A day late, but Workbench Wednesday anyhow.
Nose art on the Bastards.
A day late, but Workbench Wednesday anyhow.
Nose art on the Bastards.
wip thursday: 9.16.21
Daichi’s older son’s favorite teacher has become a common discussion in the Sawamura household, and Daichi, a single dad to Tadashi and Tobio, is extremely tired of hearing about him. And also a little bit intrigued.
meant to post this on WIP Wednesday, but my camera was nowhere to be found. so i'm posting it now. some more fem Voryn because i just think they're neat.
In true procrastination fashion, I forgot to post WIP Wednesday on Wednesday, so here it is on Thursday!
I’m still writing away at the Flufftober 2021 prompts and am absolutely loving some of the ideas that I’ve come up with if I do say so myself. Here is a snippet from one of my TFATWS WIPs for Flufftober:
Another day, another day of politics. Sam thanked Torres for helping him out, and then slid out the back door hoping to avoid any reporters or eager fans...or not so eager fans. He already had to close down his personal Twitter account, as the hate comments were getting to be overwhelming, and he knew it was difficult for Sarah and the boys as well.
The government was still trying to get out of the hole they had dug themselves. First from the lies that were used that convinced Sam to retire the shield to the Smithsonian, to a failed new Captain America that decapitated a man in public, to a black Captain America that dared to confront the GRC about some of it’s more controversial policies; it was literally a shitstorm that no PR firm wanted to touch.
It’s a good thing they didn’t know that Sam was gay on top of all that. It would just blow their minds.
I can’t waiting until October to read everyone’s fics, but I’m not looking forward to posting all of my own lol. Happy Thursday!
💕💕💕 thank you @oxygenforthewicked for the tag! It's a little later than I had planned, tumblr decided to weird and not let me post things today, but here is a snippet for Connor Cousland (I'm still working on a title lol) from the Merry Band of Wardens.
Connor's eyes snapped open.
It was still dark out. He couldn’t have been asleep for very long. He had stayed up until the early hours of the morning to go over the family ledgers and make plans for the days ahead. It was a huge responsibility managing an Arling, and an Estate as large as the Courland's, but Connor intended to show his father that he was more than capable of handling it.
Straining his hearing, Connor waited. The castle appeared quiet, no sound coming from the other rooms.
There. The sound of footsteps. Someone was walking in the hallway. Connor climbed from his bed, slipped on his pants and boots, and signaled for Backup, his Mabari, to follow.
Connor edged the door open, and saw an armed soldier creeping towards his parent's bedroom. The Howe insignia stamped on their armour and weapons. That bastard! It was an assault.
Connor didn’t give them a chance to act. He charged the soldier, grabbing hold of their sword and kicking them in the chest. The soldier was startled enough to let go, however they cried out in dismay. The noise attracted the attention of several others nearby, and within seconds Connor was suddenly staring down five seasoned warriors.
Connor clicked his tongue. "Backup, protect." The Mabari growled, and charged towards the soldiers. Her massive jaw latching onto the closest one's thigh. From their cry of pain, Connor knew her teeth had either ripped through or managed to find a weak spot in their armour.
Connor kicked out at the one charging his front, then spun around, slashing his blade across the neck of the soldier trying to attack his flank. They fell, clutching at the blood spurting from the wound.
A third let out a war cry and brought their blade swinging down on him hard. Connor dodged to the side at the last moment, letting the soldier overbalance, and then knocked them on the head with the pommel of his sword. Tossing the sword up, he reversed his grip on the hilt and then stabbed down into their back. They let out a gurgle as he wrenched the blade from the wound.
The soldier he had disarmed had recovered and was barrelling towards him, but before they could reach, Backup appeared. She slammed her full weight into the soldier and knocked them to the ground. Connor grimaced as he heard the soldier scream as Backup began to tear into them with her teeth.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the soldier he had kicked was stumbling toward him. He lifted his elbow to connect with their face. There was a sickening crunch of teeth and bone, and as the soldier recoiled, he thrust the point of his sword through their abdomen.
Breathing heavy he strode towards the soldier Backup had disabled and hacked down. Once. Twice. And it was done.
Tagging: @merrybandofmurderers (no pressure and sorry it's so late in the day)
A slightly belated WIP Wednesday! A man by any other face is slowly inching towards that sweet "first draft completed" status:
“I half expected to find you offering to organize Uraya’s medicines, or perhaps powering the forge with your own hands,” Essek said lightly, drifting to Calebs’s side.
“Ah. I did offer, in fact. For the forge.” Caleb was chagrined. “I apologize if I have overstepped. I am just… itchy.”
“Uraya should be able to help you with that.”
“I did not mean, literally-”
“A joke.” Essek gave him a sidelong look. “In all seriousness, I know how you feel. And your offer to aid in the spire construction is welcome. I have spoken with the foreman, and he will accept our combined efforts.”
“You will help, too?”
“I have done so on several past occasions. It is best for the safety of the workers if I do the heaviest lifting, and does not cost me much by way of energy for the day. I would be pleased to see this particular project further towards completion before we depart, as I will not be able to help them once we are on our expedition.”
“Well then. I am at your disposal.” Caleb rubbed his hands together.
Essek cleared his throat. “If you plan to become a giant ape for this task, I hope we will be able to coordinate in advance any, ah, lifting of myself?”
“I will certainly try,” Caleb replied.
Thank you for tagging me @urban-sith and @wellbelesbian 💙💙💙
This one is from an ongoing fic, that I may or may not finish. From a personal trope - There was only one floor. Since this fic is inspired by real life events, there will be no happy ending.
Baz’s pov, past tense
“I'm going to text Aggie tomorrow and ask her out,” said Simon, smiling and unknowingly shattering my whole universe with one sentence.
Then because I just could not catch a break I watched almost in slow motion as Simon took hold of his pillow and moved closer to where I was lying on the floor. He pressed his whole body into my side, making everything a million times worse.
“Night,” mumbled Simon and the puffs of air hit my neck.
Usually I would flinch experiencing this sort of contact. With Simon, however, it wasn't unbearable, it was nice. Which in its own way made it unbearable.
I tried holding my breath, begging the gay gods I knew never cared about me to not let my breath catch.
“Good night, Simon,” I finally managed to reply through a haze of my broken yet heavily thumping heart.
Tagging (no pressure 💙): @satsukii @dreamingkc @shemakesmeforget @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @simonsnowsfreckles @simon--spooks @nonbaznary @sleepdeprivedphilosopher @angelsfalling16 @itookthesenseofhumorinthedivorce @lilylemon12 @simonsknows @seducing-a-vampire-2 @asocialpessimist @gampyre @themagic-est @spacepuff39 @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @captain-aralias @snowybank @consultingravenclaw221b @tbasilpitch @maybebrilliant @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @anotherdisasterpan @confused-bi-queer @martsonmars @knittininja @blu-riie @findingniamho @the-pandora-jar @motherscarf @wolfywordweaver @xivz @amphipodgirl @palimpsessed and anyone else who wants to do this. 💙💙💙
Avoiding the human detritus of the deep night, he drifted through the fade-drenched streets of the city. With it so close and heavy, the wisps fluttered between buildings and through the air, lighting areas in fleeting flickers of illumination. They followed him, lighting his way.
He wandered through remnants of dreams, clustered and chaotic with so many in a single place. It struck him strangely, the unaccustomed nostalgia. Even more than sparsely-populated New Arlathan, Minrathous reminded him of home-- so many minds in slumber, twisting the fade, overlooked by authority who had set themselves on high.
It was nights like these he would travel among the people, to see their true suffering, to understand their plight. It was those wanderings that had set him on his path. Once he was nothing more than an advisor such as Patience, an embodied spirit whose previous nature made them valuable to an Evanuris. They sought spirits of virtues they desired, and drew them into Thedas to serve.
But he had wanted more than to merely be Mythal’s Pride, existing to remind her of the dignity and power her husband constantly tried to strip from her.
Unfortunately, knowledge came with a price-- the Elvhen became his people, and their plight became his own.
tagged by @darethshirl thank you!
I started a @kinkybingocard space - infidelity, and so far there is no kink...
It’s the opening of the A. Brenhan exhibition – a renown Orzammar artist who rarely allows his works to be shown on the surface. Solas had hoped to see the collection relatively undisturbed, and initially the throng of people had dashed his hopes. When he makes his way to the special exhibit on the second floor he realizes he was wrong. Very few people wander the exhibit. It seems everyone is more interested in the spectacle that is themselves.
He spends some time on the charcoal sketches. It’s mostly architecture. Forgotten Thaigs and empty corridors and old houses. The story behind them is more interesting than the sketches themselves.
Most people actively browsing the gallery are in pairs or small groups. Like himself, they might have a more serious interest in the art, or simply worry about missing out. While he appreciates the peace and quiet here, he does wish he had someone to discuss the art with.
tagging @wickedwitchofthewilds @ma-sulevin @roguelioness @bearlytolerant @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @little-lightning-lavellan @redinkofshame @a-shakespearean-in-paris @noire-pandora and anyone else who wants for wip wednesday or whenever
I couldn’t decide what to do for WiP Wednesday, so uh... have lots of stuff! We’ve got an Iorveth/Roche snippet, an Isengrim/Eldain snippet, a Throne3 (Meve/Reynard/Gascon) snippet AND a little bit about some Thronebreaker headcanons me and @moonlights-ordinance came up with today.
This is the beginning of an angsty fic wherein Iorveth pines and finds out some unpleasant news. The actual plot of the fic is Iorveth trying to get rid of his feelings, but we’re not there yet.
Iorveth really should’ve known that this day was destined to be hellish the moment that he was jolted from his paperwork daze by the rambunctious shouts of his Scoia’tael outside his office. He sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face, then checking that his bandana covered his scar properly. Only after that did he open the door to see what was sowing chaos amidst his ranks.
No one… actually seemed to notice his presence, which to be frank, was not a problem Iorveth typically struggled with. He was quite good at appearing intimidating and infuriated even when he wasn’t particularly trying.
But it seemed his elves – and a few of the dwarves – were far too involved in their own gossip to notice him as he walked through the crowd.
“Have you heard–?”
“Guess he loved Temeria so much he married it!” someone chortled.
“Ha! From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort. He must be real good.”
A bout of cackling followed that last remark, and Iorveth had his first premonition that the day was going to suck. But he still didn’t have answers, so he walked straight forward into what would become his own personal hell.
In the center of the crowd, surrounded by countless elves and dwarves, Iorveth was not at all surprised to find his two favorite subordinates – who were rapidly losing that classification. He stepped up next to them, crossing his arms and waiting for them to notice the trouble they were in.
Really, he should have known it would be these two. Rinn, for all that she was nominally well-behaved and quiet, was extremely mischievous, especially when it had the potential to cause minor problems for Iorveth. He would not be surprised if she had planned this. Her companion, Ky, may have been more innocent in that she may not have intended to draw a crowd – but she was absolutely the one spreading the gossip far and wide.
It took a while, but slowly, the chattering grew quieter and quieter as more people took notice of his presence. Finally, Rinn caught sight of him and poked Ky, who was still loudly expounding on something about marriage.
“Something you need to tell me?” Iorveth asked, eyebrow arched high and disapproving scowl firmly in place.
Ky winced, but Rinn looked entirely unrepentant as she signed, the Temerian King made an official announcement today that I caught during my shift.
Iorveth looked at the way more than a few people were biting their lips and avoiding his eye and hummed. “And?”
“Roche is getting married!” Ky burst out as if she physically could not hold it back anymore and Iorveth felt everything freeze.
Married? Vernon Roche!? The erstwhile commander of the Blue Stripes and proud pain in Iorveth’s ass? Who the fuck would he be marrying and why would it be a royal announcement!?
Even though Iorveth himself still felt like he was encased in ice, time seemed to resume for everyone else and chattering rapidly commenced, elves whispering back and forth between themselves and each other.
What was it someone had said earlier? ‘From Cocksucker in Chief to Consort’?
Was… was Vernon marrying King Foltest!?
Rinn must have seen the question on his face, because she nodded and passed over a paper missive.
It felt like moving through molasses to extend his arm and accept the notice that would forever change his life.
The Ancient Royal Line of the Temerian Dynasty Announces the Wedding of
Foltest, King of Temeria, Prince of Sodden, Sovereign of Pontaria and Mahakam, and Senior Protectorate of Brugge and Sodden
Vernon Roche, Commander of the Elite Blue Stripes Special Forces Unit, Pacifier of the Mahakaman Foothills, and Right Hand to the King
to take place at the year’s end on the Winter Solstice
Iorveth stared at the announcement, static fizzing through his brain. Vernon. And Foltest. They were getting married!?
His eye shot up to meet Rinn’s almost imploringly, hoping this was all some big joke. But there was no mischief in her eyes, and her forehead creased with worry as she watched him, clearly wondering what was wrong.
She, at least, appeared to be the only one who had noticed anything amiss in his reaction. The rest of his Scoia’tael were back to loudly gossiping about their enemy’s new status in life.
“Wait, I thought human men couldn’t get pregnant. Isn’t the whole point of a royal marriage to produce an heir?”
“Nah, I’ve heard the whore has a cunt,” someone laughed. “Can you imagine only having one? Sounds lame as fuck. But yeah, supposedly our dearest Commander Roche can make royal babies for King Fuckface.”
Iorveth’s heartbeat stuttered and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He… hadn’t known that. Sure, he’d heard rumors, but the rumors about Vernon were wild and extreme and ranged from his background as a whore to his imaginary sideline in child abduction to his preference for blunt force weapons.
Was this one… true? As he looked back at Rinn for the answer – aside from being the primary spy assigned to Vernon, she also seemed to just inexplicably know things – he could hear the conversation around him moving on.
“Hey, do you think that’s why they’re getting married? Maybe the idiot king knocked up his whore and now he’s gotta marry him!”
“I dunno, did Roche look pregnant at our last fight?”
Rinn nodded the slightest bit and Iorveth brain returned to static. Vernon. Pregnant. That – he hadn’t been aware that that was something he was emotionally invested in, but the storm of feelings racing through his veins proved that he was. He wanted – he wanted to see that, wanted to cause that, wanted to discover what Vernon’s cunt would be like and feel it stretched around him and–
He’d – he’d always assumed that Vernon had a cock, even though he wasn’t quite sure what a human cock looked like. But whenever he’d picture a different future – one where he could choose his own happiness over his cause – it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t know what a human cock looked like. His imagination was more than delighted to fill in whatever he wished, and coming up with different ideas was all that got him through the night at times.
The idea of Vernon with a cunt was startling. It had never occurred to him before, and now he wondered how he could’ve possibly been so shortsighted. The things that he could do with Vernon’s cunt were limitless and Iorveth’s mind got stuck on that for probably far too long.
He was brought out of his daze by Rinn choking, wide eyes locked on his face. With sudden dread, he understood what she must have seen. What she must have realized.
Iorveth swallowed hard, jerking his head, “give me a proper report.” He turned to head back to his office without looking at her and he wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d follow or that she wouldn’t.
(the rest under a cut to save your dash)
This is a fluffy bit from a get together fic set post-Reasons of State and we start with Isengrim mourning Dijkstra and Dijkstra’s betrayal.
There was a knock on his door and then Eldain’s voice spoke. “Isengrim? Um. I know you aren’t feeling great, but would you come with me for a bit?’
All of a sudden, then blankness fled under a wave of confusion and curiosity. “What?”
“I – um. I have something for you. But you gotta come with me for a bit. And if you don’t like it, I promise I will not get in the way of your grief, even if that means hiding out in here.”
Eldain sounded nervous, of all things. Isengrim hadn’t actually known Eldain was capable of feeling nervous.
Why was he nervous?
Isengrim frowned at the door. He wasn’t exactly going to get an answer lying here. And maybe Eldain could keep him from thinking about Sigi and all the pain associated with him for a bit.
It was worth a shot. Besides, he’d come to rather like the other ex-commander quite a bit over the course of working together. Not that they hadn’t worked together before, but there had always been a formality dividing them. Eldain looked up to him, he knew that. Not that Eldain would ever say it, but it was the way Eldain looked at him. A soft regard that one could almost mistake for love, but was truly nothing more than hero worship. He’d seen the same look on the faces of all the young Scoia’tael, but from Eldain, it felt like the thorn of a rose – he hated it, knowing that Eldain would never feel the same, that he was destined to die alone and miserable and a beautiful young musician like Eldain could never be his. But at the same time, he coveted it, coveted Eldain’s regard, because even if it wasn’t what he wanted, it was something.
He would give anything to have Eldain in his life in any form.
Swallowing hard, Isengrim rubbed his face, then opened the door.
Eldain was on the other side of the door and his shoulders were slumped in defeat that quickly turned to confusion, one shoulder cocking upwards.
“What?” Isengrim asked.
“I – no, I just. Thought you’d say no,” Eldain said awkwardly.
“Does that mean you do want me to go with you somewhere or not?”
“Yeah!” Eldain shook himself, smiling at Isengrim, and it felt as though the sun had emerged from cloud cover, because instead of the nothingness-pain from before, now he felt – too much, really. And some of it hurt, but more of it was pleased to just bask in the rays of Eldain’s smile.
He was only half aware of following Eldain through the house, still a little dazed from the blinding light. But when Eldain came to a stop in front of a closed door, the world seemed to snap back into focus, and he looked to Eldain expectantly.
Eldain fidgeted, feet shuffling. “Um. Like – like I said, if you don’t like it, I won’t force you to stay, but um–” his adam’s apple bobbed and then Eldain opened the door and motioned for Isengrim to enter.
Isengrim took two steps through the doorway and froze. All around him, the room was lit up with dozens of little lights – some up high, some down low, others around his hips. Those ones on the floor guided him towards what looked like a raggedy old blanket draped over the wooden flooring.
“It’s not exactly a starlit picnic,” Eldain shrugged, setting down a basket he hadn’t even noticed Eldain was carrying, “but since we’re laying low, I figured this was as close as we could get.”
“I–” Isengrim was breathless, uncertain of what to say. Awe spread through him as he looked over the dozens of lights, each coming from candles in small lanterns that were hanging from the ceiling all over. He couldn’t think of any words to portray what this meant to him, what it meant that Eldain would go to all this trouble for him. So he was as surprised as Eldain when his mouth said, “isn’t this a fire hazard?”
Eldain rocked back as if he’d been hit, smile abruptly falling from his face.
“No,” Isengrim tried to recover, cursing himself. “I – this is amazing. Is. What I mean. Um. Am trying to say. I – you did this for me!?” If there was disbelief coloring his tone, it was only because he could hardly comprehend the idea of anyone going to so much trouble just to cheer him up.
Eldain’s jaw was clenched, and his expression was a neutral mask that Isengrim hated having put there. Why did he always hurt the people he cared for? Was he truly so tainted that anyone he touched was at risk of infection? Was simply being around him enough to ruin what could be an incredible life for a beautiful young musician like Eldain?
“You don’t have to stay,” Eldain murmured, and Isengrim felt like crying, uncertain whether he wanted to leave and spare Eldain the risk of contamination or if he wanted to stay and bask in this incredible gift that Eldain was giving him.
Never before had Eldain wished that Isengrim would leave his presence immediately. But if he stayed much longer, then it was entirely too likely that he would witness Eldain falling apart.
Eldain had always known his silly little crush would never go anywhere . He was even almost fine with that. But he’d thought – he’d thought that Isengrim at least considered him a friend. And yes, this whole production was a little over the top for friendship, but hey, Eldain was an over the top kind of guy.
There was always the possibility Isengrim would hate it. And he’d worried about that and fretted over it, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen. Even if Isengrim was uncomfortable, Eldain would’ve guessed that he’d be polite enough to grin and bear it. Which was far from ideal, but right now, Eldain really wished that he’d done that, because instead it felt like he’d reached into Eldain’s chest and ripped his still-beating heart out, leaving him bleeding and doomed.
“Thank you,” Isengrim said, and Eldain startled. Of all the words he’d expected, those were not even on his radar.
“Thank you. I – you clearly went to a lot of trouble to give me something beautiful. Thank you.” Isengrim said the words easily, and Eldain was confused. That… didn’t sound like Isengrim hated it. “So, what are we eating?”
Eldain’s smile grew slowly, but as Isengrim continued to look expectantly at him, he found that he couldn’t hold it back. He waved Isengrim towards the blanket – one probably as old as the house was, but all the good blankets were in use. “Bread and cheese. Fruit. Some veggies,” he narrated as he pulled the items out of the basket. “Wasn’t sure how much appetite you’d have, so I wanted to keep it light, but if you’re hungry, there’s still some venison in the storeroom.”
Isengrim looked at the objects laid out around them. “I – I don’t know what to say except thank you,” Isengrim said, a smile growing on his face that made Eldain’s heart beat fast. “This is very thoughtful and sweet.”
Eldain flushed, reaching into the basket to pull out the last item. “And, of course, some wine. It’s not exactly high quality, but we’re slumming it tonight anyway.”
The huff of laughter Isengrim let out made it feel like there were wings on his heart, letting it slowly rise. He’d made Isengrim happy. If that was all he ever did in life, he could be content with that.
The porn tags for these 3 are sadly lacking, so... have some porn XD The premise here is that they’ve just escaped the Lyrian capital through the sewers and now they’re all washing off in the first river they came across.
They all knew what the venerable Count Reynard Odo was getting up to with Queen Meve upriver. But while the deserters from the Lyrian army and the Strays seemed content with gossiping about it, Gascon felt compelled to seek out more.
Sneaking past the guards ensuring their queen’s privacy with her boytoy even now was honestly pathetically easy. But then, they were probably used to looking the other way for their queen.
Gascon didn’t really know what he was planning, but he knew that he needed to see Meve in the throes of pleasure. The fierce and enchanting queen was currently being ‘serviced’ by her top aide and everybody knew it.
How could he possibly be expected to resist?
But instead of satisfying him, the view before him only made him crave more, because Meve and Reynard were standing about shin-deep in the water with him wrapped around her, hands stroking over her body as her head rested back against his shoulder.
But moreso than the picture they made, what truly drove Gascon over the edge was hearing Reynard tease his queen.
“So eager, your majesty,” Reynard murmured softly. “Could it be that the company of the ever so honorable Duke of Dogs,” his voice was heavily sarcastic, “has gotten you excited? Are you curious what that infuriatingly charming mouth would feel like against your skin?”
Meve arched as Reynard’s fingers skirted just short of touching her clit. “Reynard,” she growled.
Gascon wasn’t certain when his fingers had slipped inside his trousers, but the touch against his cock had him shuddering, already overwhelmed at the very idea that Meve could be fantasizing about him.
“Have you thought about pushing the arrogant bastard to his knees and showing him his place?” Reynard continued and Gascon bit his lip hard against a moan. “Have you pictured him, lips stretched around your widest strap, eyes tearing up from the effort of it?”
Meve whined softly, reaching up to tug Reynard into a kiss.
Gascon had never seen a filthier kiss in his life, and he stroked himself faster, picturing what he would do if he could join them. She may not have a strap handy to gag him on, but he was sure they could come to a compromise.
“Do you imagine him kneeling before you, begging for you?” Reynard rumbled and Gascon almost missed Meve’s sound over his own. Which meant that Reynard knew he was there when the Count continued, “I’ve no doubt the crass mutt is a marvel with his mouth.
Later, Gascon would claim that he spoke before he could even think about it, proclaiming, “I am.”
In reality, he spent a long moment contemplating how to respond. Getting caught spying on sex typically ended one of two ways: either you got invited to join in or you got beaten to a pulp.
He was fairly hopeful that the first option was more likely than the latter, but he wasn’t sure, and in the seconds of silence that followed his words, his heart pounded in his chest and pulse raced and he felt on the edge of either agony or elation.
“In that case,” Meve’s voice broke the quiet with all the firmness of having made a decision, “come pay homage to your queen, Gascon.”
Even though he’d hoped this was how things would go, he still felt utterly amazed that she had actually said yes.
He stepped through the buses, trying not to look like he’d been caught with his hand down his pants. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head with a playful smirk and then sent her a wink just to top it off.
Meve looked every bit the dignified queen as she held out a hand that should have held her signet ring. They had taken that from her when she’d been captured, but Gascon found himself licking his lips, taking her hand and kissing her ring finger as if he were a knight pledging her fealty.
Her gaze was hot on him as he slowly kissed up her arm, and unlike the two of them, he still wore his armor – which meant that he could pretend no one saw the way that his cock twitched when Reynard reached out and knocked his hat off, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling his face down into Meve’s chest.
Obediently, he applied himself to worshipping Meve’s tits, taking Reynard’s lead and only giving her glancing brushes across her nipples, denying her touch.
Meve growled in frustration, grabbing his hips and pulling him into her until the bulge of his cock rubbed over her pelvis. Her cunt greeted the contact with a gush of slick, staining Gascon’s pants and making him pant with arousal.
“Fuck,” he gasped, grinding into her. She arched with a cry, fingers digging into his ass and Gascon desperately wished that there wasn’t a layer of fabric between his cock and that glorious cunt. But how could he pull away to fix that when his time could be better spent licking and sucking and biting at Meve’s glorious tits? Gods, they were beautiful, plump and sensitive, to the point that nipping at one nipple while squeezing her other tit was enough to make Meve’s body jerk, bucking into his hips as she utterly drenched his pants.
“Fuck,” he whimpered again, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in her cunt.
Okay, so as I’ve been getting to know Meve, Reynard, and Gascon and have started writing different plots with them, I’ve decided a few things. There’s going to be 1 universe of fics that falls under the “homophobia exists” universe that I talked about here. However, I know that’s not everyone’s boat and like, sometimes I just wanna write context-less porn, so definitely not all fics will! But I have several ideas already in that ‘verse, especially looking at the chronic pain Reynard has as a result of things.
So, specific to that ‘verse, one headcanon is that Reynard was whipped specifically for being queer and almost died from it. The wounds healed, but not... well, not the greatest. There wasn’t a lotta care taken with it. Which means that his back pains him A LOT and there’s a lotta things that he has to do different. For example, I’ve decided he sits in chairs like Riker does, keeping his back straight so that he doesn’t stretch the scar tissue. His range of motion is also limited in a lot of ways, but he’s found ways to compensate and hide it over the years. (just as an FYI, Riker sits like that, ‘cause Frakes had a back injury and doing that was less painful)
Okay, now WITHOUT the homophobia that led to chronic pain - I’ve decided that each of the Throne3 need to have a niche hobby that occupies them in their limited spare time (developed with much help from @moonlights-ordinance). Sooooo:
Meve likes sewing. She doesn’t like people to know she likes sewing, because it’s closer to a traditionally ‘feminine’ than she usually aims for, but she actually really enjoys it.
On their journey, this comes out when Gascon’s shirt gets ripped and when he complains about it a lot, she just grabs it and mends it. This leads to her spending the evenings mending all the different clothing from the soldiers and the Strays.
I think she learned sewing from her father and he taught it to her in an attempt to get her to just sit still for five fucking minutes!!
Not directly related to sewing, but because her mother was busy being queen, she was largely raised by her father, who was an Ofieri Marquis (like, 2nd level nobility, under a duke) whose family paid a substantial sum in order to win the match. He was not popular at court and therefore found himself largely shunned by the peerage, but it left him with basically all of his time to devote to his children. (Does... does Meve have sisters?? Queen Kalis supposedly bore several girls???)
Reynard likes to crochet. Specifically, he likes to crochet little plushies. He’s not too picky about what he makes, and whoever is in range when he finishes it will likely end up gifted with an unexpected plushie.
At one point, he finished making a stingray, only for a passing soldier to dub it a Sting-Rey. Thus, Lieutenant Sting Rey was born. The troops listen to Lt. Sting Rey better than they listen to General Odo lmao.
He has a habit of crocheting in the evenings in the mess (maybe with Meve mending nearby) and random soldiers (and Strays) like to sit around his feet so that when he finishes a lil plush, they might get it. And when he starts a new one, he might take requests.
I could say so much more about the plushies he makes for Gascon and Meve, but I guess I’ll save that for a fic. But I gotta share these pics, ‘cause they’re so fucking cute. So: a donkey for Gascon (’cause he’s an ass) and a Lyrian eagle for Meve (’cause it’s Lyrian lol).
Gascon likes dancing! Specifically, he was trained in ballet from a young age (like literally a year old is when you start, apparently) and was trained as a ballerina (meaning he will be lifted/led instead of doing the lifts/leading). By the time he ended up on the streets at 12 (8 in canon, but my guy needs to at least be 20), he was pretty damn good at it - and so he ended up teaching the Strays
The Strays have a ballet troupe that puts on performances for the gang on occasion as like, a bonus to music night or something. Semi-spontaneous and very fun.
Gascon is SCARY flexible (like, to the point that Reynard is a little horrified that the human body can do that) from dance and he definitely uses that to his advantage.
He 100% gets everyone to dress up all fancy and put on makeup and do their hair and shit. After all, they steal all this fancy shit from the nobles - why SHOULDN’T they enjoy it?
And there you have it! Sorry for the super long post, but also... enjoy?
I almost forgot it was Wednesday I must be tired!
I apologize everyone, I wish I could finish something for all of you but I guess I am dealing with personal life.
And as such sometimes I need to write endgame Lukanette and Adrigami and remind myself that everything is going to be ok!
I wrote this on a whim...Based on this.
Again I apologize for hiccups. Enjoy!
Marinette and Adrien were both overwhelmed. Marinette was busy with working around the bakery, helping out friends, and doing community service. Adrien's mind was reeling over classes his father enrolled him in, model photoshoots, and social events where he was supposed to stand still and look presentable.
Marinette was all about being a hard worker but some days were too much. Adrien felt like a prince and he knew being a prince was not all glamor.
When the two of them were finally free of their tasks they both went on a long walk and they walked aimlessly. They both enjoyed just being free and enjoying the usual sights and wonders of Paris. When they needed to rest, both of them felt the urge to sit on an empty bench, and they were surprised to see that both of them met each other, and both of them looked positively ragged.
However Marinette and Adrien managed to laugh and asked each other how their days went.
"Oh you know!" Marinette threw her hands. "Just another day with a lot of hard work!" She said as lighthearted as possible. "And you?"
Adrien smirked. "Just another day for Paris' golden boy!" He said in an equally try-hard lighthearted tone. "I have lots of princely stuff to do and I am not allowed to object." He let out a sigh. "Being a prince isn't everything you know."
After both of them let out their ailments both of their phones alerted them and they promptly checked them.
"It's Kagami!" Adrien said as a joyous smile formed on his face.
"And Luka!" Marinette said sighing happily for a moment.
Hello Love! ^o^ Are you available? Kagami texted.
Adrien blushed from the text as if he heard her voice.
Hello my melody. :)
Marinette blushed from that simple text message Luka sent her
Marinette and Adrien turned to each other.
"I think we should call them up," Adrien said.
Adrien did yearn for his queen and his best friend. Marinette yearned for her beloved boyfriend and her bestie.
Please come over Luka! Dx Marinette cried over text.
I could use some company Kagami. Please! Adrien begged over text.
Now it was only a matter of waiting. And when Kagami and Luka were both notified Kagami was without her mother's self driving car. But she heard a noise at a distance and turned to see Luka riding his bike as if he was in a rush to get somewhere. Luka promptly hit the breaks and stopped expertly next to Kagami.
"Hey Kagami," Luka said.
"Hello Luka," Kagami said. "You seem to be in a hurry."
"Marinette texted me, it sounded urgent," he said.
Kagami blinked. "So did Adrien."
Without saying anything Luka gave Kagami his extra bike helmet and Kagami became a passenger as Luka speeded through the streets of Paris. They almost became a racecar.
"Look there they are!" Kagami cried as they saw Adrien and Marinette at a distance.
"Hold on!" Luka cried as he got ready to hit the breaks.
But Luka skidded a bit fast and Marinette and Adrien were dumbfounded to see their partners make a speedy appearance.
When Luka and Kagami finally stopped Kagami jumped off the seat and took off the helmet before shaking her hair.
"Kagami!" Adrien cried as he ran to take his girlfriend's hands.
"Marinette!" Luka cried as Marinette ran over.
"Is everything ok Marinette?" Luka asked.
"Today was stressful…" Marinette said.
Luka held out his arms and smiled warmly at her. "Well this day is about to get better."
Marinette threw herself into Luka's arms and Luka gently stroked her back.
Adrien sighed. "I am stressed too."
"Yes, today is a very stressful day," Kagami teased.
Adrien laughed for a moment realizing she faked him out.
"You can be so cruel Kagami," Adrien whined.
Kagami giggled and then cupped his face with her hands so she could look her in the eyes. "I know you go through a lot Adrien."
Kagami made up for it by planting kisses on his cheeks. Adrien's smile grew and his face glowed red for a moment.
Author’s Note: God! Having Lukanette and Adrigami be happy couples and no drama....It gives me life!
I am not sure when I will finish something...Anything! But I hope all of you lovebugs enjoyed this snippet.
This is Emiko Gale signing out! See you later!
Edit: Yes the platonic Adrie///nette and platonic Lukagami was intentional! I do intend for more platonic A/N and Lukgami in this fanfic.
It's Wednesday? Thanks @wellbelesbian for reminding me it's wednesday and for tagging me! I've been losing my mind over finals but I'm almost done! Also @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire
Here's a mad Penny i was trying to finish the other day, next week I'll finally have time to write!!!
Not gonna tag anyone cause it's too late but if anyone happens to see this and wants to do it then go ahead!
It’s wip wednesday yall and I’m drawing a strong woman :) fjslfdk
@cashweasel @possumgeist @quietsphere @losingface @sosolenoo Y’all wanna share some wips?
Some WIPs for Werewolf Wednesday! AWOOO!
What's up friends, enemies, and other esteemed guests? I'm not dead which is WILD and I have a new WIP that I swear I'm gonna finish this time GJKFDLJGLDJ
It's WIP Wednesday, but I honestly have no clue how to do Anything:tm: so I'm gonna do it like this:
Send an ask any ask and you'll get a tiny snippet of my WIP!
(tw in my WIP for implied slavery, violence, it as a pronoun, forced mutism, amnesia and glimpses of memory, dehumanization, and descriptions of wounds, scars, and broken bones)
Wip Wednesday except it’s not a wip I have no intentions of finishing this￼
“But what am I to you, exactly? If you leave the Chantry to be with me, what next? We take back your land, I become Princess? Do I look like a Princess to you, or even a noble? I have Amell blood, yes, but I’m also Ferelden, I was raised there. I’m…” Hawke gestured her whole self, top to bottom. She let her hands linger on the crown of her head, to emphasize her height. “I’m a big, fumbling brute. I’m not politically savvy, it takes me months to accomplish the smallest improvements in this city, if at all.”
“That is what you see,” Sebastian answered quickly, smiling. “But do you know what I see? Someone resilient, determined, intelligent, kind. Not simply civil or polite, but truly kind. You’re everything a princess should be. You’re everything I could aspire to.”
Hawke folded her arms and huffed. “You want to take a swing at the ‘big’ portion, turn that into something positive?”
“Being larger is not a bad thing, but the word hardly does you justice. You are statuesque, a marvel of athleticism and physical endurance.”
She blushed. “All right, well I certainly know who to go to when I’m having a bad day.”
“I can offer more than compliments, if you like.”
Her blush deepened. “…But it remains, we’ve only known each other for a few months. We’ve crossed paths here and there but… I’m afraid we’re only building up for disappointment. I think perhaps we both have ideas of each other, and they will crumble in time.”
He sighed in defeat, but his smile remained. “Wise, as well. There is truth in what you say, Hawke. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I clearly have a lot to consider.”
“Thank you. And it’s not as though… that is, you know we’ll always be friends.”