Catie

"Oel ngati kameie." 🍉 30

[agathaharknessfan96]

Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist! Please hold on, as I slowly but surely fill it up!

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Marvel

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I will not be writing anything sexual, or romantic for characters under 18.

NO EXCEPTIONS. NONE.

Masterlist

Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon

Coming soon!

[just-another-idk]

Hi!! I’m no writer but I’ve heard some better ways to write readers blushing and pale faced moments. Some people use things like “readers face flushed” they use the color plum since it’s a deep red but I assume that is for readers with more melanin. Flushed, warmed, darkened with embarrassment, heated, AND blush can all be used for all readers. I leave blushed at the end since it really matters how that one is used. Pale is still more touchy, but it can be used for all readers as well only carefully. Drained of color, went white/ghost, lifeless (because dead people are paler than living), and pale can be used to convey that expression. I’m black so I figured I could pop in on the matter. The story is great, I noticed the words but since there weren’t any “fingers RAN THROUGH readers hair” or anything that solidified the white image I didn’t mind it.

Lol I haven’t even played the game so I’m such a poser for reading it but ughhhh So’lek is so fine🤤

I’m thinking of (when I eventually get around to it) shifting her expressions to be more fidgety, avoiding his gave, a quirky little embarrassed smile, unable to look at him from the flutter in her stomach and her ears turning a different shade

Instead of colour for paling or shock I’ll focus on her facial expressions and emotional responses

All tbd

I want to finish the current arc then maybe go back slowly

[just-another-idk]

Spending a bit of time editing and writing today so now’s the time to bring up any major flaws

[just-another-idk]

You use many white/bright skinned coded terms in gentle hands, is this the case for reader? “Bright red” “pale” I honestly am very curious because I tried skimming past it hoping maybe reader was…yk reader, but certain terms lead me to believe the reader you are writing for it light. The story is amazing, don’t get me wrong, I just ask for clarification.

I hope your days are well.

Bright red- blushing

Pale- just losing all color in the face

It’s more so just a mechanism to show that healer has 0 poker face, is quite an expressive person and gets flustered very easily whilst trying to keep the description neutral

Just trying to give you a rundown on her character without telling you what her character is

[cosmictheo]

THE ART OF FLUSTERING A KNIGHT | gwayne hightower

— summary: no matter how many years of marriage pass, gwayne hightower remains completely defenseless against his lady wife's flirtations and teasing. — pairing: gwayne hightower x wife!reader — word count: ~2k — content: suggestive language, implied marital intimacy, established relationship/married couple, domestic fluff, lots of flirting & teasing, theyre so in love with each other, pda, gwayne blushes a lot, pregnancy, family dinners with daeron & ormund. just a little something to help me cope with the mess that was the finale...

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

After all these time of marital bliss, Gwayne Hightower should have gotten used to his lady wife by now. Really, he should.

With so many years of marriage, one would think he wouldn't get flustered anymore when you smiled at him a certain way. That he'd know how to respond to your sweet words of praise by now. That he could cope with you leaning in close, adjusting the collar of his tunic, and whispering little sweet things in his ear, without getting tongue-tied and as nervous as a cornered rabbit.

But no.

You still make him blush.

It was almost insulting, really.

Not to you, of course. You find it utterly delightful.

Your little courtship ritual would typically start in the morning.

You're both still tangled together beneath the bedding, lying naked and wrapped up in your own blissful world of love, still floating on the afterglow of last night's wild love-making rounds. 

Gwayne is still half-asleep, one arm lazily draped around your waist, his fingertips leisurely trailing over your curves, lost in the feeling of your perfect body melting into his.

Your fingers trace lazy, feather-light patterns across his chest, trailing down to the line of his hip where his skin feels warm and soft in the dim morning light. 

His auburn hair is a mess, his beard slightly unkempt, and there is a faint crease between his brows from sleep, absorbed in some dream world of his own, most likely one where you're right there with him, too. Because, what else could he possibly dream of other than you?

He looks nothing like the man everyone else knows out there in the Realm.

There, in your arms, he simply looks like your husband.

Your handsome husband.

You reach up and brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead and at that, he reacts immediately, letting out a low, contented hum.

His hand glides down your lower back, caressing your soft flesh appreciatively, always revelling in the sensation of your naked body pressed close to his.

“Mmm.”

You smile, “good morning, handsome.”

His eyes remain closed, “good morning, love.”

“You know... I think you're even more beautiful in the morning.”

One blue eye opens slowly at that to find your pretty face smiling innocently.

“What?” you ask, your eyes flashing with that mischief he knows all too well.

He sighs, lifting his spare hand to lay it on his face, already blushing. “It's too early for this.”

You let out a soft laugh, reaching up to gently pry his hand away from his pretty face.

“Too early for what?” you ask him again, even though you already know perfectly well what he means.

“For you, you wicked girl.”

Despite himself, a dimpled smile spreads across your husband's lips, and your heart melts at such beautiful sight, knowing that you just can't resist to kiss his blushing cheeks multiple times when he does. 

His smile infectiously expands yours even more, and you climb onto his body, straddling him. His hands instinctively find their way to your thighs, caressing your warm skin as he looks up at you with love eyes.

“That's hardly an answer,” you remark astutely.

“It is the only answer you're getting,” he replies, though there is zero bite to his tone.

The blush on his cheeks deepens to a brilliant, furious shade of crimson as you settle over his hips, and of course, he's already halfway hard since your face was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes that morning.

“I suppose that is my fault, too?” you tease, leaning down until your breath warmingly brushes against his parted, rosy lips.

You trace a slow line down his throat with the tip of your nose, reveling in the sudden, sharp intake of air he lets out.

“You take entirely too much pleasure in tormenting me, my lady,” Gwayne groans, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs, fingers digging softly into your skin, always so needy for you. 

“Tormenting?” You pull back just far enough to look into his brilliant, pleading blue eyes, watching the way his chest heaves beneath you. “Is that what we're calling it now? I thought I was simply fulfilling my marital duties. Showing my husband proper appreciation, just as he deserves.”

Gwayne shifts beneath you, the friction of your bodies driving a low, involuntary hum from the back of his throat.

The flush has spread down his neck now, staining the pale skin of his chest a delightful pink. 

“Oh, you're terrible,” he groans, though his hands slip higher, tracing the curve of your waist to pull you down on him and clashing his lips against yours into a slow, deep, devastating kiss. His lips are warm and desperate, tasting of sleep and sweet familiarity.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is weak, his dimples peeking out despite his best efforts to look exasperated. “Utterly terrible. Now... are you going to finish making a mockery of me, or are you going to take care of your husband properly, hm?”

The afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the stone corridors as Gwayne finally managed to escape his duties. He had spent the better part of the day enduring endless council meetings, the clatter of steel in the training yard, and the tedious posturing of visiting lords. All he wants now is a goblet of wine and quiet moment with you.

Instead, he finds you standing in the crowded solar, surrounded by half a dozen noblewomen and knights, laughing softly at something Lady Redwyne had said.

The moment Gwayne steps over the threshold, his posture straightened out of habit—the noble Hightower back on display, rigid and composure personified. But then his eyes meet yours across the room, and the guarded edge in his gaze dissolves into pure warmth.

“Ser Gwayne,” a young lord calls out, raising a cup. “We were just hearing of your brilliant maneuvers during last week's tourney. A fierce display on the field, truly!”

Gwayne offers a polite, practiced nod, stepping closer to your side. “You flatter me, my lord. Simple training and luck.”

“Oh, don't let him fool you,” you chime in smoothly, a dangerously sweet smile playing on your lips as you lean into his personal space. You reach out, trailing your fingers through his own and he gives you a squeeze right away—maybe out of love, maybe as a warning. Maybe both. “My husband is far too modest. He was absolute perfection out there. Definitely the most skilled, and the most handsome.”

Gwayne clears his throat, his posture stiffening as he feels that warmth instantly begin to creep up his neck. “My love, please...”

“No, really,” you continue, turning your dazzling smile toward the gathered crowd, though from out of the corner of your eye, you’re enjoying the sight of Gwayne's rapidly warming face. “You should see the way he holds a lance. The massive strength in his shoulders... though, to be fair, I've always said he looks far more handsome when he's taking his armor off after a long day.”

A few quiet giggles erupted from the noblewomen nearby, while a couple of knights snort into their goblets.

Gwayne’s breath hitches. A vibrant, furious crimson flood his cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks around the room in mild panic, utterly helpless against your public teasing, his sharp-tongued courtly persona completely dismantled in three sentences flat.

“L-Lady wife,” he warns under his breath, his voice dropping an octave as he grabs your wrist, not to pull you away, but to desperately stop you before you said anything worse. “Have mercy.”

“What?” you ask innocently, whispering for only him to hear. “I'm just boasting about my handsome man. Unless you'd prefer I show them exactly what those strong hands of yours are capable of?”

Gwayne closes his eyes briefly, letting out a low, defeated sigh. He tightens his grip on your hand, ducking his head to hide his flustered smile from the court, completely speechless once again.

The afternoon sun gently bathes the gardens of Oldtown, casting a warm golden glow over the flowers, as the breeze, bearing the scent of jasmine, eases the day’s heat. Seated around an elegant stone table, the Hightower family shares a quiet dinner.

Ormund sips slowly from his glass of wine, glancing over some papers between courses, while Daeron methodically cuts a piece of poultry, observing the scene in front of him with that spark of amused resignation that has become his trademark every time he looks at you two.

You’re sitting next to Gwayne, so close that your skirts get tangled with his legs under the table. His hand rests casually on your thigh, and every time you brush your fingers across the fabric of his doublet, you can feel the mild thrill that courses through his body.

“You should eat a little more, my love,” he suggests in a honeyed voice, picking up a grape from the silver tray. “The babe will surely need it.”

You open your mouth obediently, accepting the sweet fruit.

“You don’t have to feed me like a little bird, husband,” you whisper playfully.

He smiles, his hand shifting from your thigh to lovingly caress the rounded curve of your swelling belly. “But I love taking care of you two.”

The movement of his thumb over your belly is so tender, so steeped in devotion, that it brings a soft, lover's sigh to your lips.

Even with a child on the way, Gwayne hasn't lost an ounce of his endearing susceptibility to you. If anything, the pregnancy has made him twice as attentive and twice as easy to turn into a flustered mess, now that his whole character and physique is evolving and preparing to be a father.

“Is it my fault my husband is so terribly sweet, hm?” you tease softly, leaning up to brush your lips right against the warm skin of his jaw. “Or that he looks so utterly handsome when he's playing the protective, attentive father?”

The heat surges instantly. A brilliant, rosy waves floods Gwayne’s cheeks, blooming rapidly across his cheekbones and spilling down the column of his neck.

He clears his throat, “My lady, please. We are at the table.”

At the head of the table, Ormund sets his wine glass down on the surface with a sharp but controlled clink, without even looking up from the parchment he is reading.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, weary breath that speaks of a man who has witnessed this exact routine every single day for years.

“If you’re going to start feeding each other like two lovebirds in spring, let me know so I can ask for the strongest wine,” remarks the Lord, resting his elbow on the table with a bored demeanor, having grown thoroughly accustomed to such scenes. “Some of us are attempting to to review the city's winter provisions and eat.”

Daeron, for his part, dramatically drops his cutlery and leans back in his chair, letting out a low chuckle.

“You are swooning like a maiden at her first tourney, uncle,” the young prince chuckles, shaking his head with a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, resting your hand over Gwayne's where it still cradles your bump, feeling the fast pulse in his wrist.

“Ignore them, my love,” you coo, pressing one more lingering kiss to his burning cheek. “I think you're absolute perfection.”

Ashamed, Gwayne closes his eyes with a helpless, dimpled smile breaking through his flustered face as he presses his forehead close to yours, completely defeated by your affection once again.

[liberalsarecool]

"I want children to suffer" is the ultimate flex by red-pilled conservative anti-feminist dorks who are equally racist when screeching about birth rates dropping.

[rotxo-te-rara-yaptoitan]

New sketches crom my avatar: frontiers of pandora -from the ashes au

What should i name the Rda guy? (I'm not planning on giving him an avatar, but i might think about it) he's a resistance member, but spies on the rda and mangkwan from the inside. He's also besties with Wukula ❤️‍🩹

Also, Re'nuí is my main character, that kind of makes up for the role of Tamtey, like tamtey just doesn't exist, they do and they were siblings with Aha'ri. I love Re'nuí so much agghh !! I also don't remember weather i posted the full Kxe'tamhi sketch so here it is

I love them all so much, my obsession with avatar is unexplainable

[nan-chi]

Lads fandom these days 😭🔥

[baylardian-1]

back when i was drawing these i was reading MLP comics that featured baby Spike and/or Celestia + Spike together and i just thought wow!!!! she's kinda like his mommy before the Sparkle family takes over that role 🥹

[veveen]

Something to take to heart 💚

[i-draws-dinosaurs]

The beautiful and endangered Dumb Gulper Shark

[orlissa]

which AO3 tag are you?

Tagged by the lovely @purplesigebert

...I strangely feel both called out and seen.

The Quiz

Tagging @aloveforjaneausten @jomiddlemarch @mercurygray @stargazerdaisy @polikszena @buttercupadventures

[soaps-mohawk]

[sarghost]

Listen everybody I am obsessed with them so now I WILL be doing this to every post I find on pinterest that reminds me of them

[nixdvn]

I bite him (old art)

[enki2]

[pandoraz-light]

I feel like Teylan and Norm would be besties

[zimnyszron]

More of my Tamtey with Okul this time

Yes I spend too long on this