#inadxquacy

[siiinfully]

@inadxquacy [ x ]:

Didnhe think she despised it? He wasn’t certain. Eleanor had been the most beautiful expecting mother he had even seen, when they expected their child he’d never felt more blessed and feeling it kick for the first time was short of a miracle. But he knew what he’d been taught, the pain and effort of pregnancy and labour was God’s punishment to Eve and her daughters and for two months he lost his wife due to the care she needed. He’d never been more terrified. During the Crusades he’d witnessed women losing their unborn due to injury or distress, he’d heard how some women had bled to death after giving birth. It was the fear he had of losing Eleanor and his child. “All a man can do is pray for God to protect his wife and child, and protect her from harm. But the burden, it was all yours.” It didn’t seem fair.

And he couldn’t deny he desired her flesh, hear her soft sounds as he claimed her. The kiss on his hand was almost cruel, she knew her softness and love was his weakness. And feeling her breast with his hand his mouth grew dry and he looked at her, able to see her desire. Kissing her Thomas’ hands fell to her waist and then to her hips, pulling her closer against his body. Breaking away slightly he looked at her, “I am your husband, body and soul, if you ever need me or desire my company all you have to is say so.” As traditional as he was he saw her above him. She was his queen and as the mother of his child she was vessel of their bloodline. Pleasure was sin but denying his wife her needs would be sin against her, something he could not allow and would seek forgiveness after her needs were fulfilled. And now his, he wanted her and another child. Looking at her for a moment his gaze darkened slightly, body overcome with lust as he watched her. Reaching for the laces of her dress he began to undo them gently. As much as he desired her he would not resorts to ravishing her, she deserved to be treated with care and gentleness.

It was ‘dangerous’ for him to give her all that power over their desires. She was a passionate woman by nature, sometimes driven by her intense emotions, but when it came to her husband, she had to remind herself that he wasn’t the same in that aspect. So, she sometimes denied herself of his company, his intimate embrace, believing it would help both of them. And so far, it worked, considering he never really shut her out when she wanted to be affectionate. However, his words opened a dam of yearnings and desires she had previously kept locked up, and she moaned, her entire body suddenly hyperaware of what was going on. Feeling him gently undo the laces of her dress, she closed her eyes and leaned towards him a little, a hand on his arm to keep herself from falling forward all the way. “Thomas,” she whispered, her chest tightening when she felt his hand brush over the swell of her breasts, but she let him finish his task, slow yet gentle and loving, before she focused on helping him remove his clothing.

She had taken over his squire’s duties in helping him dress often enough to know how take off certain pieces of clothing. Undoing the belt that held his tunic together made it easier for her to tug the fabric off; it had barely fallen to the ground when she was pulling him in for another kiss and pressing herself against his bigger, firmer form. Her soft, unmarked flesh brushed over his rougher, battle-scarred one, but she had seen it often enough that she remembered where every scar was and what it felt like beneath her fingertips. They hadn’t been this intimate in a while, and she didn’t mind going slow: it helped her enjoy every single second. Eleanor broke the kiss to catch her breath, looking up at him and then taking a few, slow steps back, towards the bed. She remembered their wedding night, from the way he looked under the glow of the candle lights to the gradual intensity of their coupling. It was with that thought that she sat down on the edge of the bed and sliding over to the middle, leaving room for him to join her there.

[mettleborn-a]

Semi-plotted starter for @inadxquacy​

Lord Cavendish has been dressed in finery today, not quite befitting of a quite ordinary Wednesday afternoon and its clear the servants at Trematon have noticed. As he strides down the main staircase, it is clear the castle has gone into motion, his attire instantly sending his staff into high alert. Moving into his study, he fetches the paperwork related to the Ainsley family business, some admittedly obtained by less than legal means. Still, it was important he gained a proper picture of its assets before offering any advice or indeed investment; he is thinking of Laura of course, but naturally he is also thinking of himself; any business arrangement must be mutually beneficial after all.

Tucking the papers into the inner pockets of his coat, he moves further down the staircase, pausing only when he sees to kitchen maids bickering near the entrance to the kitchen.

“All is fine.” He bellows, in an attempt to calm the building cacophony, the deep tenor of his voice echoing through the vast halls of the castle. “Lady Ainsley is visiting today, that is all.”

He can sense their collective sigh of relief, its palpable; little wonder he supposes given his penchant for arranging large parties at a moment’s notice, something he’s already considering for next week, perhaps to mark the summer solstice. Pausing, William glances at the maids in the day room, watching them eagerly dust as he waits for his footman to bend and shine his shoes. Issuing the man a brief nod of gratitude, William ventures out of the main archway, into the courtyard to stand in the mid-morning sun. Striking alight a cigarette to smoke as he waits for her coach to arrive, William nods to the gardener as he watches him heave and struggle with a particularly large tree root. Admittedly Cavendish would normally be out riding at this time of the day, but it is important he has determined, to welcome Laura in person today, to re-familiarise their friendship ahead of any talk of business.

[gwynblcidd]

@inadxquacy​ sent (ง'̀-‘́)ง

Bar fights are not unusual. Something he tries to avoid, yes, but not something that is unusual. There’s no avoiding this one. A human always tries to start something, whether with him or someone else - this time they’re trying to start something with the nonhumans. A group of Elves and Dwarves and Geralt can’t sit idly by and do nothing.

It turns into a fight. One that has someone jumping to his aid. He doesn’t need the help but he appreciates it all the same and soon enough, the group of men are either knocked out cold, or running from the tavern. 

“I had it handled but....thanks.”

[warrioroflondonbelow]

inadxquacy asked: Headcanon + children

send  me  ‘ headcanon ‘  +  a  word  and  i  will  give  you  a  headcanon  around  it: ACCEPTING

II @inadxquacy

//Richard is the epitome of soft when it comes to kids. When it comes to looking after his older brother’s kid, or when one of the kids of his friends comes running to him when he visits, Richard is just a natural with them-- From making them laugh, never talking down to them, giving them nicknames like ‘wee monster’. Not only that, but despite his past with his own father, and despite his own doubts of being a good father, Richard wants nothing more than to have his own children with the love of his life.//

[strings-have-been-cut]

🎯

I suppose it’s obvious, but my headcanon is that Data is asexual without his emotion chip. With his emotion chip, I believe that he has not figured out what his sexuality is, but I have a hard time believing he’d be straight. I feel like he’d be very curious and loving in his endeavors. Very concerned about if he is interacting with his partner correctly (calling them at the right time, paying enough attention to them...bad memories of D’Sora make him worry all the time). Low in self-confidence, and also constantly worried he would squish his partner because he is so heavy and strong. ALSO (ranting now, and I totally got this in my head from the book I’m reading) I feel he would be especially bad with normal physical touches. Hugs, hand-holding, etc. Simple things. Because people don’t usually touch him. Whether it’s because no one feels that close to him or because they are uncomfortable due to his looks or the nature of his being synthetic. Touching is surprising to him, and he had almost no idea how to respond to it. 

Send a 🎯 to learn a random headcanon I have for my muse.

[b----4archived]

👘

👘 - A memory associated with an article of clothing they have.

The first time B-4 put on his Starfleet uniform was one hour and twenty-three minutes prior to his graduation ceremony. He had received it in his mailbox approximately a week beforehand and it had sat, folded perfectly, in its flimsy, plastic bag, untouched. 

When B-4 looked at the uniform, ominously perched on a chair in the corner of his room, he felt conflicted. His first notion was to believe he didn’t deserve to wear it at all. While he had done well academically, the qualities of a Starfleet officer went well beyond test grades. At the same time, he also felt overwhelming pride, something that was foreign to him and hurt in his chest like anxiety. He had made it through the Academy, something he hadn’t thought possible. 

The fabric felt familiar. The same polyester blend graced every Starfleet officer. He remembered fine-tuning motor skills and grasping the sleeve of Bruce Maddox’s uniform to prevent from falling, feeling the vast expanse of the back of Data’s uniform in a quick embrace, the brushing of superior officers’ uniforms during medical exercises - and yet somehow the one in his hands felt so foreign. 

When he put it on for the first time, he felt oddly professional, as if his cadet uniform had been too childlike. The shade of blue varied slightly from one to the other. It zipped up slightly higher on his neck. 

“I am proud of you,” Data said as he affixed the single pip to B-4’s collar. “You have done a wonderful job at the Academy. Have you decided what you will talk about in your speech?”

B-4 nodded. He had spent thirty-seven hours re-writing his valedictorian speech before finally settling one a version he liked. “Yes,” he said. “I believe you will enjoy it.” 

Data and B-4 grinned at one another - nearly a mirror image save for the uniforms - and Data ran his hand over the front of his brother’s uniform to press out any wrinkles. “You will no doubt do an admirable job.” 

B shook his head. “I don’t want to give a speech, Data,” he said quietly. “They don’t care what I have to say. Most of those people hate me anyway.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Data countered. “I find it difficult to believe anyone genuinely hates you.”

“Then they strongly dislike me.” 

Data considered this for a moment before saying, “Then use your opportunity on the stage to let them know.” 

“Know what?

“You know they dislike you, and you do not care.” 

But he did care...and he also understood Data’s point. He nodded curtly. 

“You will be fine, Brother,” Data assured him. 

Data crossed the stage at graduation, shoulder’s clenched with the weight of stress, chest tight from anxiety. He arrived at the podium and trained his gaze to the polished wood long enough to take a deep breath. When he raised his eyes to the audience, he was immediately drawn to Data. Naturally, he stuck out - gold skin and eyes against a sea of a natural palette. He expected Data to sit near the front, arms folded in his lap, eyes bright with pride and anticipation. What he did not expect to see was Geordie, sat just beside him, beaming. Picard, to the other side, one leg crossed over the other, anticipatory grin on his features. Dr. Crusher to his right, smiling knowingly. Bruce to her right, eyebrows raised expectantly. He leaned forward slightly - a cue that B-4 should begin speaking. 

His heart swelled and he felt a wave of emotion he had never felt before. There was no time to process it before it wiped out any feeling of anxiety. “I apologize,” he said into the microphone. His voice echoed over the hall, filling the air. “I’m experiencing an unfamiliar...sensation. I believe it is…” He ran through a search of positive emotional traits in his head and settled on the appropriate one. “Empowerment.” 

There were a few responses from the crowd that seemed supportive. B-4 smiled and took a deep breath. “Good afternoon to the graduating class of 2385, esteemed professors and colleagues, and honoured officers. I am Cadet B-4. This afternoon we gather for a tremendous occasion - to celebrate the successes we have accomplished during our time at the Academy. I’d like to share part of my story with you in hopes that we may empathize with one another as we leave this environment and these experiences we have in common to move onto our new assignments in the field.” He paused, a pre-determined place to allow for his audience a break, and then continued. “I’d like to begin by speaking about my brother, without whom I would not be here today.”

[warringpeace]

ASK meme sent by @inadxquacy

ღ on the forehead (for Loki)

He was always a light sleeper. Unlike her and Anton, he didn’t need to sleep that much, and when he did, he easily woke up. So, if she was trying to hide the soft kiss from him by doing it when she thought he was fast asleep, she failed. He jerked a little as he woke, his gaze finally resting on her. He blinked again as if to make sure that he was actually seeing her and not some illusion before he smiled a little. “Does this mean that I am forgiven, Laura?”

[bravery-sought-a]

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑺: secured starter w/ @inadxquacy || 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐀𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

— The headlights of the occasional passing car appear like halos in his vision, making him squint. These roads are normally vacant for long stretches of time. Darkness settled in hours ago and he’s just now heading back to his cabin at 1 a.m. in the morning. Two cars on the shoulder of the road catch his attention and he slows down just slightly as he approaches to get a sense of the situation. A man and a woman stand in a confrontation and by the looks of things  ,  it doesn’t look friendly. Grumbling something under his breath  ,  Alex Manes pulls over and turns on his hazard lights. He exits his vehicle with a purpose and his eyes narrowed as he nears the scene.

“  Is there a problem here, ma’am?  ”  He BREAKS the argument  ,  catching a whiff of the alcohol that the man seemingly reeks of. The woman’s car is smoking and just by a single glance to her  ,  Alex is able to tell that she’s certainly not from around here. Foreigners have a particular look. The man opens his mouth to answer  ,  but the Captain shoots him a narrowed expression , “  I didn’t ask you. I was asking the lady.  ”