#I’ve drawn so much in the past 3 days it’s insane

[strawberri-draws]

Recent art fight attacks!!

My user is StrawberriDraws on af, feel free to engage in combat 🤺

[avida-heidia-5]

While we wait for the 2024 Formula 1 season to arrive, I thought I’d entertain myself by playing a little tag game I’ve just created. Feel free to participate if you have the time to do it. 😊

🏎️💨 THE FORMULA 1 TAG GAME! 🏎️💨:

1. Who or what got you into F1?

2. Who was the very first F1 driver you supported? Do you support them now? Have your opinions on them differed or stayed the same since then?

3. Who’s your current favourite F1 driver?

4. Is there a driver pairing or pairings you support? What made you attracted to that pairing in the first place?

5. Do your parents, siblings or relatives have a favourite team and/or favourite driver(s)?

6. Do you have any favourite races? Are there any that stand out to you the most?

7. Do you have a favourite circuit? Can be from the past or from the current calendar.

8. Have you ever been to an F1 race in real life? Feel free to tell us your experience going to one if you like.

9. Have you ever met an F1 driver in real life?

10. Do you have a favourite F1 car? If so, what is it?

11. Do you have a favourite one win wonder?

12. Do you have any favourite quotes from the F1 world? This can either be inspirational or hilarious.

(This is all the questions I could come up with, I’m afraid! My brain is absolutely worn to a frazzle! 😮‍💨)

Now tag as many people as you like! I tag the following peeps: @kaossbells, @argentinagp, @hurricane-heatt, @skitskatdacat63, @racingliners, @formulaes5, @princemick, @4xmulti21champion, @schumigrace, @hungriestheidi, @ellalovesvettel, @twinkodium, and @wanderingblindly. Feel free to participate if you would like to. No pressure! 😊

If I haven’t tagged you in this but you want to participate, you have my permission. Go absolutely wild!

Now here are my answers below the cut! Warning: I can be a touch rambly!

1. Who or what got you into F1?

My parents introduced me to F1 in 2004 when I was around 4 or 5 years old. I vividly remember watching pretty much the whole of the 2005 season on the telly and how amazing a lot of the races were back then. 😍 Since then, we’ve been keeping up with watching races, following the news, and visiting Silverstone for Free Practice sessions and fun events like the Classic Weekend and the Lap Of Lights whenever possible.

2. Who was the very first F1 driver you supported? Do you support them now? Have your opinions on them differed or stayed the same since then?

I was drawn to Kimi Räikkönen when I was young because I found him attractive. 😳 This was before I knew anything about F1. 😅 Once I got into the habit of watching the sport regularly, I was happily cheering him on. That McLaren was a BEAST…when it was reliable. 😬

I didn’t know much about Kimi’s story back then. As I grew older though, I did some research on him and came to understand why fans love him so much. He kept a cool head during qualifying and race days (He’s called The Iceman for a reason!) and I just love his personality in general: Quiet, composed, honest, and straightforward. And who could forget the memes that spawned during Kimi’s return to F1?

Even though Kimi’s retired from the sport (seemingly for good 😢), I still love and support him with all my heart, whatever he gets up to. 💙❄️

3. Who’s your current favourite F1 driver?

Sebastian Vettel. Oooooh Sebastian Vettel! Where do I even start? 🥰

I have an insane adoration for this man, even more than Kimi admittedly. Seb is just…on another level to me. 😍😍😍

He’s the sweetest, most loveliest man on the planet. He’s kind, generous, talented, and cultured. He’s also an environmentalist, and I fully support his journey to try and make our planet a greener, tidier, happier, and healthier place. 🌎🌱 I’m always fascinated with what he has to say; whether it’s something positive or negative. He has a ridiculous knowledge of everything related to F1 and our environment, and I love him even more for it.

Seb is also retired from F1 and I still miss him dearly, but that doesn’t stop me from loving and supporting this man. I adore him to absolute BITS! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

4. Is there a driver pairing or pairings you support? What made you attracted to that pairing in the first place?

Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber have an interesting dynamic to me. I’ve enjoyed seeing their relationship develop and fall apart and repair themselves back together on track, from when the two were teammates at Red Bull all the way up to today. It’s good that they can laugh about their mishaps and misfortunes afterwards. I don’t know, these two just fascinate me. 💜

Other favourite driver pairings include (in no particular order): Seb and Kimi, Seb and Charles Leclerc, Fernando Alonso and Giancarlo Fisichella, Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll, Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz Jr., Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz Jr., and FINALLY, Alex Albon and Logan Sargeant.

5. Do your parents, siblings or relatives have a favourite team and/or favourite driver(s)?

We’re happy to support any team, but we’re primarily McLaren supporters in this household. 🧡 As for drivers, my mum loves Jenson Button and my dad is a Nigel Mansell and Fernando Alonso supporter. My sister just recently started getting into F1 and she supports Lando Norris. We never have any complaints or disputes over our choices, which is nice. 😊

6. Do you have any favourite races? Are there any that stand out to you the most?

There’s quite a lot of races I’ve enjoyed watching over the years. I don’t like the current races that much; I’m more of a 2000’s & 2010’s grid enjoyer. My favourite race of all time has got to be the 2012 Brazilian GP. It was the most nail-biting race I have ever watched! I was on the edge of my seat the whole time! 😱 To me, nothing can top it!

However, the race that stood out to me the most – and the race that firmly cemented my enjoyment for the sport – was the 2005 Japanese Grand Prix. Kimi was a BEAST in that McLaren! From starting dead last on the grid to snatching victory on the final lap. What a show he put on! 🤩👏🏻

7. Do you have a favourite circuit? Can be from the past or from the current calendar.

Spa-Francorchamps will forever be my favourite circuit. It’s home to one of the most iconic battles in history. (“BUT HERE COMES SEBASTIAN VETTEL!!!!”) Plus the foresty backdrop is absolutely stunning. 😍 One of my dream goals is to visit this iconic circuit and watch a race in person one day. 🙏🏻

I also love Silverstone, Hockenheim, Monza, Sepang, Interlagos, and the Nürburgring.

8. Have you ever been to an F1 race in real life? Feel free to tell us your experience going to one if you like.

No, I’ve never been to a race before. Not yet, at least. I would really love to go to one with my family and friends though. 🤩🙏🏻

9. Have you ever met an F1 driver in real life?

Unfortunately, as of writing, no. We’ve taken many pictures of drivers, but I’ve yet to actually come face-to-face with them and take their autographs and have pictures with them. 🙁 One day, I’m hoping this will all come true. 🤞🏻

My parents briefly talked to Esteban Ocon when he was a reserve driver. (They don’t know which team he was in at the time and I don’t know either. This was around 2015, if that helps. 🤷🏻‍♀️) My mum was extremely lucky to talk to and get an autograph from Jenson Button’s dad John when he was alive. I believe this was around the time before Jenson won the World Championship. They’ve yet to get Jenson’s autograph. Again, one day! 🤞🏻

10. Do you have a favourite F1 car? If so, what is it?

I don’t have many favourite cars, and I’m not a car nerd like my dad is. However, the McLaren MP4/20 is a certified favourite of mine. The black and white West McLaren livery in general looked very smart. I’m happy it lasted a very long time from 1997 to 2005. 😍 I wish they brought those colours back in modern races, like for special occasions or something. 😭

I also love the blue and yellow Mild Seven Renault livery from 2005, followed by McLaren’s delightfully retro Gulf livery from 2021, and Hungry Heidi herself: the Red Bull RB9 from 2013.

11. Do you have a favourite one win wonder?

Robert Kubica. This man went from having his horrific accident during the 2007 Canadian GP to winning the race a year later at the same circuit. What a legend! 🤍

12. Do you have any favourite quotes from the F1 world? This can either be inspirational or hilarious.

Let’s start with my favourite hilarious quote: Kimi’s got hundreds of iconic moments during his time in F1. I actually use his infamous quote “Just leave me alone! I know what I’m doing!” quite often in normal conversations, so…I’ll go with that! 🤣🤣🤣

As for inspirational quotes, hmmm, that’s a lot harder. The one that came to my head first was Daniel Ricciardo’s “Enjoy the butterflies” quote. I also love Sebastian Vettel’s “You can’t always be the best, but you can do your best.” and his retirement speech, among others. If I had to choose one….uhhhhh, let’s go with Daniel! I love them all equally though. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[brainrotheartrot]

hi hi yes hello,, first off i just wanna say i LOVE your art.

second, this is kinda weird but i just joined the arcane fandom not too long ago, & it was literally only because i saw vijinx art. like all of my mutuals are into arcane & i never bothered to get into it UNTIL i saw fanart of vijinx a few months ago. something abt it just intrigued me. i honestly never cared for caitvi.

however i wouldn’t consider myself a pro shipper, in fact i’d deny that. this is the first time i’ve enjoyed anything like this & i have no idea why. however i do like hardcore dynamics, for example, ellie/abby from tlou. but of course something like vi/jinx is more “extreme”. well in my opinion.

i’m coming to you because i’ve been stalking a lot of vijinx shippers and i really admire their content, especially yours. it’s such a guilty pleasure of mine. but i’m too scared to interact with anyone, even on an alt. so i just decided to stay anonymous.

i was just wondering if you ever felt guilty the first time you started shipping them? i’d honestly envy you if you haven’t. and how & why did you start shipping them? feel free to rant abt them for as long as you’d like.

i’ve been hearing stuff abt how they weren’t always sisters, like in the early league days. i wish it just stayed that way because it bothers me to not be able to talk abt my favorite ships publicly without being ridiculed for it. but a fucked up part of me is glad that they became sisters. holds more weight, you know. i understand the appeal entirely.

i’ve also even been secretly drawing them but i definitely do not have the balls to post them anywhere😭

ANYWAY, i’m yapping, but just let me know anything about your experience with them, how you view them n stuff. and if you have any advice to give me or any other information pls feel free. thank u so much

ps. i’m totally reading ur fic in a bit

Aww, hey there anon! Thanks for reaching out, always nice to meet another ViJinx fan :) I'm glad you enjoy my art, and I hope you'll like my fic as well! (Also, if you'd like to send me your art privately, I totally promise not to show anybody. <3)

I got a little rambly in my answer there, so I'll put it under the cut.

Honestly, I only call myself a 'proshipper' because this is what modern fandom lingo dictates. I don't really gel with a lot of elements of 'proshipdom', if you will -- there seems to be some broad agreement that if you like Some messed up aspects in your fiction, you must like All of them. And I really don't! I ship ViJinx because I love their specific dynamic, not just because I'm hot for every taboo topic by default. I probably would've shipped them just as much if the show had just made them close childhood friends, for example. But I also have no issue with fictional incest ships, I think they can be fun and juicy.

Like you, I've always been really drawn to problematic and intense lesbian relationships. I like CaitVi plenty, and I think they're going to get a lot messier in S2, which I'm excited for. But ViJinx is just an insanely compelling dynamic. I love the toxic codependent yuri shit. I love the tenderness and the violence, their shared past that now feels completely inaccessible to them both, Jinx's obsessiveness, Vi refusing to give up the image of Powder she's clung on to for years... man, this shit just rocks, okay. I'm not gonna pretend that it doesn't.

I've never felt any guilt about shipping ViJinx, tbh. I'm a fandom oldbie, by which I mean I was around before the morality police took over, and everyone understood we were just here to mash Barbies and have a good time. I've shipped several incest pairings before this, and I've always had a blast doing it. And so help me god, I don't intend to stop now, even if my Twitter blocklist is twenty miles long. I just immediately cut out anyone who tries to start shit, and chill with my fellow weirdos. It's a pretty small circle, but it's a nice time!

If you do decide to make an alt at some point, I recommend doing so on Twitter, as I've been able to find more active ViJinx shippers there. I could rec you some nice people to follow. :) Thanks for reaching out!

[angel-eyes05]

i remember his hands - preview

PAIRING: kang the conqueror x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after a scientific experiment goes horribly wrong, you've been transported to the quantum realm and have been stuck there for the past decade. with no company, aside from janet van dyne, your life changes forever when a mysterious man in a golden ship crash lands next to your settlement. startled with his initial presence, you two have a rocky start. but as time goes on, you two find each other slowly drawn to one another. you have secrets though, and he has a past he refuses to bring up. can you two make it through navigating an unknown world together, discovering any ulterior motives, and stand the test of time in a place where time has no meaning at all?

INFO: slow romantic burn, pretty fast sexual burn, kinda enemies to lovers????, takes place during that little flashback janet has during quantumania, idk how accurate this is gonna be to canon stuff cause i get very confused about the quantum realm lol, reader is in mid to late 20s while kang is in his “early 30s” (ik he like technically doesn't age or whatever idk the lore but i just made it accurate to jonathan majors age and wanted to give an accurate age range/gap/count), y/k is very fleshed out like i give her everything lol

WARNING: implied su!c!dal thoughts

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 570

NOTES: hi there!!!! did i make an account just so i could post this? yes, yes i did, and what about it. I was looking for quantumania!kang fics and turns out, theres like 3-4!! so i was like, hey why not. please don't judge my writing cause this is the first fic i’ve written…like ever lol. also, please suspend your disbelief for this, like don’t question why they have working appliances or whatever or that i made up names for the monsters or something, cause 1) idk how to explain that stuff and 2) that's not the main focus sooooo yeah. but, nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy, if anyone even reads this at all even though this is mainly for my sake lol.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been ten years. Ten years since it all went wrong and you landed in this wretched place. Ten years since you’ve had a decent meal and been able to sleep soundly without having to worry about the creatures of the quantum realm getting you in the night. It got slightly better around seven years ago when you found Janet Van Dyne, someone who had experience in navigating this strange world. About 30 years of experience in fact. The thought of you being down here for that long made you nauseous. 

Every day was the same. Wake up, check the settlement perimeter, help Janet with breakfast, hunt surrounding mites, occasionally go into town to trade for parts, eat dinner, then go to bed. Thank god Janet was there or else you might’ve gone insane by now. All this repetition was not your style at all.

You missed life up above. You missed going out with your friends. You missed running into people at the grocery store you haven’t seen since elementary school. You missed your yearly trip to New York during Christmas and seeing everything so festive. It sounds pretentious but it was the truth.

But what you missed most of all was San Francisco. It sounds stupid but you loved it there more than anything. You loved how the flowers would bloom during the springtime. You missed feeling the wind through your hair, as aggressive as it would be at times. You missed going to the beaches. Being in the cool water, feeling the sand in between your fingers and toes, being kissed by the sun. God, you missed the sun. Everything was so dark down here. So…hopeless. Thank god Janet was there or you might’ve…

There wasn’t any point in thinking like that anymore. You had accepted life the way it was. It wasn’t like you had a solid plan for making it back home anyways. As much as you did miss it, it wasn’t like the power of hope, love, and friendship would make a quantum tunnel appear out of thin air. Even if you could find someone selling the necessary pieces to power the tunnel, they would probably be listing it at way too high of a price for you to apprehend it. So for now, and probably for the rest of your life (however long of that left you had, time was strange down here), all the good you can do is try to protect yourself, keep Janet company, and stare at the stars, or whatever you wanted to call them. 

That's exactly what you decided to do before heading off to bed. After checking the surroundings of the settlement for mites, you sat next to the closest thing you could call a creek and just stared up at the engulfing darkness. The tranquility this activity brought you allowed you to sleep soundlessly, without an unknown creature coming out of the shadows to attack you. While staring up at the twinkling lights, you see one of them in the distance that appears to be moving closer to you. As it gets closer, you can make it out as a circular, golden ship. It crash lands about 300 feet away, causing the earth around you to shake. Curiosity takes over you as you decide to start heading over to the crash sight, unaware about how much the repetition of your life you always complained about was about to dissolve.

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NEXT PART

A/N: hiiiiii, so that was the quick little preview, i hope you liked it. i’m gonna be honest im very nervous about posting this lol 😭. but i hope you enjoyed it. chapter 1 should come out shortly after i post this so i hope you’ll stick around for the rest of the series!!!

[butchcarmy]

Zorrasucia here (incognito from my main lol)

5, 9, 14 for the ask thing <3

Omg hi <3 Thanks for the asks!! :) I got carried away answering these lol so have a read more

5. What fandoms do you write for?

Okay this is a long winded answer so pls bear (lol) with me!

I primarily do fanart. My main shit when I first started on tumblr was mob psycho 100! I’ve also drawn a lot for ace attorney and fire emblem 3 houses the past couple years. I’ve written for these fandoms too, but I don’t think any of it has seen the light of day.

I’ve always been pretty nervous about sharing my writing bc I’m a perfectionist. Like… I only ever wrote one shots and posted it after reviewing it a million times. That’s obvious on my ao3 lol. This blog and this fandom is the first time I’ve ever shared my writing so much!

It’s the first time I’m posting stuff that’s only gone through like, ONE revision instead of 5 million, or none at all! I’m trying to be more spontaneous and less precious about my writing. With that being said I revised ch 1+2 of alexithymia over and over for MONTHS. I’m not gonna do that for the future chapters tho!! Trying not to!!

So I guess to answer ur question… I only write for the bear rn! I also draw a ton for it which I will eventually share as well :) it’s 99% carmy haha

9. What's something you googled recently for writing?

I looked up a recipe for lemon chicken piccata for alexithymia ch 4 bc Carmy’s cooking it in that ch! He also does it in the show but I needed the full recipe LOL

14. What's your safe zone? Is there a character or genre you're most confident writing for?

My safe zone is emotional distress LMFAO. It always has been, even in my fics from middle school haha. I have the most fun writing characters being sad/mad/mentally ill, and it also comes the easiest. That’s def a part of why I’ve latched onto carmy to such an insane amount. He has so many issues! He’s just like me fr

To sum it up tho hurt/comfort is my JAM!!! My one true love!!!!!

[heathermasonnum1fan]

Songs of the Week (4)

1. Hooker with a Penis (TOOL)

I know I already talked about Aenema on here (please don’t come for me I don’t know how to type out the AE character), but I really rediscovered it recently. In my opinion, this is TOOL’s best album, and Hooker with a Penis is definitely a highlight for me. I don’t even feel like I have to say that musically it’s amazing, mostly because I don’t think I’ve come across a single bad TOOL song, but I’ll mention it anyway because the chorus is absolutely stellar. What really drew me to this song, however, were the lyrics. Definitely some of their best work.

2. 4th of July (Soundgarden)

I don’t know what it is about this song but I’ve been listening to it nonstop for the past week. And by nonstop I mean at least 4 times a day. I’ve never been a big fan of Soundgarden and Superunknown was the only album of theirs I was actually familiar with (because of Black Hole Sun and Spoonman only to be honest), and I never thought I’d ever be this into any of their stuff, but this song did a complete 180 for me. I don’t know what it is about it that makes it so addictive, but it literally takes me to another dimension. I don’t know how to describe what I feel every time I listen to 4th of July, but I HIGHLY recommend it.

3. Сука Любовь (Antoha MC)

I don’t usually recommend Russian music on here because this obviously isn’t a Russian-speaking blog, but I’ll be making an exception for this one. The beat is absolutely heavenly, the vocals are a perfect fit, and the flow of this song is just insane overall. And yes, I know it’s a cover, but I would much rather listen to this version because the original, while not necessarily bad, is a kind of a confusing mix between reggae and 90s Russian pop (at least that’s how I would put it). You don’t need to know the language to enjoy this song, it’s absolutely magical either way.

4. Roads (Portishead)

I don’t think I’ve spoken about my love for Portishead on here yet, so I feel like Roads will be a great place to start. I’m going to be honest and admit that Dummy is the only record of theirs that I actively listen to but I feel like that’s enough because there’s nothing wrong with liking an artist’s most popular album because most of the time, it’s also their best one. Roads is beautiful all around, as is the entirety of Dummy, and as lately I’m increasingly drawn to calmer music, this is currently a perfect fit for me.

5. Heaven or Las Vegas (Cocteau Twins)

I don’t think I’ve spoken about Cocteau Twins yet either, so here’s Heaven or Las Vegas. Personally, I believe it’s the best song off the album, but to each their own. It’s such a summer song for me, and I listen to it whenever I want to be taken back to less stressful times. It’s so kind and weightless, I absolutely love it. I wish I could go into the technicalities of what makes this song as glowing as it is, but I’m not really a musician so I’ll just settle for saying that it overwhelms you in the best way possible; it feels like everything is happening all at once but it just makes the soul feel so light.

6. Reptilia (The Strokes)

Some will say the production sucks but I say it’s a creative decision. The mixing just adds to the ambience, which is amazing, so let it be. I like The Strokes quite a lot, but this song is just something else, it’s just so raw. I’ve already said that what I value most in music is genuineness, and Reptilia is nothing if not genuine. You can say that it’s simple musically, but in this case I, quite frankly, don’t care. The chorus is out of this world and the vocals in it are so beautifully fitting it makes me want to cry. This song also has one of my all time favourite lines on it (“the room is one fire as she’s fixing her hair”) so I will not be taking any criticism.

7. Aenema (TOOL)

I’m closing this week off with the best song off of Aenema. It’s just great, I don’t know what else to say. The repetition of “learn to swim,” the drumming, the flow from section to section, the palpable frustration, the tension buildup throughout the song, the vocal work, god it’s all just perfect. Songs that are this well-balanced and flow this organically are very hard to come by, and I’m endlessly happy I had the opportunity to come by it and the album altogether. This is one of those songs that is literally life-changing, crush-your-soul-and-take-you-to-another-dimension kind of deal. Absolute standout of this week.

[runelocked]

drop your top 10 fnaf songs now pls

didn’t know if you meant actual fan songs or songs i associate with fnaf so i did five of each!! i could speak about all of these songs for hours so i WON’T but if you’re curious pls ask ^_^

1. I CAN’T FIX YOU / THE LIVING TOMBSTONE

OKAY THIS SONG GETS ME. You’ve been mourning your loss here and that’s grinding my gears, how can a human lose their self control? There’s nothing left to make you whole GETS ME. I LOVE Circus Baby & her story and everything about her so this song drives me wild already (unless i’ve interpreted it wrong and it’s not about baby in which case. oops!). the fact she’s speaking to william here and how frustrating it is for her that he’s MOURNING while his hands are covered in blood (her blood). this is such a bitter sad song and it makes me crazy so have some more lyrics that make me insane!

You oversaturate your world with nothing but machines. You might make everyone happy, but you’re dead inside, just like me. And now we’re here at a standstill — I wonder if you feel the kind of pain that puts your insides out (that’s something I know all about).

2. AFTON FAMILY / APANGRYPIGGY

i mean you KNOW my obsession with the afton family. you KNOW how bad it is. switching between each of the afton children and william (WHERE IS MRS AFTON. WHERE IS SHE. WHERE’S THE LOML) is such an interesting take on the song and you already know that the family is my main point of interest in the lore !!! also the chorus just SLAPS: all stay strong, we live eternally! all is well in the afton family vs lives, they fell to pure insanity! all is hell in the afton family is good ok. like i am a simple person with simple pleasures. a good bit of lyrical contrast is one of them ^_^

3. DRAWN TO THE BITTER / DHEUSTA

HENRY AND WILLIAM SONG. HENRY AND WILLIAM SONG. WHAT’S NOT TO BE OBSESSED WITH. if those other two songs weren’t so good then this would be ranked higher tbh!!! i am a SUCKER for this song and also for the pre to post diner era. to me it sounds like it’s from william’s perspective too as he reminisces on the past (a loss of precious life, a part of me died inside that night) and that makes it so much better for me…. the tragedy unfolding through the verses while the chorus drills home how inevitable the events were always going to be … tragedy is drawn to the bitter and william is the most bitter one out there :’)

4. FIVE MORE NIGHTS / JT MUSIC

fun fact!!! i heard this song before five long nights and i love them both. this one slips by into being in my favorite five list though. just a good old fashioned low lore song and it makes me so damn hyped and reminds me of the core of the franchise. the edits i see to this part of the song — did you listen to the vision you saw? as the clock keeps ticking we’ll be giving you more — do you remember the original four? take a look at us now, ‘cause our condition is poor! we were left to decay in this dark troubled place… — fucking rock ok. like all of them. this song is a bop idc

5. BELOW THE SURFACE / GRIFFINILLA

first fnaf song i ever heard so it holds a special place in my heart :3 also because sl is one of my fav games (that im gonna be playing on stream later most likely YAYY)!! his voice means to deceive you, my voice just wants to lead you. i used to squint a little at the line built without purpose because well . they WERE built with purpose. but in my understanding of the lore, these ones were the first to be built for purposes OTHER than fun/family etc, so they lack an innocent purpose so i get that part of the song now agdkhd. also who can resist exotic butters as the outro huh. c good song, v catchy, it’s gonna be stuck in my head all day now !

—

1. NO SURPRISES / RADIOHEAD

another afton family insp. song, by which i mean i loop this while writing anything remotely sad about the franchise and cry endlessly over them!!! I’m probably gonna do an ACTUAL line by line analysis of this and how it relates to my will & mike writing, but have a few for now: a job that slowly kills you (both mike & will), you look so tired and unhappy (the job destroying who william once was), i’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, no alarms and no surprises (see last bits of analysis), this is my final fate (both of them, father and son, facing painful ends at the hands of animatronics). and then of course we have such a pretty house and such a pretty garden no alarms and no surprises (get me out of here) because so MUCH of the toxicity in the household was so insidious. a carbon monoxide death. william’s effect on the rest of the family poisoned them slowly and michael was resigned to it for so much of his life (no alarms and no surprises) but inwardly wanted out so BAD (get me out of here). this song fucking destroys me!

2. THE MIND ELECTRIC / CHONNY JASH

a cassidy song in my mind. especially this version! really does well at highlighting the bitterness and hatred she feels for william. “this creature hardly resembles a man, my logic is the absolute, his pity parties simply harm these chances at an apt repute esteemed regard in place of mockery” like YES!!! read him!!! have more that’s just SO fitting for the dynamic of these two:

3. KISS ME, SON OF GOD / THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS

4. SICK ON SEVENTH STREET / SARAH & THE SAFE WORD

5. THE DEAD COME TALKING / ROE KAPARA

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

[narafeedee]

As a deathfeedist I’m really curious what kind of health problems you have. Of course if you’re comfortable letting all of us know.

Sure thing lol

Frequent chest pain and moments where my heart skips a beat and takes my breath away.

Pitting edema when I eat too much food high in sodium and don’t drink enough water.

Scarring on my shins from venous ulcers back when I was chugging heavy cream twice a day and sleeping in a recliner. My legs were so swollen they were constantly weeping and soaking my leggings and socks and shoes.

Scarring on my shins from what I believe were eruptive xanthomas from having insanely high cholesterol, again from my heavy cream chugging days.

Poorly managed blood sugar. I’m undoubtedly pre-diabetic again, if not diabetic. I believe I’ve developed diabetes in the past as well - prior to the COVID-induced w**ght l*ss when my A1C was normal for a little while - but I didn’t go to the doctor when all that was going on. Now I have to eat every 4ish hours or I get super hot and shaky and nauseous; it’s so bad that I always switch for earlier lunches at work when I’m assigned the latest one, and everyone knows why lol

Been developing that dark ring around my neck again, so again, likely diabetic.

Last time I had my blood drawn - 70ish lbs ago mind you - my cholesterol was horrible. I suspect it’s now astronomical given the fact that I eat fast food or takeout for 99% of my meals.

Untreated sleep apnea for the last few years. I’ve been shown videos of me sleeping and struggling to breathe in order to scare me into l*sing w**ght. It worked for all of 2-3 months until I got into a relationship and started eating good again lol

Consistently bad reflux, probably GERD. If I eat a lot before laying down to sleep I’ll often wake up aspirating on acid and have to stay up to clear my lungs of it.

[duskholland]

One Million | Tom Holland Smut

summary ↠ you’re not one to shy away from competition, so when your co-star Tom approaches you with an opportunity to secure the ultimate bragging rights, you aren’t afraid to play a little dirty... ↠ famous!y/n x tom.

word count ↠ 4.3k

warnings ↠ mxf protected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, swearing, fluffy feels.

a/n ↠ this took a very soft turn, but I’m not mad about it tbh. it’s definitely inspired by that thirst trap photo that Tom posted the other day. does that man ever chill??? for frame of reference, Tom currently has 35.4 million followers on Instagram, which is...insane lmao. I guess this is kind of similar to my last Tom fic, but I’m really digging famous!y/n, so I wrote it anyway and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoyyyy :)

18+ !!!! this contains NSFW material, so do not read if you are a minor.

“Y’know, Y/N, I think my fans love me more than yours love you.”

Your eyes widen as you take in the bold statement. With a grin rising on your face, you glance up and across the sofa, your gaze drawn immediately to Tom. Your co-star has a cocky smirk fixed to his lips, and he raises an eyebrow defiantly as he meets your eyes.

“As if,” you scoff. You sit up straighter and stretch out your back, glaring slightly at him. “My fans love me. That’s why I’ve got more followers than you on Instagram.”

“Low blow.” Tom isn’t looking so cocky now, as he draws his arms across his chest and pouts at you. You try not to stare at the way his tight black t-shirt clings to the bulge of his arms, but it’s quite difficult: Tom is incredibly attractive. “Plus, that’s barely even true. What are you at? Like, 37 million?”

You delight as you tilt your phone screen towards him, his brown eyes widening in shock as you exclaim, triumphantly, “40!”

Never one to accept defeat so easily, Tom reaches up and wraps his hand around your wrist, his touch keeping your phone in place as he brings his index finger up and begins to scroll through your feed, greedy eyes skimming over the numbers. You stay still, trying not to think about how nice it feels to have him gripping at your skin so tightly. 

“Well, I get more likes than you,” he finally resolves, his words significantly weaker than they’d been previously. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he shrugs. “I do!” 

“No, you don’t.” Disliking the way he seems cocky now, you shuffle up the sofa. The cushions are firm and slightly uncomfortable, but that’s what you get when you’re crammed inside a trailer on a film set. You’re just glad Tom had suggested you spend your lunch break together in his trailer rather than yours -- his, at least, has a working lock on the door and a functioning mini-fridge. “Give me that.” 

He passes you his phone, and you fall to a stop when you’re sitting right beside him, your thighs now pressing together. Your teeth catch at your lower lip as you begin to scroll through Tom’s profile, your irritation slowly rising as you realise that he’s right: he does tend to gather more likes on his posts than you do. 

“Shit,” you mutter defeatedly. You pass him back his phone and lean back, stretching your arms above your head as you groan softly. You can feel him, looking at you with those warm, brown eyes, his stare taking in the curves of your chest and the way you know your nipples strain against the fabric of your white t-shirt, so you make a poised effort to jut your front out just a little further than is truly necessary. When you bring your arms back down to your sides, his eyes find yours, and the way his pupils are blown a little wider brings a smirk to your face. You’d be lying if you said you viewed Tom only as a co-star, or even as just a friend: really, there’s been this palpable, will-they-won’t-they air surrounding the two of you ever since that first day on set. The timing’s never quite been right, but as your gaze shifts between his handsome, seductive grin and his phone, you have a feeling that things may change sooner than you’d imagined.

“How about we settle this, once and for all,” Tom suggests, his words slow as he thinks. His eyebrows pull together as he picks his phone up and presses the small plus button at the bottom of the app, creating a new post. “We have a little competition, right here, right now. Whoever wins gets supreme bragging rights.”

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” 

Tom’s tongue slips across his lower lip, wettening it torturously slowly and his firm gaze settles on your mouth for a quick moment, his lips pulling into a slow smirk as he takes in the way you fluster beneath his gaze. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“We both post something, together, at the same time. Whoever gets to a million likes first, wins,” he explains.

“And I can post anything?” 

“Anything you’d like, love.”

Your eyes narrow as the cogs begin the twirl in your mind. “And when I win..?”

“If you win, darling, I’ll let you rub it in my face as much as you’d like.” 

You hum slowly, letting one of your hands fall to Tom’s covered thigh. You feel his muscles flex beneath your touch, and it makes your thoughts darken. “Let’s raise the stakes,” you suggest, “If you really believe in your popularity, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

A semblance of hesitation twitches out across his face, but Tom nods nonetheless. “What do you want?”

You let your hand go for a little wander, the tips of your fingers circling up to his knee. You tap a small rhythm over his jeans as you string your words together, doing your best to sound as innocent as possible as you say, “Winner takes all.” 

“Winner...takes all?” 

“If you win, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.” 

Tom’s quiet for a moment, and the silence that envelopes you is charged with the past few weeks of lingering touches, suggestive stares, and building sexual tension. When you drag your eyes from Tom’s knee to his face, you find his cheeks tinted a light rosy red and his forehead pulled tight. His eyes narrow as he looks at you, but then one of his arms moves and wraps around your back, and he’s bringing you in closer. You lean into the touch and find yourself swinging a leg over his thighs, your body shifting in closer as you straddle him. He’s hot and firm beneath you, and you find yourself sinking into his thighs easily. 

“And if you win?” Tom continues, both of his hands now resting on the curve of your waist. His fingers are light, teasing, and you try not to think about them as he drags his touch down to toy with the hem of your shirt.

You let your lips brush up against the shell of his ear as you move closer, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. His cologne is strong and distracting and a sense of lust pushes aside all other logical emotions. “If I win,” you say, whispering into his ear, “I get to do whatever I want to you.” You brush your mouth, feather-light, across the column of his neck, barely leaving a kiss to his skin. 

When you move back, Tom’s face is flushed significantly darker. He tilts his head to the side, his loose curls flopping over his forehead, and he looks so fucking attractive that it’s hard to keep your mind focused when all you can think about is how lovely his head would look, buried between your thighs, or how nice it would sound to hear his deep grunts as he fucks you. 

“You’re on.”

You sit back in his lap as you force your attention back to your phone, ignoring the way your body is slowly rising in temperature. You know exactly what you need to post in order to win, and luckily, you already have the shots edited and saved as a draft; you’d been prepared to post them last night but something had told you to hold back, and now that’s going to play to your advantage. 

“I’m gonna win,” you tell him confidently. “There’s no way you’ll be able to beat me. May as well just throw in the towel now, Holland.”

Tom just hums in response, his eyes fixed firmly to his screen. “We’ll see about that,” he counters. “Are you ready?”

“Not gonna let me see?” You ask, taking stock of the way he’s purposefully angling his phone so you can’t get a sneaky peek. 

“Nope.” His tone is infuriating and the way his eyes twinkle mischievously makes you doubt, for the first time, your ability to win this bet. “Don’t want you getting any big ideas and beating me.”

“Fine,” you grumble. You move your thumb to hover over the post button, eyeing him sceptically. “3.”

“2.”

“1.”

In sync, you press post, watching as Tom does the same. You watch as it takes a moment to load, and then it pops up into the top of your feed. You grin as you refresh, and you see Tom’s post slip up. You can’t help but sigh wistfully as your eyes take in his photo.

It’s so obviously a thirst trap, but fucking hell, you don’t care. He looks glorious. You forget for a moment that you’re straddling the man as you pinch your fingers together and zoom in on the photo, your eager eyes taking in the lines of Tom's sweaty, post-workout body. He’s posing in a mirror, the lighting all dark and mysterious, but the lines of his hard, exercised abs are clear, and his face looks so goddamn sexy pulled into an intense smirk that it makes your panties wet.

“Holy shit,” Tom says. You shake yourself out of your blissed-out thoughts and look up to him, finding him staring at his phone, looking at your post. Your lips quirk into a small smirk as you watch him swallow deeply, his lower lip pulling into his mouth as his eyes examine your photo unabashedly. “When did you become a Calvin Klein model?”

You shrug lightly. “Had a shoot a few weeks back,” you say. “I think the photos turned out quite well, don’t you?” 

You know the photos are bomb. The air on set had been electric, the photographer had been a creative visionary, and you’d felt unbelievably alive the entire time you’d been posing. The branded underwear and bralette clung to your body in just the right way, and for the first time in a long time, you'd felt radiant. The photos capture that completely, and you know that you've probably played dirty - because who can resist a thirst trap? - but you can't bring yourself to feel guilty because Tom's done the same thing. 

He doesn’t give you an answer verbally. Rather, Tom takes one final look at the screen, curses beneath his breath, then tosses his phone aside and pulls you closer. Your centre settles over his crotch and you find yourself raising an eyebrow as you feel his hard cock straining up against his jeans. His hand finds your face, fingers grasping at your chin, and you let him tilt your head towards him, eyes dark and heady. His mouth is close now, his breath warm and smelling of peppermint and lavender, and the temptation to dive right into kissing him is almost overwhelming, but instead, you decide to tease him a little bit.

With a slight smirk on your face, you move in, allowing yourself to grind against his covered crotch as you let your lips kiss at the corner of his mouth. Tom groans softly, the noise rattling straight through your chest and sending excitement rushing between your legs, but you reach up and curl your fingers through his hair, and delight as you continue to kiss around his face, your pecks light, always avoiding where you know he aches to feel you. He lasts a few minutes, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows you to tease him, but as you drop your mouth to his jaw and start to nibble at the sensitive skin there, Tom pushes you away.

“Such a fucking tease, love,” he murmurs, voice dark. One of his hands slips up beneath your t-shirt, skating over the curve of your back. “No bra?”

You give him a slight shrug. “No need,” you say. “You know, you’ve probably just made a million people horny, just from that one picture.” You pause as Tom’s hand skims around to the front of your body, gently, delicately shifting up to cup one of your boobs. A soft hiss passes through your lips as he drags his thumb across your nipple, his touch firm. “You’re quite the specimen, Holland.”

“Could say the same about you, love,” he returns, bringing his second hand beneath your top. He explores your front, and your body responds naturally as you push nearer to him, craving more of his touch. “Better check the likes.”

“Don’t move,” you ask him, ignoring the way his smirk drips with confidence at the words as he continues to play with your breasts. You reach down and pluck up your phone, opening up Instagram and moving to your profile. A loose chuckle falls past your lips. “I’m at 1.2 million,” you brag. 

Tom growls. “What about mine?”

Your smirk is quickly wiped from your face as you find your way to Tom’s profile. “It also has 1.2 million.” You keep refreshing each post, but the numbers are moving too quickly for an outright winner to emerge. “I think we’ve tied,” you’re forced to admit.

Tom’s mouth finds your neck, and he delights in dragging his lips up and over your sensitive skin, kissing softly, deeply, tenderly, letting his teeth occasionally drag over you as you whimper. He makes his way up to your ear, his tongue swirling around your ear lobe, and you have to stifle a moan as he whispers, “guess that means we’re both winners,” in that delicious, husky voice. “C’mere.”

He finally catches your lips in his, his mouth moving fiercely against yours as you return your fingers to his hair. He groans as you pull on his strands, bringing him nearer, kissing him back just as hungrily. Your mind lingers on that image he’d posted, of himself all hot and defined and sweaty, and it brings the heat between your legs to the forefront of your mind as you start to imagine what it’ll be like to see the thing in real life.

His kisses are needy and messy - a collision of teeth and tongue, but you part your lips and you let him push his tongue into your mouth, his hands clinging to your front. As his thumbs skim around your nipples, you grind down against him, every part of you on fire as you let Tom consume you. 

“Is the door locked?” You ask between hot kisses. 

“Fuck,” he says as he breaks away, angling his head back to look at the rickety trailer door. “No.” 

With a reluctant sigh, you catch his lips in a long, hard kiss, and then break away. You’re a little unsteady on your feet as you stagger up, your chest feeling a chill as Tom’s large hands fall away from your skin. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you quickly go to the door and turn the lock, breathing out a sigh of relief as you realise that’s it: no more distractions, only Tom, and you, and hopefully, a fuck so good it rocks your world.

When you turn around, you see that Tom’s moved. He’s ditched the squeaky old sofa in exchange for the small double bed that’s hidden in the corner of the trailer, and he’s laying across it, waggling his eyebrows seductively. You giggle as you approach him, your eyes skating over his bare chest, and you appreciate that he’s taken the time to pull off his top and jeans, and you scramble to do the same.

“If it’s a tie,” Tom mumbles, as he wraps you in his arms and presses you down into the mattress. His arms go either side of your head, his eyes skating across your naked chest. “I think it’s only fair we each get something that we want.”

You let your hand wander down his body, your fingers curving over his abs before grasping at his length over his boxers. The groan that rumbles up his throat makes you catch your lower lip between your teeth. “Seems fair,” you concede, a smirk lilting at your lips as he grinds down against your hand, pushing his aching member further into your touch.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you. 

You kiss him a few times as you ponder his question. There are about a thousand things you’d like Tom to do to you. 

“Might be nice if you ate me out,” you say finally. The man raises a ruffled eyebrow as he slides down your body, grinning. His fingers push into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as he spreads them apart, face level with your hot core. A shy smile on his face, he maintains eye contact with you as he presses a gentle, dry kiss to your covered clit. “Fuck, Tom.” 

He’s a tease. For a while, he seems to enjoy kissing everywhere but your centre, always lingering just over or beside your silk panties. By the time he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband and tugs them down your legs, you’re throbbing and wet, and you’re so sensitive that you’re thrusting down to meet him the second you feel his tongue dragging through your slit. 

“Taste so good,” he coos, voice muffled by your heat. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you in place as the wide, flat expanse of his tongue leaves bold stripes up your centre, exploring and poking at your slick folds. He’s attentive — keeps an eye on you and notes the way you respond as he does certain things, and within no time at all, he’s got you moaning and squirming. The sensation of his tongue as it firms and slips into your aching hole, or as it sucks and flicks around your clit is sensational, and the fact that it’s Tom makes it a thousand times better. 

“Shit, Tom, you- fuck, you feel so good.” Your hands twist around his curls, finding relief as you tug at his strands whenever his tongue caresses you particularly strongly. “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

Your words seem to spur him on, and as you make brief eye contact with him and see your juices soaking his chin, you realise that’s exactly what he wants. Tom slips two fingers into your flushed entrance and coaxes up against your back wall, fucking you roughly as his tongue continues to twist around your clit. 

“Cum for me, love,” he urges, speaking against your slit. “Want to watch you fall apart for me, gorgeous girl.” 

You’re seeing stars before you know it, your legs tensing and your mouth falling open as you cry out, Tom’s fingers and tongue working you through it. He makes out with your heat like there’s no tomorrow, the obscene sounds mixing with the way his fingers twist and thrust, and it’s got to be one of the best orgasms of your life because you’re still shaking from the aftershocks even as he’s pulled his fingers from your cunt and pushed them into his mouth. His eye contact is unwavering as he licks his fingers clean, a dirty twinkle dancing in his eye. 

“Fuck,” is all you can muster, your chest still heaving. Tom falls to rest beside you, and you’re quick to turn and move up to straddle him, enjoying the view of his flushed body as you grind your soaked centre over his boxers. “I guess it’s time that I return the favour, Tom. What would you like me to do?” 

You run your fingers over the grooves of Tom’s muscular abdomen, admiring the lines of his abs as his hands wander your sides, drawing up to find your boobs again. You raise an eyebrow and draw a lovely, rattling chuckle from his mouth. 

“Sorry, love, can't help myself.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers teasingly, smirking as you whimper. “There are so many things I’d like you to do…” One hand moves and he cups the back of your head to pull you in. Your lips connect in a deep kiss and you shift against him, his muffled moan sinking into your mouth as he bucks up against you. “I think I’d like you to ride me.” 

“You think?” 

Tom moves his hands to the curve of your bare ass and he squeezes softly over your skin, nudging the line of his strong cock further into your slit. “Y/N,” he says, eyes flooding with heat as you teasingly rock down against him, “I need to feel you. Been waiting- fuck, been thinking about you on top of me for months.” 

You reach down and pull his boxers down his legs, returning to settle in his lap with a smirk on your face. “Who am I to deny that?” You ask, voice sultry. “Condom?” 

Tom reaches out and rummages through a nearby drawer, procuring a silver packet with a grin. 

“You fuck a lot of people in this bed, Tom?” 

He splutters, and you feel bad for a moment, until he says boldly, “Not been with anyone since I met you.” 

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way it makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest to hear those words. “Me neither,” you admit. Then you take the condom wrapper from his hand and rip it open, and the mood shifts as you wrap your hand around his length and give him a few pumps, Tom groaning deliciously in response. Once he’s full and hard, you pinch the tip of the condom and roll it down his length, settling yourself over him a moment later. You grind down for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his rock hard tip rubbing over your clit. 

“Please, love.” 

You see the desperation on Tom’s face and quell it with a long kiss. Your hand guides his length between your legs and you sit back on him slowly, moaning into his mouth as he fills you up completely. Your lips separate, and for an aching moment, your foreheads are pressed together, and there’s an air of unspoken silence hanging between you as you get a little lost in his deep brown eyes. You swallow deeply, the emotions stirring in your heart making you nervous, so you quickly kiss him again, and then his hands are on your waist and he’s guiding you along. 

It’s electric. As your bodies connect and you gradually begin to move faster together, you find yourself getting lost in it. You drag your lips over Tom’s necks and collarbones, kissing him and sucking lightly, and enjoying the quiet whimpers that fall from his pink lips. His hands explore you, grabbing at your ass, or your boobs, before one of them settles permanently between your legs and toys with your clit. His fingers work magic as his hips jut up to meet yours, the combination of your movements allowing his cock to hit nice and deep inside you. 

You wonder why it’s taken you so long to do this with him. Tom’s eyes watch you intently, notes of adoration mixing with his obvious arousal. At some point, his free hand stretches out and tangles with yours, and then your intertwined fingers fall to the mattress and you find his lips with yours as you begin to build towards your high. His grip on your hand keeps you anchored, even as you begin to get lost in the hazy pleasure of it all, his body twitching slightly as your walls start to squeeze him. 

“G’nna cum,” you manage, voice thick. Your clit pulses beneath his fingers. “Fuck, Tom, you feel so good in me. Love your cock.” 

He kisses you harshly, but it fades to a softer kiss as you hold your mouth against him. “Let go, baby,” he urges, “‘m close too. Want to feel you, darling.” 

It’s the way he grinds down to meet your bounce as his fingers rub your slick clit that has your breath hitching and your orgasm rippling across you. You don’t even try to stay quiet as you rock against him, his length brushing over your walls perfectly, and his face screws into a picture of orgasmic bliss as he cums with a splutter, his grip on your hand tightening as a string of curses fall past his lips. 

A deep breath escapes you when you collapse beside Tom, your body blissed out and tingling warmly. A smile springs across your face as he brings your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles softly. It’s so gentle and loving that you find yourself looking at Tom a little differently, his lips now appearing alluring and inviting, and the shaggy curls resting across his forehead endearing. You inch closer to him subconsciously, and one of his arms wraps around your shoulders to keep you against him. 

“So,” he says, voice a little uncertain, lacking that normal charismatic charm. “That was…”

“Life-changing,” you suggest, punctuating it with a light laugh. 

Tom nods, large hand shifting over your bare back. “You could say that.” His eyes focus on your lips for a moment, before he moves in and lets his mouth press across your forehead. “Would you want to… go on a date with me, sometime?”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you nod bashfully, finally allowing yourself to feel the butterflies that twinkle in your heart every time you see him. 

“I’d really like that,” you admit. You press a kiss to the top of his shoulder before snuggling down, wrapping your arms around his warm chest as he holds you near. “I’d say this was a pretty good outcome to our bet, wouldn’t you?” 

Tom chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d say we’re both winners.” 

He kisses your temple, lips soft, and you know that he’s right: you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to be held in his arms like this, to have felt him so intimately, to have his heart held in your hands, even if you don’t quite know it yet. 

“Definitely,” you agree. “I couldn’t think of a better prize.” 

And he kisses you then, mouth meeting yours in a slow burn of new love, and you know that he agrees with you wholeheartedly. 

[potteresque-ire]

This post is Part 3 of the five-part meta series on the Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) Incident, based on what has transpired up to 2021/08/22.

1) The 2nd Sino-Japanese War (1937-45) & the Yasukuni Shrine 2) Post-War Sino-Japanese Relations; “Every Chinese should visit the Yasukuni Shrine” 3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One 4) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part A 5) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part B

3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One

Parts 1 and 2 are my very rough, … kindergartenish introduction to the historical background of Zhang’s incident. For the sake of brevity (please don’t laugh), there are so many things I haven’t touched on (such as the role of the U.S., the geopolitics). There are even more things I’ve likely missed from my admitted ignorance (Sorry).

I think a fair summary of what I’ve written so far would be as follows, before we move on to other sociopolitical factors related to Zhang’s incident?

It is true that the Japanese government, while having shown signs of repentance, has yet to truly face its own past. 

It is also true that the Chinese government has been taking advantage of its national tragedy to fuel nationalistic sentiments, to spread hatred for the purpose of propaganda ...

... Propaganda that is highly sensitive to timing, the message the regime wants to send at the moment. 

In August, 2021, Sino-Japanese relations is at a nadir. The brief thaw in early 2020, initiated by the Japanese government donating masks to Wuhan when COVID first broke out, seemed to be as old as the Chinese poem printed on the shipping boxes:  山川異域 風月同天 (“Our mountains and rivers are on different lands, but our winds and moon share the same sky”)—from the 779 BCE work of a Tang dynasty monk who had sailed to Japan as a missionary, affirming the long cultural bond between the two nations. China would give masks back to Japan.

Fast forward eighteen months later, this good will is all but gone in Chinese news, on Chinese social media. The Japanese government had just vowed to join the United States to protect Taiwan, should the Chinese government furthers its military threat towards the island — the People’s Liberation Air Forces had already intruded Taiwan’s air defence zone 393 times between January 1st and August 17th of 2021 — or should the Chinese government attempts to take over the democratic island nation by force. 

Late July came, and the Tokyo Olympics presented the opportunity for the Chinese state to broadcast anti-Japanese sentiments among the general populace. 

Like USSR and the Eastern Bloc before, the Communists-ruled China saw the Olympics medal count as a matter of national pride. After the Games began, the hot search turned immediately from the Henan flood to stories of the Tokyo Games’ subjectively awful organisation, alleged cheatings by the Japanese athletes, and the perceived unfairness of, in particular, Japanese judges towards the Chinese team that cost the latter more and better medals. This fervour cumulated to the cyberbullying of Japanese athletes by high-on-nationalism Chinese netizens, who brought back Japan’s past as a reason why Japan and its people should be universally hated. Reminders of the horrific brutality of the Imperial Japanese Army eighty years before the Games surfaced in Chinese social media posts. The derogatory slangs 小日本 (“Little Japan”), and 鬼子 (Guizi “demons”), the latter harking back to the nickname of the Imperial Japanese Army during World War II, populated online Olympics discussions.

Japanese netizens are aware of the derogatory terms Chinese nationalistic netizens use against them. In 2010, they fought back the 小日本 and 鬼子 insults by designing cute anime characters for these names. (Source1, Source2). 

August, 2021 is not a good time to be accused of liking the Japanese.

August, 2021 is not a good time to be accused of liking the Japanese, especially if the accused is a celebrity in the c-ent industry. The ongoing Clear and Bright Campaign (清朗行動) includes, as its 8th aim, the “regulation of stars and the organisations behind them, internet behaviour of their official fan clubs”. Possibly as a welcome to the summer vacation for the country’s youth, on June 15th, 2021, the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC) had announced it would spend the next two months focused on rectifying the “chaos caused by fan circles” (‘飯圈’亂象). 

The Kris Wu (吳亦凡) case that had exploded in July then turned the public’s attention (and imagination) squarely on c-ent and the alleged “insanity” of c-ent fandoms, particularly those of idols. Wu’s fans had been met with ridicule and cyberbullying, especially those who had tried to “save” their idol by attempting to perform, when the incident had first broken out, what is customary per Chinese fan circle culture—to drown the criticisms with their supportive messages, their defences of their favourite stars; with their offences towards the accusers and in some cases, who the fans point to as the true culprits accompanied by the necessary “evidences”. Widespread reports of Wu’s fans planning a prison break after Wu’s arrest, propagated by the state media despite the number of such fans could’ve numbered to no more than a handful, further fuelled the narrative that c-ent idol worship has become cult-like, with the fans being so brainwashed that they can no longer distinguish right or wrong. 

This narrative of “fans would say or do anything to defend an idol” means that if or when accusations fall on the latter, little can be said in their defence even if the defence has its merits. Fans who make the defence are accused of being “brain-disabled” (腦殘); non-fans, of being brain-disabled fans in disguise.

Political cartoon from People’s Daily, 2021/08/02, 2 days after Kris Wu’s arrest (English translations by me). The slogan at the bottom says “The Deformed “Fan Circle Culture” has turned cold”. “Turning cold” (涼了) means to lose popularity. (Source) 

Last but not least, in August 2021, the online platforms that host the content of state propaganda, of fandom talk, of c-idols’ works are also in quicksand themselves. Without getting into too much details, since earlier this year, the Chinese government has been targeting the tech giants, once considered untouchable with their significant contributions to the economy. Most international fans of c-ent are likely familiar with Tencent. Alibaba is also a major player in c-ent: it’s the owner of Youku, for example; it is also a major investor of Sina (the company in control of Weibo) and also—a piece of trivia for turtles—of Yuehua (Dd’s management company). These tech companies have been charged with antitrust violations, been the target of cybersecurity probes, accused by the state media of hurting China’s youth with “spiritual opium” in the form of video games etc, and their stock prices have been tumbling as a result. 

The tech giants, and the online platforms under their ownership, have therefore been extra vigilant, extra compliant to messages from the state, in attempts to gain the government’s favour. Just a few days ago (2021/08/21), Tencent vowed to donate 7.7 billion USD to the government, heeding Xi’s call for “common prosperity” (re-distribution of wealth), adding to the 7.7 billion USD it already donated in April for the government’s “sustainable social values” program. While both donations are officially philanthropic, most political and market watchers interpret the donations as Tencent trying to achieve a less-than-philanthropic goal—to get the state regulators off its back.

Following this line of logic then, these tech giants, and their online platforms, have got to be extra quick on their feet in August 2021 to sever ties with anyone perceived to have drawn the displeasure of the government. If that anyone is a c-ent idol, the loss for removing their works and fandom content is nothing compared to the price these companies may pay if the eyes of the state regulators train upon them: the latest fine Alibaba paid for breaking the anti-monopoly law, in April, amounted to 2.8 billion USD.  

All these factors considered, there are better days … far better days than the ones in August 2021, for a c-ent idol to have his Yasukuni Shrine visit become an item on Weibo’s hot search.

===

The Zhang Zhehan Incident Meta Series:

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3  <- YOU ARE HERE PART 4 PART 5

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[joyful-witch]

I would like to preface this post with a disclaimer. This is in no way meant to offend anyone. I know there are good Christians out there. This is just about my experience as well as my journey into paganism.

I went through years of religious trauma as a child. My parents knew nothing about said trauma until later years. So I will not fault them for that. We were taught not to question authority. So I didn’t. And I didn’t ask my parents any questions.

I was raised by conservative Christian parents (who are good people. They accept me for who I am. Besides the whole paganism part) so I grew up going to a church with a very toxic kids program that taught us from the very beginning, “you must blindly follow God”, “God is the most important thing in your life. Even more important than family”, and the classic “All gays are monsters that go to hell”.

I knew deep down from a young age that I was not straight. I was not “normal”. And I hated myself for it. I tried to have crushes on boys. I tried so hard to fake crushes for them thinking “this will make me straight”. I even thought about killing myself in middle school because of it (and other problems that I will not go into detail about here). I finally accepted myself for who I was in high school. (And though I am in a “hetero” relationship which is my first relationship. I am still queer. I am still bisexual). My gender issues also started in middle school. Which I basically ignored until this year, when I finally came out as genderfluid.

Needless to say. I will not deny that being queer and suffering religious trauma has affected how I view religion. But I think I would have still ended up here even if I wasn’t queer.

I was always drawn to paganism. And I had been developing a growing interest in it for a while. And then, January 6th happened. That pushed me to finally take the plunge. And after spending almost all my free time researching, I finally converted in February of this year. The pagan community was so welcoming and accepting right away. I had never received this much love from any community before. And I continue to experience an insane amount of love from everyone.

I’m still a “baby witch” as some may call it. And I’m still for the most part, “in the broom closet” when it comes to anyone that is related to me. But that hasn’t stopped me from exploring my craft.

In June of this year, I began worshipping the Celtic Irish Goddess, The Morrígan. Funnily enough, She was trying to get in contact with me before I even started practicing my craft (and though this is just speculation, there is a chance She had been trying to contact me since I was very young, seeing as I’ve always had a large obsession with Crows, Horses, and Wolves). She sent me countless of signs for months and when I received the sign of dead birds 3 times in a row within only a few days of eachother (2 of them on the same day), I finally took out my pendulum and pendulum board, and asked questions. I eventually figured it out. And after a few days of researching, I decided to start worshipping Her (I definitely was not and still am not ready for actual deity work).

My experience with The Morrígan has been great so far. Though She is normally depicted as a scary goddess of death and war, She is also a goddess of sovereignty. And She has most definitely helped me embrace my own sovereignty. She has been nothing but kind, caring, and compassionate to me.

Despite the fact that I do not “work” with Her and only worship Her, She still talks to me (through tarot. Though I’m hoping to work on astral soon. It would be nice to have an actual conversation with Her and get to thank Her face to face), She still sends me signs and warnings (which I haven’t been the greatest at listening to but I’m getting better at it), and She still sends me support whenever I need it. Despite the fact that I haven’t had much time for Her during the past few months due to college and just the stress of finally being an adult, She’s still there for me. She knows I am stressed so she doesn’t ask anything of me other than to take care of myself.

I suffer a chronic illness and disability called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which causes severe chronic joint and muscle pain. And that can feel very lonely sometimes. But when I’m feeling at my worst She is always there. I have had…bad thoughts over the past few months. And She always manages to pull me back. Whenever I have these bad thoughts, I can feel Her presence right away. I can feel Her at my side, telling me it will be okay. Hell, a couple of weeks ago, I injured myself badly. I dislocated my knee, hip, and SI joint. And I felt very hopeless, and apathetic. But She was there for me. Every time I went outside, even if the weather was horrible, I would either hear very loud crows, or see crows everywhere I looked. Or I would look up and see an entire Murder flying overhead.

When I was “Christian”, I never felt this cared for. I never felt any connection to God. I never experience any communication with God. It all depended on blind faith. But with The Morrígan it’s different. She is here. We communicate. And honestly, though it’s been rough the past few months (health wise), I have never been happier spiritually.

Once I graduate college and have my own place, I will likely start working with the Morrígan. And once I have enough money, I will definitely take a trip to Her sacred sites. And eventually, I might even become a priestess of The Morrígan. Though that is many many many years in the future. I don’t know if I’ll even have time when I become a teacher. But it is something I have considered. And who knows where the future will take me?

All in all. I want to say thank you. Thank you to 8th grade me for not taking her own life. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and helped me through this journey. Thank you to my boyfriend who, despite being an atheist, doesn’t discourage me or belittle my views, and encourages me through this journey. Thank you to my friends and dorm mates who have been supporting me through the past few months. And thank you to The Morrígan for being so patient and kind, and for always being here for me.

I look forward to continuing this journey with everyone <3

[joyfulsongbird]

sooooo. I wrote a Thing. all credit to @defilerwyrm for the concept of the mighty nein getting consecuted based on their connection to the beacon and credit to @mightymightynein for coming up with the idea that because molly died in proximity to the beacon, he would then come back in another body. none of these ideas are mine, I just couldn't resist writing out a little thing!! thank you both for your great ideas <3

ao3 link!!

*

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes.

Not quickly, not all at once, but he wakes nonetheless. It does not feel like coming to, nor is it really the idea we all have of snapping awake one day and coming to the realization that you are not where you belong. He is born again, and born with the name Enna. He is a purple skinned drow, which pleases him that even in the next life he still has a lavender hue to his skin. He looks at himself in the mirror, once he comes to the realization. He looks at his features and tries to rearrange them into something he knew years ago, he imagines this face with horns, these brown eyes with red ones. It is strange, to look at what he knows is himself and it feels correct but at the same time, like something is missing. He grows used to the idea: his name is Mollymauk, he was a member of the Mighty Nein, he died and now he lives again. He does not know why but it takes time in order for him to fully come back to himself.

One night, after he is able to differentiate which memories are from his present life and which ones are from the last, he disappears. He had not been very attached to the family in this present life, they were distant as many parents were and even before his realization, he looked forward to the day he got to spread his wings and leave the nest. This just… pushes things forward a bit. He wraps an enchanted cloak around himself that would protect him from the sun (one that he had stolen months ago, old habits die hard), as that is something he has to worry about now, and sets off into the first adventure of his second life.

He walks and sorts through the memories in his head. Remembers their faces, their voices, the things they did, the way it sounded when they all laughed. On his travels, he purchases a deck of tarot cards. They are not his cards, not as elegant or artistic as the ones he used to own, but they feel good in his hands. His fingers slowly remember how to shuffle the deck, how to flip them between his fingers, and make them disappear, then reappear as if he had snatched them from behind somebody’s ear. He remembers, and it feels wonderful to be able to be a whole person.

His travels are long, he is only going on foot, and he only has so much money. To earn some coin, he gives tarot readings in bars and on the street just like he used to. People goggle at him, differently than they used to. Drows are not all that common, he finds, and it is especially not all that common to find a teenaged drow sitting in a bar with a grin on his face, telling an old man his future with as much confidence as somebody triple his age. As is his nature, people are drawn to him. He had forgotten the electric feeling that buzzes through his whole body when he is surrounded by life like this. It’s a wonderful thing, to feel alive even when you have died twice. And since he has experienced being lifeless twice before (only one of which he can remember his last breath leaving his body), he wants to experience it all again. Nothing wrong with that.

Months go by and he finds himself in Port Damali. He does not know where he is going nor does he have a destination but hopes that someday, fate will shove him near the Mighty Nein again by chance and he will be able to brush sleeves with them in this life too. He sits in a tavern, like he does every day, and tells a young woman that someday her spine will stop aching and that she needs to work less and that she’ll have at least three children. She grins at him and he grins back, already scooping up the three cards she had picked out and is waving his hand absently for somebody new to sit down.

“Do you read tarot cards ‘cause I really, really love tarot cards and I can read them too, you know? You read mine and then I’ll read yours, okay?” it takes him a moment, as he looks at the tiefling sitting across from him. She’s older now, wiser around her eyes but still just as bright in her smile. She’s dressed for the area, in what one could only ever describe as classic pirate garb. Molly smiles at her, his chest aching. It almost pains him to see her again, in this way where she does not recognize him. She leans forward eagerly, legs kicking back and forth under the table. She hasn’t changed.

He clears his throat, not prepared to let his thoughts get the better of him. “Of course! Here, pick whichever cards call to you. Three of them, if you please.”

She happily chooses three, placing them face down on the table all nice and even. Before he can turn them over, she leans in very close. She narrows her eyes at him, “do you know my name?” He laughs, loud and clear. “Let’s see if the cards tell us that, hm?”

Satisfied, she leans away, watching as he flips over the first card. He considers the card for a long time, and Jester watches, enraptured. “You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?”

She nods vigorously. Molly taps his chin in faux thoughtfulness. “You love to draw, am I correct?”

She gasps, “how did you know that? I do!”

“The cards told me.” he says, as means of an explanation. He flips over the next card without further analysis. “Ooooh, interesting. You should not let doubt plague you, you’re far too important to those around you to let those skills go to waste. Don’t hold back, let your chaos run free, my dear.” “That’s what I always say!” her voice rises in excitement and they get several odd glances from surrounding patrons. “You’re so good at this, oh my god!”

He simply smiles, before flipping over the final card. He forces a frown and Jester leans forward again, glancing rapidly from his face and back down to the card. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve lost things,” he says. “But don’t worry, you will find that not all is lost forever. Jester.” She jumps to her feet, her face alight with joy. Joy. He grins. He had been right, then, when he had named her card that.

She runs a small ways over to another table and grabs somebody's arm, dragging a familiar half-orc all the way back to Molly’s table, her words nearly incoherent out of excitement.

“Fjord, look, look! Tell him what you said, tell him what you saw in the cards- I told you, Fjord! It was the coolest thing, he knew my name, he knew it! I swear, look! Look at the cards!” she bounces up and down, her words strewn together as she points at the three cards laid out. Fjord looks down at them, then glances up at Molly who shrugs as he gathers up his deck and slips them back into his bag, finished for the night.

“I don’t know what they mean.” he says helplessly. Jester rolls her eyes, grabbing Fjord’s hand and then grabbing Molly’s.

“I want you to teach me! I’ve been practicing for-ever and I can’t get that good.” She grabs him and Fjord back to the corner table that Fjord had been sitting at by himself. She forces them both to sit.

“Jester,” Fjord says before she can get comfortable. “Could you grab me a drink from the bar?”

“Okay!” she doesn’t seem to question why, just bounces over to the bar and leaves the two of them in silence.

“How did you know her name?” Fjord asks gruffly. “I know it’s not because of the cards. Are you a spy of some kind? Seem a little young to be a spy.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” It takes him a long stretch of quiet before he can even come up with the words. It hasn’t quite felt real up until this moment, up until he was faced with the ghosts of his past who aren’t actually ghosts. They are very much alive, only aged and more weathered than he knew them last. As he explains, as briefly as humanly possible, he watches Fjord’s eyebrows raise higher and higher. His eyes grow wide and fists clench on top of the table. Mollymauk knows it sounds insane, it doesn’t sound real, by anybody’s standards. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he’s done speaking when neither Fjord nor him know what to say. They are interrupted (maybe “saved” would be the correct word) by Jester returning with Fjord’s drink.

“Why so quiet guys?” she asks.

Fjord opens and closes his mouth, his face paler, “we need to go see Essek.”

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Liberator

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, cream pie eating, cum swapping

A/N: My sis @bluestarego​ randomly came up with an idea for this chaise and her ideas are literally the bomb, so of course I had to write it. There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember, this is fiction, so in real life package the meat before a beat. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 4.7k [My baaaddd]

********

"Ayo, tin man, where you going?" Sam asked Bucky when he saw him grabbing his jacket.

"To the bookstore. I'm tired of sitting here." He hurried to the door.

"Hold on, I'll tag along this time. Maybe we can finally look at some furniture for this place. We'll be here for at least another four months." Sam laced his shoes and followed him out.

Bucky and Sam had been undercover on this mission 3 months and counting. Nobody seemed to notice them in the small southern town. Either that or no one really cared.

Sam had been going on and on about getting furniture for the house to be more comfortable, but Bucky knew he was full of shit. Tony had given them a bunch of cash and he just wanted to shop.

"You know, you've been down to this bookstore everyday this week... What's her name?" He inquired.

"What?" Bucky tried to keep from smiling, but it was almost impossible whenever he thought about you.

"Yeah okay, you can pretend if you want. She'd better be cute or I'm gonna clown you. Does she know you're half robot?"

"Sam..."

"Relax, I'm kidding," he laughed.

When they pulled into the lot, the men jumped out, but before Sam could open the door Bucky stopped him. 

"Please do not embarrass me." He said seriously. 

"Man, move, you do enough of that on your own," Sam brushed past him. 

"Welcome! I'll be up shortly," you yelled from the back. 

You put away the stack of papers that you were going through and exited the small office. 

"Hi, how may I — oh, Mr. Stan, how are you today?" You smiled. 

"Please, call me Sebastian," he smiled. "I'm good, how are you?" 

You heard some books hit the floor. When you both looked over there, Sam was clutching a rack trying to keep it from falling completely over. 

"Guess I should go help with that. Be right back," you walked off. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. He made busy pretending to look for a new book, but he was having a hard time ignoring your laughing at all of Sam's lame jokes. He finally walked over. 

"Are you done tearing up the store?" He asked. 

"I've already apologized to the lady, Mr. Stan," he teased. 

"Do you have any new recommendations for me today?" Bucky asked, completely ignoring Sam. 

"Oh, yeah, I was telling Anthony about this new thriller we got in today. The author is pretty new to the scene, but this will definitely put her on the map. I had a chance to read it before the book was officially released." You handed him one of the books from the rack. 

"But this is new, so I can't rent it." 

"I won't tell if you won't," you winked and walked away. 

"Are you gonna ask her out?" Sam asked. 

"Are you insane?" He rolled his eyes and followed behind you. 

He handed you the book to check out. He liked your store, because it was a little different from any bookstore he was used to. You sold books, but you also rented the older ones. New books couldn't be rented for six months, but you were always willing to do buybacks for the ones in good condition. 

"Oh, I remember you telling me that you were looking for new recipes. I thought you might like this," you grabbed a cookbook, scanned it and then handed it to him. 

"That's nice, maybe he could whip something up for you," Sam patted his shoulder. 

Bucky gave him another murder glare. 

You laughed at his expression. 

"Don't worry, Mr. Stan, it's fine if you don't want to." 

"No, it's not that I don't want to —" 

"So you do?" You cut him off. 

"I uhh…" he ran his fingers through his hair. "Give me two days to find something that I think you'll like." 

"Your phone?" You held out your hand. 

He handed it to you and you put your number in and gave it back to him. 

"So I'll see you Saturday?" You gave him his bag. 

"Yeah, I'll see you Saturday," he confirmed. "But only if you promise to call me Sebastian." 

"Promise," you chuckled. 

You waved goodbye to the two men and watched them leave. You waited until they were in the car and pulling out of the lot before you picked up your phone and called your best friend. 

"You'll never guess who I have a date with this Saturdayyyy," you sang. 

"Is that weird guy who wears a leather jacket and gloves even though it's hot outside?" She said sarcastically. 

"Yes!" You replied giddy and undeterred by her sarcasm. "You have to help me find something to wear. I also need you to do my nails please?" 

She was quiet for a moment and then she bit out, "Fine, but I think he's weird and if he tries anything you'd better not hesitate to pepper spray him." 

"He's not weird. He's just different and I'm ready to find out what it is." 

Sam and Bucky walked through the furniture store. Bucky didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he wanted it to be nice for when you came over. 

He felt like every piece he liked looked really old. He may have been 100 years old, but he didn't have to let you know that.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to this odd looking chair. It was red leather with a high sloped back, a deep arc in the middle and the bottom was low with a slope. He read the tag; Liberator: $400, but who cares? Tony could afford it. 

"You thinking about getting this?" Sam asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

"What do you think? You think this is something she'd like? Should we get a few of them for the front room?" 

"Nah, this should go in your room. I think she'll like it. She's young and this is a very modern piece of furniture." He advised. 

Bucky decided to trust Sam for once. He told the salesperson that he wanted that chaise. The poor girl's face turned a bright red and she was unable to look at him. He didn't pay too much attention to it, he was used to people shying away from his presence. 

The guys picked out the rest of the furniture and headed home. Bucky noticed that Sam was giggly. More so than normal. 

"What are you so happy about?" He asked. 

"Nothing man, a guy can't just feel joy? It's a good day, Buck, we finally got some furniture. You got a really nice chair. I'm happy." He tapped on the dashboard. 

"Why'd you bring up the chair?" Bucky squinted at him. 

"Because it's a nice chair. I like the chair. You know I'm all about relaxation." 

Bucky let it go. If he hated the chair once it was delivered, he'd simply return it. No big deal. 

Bucky put the final touches on the meal he'd chosen to prepare for you. He garnished the plates, set them on the table and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. 

The doorbell rang. You were right on time. He gave the table a once over before coming to the door. 

"Hi," he greeted. 

"Hello there," you said. 

He just stood there and looked at you from head to toe. The white lace dress you wore hugged you perfectly at the top and flared at the waist. 

"Can I come in?" You asked, tearing him away from his thoughts. 

"Oh, yes, sorry. You look beautiful," he said as he walked you to the dining area. 

"So do you. I think the apron is my favorite part," you teased. 

He looked down and quickly removed the apron from around his waist. He blushed a little. You smiled at how cute he was. 

He pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down and then took his seat. 

" It smells wonderful."

"Thank you, I tried something new tonight." 

Truthfully, everything was new for him. Bucky never did any of the cooking. That was usually Sam's thing. He only got the cookbooks to suggest things, but tonight he gave it try for you. 

You took a bite and tried to keep from gagging. You saw Bucky take a bite and immediately swallow. He didn't bother chewing it anymore. 

You took a sip of wine after you were finally able to swallow. 

"It's terrible," he said. 

"No, it's not bad at all," you absolutely lied. 

"I'll order us a pizza," he said and took your plate away. 

You just smiled at him. You didn't have the heart to tell him the food was gross, because he tried and that's what counts. 

You moved to the living room and he turned on the TV while you waited for the pizza. You noticed that he still wore a glove on his left hand and was sure to keep it away from you. You figured he was just a little shy about having a prosthetic arm. 

Once the pizza arrived, you put on some quirky movie and ate your dinner. 

"I'm sorry about this. I should've practiced the recipe a little more." 

"What? This is perfect," you told him. 

You talked with him a little. He told you that he grew up in Brooklyn. How he and Sam were college roommates and started a contracting business together.

You clung to his every word and listened without interrupting. 

"So, are you gonna give me a tour of the house?" You ask. 

"Oh, sure," he says. He slips your shoes off of your feet before walking with you hand in hand to the stairs. 

"It's not much, but this is our office space, that's Sam's room, bathroom and this is my room." He pointed. 

You flipped the switch on in the room. You were shocked and quickly walked over to the red leather chaise.

"You don't strike me as the type to have one of these," you ran your fingers over the cool leather. 

"Oh, yeah, I thought it was a very nice modern piece of furniture to have. Um, Sam actually talked me into it." 

"Did he now?" You smirked. 

"If you hate it, I can move it out of here. I won't force you to look at it," he rubbed his neck. 

"Come here," you reached out for him. 

He gave you his hand and you told him to sit down on the chair. You straddled his lap and moved your hips in a circular motion until you felt him getting hard. He rested his right hand on top of your ass and laid his head back. 

He had been so focused on his work that he'd forgotten how much he missed the feel of a woman. You leaned in close and put your lips to his ear. 

"Undo my dress," you whispered. 

He reached up and pulled the string of the bow ties on your shoulder. The thin material fell down and exposed your breasts. Your nipples immediately pebbled from the cool air. 

You scooted back a little and pulled at his shirt. 

" No," he grabbed your hands, "I um, maybe we shouldn't." 

"What's wrong?" You quiz. 

"Nothing, it's just that I…" He was lost for words. He didn't know how he would explain his arm without you freaking out. 

"Sebastian, I don't care that you have a prosthetic arm or hand. Whichever you hide under these long sleeved shirts and gloves." 

He inhaled and pressed his forehead to your chest. He was nervous. Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd had a relationship or sex. 

"Hey," you lifted his head, "it's okay, we don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable." You kissed his lips. 

You felt his body relax as he exhaled slowly. First, he took off his glove. You ran your fingers over the shiny black metal. You then lifted the shirt a little, this time he didn't stop you. You pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. 

You lightly dragged your fingers down his neck until you reached where the metal connected to his shoulder. You traced your fingers over the lines of gold, before moving back to his scar. 

"It's connected to you, so is it fully functional?" You were curious. 

"It is," he replied. 

"That's pretty cool. The doctors must've put a lot of work and thought into this." 

"Yeah, much better than the first one I had after the war," he blurted. 

"Oh, you're a vet?" 

"Uh, yeah," he said after realizing his mistake. 

"What was your rank?" 

"Sergeant…" 

"Well, thank you for your service and sacrifice, Sergeant." You pressed your lips to his. 

He slipped his hands underneath your dress and squeezed your ass. The cool metal of his hand made your pussy clench. 

He slid a finger down your ass until he reached your folds. He rubbed your clit in a circular motion over the fabric of your thong. He moaned into your mouth when he pulled it aside and felt how wet you were getting. 

You broke the kiss, stood, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard dick popped up and was at full attention. 

"Sss, ooh," you hissed as you wrapped your hand around him. 

Bucky laid back and closed his eyes. Your hands felt so good on him. You spit on his dick and rubbed it all around making sure it was coated. 

You lined him up with your opening before slowly sinking down on him. 

"Shit!" He had to brace himself and fight a mental battle, so that he wouldn't cum at this very moment. 

You were trying your best to take all of him, but he was stretching you wide and the pain was almost too much. 

Once he was able to get himself together he grabbed your hips and thrust into you. He pulled your dress over your head, so it wouldn't be in the way. 

You rolled your hips slowly and sped up as the pain turned into pleasure. You braced yourself on the balls of your feet and held to the head of the chair as best you could. 

"Bounce on this dick," he smacked your ass. 

You bounced up and down while he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He used his right hand to rub your clit. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you warned him. 

"Don't." He said and continued to rub. 

"Sebastian, I —" 

He grabbed you by the throat, "I said, no," he stuck his tongue in your mouth and continued to drive his hips upwards. 

He waited until you were right on the edge of your climax and then lifted you up. Your first instinct was to rub yourself to completion, but he stopped you. 

"I'm the only one who touches you from now on. Understand?" 

You nodded, but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to hear you say it. 

"Yes, I understand," you said as you moved back, so he could stand. 

"Good, girl," he pulled you close to him and kissed you. 

He sat you down at the foot of the chair and dropped to his knees. You spread your legs wide and watched while he admired your pussy. Running his fingers up and down your slit. 

"Can I taste you?" 

"Yes," you moaned and laid back. 

Bucky sucked your clit into his mouth and licked you in circles. He was using his tongue to apply just the right amount of pressure to your clit. 

"You taste so good," he said. He spit on your pussy and rubbed it before sticking two fingers inside of you. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth and curled his fingers a little. 

"Ah! Fuck!" You screamed as you felt an orgasm building. 

He could feel you contracting around his fingers. Once again he kept going until you were almost there, then he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking. 

"Why? Please!" You begged. 

"Ooh, that was only the second one and you're already begging? It's gonna be a long night, baby girl." He teased. 

He pulled you to the edge a little more, rubbed the head of his dick up and down your slit and then slid inside of you. 

You rolled your nipples in between your fingers while he fucked you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He'd wanted to feel you for so long. Ever since the day he wandered into your store and laid eyes on you. 

He pulled out of you and turned you on your stomach. This time switching his pace. He spread your ass cheeks apart and rolled his hips slowly as he watched his dick disappear inside of you. 

"Fuck!" He moaned as he felt himself losing control once again. 

He watched as you clawed at the chair. He could feel your pussy getting tighter and tighter. 

"Can I cum? Can I —" you were cut off by your own moans. Your body didn't wait for permission. 

He felt it. Your pussy gripped him tight and he exploded inside of you. His hips jerked as he gave you every last drop. 

He pulled out and dropped to his knees behind you. 

He smacked your ass, "Give it to me, push it out," he demanded. 

You pushed the cum mixture from your pussy and was shocked when you felt his mouth on you sucking it out. No man you'd ever been with had been so bold or comfortable. 

Once he was satisfied, he stood and turned you around to face him. He squeezed your cheeks together, so you'd open your mouth. You stuck your tongue out ready for what he was about to give. 

You were so fucking turned on, you grabbed his hand and slipped his fingers back into your pussy. 

He spit the cum into your mouth and then kissed you. Swirling his tongue around yours as he fingered you to another quick orgasm. 

He looked at his cum coated fingers and then licked them clean. You couldn't resist kissing him again and tasting yourself on his tongue. 

Bucky picked you up and carried you over to the bed. You didn't want to let him go, but you finally gave in. He walked to the bathroom and came back to clean you up and then himself. 

He got in bed with you and laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair. So many nights he'd thought about this moment. So many nights he'd thought about just being closer to you. He wished he could stay with you forever. 

He sighed. 

"What's wrong?" You asked him. 

He sat up and looked at you, he wanted to tell you the truth, but he knew that he couldn't. It would put you in danger and he couldn't risk it. 

"Nothing, everything is perfect," he smiled. 

"You have beautiful eyes, they remind me of someone, but I have never been able to quite put my finger on it."

"Thank you," he kissed you again and turned away. 

You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then you slipped out quietly. 

You were opening boxes and getting ready to stock a rack of magazines. You'd been doing well with keeping them out of the store, but a few of the teenagers kept asking and you finally caved. You let them know that you drew the line at tablets and that they were absolutely out of the question. 

You flipped through one of the fashion magazines and came across an article about Earth's mightiest heroes. You were skimming the article when you heard a knock at the door. You looked up to see Bucky waving at you. He was holding a cup holder with two coffees and a bag of donuts. 

"Hey," you greeted him. 

He returned your greeting with a soft kiss. You didn't think you could ever get tired of those kisses. 

"Doing some stocking?" 

"Yeah, I was taking a break and reading this article. I finally ordered some magazines for the kids," you picked it up and thumbed through the pages. 

Then he caught your eyes. There he was stretched across the page. The photo had a blue and purple tint to it and his hair was long, but it was most definitely him.

"You're Bucky Barnes," you said in disbelief. 

"What?" He seemed startled by your words. 

"This is you!" You shoved the magazine in his face. "I knew that you looked familiar. A freaking superhero?! You lied to me, Sebastian — Bucky, whatever your name is!" 

"No, it's not like that, I couldn't tell you." He tried to explain. "I'm on a mission. Sam and I, we're undercover." 

"Oh, you're on a mission, so get with a local to blend in a little better? Ugh! I knew you were too good to be true." You paced back and forth. 

"No, that's not true," he grabbed you, "my feelings for you are completely real."

You squinted at him, "Get off of me and get out, because you'd still be lying to me if you'd never gotten caught." You pushed him away and walked into your office slamming the door behind you. 

Bucky picked up the box of magazines and took them. If you recognized him someone else would too. He couldn't take that chance. 

He knew doing that stupid photo shoot would backfire. He didn't want to do it, but Steve and Sam talked him into it, because it was for a good cause. He knew they'd have to speed up their plans. 

He called Sam as he headed back to the house and let him know that they had to move in on the targets sooner rather than later. 

You came out of your office once you were sure Bucky was gone. You looked around to see that he had taken the boxes. 

"Great now he's a liar and a klepto," you rolled your eyes. 

You heard the bell on the door and turned around thinking it was Bucky again, but it was just one of the people who ran the laundromat a few doors down. 

"Oh, hey, Austin," you looked at your watch, "is something wrong? You know I'm not open yet." 

He didn't say anything. He just kept stalking towards you. Your fight or flight kicked into gear and you made a dash for the door. He reached out and grabbed you, but you kneed him in the balls to escape. 

You didn't get very far before you were grabbed from behind. They put a bag over your head and threw you into the back of a car where they zip tied your hands in front of you. 

"Let me go! What do you want?!" You kicked and screamed. 

"Keep it up and I'll gag you… Maybe even with my cock," you heard one of them chuckle. 

You immediately calmed down. Last thing you wanted was that. 

"Please, if you want money you'll have to take me back to the store. I keep it in the safe." 

"Shut up, we won't tell you again." Austin said. 

"Austin, please tell me why you're doing this?" 

"Because your little boyfriend needs to be taught a lesson. Him and his friend have been causing trouble and it's bad for business. Unfortunately, sweetheart, you're collateral damage." 

They drove you for almost 20 minutes before they dragged you from the car and into a building. They took you inside, sat you down and bound you to a chair. 

"Call your boyfriend," one of his henchmen ordered. 

"How exactly am I supposed to do that with my hands tied, genius?" You sassed. 

He reached into your pocket and pulled up his name. You could hear the line ringing. 

"Can you at least take the bag off of my head?" You requested. 

Bucky was fuming. He and Sam had followed the rest of Austin's gang to this warehouse. But when Austin himself pulled in, he had you. 

He thought it was odd that they were all coming out here, but now he sees that this is a set up. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was a call from you. 

He accepted the call and sat his phone down to look through his scope. 

"You can either let her go right now or I will kill every single one of you." He said calmly. 

"Sebastian," you cried. 

"It's okay, baby girl, I got you," he hung up. 

He let off two shots taking out the men who stood guard at the door. He took down the others as they came running from the building. 

"I'm in position," Sam said into his comms. 

Bucky jumped down from the tree he was in and moved in. He hoped you were safe. He never meant for this to happen to you. 

You heard the shots. They were so loud and it seemed like all hell broke loose after. The men around you started shouting and then you heard the door slam. 

You rocked from side to side in the chair until it tipped over. You tried your best to get loose, but nothing was helping. You started to panic as the gunshots were getting closer. 

Fear and adrenaline took over and your ears began to ring. It seemed like the bag was keeping you from breathing as you started to hyperventilate. 

You started screaming when you heard the door get kicked open. You could feel the person cutting the tape away. You were gonna fight this time. They wouldn't get the opportunity to take you somewhere else. They'll kill you for sure. 

Once your hands were free you started swinging. 

"Stop!" Bucky yelled. "It's me—" 

You punched him in the eye. He could barely get a grip on you, but when he finally did, he snatched the bag off. 

"Y/N! It's me, calm down." He hugged you. 

You relaxed into his hold and sobbed into his neck. 

"They were gon-gonna kill m-me," you stuttered. 

"I never gave them the chance. You're safe now." 

Weeks had gone by and nobody spoke a word about Austin or his mysterious disappearance. In fact, people seemed to celebrate the fact that he was gone. 

He'd been running a drug operation through the town and using his business as a front. Apparently, he had ties to Hydra, which is why Sam and Bucky were brought in to shut him down. 

You were back at your store and business resumed as normal. Bucky had left the same night of the incident. He didn't even say goodbye. He was too ashamed to face you. 

You heard the bell above the door and looked up from your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when those blue eyes stared back at you. 

"Hey," he waved. 

"I'm busy," you said and tried to walk away.

"Wait, please," he grabbed your arm, "please?" He asked a little softer. 

"I'm mad at you, you didn't even say goodbye!" 

"I know and I should have, but I was a punk and I want to make it right." He pleaded. 

"You have two minutes," you crossed your arms. 

He lifted you up on the counter and stood in front of you. It was very dramatic. 

"I'm James, but my friends call me Bucky. I'm 103 years old, but I spent most of those years frozen and brainwashed. I really did lose my arm in the war, but it was world war 2. I'm from Brooklyn and my favorite food is pizza." He said. "Oh and I fought in two alien wars, although it felt like only one, because I died in the first one and when I woke up 5 years had passed." 

"Hi, Bucky, nice to meet you." 

You pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He pulled away and pressed your forehead to his. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

He helped you down and watched you lock the front door and switch your sign to closed. 

"If you're really sorry, you'll make it up to me," you grabbed his hand. 

He scooped you up and carried you to your office. He'd absolutely make it up to you with no problem. 

@titty-teetee​

@bluestarego​

@literaturefeen​

@fandomfavesss​

@angrythingstarlight​

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 3: Oath-Breaker

Sorry for taking so much longer than I thought I would! But I hope it was worth the wait! Please let me know what you think- your comments are seriously what keeps me going. love you all sm ❤︎

word count: 4108

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It was fresh, and completely unmistakable. Within the past few hours, Lorcan Salvaterre had passed by Mistward, heading for the sea.

Rowan immediately swooped low, following the scent to where it meandered over the forest floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The trail skirted around the edge of Mistward’s perimeter, following a path that was just out of their sightline, but close enough that in the morning, the scouts would find it immediately.

It almost felt like a message.

Rowan shifted in mid-air, landing hard on his heels and already drawing the wind towards him from all directions, searching for anything, any whisper of a dark form, flitting between the oaks, quick as a shadow –

But there was nothing. Only the memory.

Rowan began to run, following the trail westward. Even though Lorcan had passed through these trees barely a few hours ago, the wind couldn’t sense him. He was already gone, miles and miles ahead. Out of the reach of Rowan’s wind.

As the trail solidified before him, Rowan’s stride lengthened, his footing becoming more sure with each step. And he longed to be able to shift again, to use the wind to propel him over the land.

He could fly so much faster than he could run, but then he risked losing the scent – a chance he could not take. So instead Rowan dug his feet into the earth, tearing through the forest mists. A predator on the hunt.

Only one thought in his head.

Why in rutting hell was Lorcan Salvaterre trying to get his attention?

···

Fenrys wasn’t there when she found out.

He was out on a run, hunting through the forests around Doranelle. Chasing down after whispers of the forest-spirits. He knew they were here: the elemental beings, as ancient as the very stones and mountains and valleys. Older than history – than time itself.

Fenrys would hear them in the night – sounds of crashing rock and tearing metal, the felling of trees when no wind blew. Still fighting their ancient wars, either uncaring or ignorant of the affairs of lesser beings. But Fenrys had never seen them, nor did he know of anyone who had.

Every now and again, he would glance a fairy or two. One of the Little Folk, going about their little-great-deeds. But it was never when he was looking for them.

It was something he and Connall used to do as young ones – charge through the forest, hunting for fairies. For the heroes of the tales their mother would tell them, over glasses of sweet fruit juice on lazy summer afternoons. Stories of battles and warriors and the hidden magic of the land. To this day, Fenrys didn’t know whether the stories were true, or if she had made them up herself.

He knew it was only purposeless distraction, and one that he would likely pay for when he returned. But he just had no idea how much.

So no, Fenrys wasn’t in the palace when Maeve found out.

But Connall was.

···

The trail was nearly a straight shot through the woods, barely deviating for trees and boulders. Lorcan was really hauling ass. And as he drew closer and closer to the coastline, and the little market town that was waiting for him there, Rowan felt his suspicions begin to grow.

It was nearing evening when Rowan finally began to hear little signs of approaching civilization – the neighing of horses, the soft thumps of an axe chopping wood. But the trail pushed on, breaching the edges of the trees, following over the cobbles through the market, out towards the end of the main street, until it came to a stop. Right at the end of the long wooden dock.

Rowan stood at the brink, right where the path met the sea. And he could feel fury coiling in his gut.

Lorcan had left. And Rowan thought he might be able to guess where his former commander was headed. But before he decided anything, before he made a plan, he needed to be absolutely sure.

Rowan turned on his heels, headed back into the village. His cloak was pulled high over his head, hiding much of his face. He let his body fall into a slump, hiding its powerful shape. Evening was coming on, and if he kept his movements sloppy and wide, he could be just another traveler, coming to wet his throat with watered-down ale.

Outside the pub, a young maid was lighting the lamps, her hair neat and apron clean. When she looked up at him, Rowan caught the glint of sharp eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to go inside the tavern.

“Hello miss,” Rowan said, ever so slightly shifting his accent, letting the words fall from his mouth like marbles. “Might you be able to tell me where I could hire passage on a ship?”

Her face twisted shrewdly, and she gave him a quick once over as she straightened and said, “Depends on where you’re goin’. And how much coin you’ve got t’ spend.”

Rowan nodded, making sure to keep his clothes hidden with the cloak, knowing that an accidental glint of silver from one of his hidden blades might be enough for her to call for help from inside the tavern. And that last thing he wanted was trouble. “When was your last ship headed for Adarlan? And when will you be expecting the next one? It doesn’t have to be fast, or comfortable.”

Her expression tightened, but she answered reasonably enough. “We get a fair few ships headed to the western continent this time o’ year – the sheep’ve just been shorn and ships head that a-way bearing wool to trade for furs from the north, and steel from the south. I’m pretty sure we had a ship go through this morning.”

“And the next?” Rowan prompted, his expression schooled into neutrality.

“If you ask around the dockyards, I’m sure you might find another ship headin’ that way – once the tide comes in. And if not, then I’m sure there’ll be another come tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Rowan slipped the girl a coin. “By chance, you didn’t catch another traveler come through here today, heading the same direction – asking questions? Tall, dark hair, harsh look?”

The shrewd look fell into a scowl. “Maybe. Either way, my answer’ll cost more’n just a copper.”

Rowan slipped her another couple of coins, and she pocketed them. But her scowl didn’t soften.

“I might’ve seen your man. Came through around mid-morning, in a massive rush. Massive man, at that. Huge. Musta been six, nearly seven feet? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man that tall. And he nearly knocked me over coming in the pub to ask after passage to Rifthold. Kept his face covered though, so I couldn’t be sure.”

Rowan nodded again, but before the maid could turn to leave, he asked, “Oh – and do you happen to know a place where I could send a letter?”

“If you give it to me, I can get it to my mother and she’ll give it to the courier when he comes ‘round in the mornin’. You gonna come in for a pint?”

The maid held open the door, and Rowan followed her in, thinking it much easier to just go along with the girl, and far too wrapped up in his thoughts to come up with a polite refusal that wouldn’t leave her even more suspicious than she already was.

The tavern wasn’t bustling, but it was far from empty either. A few farmers sat at a table in the far corner, enjoying a few beers after a long day’s work, while a few younger boys, perhaps their sons, were laughing and joking across the room. There were a few other individuals – travelers like himself, or people who lived and worked in the village. But the majority of the bar was filled with sailors – teasing and joking and climbing all over each other, celebrating their last night on dry ground for many weeks to come.

Rowan headed for a quiet corner, flagging down the waitress and settling onto a creaky wooden bench. He ordered some bread and ale, which she had brought over in mere seconds, and he began to pick at it mindlessly.

There could be no doubt. Lorcan was heading for Adarlan, for Rifthold. For Aelin.

Maeve had sent him to go after Aelin. And she had ordered him to pass by Mistward, Mistward specifically, so that Rowan would be drawn into the conflict. Maybe they were planning on using him to get to Aelin, to follow him in order to find her.

The question was, why only Lorcan? Where were the twins? Gavriel? Vaughan? Would they follow Lorcan? Were they already headed for Adarlan?

Rationally, Rowan knew that Aelin was safe. That she was still somewhere in the middle of the ocean, on her way to Rifthold. But it took all of his self-control to keep himself from shifting right there, in the middle of this tavern filled with mortals, and fly out into the ocean skies to find her.

What really worried him was the idea that he would get there too late. That even if he got on a ship right at that moment, he would get to Rifthold after she had already been found, taken, overwhelmed. The idea that there were already forces there, waiting to seize her.

And no matter what, Lorcan would arrive in Rifthold hours or days before Rowan would be able to, and well before Aelin could read any letter he sent. Not that he even knew where he could send a letter. All he knew was that she used to own a hidden apartment in the slums, and that for the past six months, she had lived in a stone tower in the castle.

It seemed unlikely that she would return to either. Both were compromised, the castle being an obviously insane choice. Unless of course she had something hidden up her sleeve that she had kept from Rowan. Which felt distinctly possible. And Arobynn had to know about the apartment. She had nowhere safe to go, and Rowan had nowhere safe he could send a warning.

So the only way he would be able to tell her about Lorcan would be to go there himself. To break his oath.

Rowan knew that he could, and without much difficulty at that. But it still felt wrong – a violation of trust. If he left Wendlyn without being told to by Aelin, he would be going against her wishes. He would be taking advantage, both of the flexibility of their bond and of her trust in him.

And it definitely didn’t make things any easier that he so desperately wanted to leave in the first place. It felt like he was exploiting the opportunity to be close to her again, no matter how rationally necessary it might be. And there was a chance that she might not forgive him for it.

But no matter how much that might sting, he couldn’t live through following her requests to the letter, and Aelin dying because of it.

So, Lorcan was headed for Rifthold. And soon, Rowan would be heading there as well.

Rowan tore into the bread, newly reinvigorated. He didn’t see any reason to return to Mistward, there wasn’t anything there worth sacrificing another day for. But he did feel bad about leaving without any notice. Deserting Emrys and Malakai, and…Luca.

So as he ate, Rowan dug out a piece of paper from his pack and began to write.

Emrys,

I’m sorry. Something came up. Tell Luca to remember to practice swings off his left side just as much as his right, I don’t care if they hurt more.

When I see her, I’ll tell her you say hello.

Then he folded up the paper and sealed it, leaving it unmarked. Hopefully, even if someone – such as that suspicious maid – opened the letter to see what it said, what he wrote would be meaningless.

He spent the rest of the evening listening to the sailors’ conversation, until he heard mention of a crew headed for Rifthold. The barmaid hadn’t lied – it was a ship bearing crates of wool heading to Adarlan to trade for steel. This was their last night ashore, and they were setting sail sometime in the early morning, just before the tide shifted.

So Rowan waited a few minutes more, then left the waitress his fee, gave the maid his letter, and walked out into the lamplit village, his jaw squared and his shoulders set. Determined.

···

Fenrys returned to broken furniture. Splintered wood and broken glass. Twisted metal and shattered stone. That was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing he noticed was the silence. It stretched its fingers through the walls and corridors and archways, until it brushed through to his skin. Until it was the only touch he could feel.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Where there should be sound.

The third thing he noticed was the bodies. Their touch was even colder than the quiet. There was no red, no black. None of the usual gory signs of death. Just nothing. An absence.

Fenrys worked his way through the wreckage, his hands empty of feeling, his heart a stone in his chest. His intestines resting somewhere near his toes.

Until he reached their rooms, and found Connall in a dark huddle across the sea of space, and he was still breathing and it felt like Fenrys could breathe again too, but then Connall spoke and sound returned to the world, “Why did he leave? Why did he leave us?” and his voice was so full of fear that Fenrys felt tears sprout from his eyes like wings.

“Who?” Fenrys asked. “Who, Con? What happened?”

But then the palace stones began to thunder, and the questions that had seemed so important only a moment ago fell from his mind on a scattered breeze.

···

Rowan flitted into a dark alleyway around the back of the tavern, and once he was sure there was no one there to see, he shifted into his hawk and flew out over the small village.

From his eavesdropping earlier, he had learned that the ship headed for Rifthold was an old galleon vessel near the edge of the docks, bearing white and yellow flags. It had a large enough cargo bay that hopefully Rowan would be able to find a place to stow away, but wasn’t so large that the journey would take even longer than it should. Which was already far, far too long for his liking.

Rowan circled high above the ship a few times, making sure that he appeared as nothing more than just another sea bird, hunting for its dinner. Although most of the crew, including the captain and first mate, appeared to be drinking away their pay on the floor of the tavern in the village, the ship wasn’t completely empty.

His winds told him that at least three men were asleep below decks, their rumbling snores echoing through the wooden beams. But a few lamps still shone, and with their light Rowan could see a few flickering shadows just beneath the upper deck that made him think not all of the sailors were yet asleep.

So Rowan would have to be extremely careful in making his approach.

He waited for long minutes for those lights to vanish, and shadows to disappear. And the second they did Rowan was sailing down among the rigging, twisting and turning around the sails and masts until he could be absolutely sure that there weren’t any watchful eyes to mark his presence.

Then Rowan was swooping down into the maze of rooms below decks, making sure to avoid the various sleeping quarters, kitchens, and officers’ cabins. Heading towards the hold at the very bottom of the ship in as straight of a path as he could.

Rowan found a dark corner behind a case of flour and barrel of barley, and then shifted back into his Fae form. Once they passed the halfway mark between Adarlan and Wendlyn, magic would stop working, and he wouldn’t be able to move between forms. He had to find a place he could hide in during the day that was large enough for his Fae body. A task far easier said than done.

A ship like this had a crew in the dozens, and quarters were cramped all to hell. Every piece of available space was used, from every corner to closet and even the toilets. Only the captain would have room to stretch his legs, and even then, it was barely by a few feet. Nothing like the space he would need in order to not attract attention.

Rowan looked over the hold once again, scanning for anything that could possibly be large enough. Then he nearly huffed a laugh when he realized exactly what he needed to do.

···

When morning came, Rowan was crammed into a wooden case lined with wool. The back panel carefully pried out and its nails removed, but then leaned carefully back into place to allow him a quick exit. And the majority of the wool was now taking a trip down the coastline.

He had spent an hour or so that night carefully removing armfuls of the fiber and tossing it overboard, using his wind to propel it from the shipyard and out to sea, leaving only just enough room for himself. It was crammed, scratchy, uncomfortable, and smelled like sheep dung, but it would do.

Now, as the ship slowly meandered its way through the reef and out into open ocean, with the occasional shouts and curses of the sailors toiling above, Rowan had nothing to do but think.

For the next month.

It might just be the longest month of his life. At least he couldn’t complain about not having enough time to plan.

Aelin certainly would have a strategy, and by the time he reached her, she would have been working away at it for nearly two weeks. And while he could only guess at her aims, he knew that when he reached her, he would do whatever he could to help her reach those goals.

The question was, should he reach her at all?

Rowan knew he needed to warn her about Lorcan, but once he was actually in Rifthold, that could be done in many ways – not just by contacting her in person. And deep in his bones, Rowan knew that Lorcan had dragged him here on purpose. That the male had wanted him to follow, to pursue. There were faster ways to travel from Doranelle to the sea than to go by Mistward.

So wouldn’t it be playing right into Lorcan’s hands to join up with Aelin? Giving him exactly what he wanted?

Lorcan wasn’t familiar enough with Aelin’s scent, nor with the city of Rifthold, to track her down by himself. He would be digging in the dark – except for the trail that Rowan would give him, as easily as handing over their lives like so much coin.

Perhaps Rowan could go to Rifthold, warn Aelin anonymously, and track down Lorcan by himself. And the faster he rid himself of his former commander, the sooner Rowan would be able to reunite with his Queen.

The pain of that future made him physically flinch.

And it wasn’t only the idea of being in the same city, or even just on the same continent, as Aelin and not being beside her. It was the thought of Lorcan, Lorcan, his commander of nearly three centuries, someone he had almost once thought of as a brother, or even a friend, Lorcan, as someone he needed to dispose of.

Someone who was his enemy.

It was a heavy, uncomfortable weight. It felt strange, and wrong, to have someone he had so trusted become such a dangerous enemy. No matter how necessary he knew it might be, Rowan couldn’t really think of killing him.

It would be like destroying a part of himself, an old part, but a necessary one.

Without Lorcan, he wouldn’t have become the person he was today, wouldn’t know the things he knew, or understand what he now did. About war and sacrifice and leadership and teaching.

Lorcan had been a pillar in his life when he needed one. And while Rowan hadn’t loved him, he had respected him.

And now they were enemies.

Rowan scowled, the crate somehow becoming even more uncomfortable.

What he did know was how Lorcan worked, how he operated. If Rowan did decided to reunite with Aelin, then he would have to keep his distance. Because Lorcan was expert at finding pressure points, and using them to his advantage.

Lorcan already knew that Aelin had turned Rowan away from Maeve, knew that Rowan had chosen her over his oath, over his life.

Idiot. He was such an idiot when it came to her.

If Lorcan found out that there was anything more, that there were other, deeper feelings –

No, Rowan could keep his distance. He could keep those thoughts under control because he had to. Not only because they did no good, but because they might get Aelin killed. Or worse, captured and taken back to Maeve.

But Rowan knew that he wouldn’t be able to deal with Lorcan without her – that he wouldn’t be able to return to Rifthold without reuniting with her. No matter how much easier it might be to keep her safe if he stayed away.

The only thing that was keeping him sane was the thought that at the end of this journey through hell, stuffed in this tiny rutting box that smelled like dung, unable to lay down properly for weeks, was an image of Aelin’s face. Even if she wasn’t happy to see him, even if she didn’t forgive him breaking his oath.

For the first time in weeks, he was heading towards her, instead of away.

So Rowan curled up and turned on his side, and tried to get some sleep, as the shouts of the sailors above him faded into the rising dawn.

···

Across Wendlyn, Emrys was stirring a large pot of rabbit stew, listening to the potatoes crackling as they fried on the stove. It was a lot of work, feeding this many people each and every day. But Emrys loved it, caring for this large family of his. Making sure they were all fed. Taking in strays.

Aelin Galathynius had been such a stray, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t miss her. But he knew that she was where she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do. No matter what that prince said, or how much he tried to hide, Emrys knew that Aelin had survived her encounter with Maeve, that they both had escaped. Together. And now she’d moved on to other – perhaps even greater – foes.

Even when she was all the way across the ocean Emrys was worried about her.

The old male just sighed, then shuffled over to the counter to begin chopping scallions to add to the stew.

But before he could start, he was interrupted by the afternoon courier, bearing a letter for him – of all people.

Emrys wiped his hands off on his apron, and took the letter from the boy’s fingers. It was unmarked, but the paper was old and worn. As if it had lived in someone’s saddlebags for some time.

Emrys ripped it open, then read through it. Unable to keep a smile off his face.

That scoundrel.

He began to untie his apron, then headed out of the kitchen to go find Luca. Emrys couldn’t really find it in himself to be disappointed in the prince, even if he had abandoned them. Had left Luca with his grief and his guilt.

The boy had finally told him and Malakai about what had happened, and they had talked and cried together into the wee hours of the morning. Even so, Emrys had really hoped that Rowan might be there to help Luca through that grief. He knew that Luca had too.

But it was not to be. Perhaps they might see each other again, in years to come. Perhaps Rowan might even be their king one day.

Emrys almost wanted to laugh. He could already see the scowl that would twist Malakai’s face when he told him the news. Rowan, gone off to chase the future. Leaving them to tend to this little piece of the present.

When Emrys told Luca what was in the letter, the boy smiled too.

···

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