all of us!”

Tagged Happy Ending :

Hope On A Tuesday Afternoon, by arsenicandsunshine (8985 words, Modern Era, Housemates, Idiots in Love, Getting Together)

Arthur likes his life. Why wouldn't he? Nice flat, all to himself, stable job. Friends. Yep, he's set all right. Or, he is until he ends up with an unexpected flatmate. Merlin certainly does have a knack for turning Arthur's life upside down.

a long, long day, by @oncefutureemrys (1237 words, Canon Era, Secret Relationship, baths and massages)

Merlin was beyond tired of it all. He just wanted one moment where… it could be just him. Just him and Arthur, just the two of them, without the rest of the world interfering. But alas, Merlin was no normal person and neither was Arthur, and the chances of them having a regular day were almost as likely as Uther deciding to stop hating magic. So, he walked into Arthur’s room, ready for more late night chores, a slight slump in his posture. To anyone else, it would seem as if he was perfectly fine, usual Merlin just slightly tired from a long day’s work. But Merlin knew it was a bit more than that. And so did Arthur, apparently, because when he stumbled in, he found the idiot sitting casually behind his desk, an air of amusement and playfulness surrounding him, a teasing grin forming on his stupid, stupid (handsome) face. Or: Merlin's had a long day, so Arthur takes care of him.

Suffering in Silence, by TheCourtSorcerer/@tcs-main (3205 words, Canon Divergence, Sir Leon-The-Long-Suffering, POV Leon)

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to say something. He couldn’t keep silent anymore. Day in, day out… The constant borderline scandalous looks, the barely concealed innuendos, the incredibly unsubtle touches, all of it! He was going to lose his mind. How could two people be so blind?! So, that’s what led him to the tavern that night, across from Gwaine, a hint of regret tugging at his mind that he steadfastly ignored. “Okay… How do we get them together?”

Secrets & Lies, by LiGi/@little-ligi (13333 words, Canon Era, Divergence, Arthur Finds Out, Protective Arthur, Friends to Lovers)

Arthur had finally put his finger on it. The thing that had made Merlin stand out, the thing that had intrigued him about the boy ever since the first time he’d met him. The thing that was going to get him killed… Merlin had magic. Not only had it, but used it freely all the bloody time. It was only a matter of time before someone saw him do it, and then they’d report him to the king and Merlin would be dragged out into the courtyard and executed. Well, not if Arthur had anything to do about it. Mid series one, Arthur, for once not being totally oblivious, discovers that Merlin has magic. The problem is, having magic gets people killed and Arthur very much prefers Merlin alive. It turns out making sure nobody sees Merlin do magic is rather a full-time job however...

A Universe Which Freely Gives, by @psychotic-fangirl369 (26455 words, Post Canon, Reincarnation, Arthur Returns, Getting Together)

Arthur returns… but because of a series of unlikely events (and perhaps a bit of morose dragging of feet because he can't bring himself to believe the signals), Merlin misses the boat. By the time he makes it to the lake, signs of Arthur abound but Arthur is nowhere to be found. Magical tracking being less reliable than one might think, when Merlin finally does manage to find him Arthur is bizarrely well-adjusted, living in a flatshare in London with roommates who think he's batty but mostly harmless, and working an improbable job. Enter: Merlin, who Arthur absolutely is not expecting to still be alive.

So Where Are My Flowers?, by @tehfanglyfish (1365 words, Canon Era, Pining, Flowers, Magic Reveal)

A question asked as a joke leads to years of fresh flowers waiting for Arthur each morning until the one day he almost screws things up.

Balancing the Scale, by sunsetmoonrise (20528 words, 5+1, Canon Era Divergence, Slow Burn, Pining)

Five times Merlin didn't realise Arthur was protecting him, and the one time he did.

Alright, that's quite a lot already! These are the latest in my bookmarks, don't hesitate to ask me again if you want more!

#replies #2012throwback #merlin #merthur #merthur fics #merthur fic #merthur fic rec #fic rec #happy endings #happy fics #angst with a happy ending #rapha talks #rapha reads

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chrkrose · 1 year

Note

Hey just so you know, Mushroom is the only one who said salacious stuff about Daemon and Nettles. All other accounts by the people around them said they just have a close bond. What book did you even read??? Also, why are you so obsessed with talking about daemyra if you so hate them??

LMAOO y’all truly went to Wikipedia, skimmed through their summary real quick and called it a day huh

Let’s see then. This is how Nettles and Daemon relationship is described in the five sources we have so far for The Dance of The Dragons:

1) The Princess and The Queen (2013): It is suggested they are lovers. There’s no ambiguity in the text.

2) The World of Ice and Fire (2014): They are confirmed to be lovers.

3) HBO Histories and Lore content for Game of Thrones DVDs (2016): They are confirmed to be lovers. Transcription of what the video says:

“But, there was a… complication. As well as her dragon, the girl had taken to riding Daemon”

4) Fire & Blood (2018): The character of Maester Norren at Maidenpool suggests that Daemon acted paternal towards Nettles because he taught her how to behave at court and dotted upon her. The characters of Mushroom believes prince Daemon fell in love with Nettles; the unnamed maidservants of Maidenpool that attended to Nettles and Daemon while they stayed there said they took baths together and he washed her hair and back; Lord Mooton’s men openly discussed how to kill her without having to harm Daemon because he slept next to Nettles every night and they didn’t want to do it because she was young, “however foul her treasons”. They were terrified of what Daemon would do to Maidenpool if they killed her because “he was more than fond” of her and if they killed her, he would certainly burn Maidenpool to the ground. This is actually present in Norren’s account btw, it comes from him. And finally, the book narrator, Maester Gyldayn, who is always disbelieving Mushroom, in this case thought he was actually right because analyzing all the information he had, he believed Daemon and Nettles to be lovers.

5) The Rise of The Dragon (2022): It suggests they are lovers, even going as far as saying that Norren’s account actually supports that notion instead of disproving it.

However, Mushroom suggested another cause for Daemon's unwillingness: that he and Nettles had become lovers. This theory is supported by the Chronicles of Maidenpool, maintained by Lord Mooton's maester, who remarked that the prince and Nettles were inseparable, their bedrooms were adjoining, and that Daemon often gave her gifts and even shared a bath with her.

So we have 2 sources that confirm them to be lovers; 3 sources that suggest they are lovers, with one of these sources, Fire&Blood, having a ratio of:

1 character thinking they are platonic vs 4 instances of other characters thinking they are lovers, the majority of them who were in Maidenpool as well, and the book’s narrator agrees to that version. And then Rise of The Dragon contradicts the one character who thought they were platonic by stating that his account actually supports the notion they were lovers. Idk anon, I think your math isn’t mathing.

Truly, try to read the books instead of asoiaf wiki if you want to engage in book discussions.

And about your last point: I don’t talk about Daemyra. I talk about the shippers who are 50% of the time posting discourse on Nettles’ tag because she lives in their mind rent free. The other 50% they are either being racist without even hiding it or pretending they care while being just a little bit racist thinking nobody is noticing it. So maybe idk, take up to them and why they can’t stop thinking of a character who actress hasn’t even been cast yet and who’s story we don’t even know how it will be adapted, maybe they can answer u better ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#nettles #nettles x daemon #nettles asoiaf #daemon targaryen #anti rhaenyra Targaryen #anti daemyra

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little-big-boo-and-a-rat · 3 months

Text

¡Spoilers for Clarence's Godheim route!

"You are a beautiful tragedy," Cael whispers, brushing the bangs away from her face, "Ready to unfold."

She stares at him with a mixture of fear and fury. They are alone in a void of white. Nobody can help her, and she doesn't attempt to escape.

His silver hair sways with the wind.

It hurts. His gentle indifference hurts.

His immaculate armor is unstained with the deaths of Godheim, yet she knows their despair is embedded in its gleam.

She thinks she might hate him.

(She thinks she does not.)

The cold is burning her face, shattering any semblance of familiarity in this scene.

She wishes his eyes would show any trace of remorse or pain for his actions. Any guilt at the misery he brought in this land.

Cael pretends he wants to get her back home safely, but she remembers how many times she lost herself in the freezing tundra, meeting her demise at the kisses of the Glacial butterflies.

What a liar.

His deep, infinite abyss eyes look at her shaking form, unwavering.

"I know it is unfair," he continues, as if he could read her mind, "The point of life is to grow through this unjust world. You may accuse and resent me, but you are making your own choices at the end of the day. Free."

"I am choosing my own Hell," she barks bitterly.

Cael shakes his head. His eyes seem to glitter.

"You are leading yourself through Hell to reach Paradise." he corrects.

"And yet you try to stop me."

Something flashes in his gaze.

She recalls thinking Cael is akin to a porcelain doll. Perfect in and out. Never too much, never too less. Emotions locked away to never affect his mission.

But this is somehow wrong, isn't it ? If he doesn't care, then why did he come to her ? Why is he allowing her to live and love and lose and disrupt his plan and always keep watching gently over her ? Why are his eyes, those profound amethysts that never seem to start and never to end, flickering like the moon's reflection on raging waters ?

Perhaps she's as much a liar as he is. Because the man standing before her, never getting mad, ready to accept every inch of her wrath, is anything but indifferent.

"Fate is cruel," she whispers.

Cael smiles. It feels like praise. It feels a little bit like himself.

"This is why humans are the most magnificent beings to dare to defy it with their inextinguishable hearts."

She breathes in deeply. Cael's hand leaves her hair. His armor becomes one with the snow. He looks like a ghost, a fantastical creature from another realm. He takes a step backward, gaze holding hers, yet inexorably disappearing.

"You are a beautiful tragedy," he repeats, "I can only hope your genre changes before it is too late."

She watches him blend with the scenery. He is like rain, she thinks, whenever you believe to reach it it fades in your grasp. She wonders if she will ever understand Cael.

She is rightfully bitter at him.

Somehow, she finds she does not blame him.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

"You are a beautiful tragedy," she whispers, holding Clarence's face in her hands with the gentleness of one carrying a unique treasure, "Who has unfolded all of its pages."

The Archmage blinks slowly, like a cat. Resting against the maple tree, he is barely awake. Even as she kneels, cradling his jaw, his sapphire eyes droop and fight against sleep. She is losing him. She can see the end of their journey coming near.

She refuses it. The stars may have repeatedly told her the truth, she prays until the end. She knows it will never come close to being enough. Thoughts don't change the world. Only actions can.

All they can do is travel the universe to the twilight of their story.

All they can do is bathe in each other's warmth and speak fragments of their beings. She longs for those memories to fill his dreams the day Clarence falls asleep forever.

With another slow blink, he raises his hand. Carefully, he picks a stray maple leaf from her hair. She almost cries at the gesture.

"Know," she continues, voice breaking, "That the stars are testimonies to your epilogue."

Clarence hums. He lets her speak her part. When silence stretches on, he breathes softly.

"I do not care for the stars," he says, putting the leaf on her knee, "I survived because of you. I fought for you. Truly, your gaze upon my story is enough. I do not need more."

And isn't it the worst thing in the world ? For the man she cares for in more ways than one, for whom she unknowingly traveled in time again and again and again and again for until she found him at last. The truth. The cold, soul-wrenching truth.

"You are a beautiful tragedy," she says, tears dripping down her chin, "And those never have happy endings."

His eyes are soft. Understanding. He isn't pleading for hope nor salvation, because he is aware he can never obtain neither. Her fingertips tremble. Her guts hold the guilt of sharing a piece of herself like never before, shaping one of the most precious bond of her existence, with the one she cannot save.

"I'm sorry," she chokes.

"I think," he starts, a small smile on his lips - so wise and so old and so lonely already - "It is time for the fairytale to go home."

And today, tragedy wears blue.

#Spotify #SoundCloud #for all time #game #lovebrush chronicles #otome #clarence #archmage clarence #writing #i cried doing this #cael #little painter #godheim #im living my life wondering why did it have to end this way #Clarence Clayden

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bohemian-nights · 3 months

Text

Nettles Week(Day 7-Favorite Time Period): Maidenpool 🏰

#nettles #nettles week #netty #daemon targaryen x nettles #dettles #nettles week 2024 #bnedit #bngifs #asoiafedit #nettles x daemon #👩🏾🐑🐉#nettles fancast: Gugu Mbatha-Raw

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stardust-swan · 4 months

Text

Coquette Christmas

🎀 to wear: pale pinks, baby blue, icy white, leg warmers, uggs with bows, sweaters with skirts, cable knit cardigans, cashmere scarves, earmuffs, mittens, pearl bobby pins, velvet scrunchies and bows, berets with pearls, sparkly earrings, pretty brooches on your winter coat, glossier birthday balm, becca pearl highlighter

🎀 bake heart shaped stained glass sugar cookies or gingerbread people with bows piped on <3

🎀 enjoy peppermint white hot chocolate with mini marshmallows while cuddled up under a blanket

🎀 read hans christian andersen fairytales

🎀 see a ballet like swan lake, the nutcracker, or gisele

🎀 visit the swans! in the northern hemisphere swans migraine during christmas so go to a canal or lake to watch then glide by

🎀 make your skincare routine different! skin tends to get drier in winter so use a richer moisturiser, do sheet masks (love lapcos sheet masks), use vaseline or a lip mask overnight (klavuu does a great one), put some glycerin or lotion on your feet and hands before putting on your socks and gloves, and remember to still wear spf! carry a good handcream and lip balm (fresh rose lip treatment is soo good) in case you feel dry while out. and obviously drink lots of water

🎀 ice-skate holding hands with someone special <3

🎀 light lots of candles! there are some great wintery scented one like gingerbread, frankincense, winter berry and mulled wine. I also like yankee's rainbow cookie in winter even though it's not strictly a winter scent. vanilla is always a good idea too

🎀 eat lots of marzipan, sugared rose petals, crystallised fruit, nougat, turkish delight, and caramelised nuts

🎀 practice self care with a warm bubble bath, a face mask, and a rich body lotion afterwards. put on silk pyjamas and fluffy socks that have been wrapped around a hot water bottle so they're already warm and cozy afterwards

🎀 to smell christmassy: layer scent by using a peppermint shower gel followed by a vanilla body lotion

🎀 decorate your space with figurines of swans, shepherdesses, angels, nutcrackers, and holiday barbies. and put bows on your xmas tree

🎀 watch: love actually, anastasia, little women, classic disney movies, white christmas, ice princess, harry potter and the sorcerer's stone, bridget jone's diary, barbie in the nutcracker, the chronicles of narnia, dead poets society, and any hallmark movie

🎀 write christmas cards in glitter pen and decorate with angel stickers and a spritz of vanilla perfume

🎀 to feel luxurious at night, spritz on some body spray, wear a flowing nightgown and do yourself in a clara style (half up with satin ribbon)

🎀 make snow angels!

🎀 make an emergency kit for those days when you come home miserable because of the cold and dark and have no energy, plans, and need some alone time. include things like a candle, a small box of good chocolates, some sheet masks, a perfume, your favourite tea, a book that comforts you, fluffy socks, a cozy blanket, paper and a pen to journal your thoughts, a photo album of your favourite people, old love letters, or anything else that you can easily keep at hand that will comfort you

🎀 listen to a pretty wintery playlist with genres like classical, jazz, and celtic/nordic traditional (mine is below <3)

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logarithmicpanda · 5 months

Text

The Narrow Road Between Desires VS The Lightning Tree

I reread both simultaneously to be able to have a more objective opinion on them.

TL;DR the new version of the story adds, on top of the illustrations, several additional scenes and some very welcome revisions. It is a kinder, queerer, and more magical version of the same story. For me it is definitely worth the read!

Spoilers below:

First let's crunch the raw numbers. Based on the audiobook version TLT has an estimated 27,807 words and TNRBD is at 71,760 words, so almost three times at long. The sections in TLT are arranged a bit differently than in TNRBD but I will use them to do a more detailed breakdown below:

TLT:

Morning: The Narrow Road (29p)

TNRBD:

Dawn: Artistry (6p) Morning: Embril (18p) Mid morning: The Narrow Road (40p) Mid-day: Birds (8p)

Total: 72 pages

The same events are covered, but TNRBD expends on Bast and Kote's characterization. I think the story takes place before NOTW btw, because Bast looks intrigued when Kostrel jokingly tells him to write a book if he knows so much. I think that was was made Bast try to have Kote write his memoirs himself, a while before Chronicler ever sets foot in the Waystone Inn.

The order in which Bast does his turns around the tree changes, the breaking way first, then the making way. I'm not sure yet how I interpret that lol.

One of the boys is changed to a girl, and the first secret she gives about a man sleeping with someone who is not his wife implies that it might be an open relationship in this version (everyone knows, including the wife).

A girl named Gretta in TLT is now Grett, and explicitly referred to using they/them.

New divination system introduced, with things called Embrils that Bast uses kinda like runes, to do tosses

Instead of a shepherdess, Bast charms a shepherd (Bi!Bast for the win) who very cutely embroiders stuff on Bast's pants while mending them

The bargain with Kostrel is more complex, touches on Fae magic and debts, and Bast gets tricked into accepting the gift of a penance coin...

When Kostrel asks Bast to describe Emberlee's breast to him, Bast says he will only do it if she gives her permission

When Bast takes his bath, both men and women are watching (in both versions, he very well knows they are there)

---

TLT:

Afternoon: Birds and Bees (32p)

TNRBD:

Mid-day: Birds (continued, 16p) Noon: Obligation (17p) Afternoon: Still (33p) Moonrise: Sweetness (11p) Evening: riddles (7p)

Total: 84 pages

I had forgotten, but TLT already had bits of queerness, namely the little girl who saw "mama kiss the maid", and when Bast goes watch Emberlee bathe, it is strongly implied she was among the women watching him earlier. In TNRBD, that is expended upon.

When the little girl wants to know if her kitten is a boy or a girl, there's this quote that I really liked: Bast would rather tell the bigger truth than the smaller one anyway. "Bows and dresses don't matter much," he said. "She decided she's a girl, so she's a girl."

The girl is also smarter in this version

Rike has a hold on Bast because of the penance coin, so there's a bit of additional plot around that

Rike's sister is named earlier instead of being an afterthought

Bast does some magic on Rike to get rid of his obligation

The description of the still is longer, and the alcohol has a different flavor (no opinion on that but some people might theorize about it lol)

There's a second Embril throw, and Kostrel admits Emberlee told him where she bathed expressly so Bast could find her

Bast, Emberlee, Kholi and Dax (the shepherd) seem to be a polycule and everyone knows haha

Grett is mentioned again, along with "harthan tea" which I assume is fantasy HRT xD

---

TLT:

Evening: Lessons (17p)

TNRBD:

Sunset: lies (17p) Twilight: carrots (1p) Night: demons (15p) Midnight: lessons (11p)

Total: 44 pages

The conclusion to the story has a long additional scene and a few more changes

Instead of Martin punching a tinker because he was assaulting a young girl, he punches the tinker because he had pushed down Old Cob

A scene where Rike washes his face and Bast notices the bruises he has from his father beating him have been moved later in TNRBD

There's a prediction from the Embrils that gets realized here, and the way the narration speaks of Bast and his desires impacting the world feel very reminiscent of TSROST, I wonder if Auri is using Grammarie? Is it just another name for Shaping?

Longer description that empathizes that Bast beat the shit out of Rike's father

There's an entirely new scene of Bast talking to Rike and helping him heal from his terror of becoming an abuser like his dad

I particularly liked that last bit, the story was always a commentary on the cycle of abuse, but this version makes it clear it can be broken. Overall, as I said in the intro, TNRBD is a lot kinder as a story. And meaner towards abusive fathers which is always a plus for me lmao. Bast is made very explicitly queer, as are some of the side characters, and the women are better treated as a whole, with more emphasis on consent. I have to say, in both versions Bast offers to take Kote to where Emberlee bathes, and there's no mention of her agreeing to that, so eh.

But I really appreciate the changes that have been made, and the extra magic. Plus the illustrations are lovely as the moon. I'm even more excited about Doors of Stone now (who knew it was possible lol) because I feel like Pat has grown a lot as a writer since WMF :D

#the narrow road between desires #the kingkiller chronicle #reblog later #my meta #the lightning tree

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