#I am merely a passive enjoyer

[redphienix]

Out of the big 3 card games I think yugioh is the most interesting and fun to play, it's a shame it's somehow run by the least competent and shitty corp in a slap fight between 3 of the dumbest corps.

Pokemon stumbled into making collectors items via the source material, so the weird game gets to survive rather well off a market fueled by collectors (and built for them).

Magic has really smart formats that make it reasonable for players of varying skill types to engage with it properly.

Then Yugioh is like "HA, LOL, MILK YOUR WALLET DRY AND BURN IN HELL IDIOT" with a borderline resentment shown towards actively supporting alternate formats, horrendous card production practices, a furious push for power creep, some of the worst reprint ideologies imaginable-

it's at a point where the best way to play yugioh right now is to play the "pseudo single player gacha game" version of master duel, which is great fun, but is still built to eat money and isn't a community experience like, you know, both other card games or playing paper.

Dumb

[midwinterrmemento]

Flower Language

➢ pairing: Leonardo x MC [Ikemen Vampire]

➢ word count: 1,413

⚠️ content warnings: None!

This is my entry for @ikemenlibrary's Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange, dedicated to @sunnyikemen! I have never written for Leo before, but I had a lot of fun with his character, and I hope that I did well enough to make for an enjoyable read at least! Happy belated Valentine's Day, Sunny, and here is some Leo fluff for you :)

Being around the most famous polymath in history, there was always a new surprise in store.

Leonardo da Vinci seemed to know everything about everything. Perhaps it was because of his endless knowledge, gathered over the course of centuries, or perhaps it was because of the air of ease that surrounded him—but it did not escape his notice how the newest resident of the manor seemed to gravitate toward him upon her unexpected arrival. 

He never denied her his company. At first, because he knew she was frightened and disoriented.

For a girl who had found herself transported into another time period in the blink of an eye, there was only uncertainty around every corner. Yet Leonardo's breezy personality and apparent ability to handle anything with minimal effort brought her security, as well as distraction. He knew this, and so he made it a note to help her throughout her time in the manor, keeping her mind off her troubles.

You're restless and wish to get out of the manor, cara mia? Well, then, let's take a day outside Paris. The French countryside is an equally worthy sight for a time traveler, and it'd be a shame not to have you visit. Hm? Where to? Well, it's no fun if I tell you all the details, now, is it? 

How to paint, you ask? Why, you wish to prove a point to Theo? Ha! Don't pay him too much mind, 'knabbeltje' is merely a term of endearment, I'm sure. But if you really wish to learn, then I am glad to be of service, morso mio. ...Hm, no, of course that's not the same as what Theo says. Would you accuse me of such a thing? 

So, you want to hear about Florence back in those days, then. I hope this isn't because of any gossip you heard from the noble Comte. ...Alright, alright. Come, sit. I suppose I ought to make an effort to salvage my good name, at least.

Days turned into weeks of trying to make himself available to her, helping her calm down and settle into her new life at the mansion. He had sworn to himself that was all it was. But as wary as he knew to be of the passage of time, somehow he found it creeping up on him again. Even after she was already well settled, he continually found himself at her side, as if naturally drawn there.

He didn't realize until too late, one afternoon when they were sitting out in the mansion's gardens together.

A certain flower had caught her eye—a yellow daisy—and Leonardo had commented, absentmindedly, "Ah, yes. Joy and friendship."

It was an innocent remark, accompanied by a little chuckle. It made sense to him that this should be the flower that struck her. He had come to associate her with such qualities, after all, because they were what she brought to him. Every little inconsequential story he shared with her, every time he allowed her to watch him paint and work, every time he whisked her out on some spontaneous excursion, it was often met with that look of intrigue, that little excited glimmer in her eyes. 

Yet he was somewhat surprised when his passive comment earned him that same look.

Humming to herself, her eyes scanned over the other flowers in the garden and came to rest on another. “And that one?” She nodded her head towards the flower in question.

“Which, the marigold?” 

She glanced back at him expectantly and nodded once more, seeming quite eager to hear his explanation. Leonardo, now acutely aware that he was being tested, smiled a little.

“Marigolds represent grief. Or the passage from one life to the next.”

“Really? But they seem so much brighter, warmer…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me, cara mia?”

And for that remark, he found himself rewarded with soft laughter. Despite himself, and despite everything he had assured himself about maintaining his distance, he could not help but feel his heart squeeze. Spending an idyllic afternoon wandering around the mansion’s garden, chatting among the flowers as they bloomed with the new season, it all felt so warm. 

“No, no…” She shook her head, still smiling. “It’s just unbelievable, that’s all…”

“So you are doubting me.” Leonardo tsked in faux disapproval, savoring the little back-and-forth of the moment. “Alright, now it’s a challenge, then. Ask me about another.”

Looking around again, she settled on a vibrant purple bud and pointed to it. 

“Ah, crocuses stand for young love,” he answered knowingly. “There is an old Greek legend that Crocus was a mortal lover of Hermes, and the god was so devastated when he died that he had him transformed into a flower. The red on the inside, there, is supposed to represent his blood.”

She seemed quite taken by the story as he explained. Ah, he would never tire of seeing that look on her face, when she was so absorbed in what he was saying, when he knew she was hanging on every word. But arguably, it was even better to watch her fluster when he concluded his tale with a triumphant smirk.

“Alright, don’t get too arrogant, now.” She pointed to another flower. “What about that one?”

“Sweetpea, gratitude.”

“And the lily?”

“Purity.”

“And the white camellia?”

“You’re adorable.”

For a moment, silence fell between them. Even the great polymath had his limits, and he did not realize what he was saying—or how it would be construed—until he glanced at her curiously and found her staring back at him.

Oh.

“No, I mean…” He coughed. “That… is what the flower means.”

She blinked. Quickly returning to her senses, she began to shake her head, as if to simply laugh off the misunderstanding. “Yes, right.”

For as much as he was inclined to laugh along with her, however, he found himself unable to do so. Once more he felt his heart squeeze in his chest—though this time, it was a more uncomfortable feeling. Uncomfortable in a familiar, sinking way.

“Well, anyway… I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you’ve studied flower language at some point as well. You’ve studied practically everything else,” she said, attempting to keep the mood light and teasing. “At times I wonder, is there anything you don’t know?”

Leonardo found himself staring at her a moment longer, somewhat troubled by that old feeling in his chest, and taken aback by the realization that he did, in fact, find her quite adorable. Not wanting to keep her waiting for a response, lest she start to suspect there was something on his mind, he sighed and managed a little smile.

“...Actually, cara mia… There are plenty of things I don’t know.”

With that, he reached over and carefully plucked one of the little flowers nearby. He tucked the flower behind her ear, grinning with satisfaction as he watched her demeanor brighten again. 

“Hm, that’s better.”

“That was a pink camellia, right?” She gazed back at him with that curious look he loved so much to see on her.

“Maybe so.”

An ambiguous response, as if he had simply chosen the flower at random, when they both knew that wasn’t the case.

“What does that one mean, then?”

Something in Leonardo’s grin became a bit more wistful. There was another beat of silence, and then, suddenly, he reached out and lightly ruffled her hair.

“...I concede defeat,” he said, after pretending to think for a moment. “I’ve forgotten.”

Laughing at his actions as she tried to fix her hair, she seemed quite pleased by the thought of having gotten one over on him. So pleased that—much to his relief—she let it drop, and did not question him any further about the flower’s meaning.

Leonardo watched her smiling, standing in the sun with a flower in her mussed-up hair, and studied her as though she were one of the wonders of the world. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to what exactly this feeling was, weighing so heavily upon his heart. And there was no doubt that he had chosen the right flower to express it. 

Even if he could never say it to her face—his lovely Crocus, who had so miraculously appeared in his life across time and space, and who was bound to one day return to her own world beyond that door—he could not deny it.

This unspeakable feeling, represented by a pink camellia.

I long for you.

[huzzela]

Hi, after almost a decade, I finally caved. I now have the Order 1886 digital copy in my PS4. I had bought this console towards the end of its life cycle when it was like 150 bucks with your choice of two games (I chose Wolfenstein and Titanfall 2) and I feel like so much happened since the time the game, 1886, was released and the present. I'm by far not very skilled (nor have I gotten any better much), but I'm also indulging myself to grow just a little bit better which is nice.

Unsure how to say this exactly but I feel giddy as all hell. I don't like first person shooter games, and if I have the option not to use the mechanic, I won't (like in Prey 2017 where I can just straight up use a wrench to beat eldritch monstrosities into oblivion). The only FPS heavy game I would indulge in is Wolfenstein and Resident Evil but they're self indulgent and heals my inner child.

I feel like because of this reason, I am at the point where, the Order 1886 is now an aspect of my inner child. I was like 16 when it came out, but at this point in life, that's a part of my life where 16 is now a part of my inner child. So naturally, I'm going to get a copy of it. I'm going to have fun.

And I have been having fun, if not, struggling with the camera and its just CHRIST. It makes me nostalgic of old school style of shooters, had a Wolfenstein feel (like a blend of old school Castle Wolfenstein and reboot Wolfenstein), and the frigging camera is like Bloodborne (I need to wrestle with it and I cannot eye frame shit). The main player character felt like he could fit right in with Assassin's Creed (look me in the eye and tell me he isn't a blend of the main protag from ACI-III) and I'm just frigging giddy. I feel a child-like whimsy even when I feel so weighed down by so much in life right now.

I technically have so much to look forward to this week (a concert with a life-long friend, a group I share a hobby with, a loving support group, comics I wish to indulge in, and a literal video game that reminds me why I play video games in the first place). Despite all these great things, I am just not a happy camper when it comes to work and school. I'm just going through the motions, conserving what little energy I have in the first place, and it makes me want to be passive once more. Because passivity is safety, because if I am a mere consumer, all the variables are just so much more easier to control and it BOGGLES MY MIND how easy it is for me to revert back to this. Its insane!

So, I look forward to this game. Its my shining beacon as I say goodbye to yet another weekend where I feel like? I am not in control. I have no autonomy whatsoever, and some of the video games that had once brought me joy, now feels like I don't have that joy, and Order: 1886 just may be the much needed change in pace and scenary and mechanics that I so desperately need. And its just. So right.

I didn't even bother to wait for a sale. I'm just so desperate to have this experience and playing it for a few minutes is just the much needed break for me. Like I can thread through the waters once again, keep my head just above the water.

And I know others may not feel the same. I do not care. I am undergoing once more a turning point in my life and there is nothing I can do but make choices I will surely regret regardless of what I choose, and my one shining beacon for me BY MY CHOICE is this game everyone and their grandma wants to shit on. I do not care.

All I care about is my enjoyment. This is what I can control, and by damn, I will have it my way.

[grapesodadarkchocolate]

SPAM i am

A study in contrasts. Trying to make sense of the non-sensical. Driving south along US 218 heading to Austin, Minnesota and the SPAM museum on a bright shiny day. Feeling the sun’s warmth and optimism. My eyes are always on the prowl for what will be in the mix for this weekly adventure day. Intrigued with whatever catches my eye or draws in my attention. A miniature raceway just on the edge of town in Blooming Prairie has piqued my curiosity. Requesting to take a closer look on our return. The car stops and out I pop to investigate. Trying to make sense of the little dirt track. The concession stands. The bleachers. Reading the signs on the grounds I discern it is a miniature track for remote control cars. There are clear safety directions so all can have an enjoyable time. The sign “It’s all about respect” is clear and hard to miss. 

I am excited about the idea of a track for kids to race their cars. There are guidelines about how to engage so all could enjoy the experience. Leaving the mini raceway grounds I spy a 2016 presidential political sign in the Southern Minnesota Raceway hobby shop on the grounds. A sign that represents a candidate who has not shown respect towards so many. Regardless of his political platform, his behavior is not abiding by the oath he would have sworn to as he entered his four year term. An oath to put others above self. 

Calling it out as it is felt. Naming what is truly a contradiction. Aligning with behavior that is offensive and dismantling. Feeling a total deflate as I leave the parking lot and head back north on 218. Leaving Blooming Prairie in my rear view mirror. Allegiance to such behavior does not mix with respect. So close, but no cigars. Bummer. +++

Confession by David Whyte

Confession is a stripping away of protection, the telling of a truth which might once have seemed like a humiliation, become suddenly a gateway, an entrance to new territory; even a first step home. To confess is to free oneself, not only by admitting a sin or an omission but to profess a deeper allegiance, a greater dedication to something beyond the mere threat of immediate punishment or the desolation of being shunned. To confess is to declare oneself ready for a more courageous road, one in which a previously defended identity might not only be shorn away, but be seen to be irrelevant, a distraction, a working delusion that kept us busy over the years and held us unaccountable to the real question.

Freedom from deception may be the goal but no confessions without consequences. Our fears about the result of confessing are well grounded; the old identity the secret was protecting almost never survives the revelation. We begin the new life in isolation; perhaps indeed shunned by those who we have wronged or even by those unable to understand our need to tell. Confession implicitly calls for carrying on the journey newly alone, unaccompanied by the familiar company have kept until now. 

Deathbed confessions happen so frequently because in the light of our imminent demise and disappearance, preserving the old fearful identity that kept the secret is seen to be absurd, almost laughable, we are suddenly not and never have been, the thing we have been defending all along. In the shadow of our disappearance we come to understand that the preservation of our name and our identity have taken enormous effort and willpower to sustain for a mere temporary and provisional sense of personhood. In leaving the stasis of secrecy we must commit to a new fidelity - and fluidity – a river flow of arrival - and not just on a temporary basis while the revelation is new, but shaped around a different life that calls for a deeper discipline.

Confession, therefore is not passive; is not the simple ability to face up to past wrongs - an active dynamic is foundational to the original meaning. Traditionally, Confession meant the avowal and declaration of one’s religion, to confess was to discover what one believed to be true by speaking it out loud before witnesses – often unsympathetic - to confess, was to enter an axis of vulnerability and visibility - and sometimes to place oneself at the mercy of those who did not fully understand us in our struggle.

Declaring a new dispensation by confession we see our trespasses against others in a new light, initiated by something we were hiding, not only from the world but from ourselves. Holding the secret was not only a defense against punishment but also a holding back from a next courageous step. To separate the confusion of punishment with revelation we first of all confess to ourselves, step onto solid ground in the privacy and spaciousness of our own hearts and minds and then translate it into the best speech we have to represent it in the world, and by doing so attempt to meld two previously irreconcilable words. To confess is to integrate the offending with the offended, inside and out. 

To confess is not only to acknowledge a truth we have held from ourselves all along, breathing quietly, alone and in secret what we could not initially give a voice, but a hopeful dedication to a larger power that might make us powerless to commit the selfsame sin again.

Resource: Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words by David Whyte +++

Related Blog Entry: “History Talks”: Read, January 2020 🍇🥤🍫

“No one can drive us crazy unless we give them the keys.” — Doug Horton

[gingerlanier]

Book Review: The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black 

Genre (or “category” from the requirements list):

            This book is from the 7-12th grade LGBTQ+ category. 

Target Age Group:

Grades 9 and up (LVCCLD library catalog). 

Summary:

            Rebellious mortal Jude was stolen away along with her two sisters to live in the court of Fairie. Growing up amongst the Fae, she must prove herself and use her skills and cunning to gain a place in court and survive. 

Justification:

            I am a fan of anything with the Fae in it, and I like Holly Black’s work. I attempted to read the book but didn’t succeed. I decided to give the audiobook a try.       

Evaluation: 

For this review, I will be evaluating characters, setting, and genre. 

Holly Black does a wonderful job of giving each character a distinct personality and desires that drive them to get what they need. Jude remembers her parents being murdered at the hand of Madoc, who has now become her “father” in the land of Fairie. Her relationship with him is complex and dysfunctional, as she simultaneously hates him for what he did, but has grown to have a twisted sort of affection for him. Many of her driving needs and actions are the result of this complicated relationship. She is trained in combat and strategy and wants to be a knight in the court. This story line is enjoyable as it’s a departure from what we expect from a female character. Her twin sister Taryn is slightly less developed than Jude, possibly because the story is told from Jude’s point of view. Taryn is more passive than Jude, which makes her less interesting to read. Vivi is mysterious as the twin’s older sister who we discover is the child of Madoc and the girls’ mother, which makes her part Fae. This revelation shapes the relationship of the sisters, and Madoc’s relationship with Vivi. Vivi has always been “different” and finds solace in a relationship with Heather, a mortal who she deeply cares for. 

The setting of the mortal world juxtaposed with the world of Fairie is superbly written, and the setting is easy jump into. Black wonderfully describes Fairie through the character’s actions so you don’t even know it’s happening but you get immersed quickly. Even with its dysfunctions and murderous intrigues I wanted to live in Fairie when I was reading the story.   

The genre of fairie fantasy is followed to some extent. Black writes a genre that still adheres to a lot of the traditions of a faerie world but gives us some surprises, like Jude becoming a knight and spy. Even though her love/hate relationship with Cardan ends up with some romance, it doesn’t feel cliché. Holly Black is great at following the conventions readers want and expect with the genre but always makes it her own. 

Some may disagree or chafe at the idea of including this in an LGBTQ+ category since the queer relationship (between Vivi and Heather) isn’t a main part of the story and doesn’t involve a main character. However, I think this is an example of where we should go in the future- stories that involve queer characters and successful healthy queer relationships but don’t put that as the only focus. These characters should have motivations and interests that are informed by their queerness but are not defined by it. No character should be a monolith, or mere symbol of a movement. They should be fully realized and move beyond the simplicity of being the “gay” character. One can also make the argument that the world of the fae that Black has created is an example of a type of gender fluid utopia where anyone can love or have relations with anyone else (all consensual and legal, of course) without even so much as an eyelash flutter in their direction. It’s a non-issue in Faerie, as it should be in the mortal real world. indeed, all fairies might be pansexual, or some form of queer expression. Mortals should strive to be more like faeries, at least in that aspect. 

Format: 

I chose to read this book through an audiobook format. The narrator Caitlyn Kelly breathed life into the characters while successfully navigating through male and female characters, and mortals and faeries. It never sounded forced or contrived and didn’t detract from the story. She also helped clarify the plot, as there are a few twists and turns and many characters. By giving each one their own energy and rhythm she helped me keep everyone separate and allowed me to follow the plot. Being an actor, I am admittedly picky about audiobooks and narrators and have been known to stop an audiobook two minutes into the story if I feel like the narration is getting in the way. Kelly not only succeeded in not detracting from the story, but she added something that wasn’t there when I tried to read the print version. Now when I think back on the characters, I hear them in the voice she created for them. That is the ultimate accomplishment for a narrator! 

References:

Black, H. (2018). The cruel prince. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers. 

Black, H. (2018). The cruel prince. (C. Kelly, Narr.) [Audiobook]. Hachette Audio. 

[power-chords]

The ethical moment, the moment in which the moral “ought” shows itself, is found, for Levinas, on the level of sensibility when the egoist self comes across something that it wants to enjoy, something that it wants to make a part of itself, but cannot. That which the self wants to enjoy but cannot is the other person. The reason that it cannot enjoy the other person is not rooted in some deficiency of sensibility, but in the other person who pushes back, as it were, who does not allow him/herself to be consumed in the egoism of my enjoyment. The other resists consumption. The presence of the other, on this level, is not, properly speaking, known. The other person is encountered as a felt weight against me.

Thus, for Levinas, the other has some power over me. Indeed, the other is a transcendence that comes from beyond the categories of my thought, from beyond the world, from the other side of Being. Because of the other-worldliness of the epiphany of the other in the face-to-face, the face speaks thus: “I am not yours to be enjoyed: I am absolutely other,” or to put the claim in Levinas’ terms, “thou shalt not kill.”

John Burke describes the initial approach of the other person in terms of astonishment or surprise. In so doing, he also notes the essential element of radical passivity that arises from contact with the other person. He writes, “My astonishment seems less an activity of mine, a willful projection of a function of my interests, than the deepest mode of passivity.” Vulnerability arises from such a surprise, a being caught off guard by the epiphany of the other person. My solitude is invaded by the other person who comes from nowhere.

This element of “catching off-guard” is important here, because it indicates more about the presence of the other than the mere perception of the other. This catching-off-guard makes me aware of the presence of the other as an other who is due my concern, not because I choose to give it to the other, but because it is demanded of me. I want to consume the other, but cannot.

Anthony F. Beavers, 1990.

[shuahoonie]

holidays with tom [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader 

SUMMARY: life isn’t exactly back to normal. with another lockdown in place and the holiday season is vastly approaching, you and tom are stuck in quarantine with each other the problem? there was supposed to be at least 5 of you in that house and tom is the last person you want to be with. shouldn’t be too bad right? 

WARNINGS: in no particular order swearing—err foul language lmao, sexual innuendos, things get heated but not that much??? exuding sexual tension but also fluff??? alcohol consumption, a series of bad decisions??? idk writing this made me experience the 5 stages of grief tbh lmao it’s not that bad I promise lmao

WORD COUNT: 6.9k! 

A/N: hello and happy new year! I was supposed to post this during Christmas Day but guess who got into a writing rut—yet again. I didn’t want to abandon this because I actually had fun writing it. I hope you all had a festive and safe holiday. I know things have been hard but I still hope you guys enjoyed the holiday. 

2020 has finally came to an end and we’re all ending it the same way when the pandemic started—staying at home, hopefully following the appropriate health measures. I can only hope that 2021 is a brighter and hopeful year for all of us.

stay safe, sending u all my love. 

gif credits: @underoos-shield​ 

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form 

Two hours. It’s been two hours since you found out that you were going to spend your holidays alone. You were aware that you weren’t going to spend your holidays with your family as you normally would, embracing the fact that working in a different country whilst in the middle of a pandemic was going to be challenging. 

Working in the film industry, constantly visiting sets while still living in a pandemic means that you threw away your chances of being home for the holidays. However, you weren’t entirely the only one who shares a similar struggle. 

“We should still do something for Christmas, you know,” Tom muttered as he watched you lay down on the sofa, your head is supported by the armrest. 

See—it should’ve been you, Ophelia, Alex, William, and Tom in that AirBnB, not just you and Tom.

The five of you reside abroad, however, you all had to fly to Los Angeles for work. You all collectively knew that it would be irresponsible to fly home for the holidays and it wouldn’t make any sense as you would all fly back for work anyway. 

The five of you had a brilliant idea of renting an AirBnB for the holidays since you were all in each other’s personal and work bubble anyway. Obviously, the three of them bailed as they’ve decided to stay with their partners instead, leaving you and Tom alone—which is the last thing you’ve wanted. 

“There’s just us two, Tom,” You replied as you sent a lengthy text to Ophelia, telling and reminding them about what happened between you and Tom.  “I’m not entirely sure if it’s worth anything if we did plan on doing something remotely festive.” 

There are four more days till Christmas and if you were being honest, the last time you felt festive was on the 18th of December...of 2019. 

“Surely there’s something we can do, right?” Tom’s optimism still shined beneath him. “This year has already been shitty enough, we don’t need to feed more into that.” 

The three dots bubble immediately popped up on your message thread with Ophelia as soon as you sent your passive-aggressive rant. Your focus was now on your phone. 

Suddenly, Tom’s face appeared on top of yours—his face was definitely close enough that it’s not CDC approved. He was standing on side of the sofa, both of his palms planted against the armrest as he loomed over you. 

“What do you and your family do during Christmas?” He dared to ask as if he wasn’t towering over you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Uh—give each other personal space?” You answered out of sheer reflex. You always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, especially when it sounds rude to other people. In your defence, being unable to do so has helped you put people back in place. 

To be fair, you were used to people standing at least 6 ft away from you ever since the pandemic started. 

Tom’s cheeks went bright red. “’m sorry,” He apologized, giving you a shy smile and scratched the back of his neck. You muttered a quick apology too, for acting so rashly. 

You rose from your position and sat upright instead. “Well, we never do anything special during Christmas,” You said as you threw your hair into a bun. “We usually just go to the movies on Christmas Day because that’s the only thing you can do back when life was normal.” 

Tom nodded understandingly as if he was taking this into account. Now you were curious. 

“Do you guys do anything special for Christmas?” You asked him. 

“Well, on Christmas Day, we would usually just lounge around the house and use it as a chance for me and my family to catch up,” Tom replied. “However, on Christmas Eve, my mum always made sure my brothers and I would have this scavenger hunt to look for our gifts—It’s really fun, actually.” Tom smiled sadly. 

You could easily see how Tom was genuinely broken about not being able to be around his family over the holidays. Heck—he really just misses his family. But who wouldn’t? Britney Spears didn’t sing the line “my loneliness is killing me” for nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. Aside from biting your tongue, being able to easily comfort people was one of your weaknesses too. 

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about, darling.” Tom quickly dismissed the genuine heartbreak he was trying to hide. “We’re all making sacrifices and we chose to be responsible for the benefit of other people.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You said softly. “We’ll just try our best to make something out of this holiday season. I mean—we have to or else we’ll welcome 2021 with a fresh face of misery.” 

“I’m sorry!” Ophelia pouted at the screen as they mindlessly walked around their partner’s place, something that most people do when they’re on the phone with someone. “I genuinely forgot about what happened between you and Tom.” 

“Well, Ollie, it seems like you weren’t the only one.” You replied, adjusting your glasses. Tom seems to be genuinely fine around you, no awkward tensions or anything. If anything, it’s just you who feels weird around him. “But I guess that’s a good thing right?” 

Ophelia forced a smile but they couldn’t, for the life of them, say anything about it. 

“Oh my god,” You sighed “Seriously, Ollie?” 

“It’s just—how could he forget?! You were literally on top of him as I recall and that very much left a permanent image on my mind. I—You know, I really tried my best to forget that ever existing in my mind. So really, if anything, it’s your fault.” Ophelia rambled on. 

“I—I wasn’t on top of him. That’s absurd! I was merely pressed against him” You said defensively, in which Ophelia just laughed atrociously. “Why am I friends with you again?!” You asked rhetorically, bewildered by the fact that you two lasted this long. 

“First of all, that is a hate crime. Second, I’m cool—like everyone wants to be my friend and you should be glad that I gave you the privilege to be even on a nickname basis as me.” 

You rolled your eyes at them. Despite the never-ending banter, you were grateful to have Ophelia as your friend. 

“But seriously, Y/N,” Ophelia said, “You can always just stay with me and Ericka. She’ll be glad to have you over for the holidays.”

“Ollie, as much as I love spending time with you two—I can’t stand being a third-wheel, especially when it comes to the both of you. You two are inseparable when you’re together.” You replied. “I appreciate the offer though.” You smiled at her. 

“I’m just saying—” Ophelia replied, shrugging her shoulder. “Unless you and Tom really want to have the house by yourselves.” They sang teasingly.

“Ophelia!” You gasped. 

“What?” They feigned innocence. “I gave you an option to stay with us! Plus, I know Alex and Will are would’ve asked you to stay with them if they had any idea what happened between you two.” 

“I can’t leave him!” You started to whisper “Tom seems genuinely bummed being here. I can’t just do that to him.” 

It’s as if a light came on inside them. Ophelia started to smirk and you recognized that smirk from anywhere. For christ’s sake, their eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. It drove you nuts. “I fucking knew it.” 

“What?” 

“You like him don’t you?!” They teased, but all you could do was blush. 

“I do not!” You denied it as you could still feel the burning heat emitting from your cheeks. 

“His tongue is that good huh?” Ophelia decided to pry even further. They clearly find enjoyment as you squirmed your way out of this conversation. 

“Bitch, I am ending this call.” That was all you could say. Even if you did find a smart retort, it was no use, especially with Ophelia. They can see right through you and there’s no point in trying to hide it. 

“Honestly, Y/N, we’re living through a pandemic. If there’s any time to make any rash decisions, it’s now. Go get that dick, bih—” 

You drowned out whatever Ophelia was trying to say with your goodbyes and proceeded to end the call. The one time you asked your friend to be serious and they come up with this. 

So—what really happened with you and Tom? 

It was two years ago. You were at a party that you didn’t even plan on attending. However, you were dragged by Ophelia and their partner, Ericka—your new friends in the area. You couldn’t say no to them, they were your first friend in LA! 

You thought about it though, saying no. But when you got a message from your friend back in Canada sending a photo of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend (the same guy who had ghosted you ever since you moved to LA), swapping spits with another girl, you suddenly had the strong urge to drink until you die of alcohol poisoning.

You were burning with anger that you really felt tears pricking your eyes. You were so close to crying or punching someone—whichever comes first.  

One thing’s for sure, though, you weren’t going to cry over a man. So what did you do? “Ophelia, where’s the booze?!” You asked your friend whose eyes nearly popped out of their head. 

Well, you weren’t really going to punch a stranger. Though you felt this burning sense of violence, it’d be much more satisfying to punch the living daylights out on your ex. 

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?” That line always puts on the waterworks, no?  Ophelia was clearly concerned about your newfound thirst for alcohol. 

You furiously wiped the tears off your face. “Um just found out my boyfriend—er ex-boyfriend, who stopped talking to me as soon as I moved here, is seeing someone else now? I don’t know, am I allowed to feel angry when I don’t even know if we’re still together as soon I moved? Fuck—” You tried to explain as you wiped every tear that left your eyes. 

“Oh—of course, hon.” Ericka who handed you a drink. You weren’t exactly sure what it is, but you knew it has alcohol in it and that’s all that matters. You gulped the entire thing and you wanted more. “Y/N, you need to slow down.”

“Are you sure you want to stay? I mean we can crash at our place, eat take-outs, watch movies and be totally disconnected from the world.” Ophelia suggested, but you shook your head furiously. 

“No, I—I’m ok.” You answered “I can’t let the both of you be stuck in misery with me. I need this. I’ll get drunk and if I'm up for it, I’ll hook up with someone. It’s not a healthy coping method but I really want this night to be a series of bad decisions. I don’t want to be myself, even just tonight.”

 So that’s what you did. You were going from one drink to another in record time. Both Ophelia and Ericka kept an eye on you, just in case someone tried to take advantage of your drunken state. 

You were talking to some guy you met in the kitchen, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, you were making out with this dude in someone’s bathroom. Ophelia and Ericka were drunk enough to pester the guy you were making out with but not drunk 

As you were propped on top of the sink and your legs wrapped around his waist, you felt every bit of his lips explore the side of your neck as his hands explored every inch of your body. With his hand under your shirt and his fingers tracing every part of your skin, it just reminded you of how lonely you were. 

Here you were, a thousand miles away from home, all alone just so you could do the one thing you really love. Your family would sometimes call to check up on you but it just wasn’t the same. Your ex tried to guilt you into staying in Canada, but you couldn’t do that. You love what you do and you love yourself too. 

You were willing to risk everything, even if happiness came at a price. 

Now you were crying, and the guy you were making out with definitely noticed. 

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked as he pulled down your shirt. 

“No—no, I’m just—” You tried to calm yourself down. “I’m not sure if I want to do this anymore.” 

“That’s alright,” He mumbled wiping the tears off your face. “Do you want to talk about it? You seem rattled.” 

“It’s just I’m so tired of pretending everything is alright—that I’m okay being alone, that I don’t need anyone. But it’s just so hard because I’m—” You sobbed “I’m so fucking lonely. I’m so tired of being alone.” 

The guy tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ears as he carefully wiped your tears with his thumb. He was just silent as he listened to you sob. 

“I’m sorry, I know you definitely didn’t come to this party to watch a complete stranger cry over something stupid.” You couldn’t even look him in the eye, you were embarrassed as this was the first time you felt really vulnerable—especially in front of a stranger. 

“No, you’re alright.” He tried to console you “I think that’s the beauty in strangers, no? You can act and do whatever you want in front of them because there’s a slim chance you’ll ever see them again.” 

You were definitely drunk enough that trying to make sense of who the person was a struggle enough of itself. You tried your best to look at the guy but your vision was getting hazy and you could feel your head thumping that focusing made you feel like you want to crack your head in half. 

A loud knock on the door caused you two to jump. “I’m coming in,” Ophelia yelled and opened the door. Ophelia looked at the guy for a while, trying to make sense of who he was before their eyes widened. “I remember now—You’re Tom Holland.”

Imagine your surprise when you found out that you were going to work with Tom Holland for a while. You tried your best to avoid Tom at work but of course, that didn’t work out. He never brought up what happened between you two and you assumed he probably forgot all about it.

You tried to rationalize that he meets a lot of people every day. Surely, one failed hook-up wasn’t worth remembering (especially with alcohol involved) and you held on to that. 

At least that’s what makes you sleep at night and also one of the reasons why you considered spending the holidays with him. However, you were also expecting your crew friends to stay with you and not just Tom. 

“Y/N, did you like the gift? It’s from me and Ericka!” Ophelia asked. It was the next day and you two were just chatting on FaceTime. You were sorting out your closet out of sheer boredom. You figured if you were going to stay here for three weeks, the least you could do was sort your clothes out. 

You stared at the neatly wrapped box that Ophelia and Ericka dropped off earlier this morning. “I haven’t opened it yet.” You said as you showed them the box. “I wanna open it till Christmas.” 

“Oh my god, just open it. Christmas doesn’t exist this year, babe.” Ophelia waved their hand, encouraging you to open it. 

“Fine,” You gave in. You opened the box and saw a very lush and well-made lingerie set. “Ophelia, what the fuck” You gasped. You held out the lingerie in front of the camera. 

“Y/N, I definitely outdid myself this time.” Ophelia sighed happily, staring at the screen. “Try it on!”

“Ollie, this is gorgeous but when am I ever going to use this?” You asked holding it out on your body and looking at the mirror. 

“Uh—you’re stuck at home with your failed but also potential hookup,” Ollie suggested, wiggling their eyebrows. “Who knows what might happen?”  

You rolled your eyes at them. “Bold of you assume that something might happen.”

“Something won’t happen if you don’t try that one,” Ophelia said. “C’mon, I wanna see.” 

You shook your head and went out of frame in order to strip off your clothes. You tried on the lingerie—it’s a black lace teddy with a very exposing back. IT fit you perfectly—it accentuated your figure and definitely showed off your boobs. You weren’t really fond of showing off your body but you still tried your best to show it to your friend. 

“What do you think?” You asked, stepping back to the frame. 

“You look gorgeous, babe!” Ophelia squealed. “I knew I made the right choice with black.” 

“I still don’t know where I should wear this though—” You were stopped mid-sentence when your door swung open. 

“I know what we’re doing this—Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Tom stood there, frozen, his eyes widened and immediately shut the door. 

You couldn’t even say anything. You were frozen in shock.

“Was that Tom?” Ophelia asked from the call, briefly forgetting that you were talking to them through FaceTime. 

You nodded slowly, unable to talk.

“What did he think?” Ophelia asked excitedly. 

You snapped out of this haze. “Ollie,” you groaned. “I think he was mentally scarred. 

“What do you mean scarred? You look great!” Ophelia said, appalled. “If he doesn’t think you look banging in that lingerie then it’s his loss.” 

“I gotta go, I need to change.” You said, bidding Ophelia goodbye. “Thanks for the gift, Ollie. Tell Ericka thanks too.” 

You ended the call and changed into comfier clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder how on earth you’re going to face Tom now that he’s seen you practically naked. Well, it’s not like that’s a new sight. He did see you with your bra on when you were making out in the bathroom that one time. But still! 

Are you actually going to spend your Christmas in your room?

It was the next day and there are only two more days till Christmas. You spent the entirety of last night in your room after the incident between you and Tom. 

You were about to make yourself some coffee when you found Tom in the kitchen, making tea for himself. You stood there frozen, wondering if you were going to proceed to the kitchen or just run back to your room since Tom hasn’t noticed you—

“Oh—good morning, Y/N.” So close. 

You smiled at Tom and said, “Good morning, Tom.” 

You grabbed a coffee pod and waited for the Keurig to make your coffee. You leaned back against the counter and fiddled with your phone—all in the hopes that things move quickly and for this awkward tension to be over. 

Honestly, why were you so worked up about it? People have seen you in a bikini before and that’s no different from lingerie. If anything, lingerie is itchier and has lace. You should be able to feel confident in your own body and you shouldn’t have to mind what other people think of it. It’s yours alone and it’s your opinion that should matter—

“I’m terribly sorry about last night, Y/N.” Tom apologized, sincerity was written all over his face. “I should’ve knocked and I just got so bloody excited about what we can do over Christmas—but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. What I did was incredibly intrusive and you deserve a proper apology.”

“Tom, I—”

“I wanted to apologize last night—over dinner—but you didn’t come down to eat, so I figured you didn’t want to talk. “ He rambled on. 

“Tom—” 

“But even then I should’ve asked you to come down and eat dinner because that’s what any decent human would do! And yet I didn’t. God—I’m just doing one wrong thing after another—” 

“Tom, listen to me.” 

“Hm?” He finally snapped out and looked at you in the eyes. 

“It’s okay. It was an honest mistake and you sincerely apologized, and for me, that’s enough.” You smiled softly at him. “So—what’s this thing you planned over Christmas?” 

“I was thinking we could do both our family traditions over the next two days. My family and I usually do a roast dinner and open our Christmas stockings on Christmas Eve. Then on the 25th, we can watch movies all day just like you do with your family.” Tom grinned, clearly satisfied with his plan. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” You smiled “However, I don’t think we have any ingredients for a roast dinner and we don’t really have Christmas stockings. Well—I don’t have any Christmas stockings and stocking stuffers.” 

“That’s true,” Tom mumbled “But I have to do the food shopping anyway. We’re running low on food and I couldn't really book one of those online delivery things that most groceries now offer.” 

You nodded. “Okay, so I guess I have to get the house sorted then.” 

When you two first arrived in this AirBnB a few days ago, it had already been decorated for Christmas. It had a massive tree in the living room decorated with stunning and intricately-themed ornaments. Christmas garlands were wrapped around the stair-bannisters and foliages were placed by the fireplace and the tables. 

All you really had to do was clean the place—do a bit of vacuuming and get things nice and neat for Christmas. It didn’t take you too long to do it too. It had only been a couple of minutes since Tom left to do the food shopping and you prayed to the gods that he doesn’t get too much attention whilst out. 

You figured you might as well do some last-minute shopping while Tom was out, so you can grab gifts for him as well. After all, this whole thing was orchestrated by Tom and you don’t even have anything to give him for his stockings. 

You arrived at your AirBnB a tad later than Tom. He was in the kitchen putting things away when he saw you walk through the door. 

“Ah, I was wondering whether I spooked you with my plan,” Tom commented, making you chuckle and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, I would’ve made it very obvious if you did.” You replied, earning a laugh from Tom. “I went out to do my last-minute shopping. Granted, it’s not ideal since we’re still living through a pandemic, but there’s not actually that many people where I went to considering it’s the Christmas rush.” 

You made sure to hide the stuff you bought using the handmade tote bags that a friend gave you for your birthday. No retail bags, no clue. “How did you survive the groceries? I bet it’s busy out there.” 

“Yeah, it was.” Tom chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Remind me to never do that again for Christmas.” 

“Sure,” You said, “That is if I spend another Christmas with you.” You said jokingly, hoping that Tom didn’t find that rude. 

“You’ll never know,” Tom shrugged. “What if you liked our Christmas this year and you’d be begging to spend Christmas with me and my family in London,” Tom smirked, playing along. 

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. “If anyone’s begging, it’s going to be you.”

Tom stepped closer, “Wanna bet?” He whispered, a teasing look in his eyes. “Whoever has the most fun during our respective holiday traditions would have to spend the holidays with them next year.” 

“Oh, you’re on, Holland.” You took a step closer. “We will both film our holidays for the entire two days and then we’ll ask Ophelia, Alex, and Will to vote whoever looks like they had the most fun.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded “But no editing! We’ll give them raw footage so there are no chances of tampering.” 

You laughed but you agreed anyway. “Of course, we’ll give them hours of footage. The least we could do is make them sit through hours of content after they ditched us all alone on the holidays.” 

Tom gave a broad smile. “Let the festivities begin.” 

It was the 24th of December—Christmas Eve. You spent the entirety of last night wrapping Tom’s presents for later. Not that you despise Christmas, but it’s been a while since you were actually excited to celebrate it. It was pretty clear that the magic of Christmas dies once you grow up. 

Today was different; you were looking forward to whatever Tom has installed for tonight. 

You went downstairs to make some breakfast only to be greeted by Tom blasting Christmas music and preparing some ingredients for breakfast in the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Y/N, happy Christmas Eve,” Tom greeted with a huge grin. “Say, hi to the camera.” 

“Oh, we’re starting this early, huh?” You asked, putting your hair into a loose ponytail. 

“Why of course, we have to make the best out of this,” Tom said, holding the camera to your face. “I made you coffee.” Tom handed you a cup of coffee. 

“Are you using my love for coffee as an advantage?” You tried to hide your smile while drinking your coffee. 

“Obviously not,” Tom feigned his innocence. “I obviously did not know you were obsessed with coffee—it’s not like I don’t see you on set without one.” He mumbled in which you definitely heard, giving him a smack on the head. “Ow! I’m kidding.” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “So, what’s for breakfast?” 

“We’re going to make french crèpes,” Tom replied and propped the camera on the kitchen island, facing the two of you. 

“Do you know how to make french crèpes?” You asked, washing your hands. 

Tom blinked, almost trying to decide whether he wants to be honest or impressive. “Do you know how to make french crèpes?” He returned the question. 

“Oh honey, my mom resents me in the kitchen.” You replied, taking a sip from your coffee. “But you know, I manage.” You murmured.

“That’s giving me a lot of hope, darling, thank you.” He said half-heartedly. 

“Shut up,” You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Tom, honestly, most of the footage is just us bantering for 20 minutes.” 

“To be fair, that’s part of the fun.” Tom smiled. “Okay, I think you just mix all of these in a bowl. Start with the dry ingredients first.” He said, looking at the recipe on his phone.

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard,” You commented pouring the ingredients into the bowl. As you started all of the ingredients together, you noticed small lumps forming in the batter. “Tom, did you sift the dry ingredients by chance?” 

“You were supposed to sift it?” He asked, completely clueless. 

You nodded slowly. Panic was now clearly painted on his face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him. 

It was not fine. The first time you two tried to pour the batter in the pan, you burnt the entire thing. It’s not even the cute, lightly burnt crepe. It was activating the smoke alarm-burnt crepe. 

The next one was pancake-like. The next one after that had pocket flours on the crepes because you two didn’t sift your dry ingredients beforehand. You ran out of the batter when you two finally got the consistency right—you managed to get one proper crepe from the entire batter. 

“I feel like Sam would probably curse me out as soon as he finds out I fucked up a simple crepe,” Tom said, delicately filling the crepe with creme and berries. “My brother’s done so well in culinary school.” He cut a piece with his fork and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, you can’t have everything.” You said taking a bite out of the crepe. “This is better than the last one.” 

Tom nodded, taking a bite of it himself. “It’s not as tasty as Sam’s but I’ll take it.” 

“Now, I’m curious as to what your brother’s cooking tastes like.” You commented taking another bite from the crepe. 

“I guess I’ll just take you home to London to find out,” Tom teased with an annoying grin. 

“As long as I’m being fed, I’m fine with it.” You remarked. What in god’s name are you are you two playing?!

The day rolled by very quickly. It was already evening when you finished wrapping the presents for your friends. You plan on dropping it off tomorrow before you persuade Tom to glue yourselves on the couch for the entire day. 

You grabbed all of Tom’s gifts—Christmas stocking included— when you went downstairs, only to be greeted by someone yelling at Tom through his phone. 

“I did everything right, Sam. I don’t know why you’re yelling.” Tom yelled back at his phone. His back was turned against you as he was putting away the pots and pans that he used. 

You quietly walked up behind him and said calmly, “Why are you yelling?” 

Tom probably jumped six feet away from you, making you laugh. You always forget that he gets scared easily. “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that, Y/N.” Tom breathed out, putting a hand over his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” You said whilst laughing. “I promise I won’t do it again.” Tom rolled his eyes, murmuring something about you being insincere about it. 

“Please do it again!” You heard, whom you assume is Sam, say from the background. You looked at Tom’s phone that’s propped on the island and saw his brothers on FaceTime. 

You beamed at them. “Any recommendations?” You asked, hearing Tom groan behind you. 

“Well, he hates—” 

“This is the last thing I want in 2020, for my brothers and Y/N to conspire against me,” Tom said loudly on purpose, drowning his brothers' voices.

“Tom, don’t be rude. Let your brothers finish—” Tom put his hand against your mouth. 

“I’ll call you guys later,” Tom said “Wave goodbye, Y/N.” He used his free hand to grab your hand and forced a wave towards his brothers. The call soon came to an end and you could only roll your eyes at Tom. You seem to do that a lot around him. You also do a lot of that when you try to hide your feelings towards a person you like but that’s beside the point. 

“So are we going to have dinner first or are we going to do presents first?” You asked fixing your Christmas sweater, a gift from your parents since you and your family usually wear matching sweaters for Christmas. “Or are you the type to wait until Christmas Day to open presents?” 

“We can do the Christmas stockings after dinner tonight, then do the presents tomorrow, if you’d like,” Tom answered with his arms crossed. 

You shrugged, telling him it doesn’t matter since you don’t really go all out on Christmas. Your family on the other hand—the house is always full of people, especially since most of your extended family are usually around during the holidays. You had this ongoing game you made for yourself whether or not you’ll be able to greet everyone with the number of people in the house. 

You could only guess how quiet your family’s Christmas is going to be. You definitely needed to call your parents later. 

“Is the sweater that itchy, Y/N?” You heard Tom ask, breaking away from your thoughts. 

“Huh?” You asked, confused. You didn’t even notice that you’ve been scratching yourself subconsciously. 

“You’ve been scratching yourself since I saw you.” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s a cute sweater on you.” 

You smirked. “That reminds me—I got something for you, Tom.” Tom raised his brow as you grabbed the bag you stashed behind the tree. “Actually my parents got this for you. A little thank you gift apparently for having the tolerance to stay with me over the holidays—as if you had a choice.” You mumbled the last part. 

Tom curiously opened the bag and there revealed a matching sweater such as yours. This year’s sweater was green and had red tinsel all over it, probably the reason why you’re itchy. The real kicker is that—

“No way,” Tom gasped “It lights up?!” He asked laughing. It lights up. 

“Yeah, I don’t recommend turning that on. I did it earlier and I’m pretty sure I was about to combust—it’s a real fire hazard.” You replied, enjoying the genuine joy that Tom is showing on his face. 

“Oh but we have to turn the lights on when we take pictures,” He commented as he put on the sweater. “Thanks, Y/N.” He said softly, surprising you with a hug. 

It’s the first real physical contact that you two had ever since that night when you made out and you were pretty adamant that people were just making up this notion of having butterflies in their stomach—they weren’t. 

Tom’s roast dinner went surprisingly well. You kept teasing him that it’s Sam that you had to thank because you knew that Tom wouldn’t last in the kitchen without his brother’s instructions. Tom pouted the whole time. You eventually had to tell him 

“It was sweet.” You told him as you helped him clear out the plates. 

Tom was confused. 

“I don’t think I’ve known someone that went through hell and back just to make a great effort Christmas dinner —even if it means getting yelled at by your brother.” You said, smiling softly at him. “I mean it’s just us two, really. We don’t even have to do this.”

“Think that’s the reason why I wanted to do it,” Tom replied. Now you’re confused. “It’s because it’s the two of us—that’s why I wanted to do it.” 

As soon as you heard those words come out of Tom’s lips, you tried your best to stay calm. To say that you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions would be a huge lie. For someone who couldn’t hold their tongue, you were speechless. Tom’s giving you a run for your money and you weren’t exactly thrilled about it. 

After dinner, you and Tom opened your stocking presents. The presents were pretty tame at the start—you both got each other socks, which was hilarious but greatly appreciated. You love socks, especially comfy and cushiony ones. You came to learn that Tom does too, which prompted you two to wear the socks immediately. 

You got him candy canes, he got you chocolates. You also snuck in those small, in-flight alcohol bottles in there too—which he ended up loving. He got you those 10-pack skincare face masks, in which you let out a huge gasp, making him laugh. 

“Oh, we have to use this at some point!” You exclaimed happily “Like, we need to have a spa night—where we just watch movies, doing face masks, eating takeouts. Oh, that’s the dream!” You sighed happily. 

“We still have two weeks left till we go back to work, I'm sure we can find the time to do that,” Tom said with a permanent smile on his face, watching you with pure joy made him feel like he accomplished something big. 

You got him one of those Instax polaroid cameras—true, it was a bit too much for a stocking stuffer especially since the box definitely stood out against the stocking, but you figured he’ll like it. 

“Darling, this is too much but I’m thankful,” Tom commented as he took out the camera from the box. “I can’t wait to use this and keep memories using it—why don’t we start right now?! Let’s take a photo of us and our matching sweaters!”  

Tom took a lot of photos of you two, in the end. A couple of overexposed photos, one with the matching sweaters, one with your faces pressed against each other, one with your faces way too close to the camera, and one where he gave you a kiss on your cheek (he asked if that’s okay, of course, you said yes. it’s not like he hasn’t kissed you before— still no conversations about that, by the way). It was a good thing you got him at least 3 boxes of those 20 pack films in his stockings as well. 

The real kicker was Tom’s “small” stocking present for you. He got you this dainty, gold necklace with a crescent moon charm. You were pretty sure it was expensive because of the teal box it came with. 

“Stop,” You gasped “Tom, now this—this is too much.” You stressed out. “I can’t have this. Nope, you have to return this.”

Tom shrugged as if it was nothing. “You deserve it. Darling, you deserve something nice after this shitty year.” 

“Tom, I’m serious. This is too much.” 

“I’m serious too, Y/N. Keep it, please. I’d be offended if you don’t.”

After the roller coaster of emotions due to the stocking presents, you gave your parents a call to wish them a merry Christmas. They insisted to do a video call because they wanted to see Tom in the family sweater—which your mom wouldn’t stop gushing about. 

“I think your mum loves me,” Tom whispered closely in your ear. He didn't have to try too hard. With the laptop propped up on top of the coffee table, you two were sitting close together on the living room floor—knees touching, maximum close skin contact. CDC would never approve. 

“Yeah, I think it’s the accent,” You mumbled jokingly. 

Tom moved his head to take a good look at you, smiling. You could feel his eyes burning your skin. Why does he have to look at you like that? Why does he have to be this close?

The initial video call with your parents turned into a whole family reunion when you found out they set up a group call with your extended family. Imagine the dread and fear in your eyes when you heard your one aunt ask, 

“Finally, Y/N, is that your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes widened as you stuttered to say your defence, making Tom chuckle. You frowned at him and nudged him saying, “Don’t laugh, tell them no or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” Tom replied, laughing. “However, I do believe we make a cute couple, don’t we?” He teased, earning an earnest yes from your mom. 

You could only wish for the floor to swallow you whole. 

As the clocks rolled to twelve, it was officially Christmas. You and Tom figured you might as well start opening gifts again because Christmas Day is going to be a drag for the two of you. 

“Okay, start with this.” You said as you handed him a gift bag. You didn’t give him a lot of gifts for the actual Christmas Day because you went all out on the stuffers. 

“Pyjamas?” He asked with a grin. You made a signal for him to give you a minute. You ran to your room and changed into pyjamas. 

“Not just pyjamas, Tom, but matching pyjamas!” You exclaimed, laughing. “I saw it and figured we should do this for my day.”

“Sick!” Tom laughed. Tom got into his pair of pyjamas as well and of course, he didn’t forget to pull out his new polaroid camera to take a photo of you two. “Shit, I forgot to film our entire Christmas Eve.” He said as he saw the camera that was still sitting on the kitchen island from earlier that morning. 

You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ll win either way. Just that content from the breakfast crepes was enough to secure your place.” You said jokingly.

“All I’m hearing is that you’re going to spend Christmas with me in London next year.” Tom sang teasingly. 

“Yeah, maybe bringing you to our big Christmas holidays is a bad idea.” You wondered out loud. 

“I like your family,” Tom commented with a smile “and I think they will love having me there for the holidays.” 

“That would be a nightmare.” You mumbled to yourself. 

The rest of the night dragged on. You and Tom finished the rest of your gifts—you got him a watch, he got you a vinyl player. You two managed to watch the first Harry Potter film before you called it a night. 

You were about to head into your room when you heard Tom say, “Mistletoe.”

“Hm?” You hummed, confused. He placed a finger under your chin and gently tilted your head. There you saw a mistletoe hanging by one of the light fixtures. 

“How did that even—” 

“Can I kiss you?” Tom asked, cupping the sides of your face. 

“Hm?” Tom was definitely giving you a run for your money. How can a girl with a speech turn speechless?

“Can I kiss you?” He asked more softly. All you could do was nod. For if you even dare to open your mouth, all of this would cease to exist.  

His lips gently touched yours and then soon moulded into one. It was soft, sweet—familiar. His lips were something you never thought about—at least not a lot but you craved it. You crave his lips, his touch, him. You were riding a new high and you thanked every single god that you were sober to remember this—because this, this is something you want to cherish. 

“You told me you’re tired of being alone,” Tom whispered against your lips. “You don’t have to be anymore. Not when you have me, not ever.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11​ @tomshufflepuff​ @spider-babe​ @goodgirlgonetom​

[warpedlegacy]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @dreadfutures and @a11sha11fade! Here is some chess and banter between Dorian and Theresa for your enjoyment! In return, I’ll tag @skogrr and @kantrips and anyone else who’d like to participate! 

Dorian steepled his fingers over his knees, watching me while I pondered the chess board between us with growing frustration.

“Your move,” he said.

“I’m aware.” I dabbed at my running nose with my scarf, reigniting the earthen scent of the salve spread across my upper lip - a saving grace during our continued journeys through rural Ferelden. The aging apothecary from the Crossroads had been so overjoyed at his son’s return that he’d gifted me an entire pouch of the mixture. I appointed him the Inquisition’s official apothecary for our Crossroads base in return. 

Dorian’s moustache curled up his cheeks in amusement at my delay. “Decisions, decisions…” 

I ignored his taunt and pondered over the simply-carved wooden pieces and their intricate weave of possibility, trying to trace the path toward victory. Dorian had picked the set up at the last trading post, and we’d been bent over it every morning since. Most of our matches ended in a draw, to our increasing aggravation. 

My hand hovered over the tower but I pulled back, noting at the last moment that would leave my divine vulnerable to Dorian’s knight. He was playing passive aggressively this morning, and I suspected a feint. He was trying to draw me into a false sense of confidence. 

With a huff, I moved a pawn instead, blocking his knight’s passage forward. It was a lateral move, and the glint of victory in Dorian’s eyes confirmed it. 

“We should get moving,” Cassandra called from somewhere over my shoulder. It was hard to blame her for the impatience in her tone. We’d been searching the hills and caves for nearly a week now with little to no sign of our quarry. 

“Two more moves,” I said without turning. For all that Dorian liked to hurl accusations of cheating, I hadn’t failed to notice how pieces had a way of teleporting whenever my attention left the board. 

“In two more moves it’ll be another draw,” Bull drawled from the edge of camp. He was pacing a heavy line in the dirt, as restless as Cassandra to get moving.  

“You can’t possibly know that from where you are.” Dorian retreated his knight. Perhaps that pawn had given me more of an advantage than I thought. Bull snorted in amusement. “With how coy you’re being and how careful the Boss is, you two’ll just circle each other and snarl until it’s all over. Like always.” 

“‘Coy’ am I?” Dorian hadn’t removed his finger from his piece, and replaced it to its previous position. Damn. Instead, he selected his divine and set it a mere two squares from my king. “Check.” 

He realized his mistake the very next instant, as I smirked victoriously and took his divine with my king. 

“Check,” I declared with pride. 

We both stared down at the board, realization dawning. Neither of us had any more valid moves that didn’t place one or the other in check. It was another draw. 

“Vishante kaffas, not again!”

[itsclydebitches]

Why do people take issue with how the time skips and crossing a lot of land quickly in the Witcher show when the games, mainly 3, do the same thing? Like 3s story doesn't actually work when every time you fast travel to a new land you assume it takes weeks, longer for all the back and forth you end up doing. Geralt would have taken years to find Ciri at that point. In both cases it's ignored to move the plot along. Why does the games story get praised, but this issue not brought up as a flaw?

For me, a part of it has to do with the different expectations for each medium. Despite many open world games like TW3 being advertised based on specific types of realism—look how life-like the graphics are! The nuanced dilemmas! Your control over Geralt’s personality!—the mere fact that it’s a video game means that it eschews other types of realism by default, namely those that interfere with the active parts of games that players get the most enjoyment out of. For example, it also doesn’t make any sense that Geralt’s health is regenerated from eating a couple loafs of bread, but managing a more realistic approach—only Swallow will heal you, he must eat a balanced meal at certain intervals to avoid starving/becoming weaker—just isn’t fun in a combat-based game (though it might be in a survival/resource management game). So we skip these realistic requirements to get to the fun stuff: fighting monsters where death is a result of your lack of skill, not the fact that Geralt hasn't eaten a vegetable in six months. Fast travel supposedly works in a similar way. It’s not realistic for Geralt to hop to another continent, but crossing the distance on foot or horseback would interrupt the types of gameplay that players are most interested in, like getting to and completing the next quest.

I say “supposedly” above because a lot of people do criticize fast travel. In fact, it’s one of the more common complaints I’ve come across regarding sprawling, open world games, TW3 included. Usually the argument boils down to the fact that traveling that distance—a distance these games are also marketed on: look how huge our world is—should be fun and should be integrated into the core gameplay. Yet for many, fast travel feels like a crutch implemented because developers haven’t yet figured out a way to make such expansive games and keep the travel time engaging, so ideally we want them to focus on how to achieve that rather than continuing to encourage their players to skip it. For now though, fast travel is like a gameplay bandaid. I’m a fan of Razbuten’s vids on Youtube and his (short) commentary on fast travel pretty much aligns 100% with my own thoughts: it has potential, but really we need to be thinking about the world and quest design, not fast travel itself. And gamers are constantly looking for their own ways to fix this problem. A few months back I added a mod to TW3 that REALLY cranked up the number of mobs that spawn, their variety, and all of them scale to be my level or up to five levels higher. Suddenly, crossing the Continent via Roach became a lot more interesting as I was constantly navigating different threats and collecting their bounties, rather than just hacking through another wolf or dog pack in five seconds. If I even encountered that. The mod makes it feel like I really am a monster hunter crossing a dangerous, hostile world (even at level 40. That's an important thing to note: TW3 is actually very good at making travel interesting given the original dangers and various encounters, but that enjoyment is lost once you discover most side-quests and are a high level player running through a low level area. It's a great design, it just doesn't sustain itself for as long as most people want to play). I stopped fast traveling because I no longer needed it to experience enjoyable gameplay anymore.

Comparing all this to TWN though, the difference for me is active vs. passive entertainment. As said, though I too have criticisms about fast travel, I ultimately put up with it because it’s a tool that allows me to get to fun parts of the game. It’s a way of reaching a section that’s more geared towards what video games are all about: me doing something. Fast travel gets me to the quest where I investigate, fight, and make moral decisions. Active, active, active. Whereas running that distance often feels like I’m just holding down a button and watching the scenery pass by. Passive, passive, passive. Video games aren’t meant to be passive, so anything that disengages me from the actual gameplay is not good for that medium. Television, however, is a passive medium, deliberately so. I have no control over that Geralt on the screen and my enjoyment stems entirely from watching him do things without my input. So when the show does the equivalent of fast travel, I feel like I’ve been cheated out of the content I tuned in for, especially when there were conflicts right before the travel began. We see Ciri riding hard after Yennefer nearly sacrificed her, distancing herself from the others and clearly pissed… and she did that for the whole trip back to Kaer Morhen? The distance that I believe took them about a month to travel in the books? Obviously not, but by treating the end of an episode like fast travel we lose any development Ciri might have gotten on such a trip, instead taking her straight from fury into possession. Usually, criticisms of a story aren’t all neatly separate; they’re bundled up together. In this case, fans are also critical that a character-driven novel feels so overly packed and rushed. Fans are also critical of the world building, with Kaer Morhen moving from a super secret, hard to find witcher base to the easily-accessible pit-stop for prostitutes. And, apparently, it’s a place that Ciri and the dwarves can now find all on their own. So in television, considering travel potentially helps to make everything else tighter. We slow things down, we develop the characters, we give the audience a sense of how big the world is, we introduce consequences (if you travel to another kingdom you don’t get to immediately be somewhere else if you’re needed), and we ensure that the world building remains consistent. Expecting Ciri to make her way back to a secret place she's only approached once before while Geralt remains behind with a magic-less Yennefer should create new and interesting problems for the viewer to watch. Does Ciri get lost? Does someone else help her? Does Geralt arrive too late, resulting in more witchers dying? Television writers should be building off of the challenges they introduce, not skipping them. Because watching is the enjoyment, skipping them is often a disappointment, especially when the tools used to enact the skip just don't make sense based on what else we've been told (something, something the prostitutes are somehow here and no one will remember anything... somehow. Don't question it! Don't expect the world to make sense!) If a writer really wants to prioritize a plot point in another area, find an in-world reason for why we get to travel straight to the action: Geralt is given a portal and instantly pops up in Istredd’s study. I’ve got no problem with that, especially when that also serves as a bit of characterization/homage on its own (Geralt hates portals).

But really, I think the biggest difference comes down to that active vs. passive entertainment. When I’m playing a game, I want to skip to the active gameplay and avoid the moments where I’m just passively watching pixels pass my screen. When I’m watching a show, passively watching is what’s enjoyable, so I don’t want to skip huge swaths of time with the characters. As different mediums, they thrive on different things that equal a “This tends to work here, but often doesn't work there” situation.

[sgstories123]

Shy Mark

Joey looked at Mark and sighed. He is so cute but unfortunately so shy. She has been trying so hard to get him to fuck her and be her boyfriend but alas, she has not been successful.

Joey first met Mark two weeks ago. She had gone to watch a basketball match to support her friend Shawn who was playing in the match. Mark was one of their teammates. She noticed then how tall and muscular Mark was. He had a boyish face and short, cropped hair. When Mark was shooting the ball into the hoop, he had an intense, serious look. When the ball dropped through the hoop, he will break into the most charming smile. Joey was mesmerised by Mark. After the game, she walked towards him and introduced herself to him. Mark just smiled and left without saying anything.

She asked Shawn about Mark and realised that Mark was exceedingly shy with girls. It seemed that he had broken off with his girlfriend for more than six months but was too shy to find another girlfriend.

“Are you sure you are interested in him?” Shawn had asked her. “He is cute but very shy. His girlfriend told me that he doesn’t initiate anything. So he is extremely boring.” Shawn looked at Joey and smiled knowingly. “Knowing your appetite for sex, you are going to be disappointed.”

Joey kicked Shawn on his shin, in jest. It was true though that Joey had a reputation of always changing her boyfriends but she did not think she was slutty. She preferred to think that she was simply trying to find a better one. It was also true that she had been telling many people of her sexual exploits. Perhaps that has given people the impression that she was insatiable when it comes to sex. But she convinced herself that she was simply not being hypocritical. Many of her friends love sex too but pretend not to so as to appear pure and innocent.

“You know, it is easier to be my girlfriend than Mark’s girlfriend.” Shawn continued. “I will be much better than him. How about it?”

“Fuck off! I know you so well that it will feel weird to be your girlfriend.” Joey countered.

“But seriously, if you get Mark to be your boyfriend, you may be quite lucky. He has one of the largest cock I have seen.” Shawn seemed suddenly serious.

Seeing Joey’s disbelieving look, Shawn continued, “Really. I am not joking. We played basketball together so I have seen him in the shower.”

“Then why did the girlfriend leave him if he is so good.” Joey asked.

“Ha ha! Not everything is about a big dick, Joey. If so, my girlfriend would have left me for my dog. Have you seen my dog’s dick? Twice my size, lor,” laughed Shawn.

“Never seen your dick nor your dog’s dick.”

“You want to see?” Shawn offered. “But seriously, since you like him so much and both of you are my friends, let me see what I can do.”

Over the last 2 weeks, Shawn had brought Joey along whenever he was meeting with Mark. They had gone to the movies, shopping, Starbucks and even to the beach. Joey was flaunting her body in a skimpy neon green bikini that had Shawn staring at her non-stop. She was amused when she saw Shawn spotting a hard cock through his swimming trunks. It seemed that it remained hard throughout the afternoon. She did not realise that Shawn was thinking sexually of her. Afterall, they had been friends for many years.

She was thrilled when she realised that Mark was also attracted to her. Or maybe it was just her body. She caught him looking at her several times. But as he was wearing board shorts, she could not see if he was sexually aroused by her. She tried several times to talk to him but he merely murmured some response and left abruptly. It was so frustrating. She even tried to smile at him seductively, or pretend to touch him accidentally on his muscled torso, but he merely turned away. He even rejected her request to put sunblock on her. If Shawn did not tell her that Mark previously had a girlfriend, she would have suspected that he is gay and not interested in girls.

Mark had tried to help Joey again. He has invited Mark and several of his friends to his house to watch a “live” football match, serving cool beer and pizza. Again, Joey had tried to talk to Mark but to no avail. She has given up and decided to sit away from the group of boys who were nosily eating and drinking while watching the match.

Joey was just taking another sip from her beer can when Shawn and one of his friends, Vinod, came up to her.

“Hey, Joey. I just heard from Vinod here what mark’s weakness is. He is so shy that he freezes up when a girl talks to him. But if the girl is passive, he becomes less shy. You are too aggressive lah.”

“Yeah.” Vinod chipped in. “You know how he got together with his previous girlfriend? He was interested in her but did not dare to approach her. He was sending her home after class but she fell asleep in the car. Then he plucked up his courage to kiss her. She woke up and he felt so guilty that he became her boyfriend. You can try that too.”

“So what should I do?” Joey sounded interested. “Do I pretend to be asleep?”

“I thought of a better idea. But it depends on whether you agree or not.” There was a mischievous glint in Shawn’s eyes. Vinod was also grinning. Joey had an uneasy feeling. These guys are plotting something.

“What is it? I know it must be something naughty.” Joey looked at Shawn and Vinod.

“You can pretend to be drunk. We will lay you on my bed and then we will fuck you in turn. Mark will be so turned on seeing us fucking you. Then we will encourage him to fuck you too. But by then, we will leave the room. Once he has fucked you, you can pretend to wake up and confront him. He will have no choice but to listen to you and be your boyfriend.” Shawn proposed.

“Wait. All of you will fuck me? That’s like 7 of you.”

“Yeah, including Mark, that’s eight of us. You will definitely be sex-tisfied.” Shawn smiled.

“Wah liao. You win lor. All of you get a free fuck, what do I gain?”

“You also get a free fuck. No, you get 8 free fucks.” Vinod grinned at his own joke.

“And you get to realise your dream of fucking Mark and getting him to be your boyfriend.” Shawn was pushing all the right buttons. Joey could not think of a reason to say no. After what Shawn had been doing for her the last 2 weeks, it seemed right to reward him for his effort. But she was apprehensive about fucking the rest of his friends.

She knew Vinod as he was also playing on Shawn’s basketball team. She also knew a couple of the other guys, Bryan and Weijie as they were also on Shawn’s basketball team. She was less familiar with Derrick, Rahim and Irfan though. She looked at the group of boys again. Most of them were athletic and muscular. It might actually be enjoyable, she reasoned to herself.

“Ok. I can go along with it but on two conditions.” Joey finally agreed.

“What?” Shawn and Vinod almost shouted in unision. They had clearly planned this and were excited that their plan worked.

“Keep your voices down!” Joey whispered. “All of you must wear condoms. I don’t trust where you have been sticking your dicks. I don’t want to get any STDs.”

“No problem. I have plenty in my room. I have lubes too. I guarantee they will all use condoms,” promised Shawn.

“And I can confirm and double confirm for you, no problem-o!” Vinod offered. “What is the second condition?”

“Does the rest of the guys know about this plan?” Joey asked.

“Nope. Only the two of us.” Shawn replied.

“Okay. Then the second condition is that we keep it a secret between us. No one else must know that I am pretending to be drunk.” Joey looked at the two boys.

“Of course. Just our little secret. No one else will know.” Both boys agreed immediately. “Let’s do this!”

The three friends looked at the rest of the group. All of them had their eyes fixed to the television and did not seem to realise that a plan was being hatched. Shawn and Vinod each held one of Joey’s arms and pretended to lift her from her chair.

“Hey guys! Joey is drunk. Come and help us bring her to my room!” Shawn shouted.

A few of them stood up and walked over, helping Shawn and Vinod carry Joey to the room. They laid Joey down on his bed and she put up a good show of pretending to be drunk, mumbling something incoherently, but otherwise remaining quite motionless.

“She is quite pretty. What say we fuck her?” Joey heard Shawn proposed.

“Are you crazy? That is rape! You can go to jail!”

“She is a friend. She won’t report us to the police. Anyway, she won’t know. Look at her! She is dead drunk.” Vinod responded.

“Well, I am going to fuck her if you are not. I will go first and you can watch.” Shawn announced.

Shawn turned Joey over and removed her t-shirt. “Fuck! Look at those boobs! It must be at least a C-cup.” Shawn moved his hands under her body and expertly removed her bra. Joey felt a tinge if excitement but reminded herself not to make any noise or movement. She felt the cold air touched her nipples. She could feel several pairs of eyes staring at her but she did not dare to peek.

Shawn closed his lips on her nipples, replacing the cold air with his hot lips and tongue. Gosh! He is good at this, Joey thought to herself. Shawn alternated between licking her nipples and gently biting them, sending small sparks up her entire body. Joey clenched her teeth, trying to suppress herself from moaning.

Vinod stepped up to Joey and started to remove her skirt and panties. He got between her legs and started licking her cunt, jabbing it regularly with his tongue.

“Hey, are you going to watch the rest of the match?” Joey heard Mark’s voice and she realised that Mark must be seeing her naked and being fucked by two guys. She was worried if he will be upset.

“Shh! We are taking turns fucking Joey. Don’t wake her up!” Shawn commanded. “Move over, Vinod. I am going first.”

Shawn took out a condom and rolled it over his cock. He positioned his cock at Joey’s cunt opening and found that Joey was already wet and ready for him. He shoved his cock in one stroke, pushing himself to his hilt. He had been fantasising about fucking Joey ever since he saw her in her neon green bikini at the beach. Finally, he knows what fucking Joey’s cunt is like. Tight, warm and pure pleasure. He lifted her legs on his shoulders and continued fucking her. He bent down low and whispered softly in Joey’s ears.

“Fuck! You have such a tight cunt! This is so good! I want to fuck you so many times.”

Within minutes of pumping, Shawn ejaculated in the condom. As he pulled out, Vinod was already ready to fill the gap in Joey’s cunt. Without another word, Vinod plunged his cock into Joey. Joey could feel that Vinod had a longer cock. He was reaching much deeper into her. Joey could not contain herself any more and moaned softly, hoping that no one could hear.

“Fuck! She is enjoying herself! She is moaning!” Someone exclaimed.

The group of boys seemed to be too aroused by the fucking scene. No one seems to be objecting anymore. Joey could feel hands squeezing her boobs, tongues licking her nipples and lips kissing her. She dared not open her eyes to see who was doing what, but she was hoping that Mark was one of them.

Vinod too ejaculated soon after. Two more cocks filled her cunt and provided her with continued pleasure. She did not know whose cocks were those but the she knew the fifth person was Irfan.

“Irfan, you fucking idiot! Put on a condom!” Vinod hissed. Joey was relieved that Vinod kept his promise to ensure that everyone had a condom on. She did not want to get pregnant or STD from this.

“I don’t like condoms. They are too small for my cock.” Irfan complained.

“Then you don’t get to fuck her.” Vinod was insistent.

“Okay, lah.” Irfan reluctantly agreed.

“Then I go first. I cannot tahan any more. She is so hot.” Joey recognised Bryan’s voice. She felt Bryan’s cock struggling to get into her. He was hurting her with his thrusting. Is he so inexperienced or maybe even a virgin? She shifted her body slightly so that it was easier for him to enter her.

“Argh! This is so tight! I am fucking coming!” Bryan ejaculated just as he entered her. Joey felt sorry for Bryan. After all his effort, he came so quickly. Bryan just laid on top of Joey without moving.

“Move it! My turn!” Irfan did not seemed happy that Bryan was delaying his pleasure.

Irfan was not lying when he said he had a big cock. She could feel his cock stretching the walls of her vagina when he entered her. Irfan moved slowly but with each thrust, Joey could feel waves of sensation flow over her. But it was soon over.

After Irfan, another person took over and continued fucking Joey. After several minutes, he ejaculated and withdrew his flaccid cock from Joey.

“Mark, finally it is your turn. Show us all what your giant cock can do.” Shawn challenged.

Joey felt her body freezing up. This is it. This is what she had been wanting for two weeks.

Joey felt a pair of warm hands pulling her legs apart. She could feel the warm tip of Mark’s cock pressing against the lips of her cunt. Is Mark’s cock really that big? Was it longer than Vinod’s or thicker than Irfan’s?

Mark slowly push his cock into Joey. Joey gasped. It was definitely thicker than Irfan’s. Even though she has just been fucked by Irfan’s thick cock, she could feel Mark’s cock pushing the walls of her vagina even further out. It was pain but followed swiftly by blinding pleasure. Mark was still pushing his cock into her. He was already reaching very deep into her yet he continued to push, way beyond where Vinod’s cock last touched.

Joey moaned again in pleasure. She could nonstop herself.

“Fuck! Mark! You are giving her so much pleasure that she will wake up! Pull it out!”

“Shut up! Are you jealous? You fucking came like 2 seconds.”

“I going to take a shower. Anyone coming along?” Joey knew that was part of Shawn’s plan to draw the rest of the boys away. She heard movement and then all was quiet. The rest of the boys must have left the room.

Mark seemed more at ease when the others left the room. He continued to push his huge cock into Joey until their bodies met. He fucked slowly, withdrawing his cock and allowing Joey’s cunt to close up before pushing himself in again, forcing her walls to stretch out. Joey was already pleasured by 7 cocks but she could still feel pleasure from Mark’s large cock. No wonder Shawn complimented Mark’s cock.

Mark increased his pace and Joey continued to enjoy the waves of pleasure that each thrust bring. Mark leaned forward and kissed her breasts, nibbling and licking each of her nipple. He moved up and kissed Joey softly, running his hands through her hair, all the while pumping her cunt and causing her to release rivers of pleasure juice.

Joey could not take it any more. She allowed herself to moan more freely and kissed Mark back. Mark froze for a moment, surprised at the sudden movement. Joey opened her eyes. “Mark, I want you to fuck me and be my boyfriend!”

Mark tried to pull himself out of Joey, but she wrapped her legs around him, not releasing him. “Fuck me!” Joey commanded again.

Left with no choice, Mark continued to fuck Joey, quickening his pace. Joey pushed Mark down on his back and she rode him in cowboy position, grinding herself on Mark’s large cock.

“I am cumming!” Mark whimpered. Joey continued riding Mark till she felt his cock growing soft and finally plopping out of her cunt.

“Can you be my girlfriend?” Mark whispered. That brought Joey the largest wave of pleasure from the fuckfest.

[chloe-clegane]

Rayllum Birthday Bash - Travel: It was a very stressful situation

Ok! Posting this.... basically right at midnight... ADHD time management skills activate- oh whoops forgot to put in the batteries...

Some more good humored smut for your enjoyment ;)  (see the read more)

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

Callum and Rayla were making their way through Del Bar, riding on the long road to the city of Serpentongue. Around five o’clock, they reached an inn. Rayla thought they should stop and stay for the night, that the storm clouds were sweeping in and it would be better to lose a few hours of daylight and sleep in a bed, than to go out and risk shivering in the rain. Callum pointed out on the map that there was another inn not much further away and that his connection to the sky arcanum told him the storm wouldn't reach them. Generally Rayla trusted his magic, so she reluctantly agreed.

Cold in the rain was what they were. The storm direction had unfortunately changed, and at the halfway point to the next inn, it began raining in torrents around them. They had no real choice but to keep going and make it to shelter. Initially Rayla was annoyed, but was looked forward to the hot bath and warm bed that laid ahead of them. But when they were mere miles from the next inn, they found that the heavy rain had flooded and completely blocked the road.

First Callum had tried to block the river of water with ice but it simply diverted it and had knocked Rayla off her feet. Which resulted in some very foul language on her part. Second she proposed that he simply fly them over it, he pointed out that would not include the horses and Rayla has to  concede. If they left the poor creatures alone and frightened in a thunderstorm, they could get loose, hurt themselves or worse. Next Rayla suggested Callum fly her over, she could tie and hold a line, and then he could then guide the horses over. He pointed out that he couldn’t manage two horses, that they would need to do it together. She refused, for the obvious reason that rushing water was terrifying. Callum didn’t think that was fair to make him do all the work, and without her it was completely impractical. 

As they bickered, Callum attempted to hold a magic sky bubble up above them. But every time he got frustrated and lost focus, a sheet of cold water would crashed down on their heads. So the previous idea was discarded as well as the next three. Eventually the argument was simply where to take shelter, which became another struggle of wills

Callum explained he had seen some dense trees not too far back. They would shield them from the wind and rain and keep them close to the road. Rayla told him that was a terrible idea because they could still end up flooded. He argued that this is the real world and you can’t always find some conveniently located cave everywhere you go so she was being unrealistic. Rayla won out on that one. It was a bit of a trek off the road but she found a rocky overhang that was elevated enough to be considered high ground. Callum not so passive-aggressively pointed out it still wasn’t a cave.

After trying for a considerable amount of time, Rayla had given up on lighting a fire on the damp mossy ground. She was shivering in the tent with her knees pulled to her chest and left a no man’s land between her and Callum. She was cold and grumpy and mourning the comfortable evening she could've been having. 

“You know, I really couldn't have known-” Callum started.

“No,” she interrupted and held a hand out to silence him. 

“Well, I just don’t think it-” he was apologetic but she cut him off again anyways.

“Don't. Just don’t. Callum, I’m mad at you, and nothin’ yer gunna say right now is goin’ tae change that. You just had to insist this road and that pathway and skipping this this to get us there faster,” she said the last part in a more mocking version of her human voice.

“Ok, ok…” he waited a beat and she shivered. “I really am sorry Rayla. Can I at least hold you and keep you warm?” 

She was resolute, she would stay mad... but she couldn’t help thing, he would be warm, she would be cozy. Her angry scrunched face faltered. “Fine.”

Callum smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and wrapped the blanket around them both. Rayla continued to scowl even as the feeling returned to her cold fingers.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Callum rested his chin on one of her horns.

“Would stoppin’ fer a break really have been so terrible?” she muttered.

He sighed, “No, it wouldn’t have. I’m sorry we didn’t just stayed where we were.” 

“You said you didn’t sense the storm coming,” she exhaled letting some of her petulant anger leave with it, “It’s not exactly fair of me tae hold acts of nature against you,” she was reluctantly reasonable. “So I guesss I don’ hate you.”

“Well thanks for that. I would hate it if you hated me,” he kissed her head and chuckled. “I think we can both agree this has been a very stressful situation.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” she rolled her eyes but smiled.

She was twisted in his arms with her ear on his chest and it was getting uncomfortable. Rayla re-settled herself to sit facing forward and lean her head back on his shoulder, as to avoid poking him in the eye. While she did that she brushed against him and realized something started hardening against her back side. 

“Callum...” she sighed, “Is that yer pecker I’m feelin’?”

“Psh wha…? Maybe…” he confessed.

She groaned. “Right now? Really?”

“Hey, you know I can’t fully control these things, maybe if you weren’t so beautiful and amazing this wouldn’t happen,” he shrugged sarcastically. 

“Mmmmhmmm,” Rayla rolled her eyes and they sat quietly for a few more beats until she started to shiver again.

“You know… there’s a better way to stay really warm.” 

Rayla had to admit to herself, she had intended to coax him into her bath and to take him for herself in the bed at that inn. The excitement hadn’t entirely gone away. But no. She was still cross with him. Nope, stop it, she scolded herself.

She leaned back and ground against him, she felt his breathing hitch and she knew he was grinning. Rayla shifted her hips again and he hummed, and again. He was harder now, stiffened into what she knew was a fully erection. He kissed her neck and she pressed herself harder this time. 

He reached around her and brushed lightly between the legs she shivered.

“This ok?” he muttered against her neck.

“Yeeeeaaah it’s ok,” she sighed and nuzzled against him.

After a few she more grinds against him and and gentle fondles above her clothing, they both moaned softly. Then he very deliberately rubbed his fingers along her folds. Even above her clothes he was able to rub between them. 

He did it again and it built radiating need between her legs. She ground against him again but it became more of an uncontrolled jerk. 

“Callum,” she whined.

“Callum what?” he asked and he knew he was smirking. Sometimes he could be so cocky when he knew he was rendering her helpless. He wanted her to say it. 

“Don’t tease, touch me,” she moaned.

She could feel him smiling against her shoulder as he fiddled with her clothing. His hand was in her panties touching her bare skin and a whiny hum escaped her lips. He ran his finger along her like he’d done before, but this time he’d barely parted the folds when his finger slipped right in between them. His light teasing touches had left her wet and slick. He chuckled. She was feeling too nice to want to sass him. He touched her, rubbing the inner folds and circling around her opening before dipping his fingers into the wet slippery depths. She was humming and had completely forgotten about grinding against him. Occasionally, he pushed her to him and rolled his own hips. Then he moved his attention up to the ready little bundle of nerves and she inhaled sharply. After a few strokes and gasps, she felt the hot longing throb in her belly and down her legs. She knew what she wanted. 

“Could you, er, I was-“ Rayla stuttered.

“What do you want?” he asked sweetly against her neck before placing a few more languid kisses along her shoulder. “It’s okay, I want to know.” 

She felt herself shutter at his words. It was so mushy and stupid that sometimes it was his words and his tenderness alone that could make her melt. 

“Please, Rayla,” he rubbed circles around her opening and she hummed.

“Your mouth, I-I want you to use your mouth.” The last word was a soft gasp and he chuckled softly in response. 

“I’d love to,” he breathed and kissed her neck a few more times. She loved when he did that.

Rayla moved to get up and reposition, but he stopped her. “I’ll move, you just… relax.” He scooted himself out from behind her. He, bless his human heart, tried to smoothly move around her. Instead, he stumbled clumsily and knocked into her. Rayla giggled. 

“Sorry, agh, sorry,” he mumbled. “That was supposed to be sexy.” Rayla reached for his face, kissed him and brushed the hair from his eyes.

“Still sexy to me. Dorky, but also sexy,” she kissed him again. Slipping her tongue into his mouth and rolling it round with his, staying like that for a moment as she slid her hands down his chest and quickly unbuttoned his pants.

He pulled away. “Wait, I want to, you know, you first,” he smiled and his emerald green eyes made her weak. But she chuckled.

“I can still undress ye can’t I?” She smirked. 

“Hmmmm, I’ll allow it… this time,” his eyes narrowed in unconvincing seriousness before winking.

The couple giggled, kissed and fondled as they undressed each other. Rayla was impressed by the warmth they radiated together. She no longer felt the cold and the wet that lingered outside the tent, just the soft, salacious warmth of his skin on hers. The intimate caresses and passionate kisses were simmering her insides and filling her with need. When he pulled away she wanted to reach for him but he gently rolled to the side and he gently guided her down and back onto the pillow. Callum kissed her lips one more time before he started to trail them down. Callum pulled the blanket over himself and kissed down her stomach. With anticipation, the simmer became a throb between her legs. 

Then he licked her. 

He licked her and she cried out loud and involuntarily. A little too loudly. Red-faced Rayla slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Wow already?” Callum laughed, muffled under the blanket. 

“Shut up,” she groaned from beneath her hand and could feel the heat of the blush across her face.

He flipped up the blanket enough to look at her and gently stroked one of her legs. “I love you Rayla,” he smiled and sweetly kissed her inner thigh. His stupidly cute face turned her into chocolate that had been left in the sun too long. 

“For the record I like when you’re loud,” then he nuzzled his cheek against the inside of her thigh. How can he be this cute? She loved him and she needed the talking to stop. 

“Don’t feel like you can’t-“ he was encouraging, but she interrupted.

“I love you too Callum and I’ll be as loud as ye want just pleeeaase stop stopping and put yer mouth on mah cunny!” It was a plea and an order. It left her lips impulsively and Rayla smacked both hands on her face when she realized what she’d said. 

But before she could curl up into embarrassment Callum said simply, “Yes ma’am,” and immediately plunged his mouth into her with no hesitation. 

Rayla gasped and gripped the blanket beneath them. The sudden sensation left her reeling. Callum had gone to work licking around the inner folds of her labia and flicking her clitoris. Rayla was moaning as tension and heat built in her core igniting her body and forming beads of sweat on her brow. He drew circles around her opening before shifting back to her clitoris, sucking gently this time. 

For such a clumsy human, he had an incredibly nimble tongue. Rayla wound her fingers in his hair as her legs began to twitch. Her low humming turned into panting gasps. “Callum, oh oh...” 

He flicked faster and the tension released sending waves of heat down into her limbs. She cried out, the sound was gasping and guttural and it emptied her lungs. 

Rayla layed there, panting. Callum kissed a trail all the way back up to her neck and forehead as she tried to catch her breath. 

“I love you,” she said in a breathy chuckle. He had laid down and reached for his discarded shirt and wiped his mouth with it. “I love you too,” he kissed her on the lips this time. “You know, I couldn’t tell if you enjoyed that, was that okay?” he smirked and she jabbed him in the ribs playfully tickling him. He giggled and snort-laughed before pulling her part way onto his chest. 

“I guuuueeeeess it was okay,” Rayla smirked.  

“You know, you really are cute when you’re loud,” grinning as he blooped her nose.

She giggled and buried her face and replied with an mmhmm before leaving lazy kisses on his chest. He held her close, intimately and steadfast as she laid there quietly drawing circles across his skin with her fingertips. Rayla basked in the afterglow of her orgasm as his fingers combed through her hair. There was a sense of calm serenity within the walls of their tent, somehow silencing the tempest outside it. 

Eventually Rayla broke the silence, “Hey, Callum?” 

“Yeah?” he replied sweetly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“I was just thinkin’, couldn’t you have just used the air bubble water deverty thingy you used on the rain... on the ground, and we could’ve just walked through the river?” she asked in genuine curiosity.

This time it was Callum who smacked his forehead and howled his frustration into the night. “Aaaghh.”

“It was a stressful situation,” she repeated his earlier sentiment with a sigh and  a supportive pat pat on his chest.

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 417

A COMMENTARY ON THE CONTEMPORARY WORLD: Part 1

THIRD REMARK

Man, with respect to action and bodily endeavors, is no more than a weak animal, a helpless creature. So limited a circle is the realm at his disposal in this respect that his fingers can touch its circumference, and such are the weakness, impotence and indolence of man that even the domestic animals are influenced by them. If, for example, domesticated goats and asses are compared with their wild counterparts, great differences will be observed between them.

But as a passive, recipient being who needs to pray and petition, man is a worthy traveller allowed to stay for some time in the guest-house of this world. He is the guest of a Generous One, Who has put the treasures of His infinite Compassion at his disposal, and subjugated to him His peerless works of creative power which are his servants. Also, He has prepared for the use and pleasure of His guest such a vast area of spectacle that its radius is as far as sight or even imagination can reach.

Now then, if man, by relying on his physical capacity and innate abilities takes the worldly life as his goal and concentrates on the pleasures of this life, he will suffocate within a very narrow circle. Furthermore, the parts of his body and his senses and faculties will bring suit and witness against him in the Hereafter. But if he knows himself to be a guest and spends his life within the limits approved by his generous Host, he will lead a happy and peaceful life and attain to the highest rank among the creation. In the Hereafter, he will be rewarded with an everlasting life of bliss, and the members of his body and all his faculties will bear witness in his favour.

All the wonderful faculties of man have not been given him so that he might use them in this trivial worldly life, but they have been given for an important life of eternity. When compared to animals, man is seen to have many more faculties and senses whereas the pleasure he can take from merely physical life is much less than that of an animal. Every single pleasure of the worldly life bears the traces of thousands of pains, and is spoiled with the sorrows left from the past, the fears of the future, and the disappearance of the pleasure itself. But this is not the case with an animal. Its pleasures are free from pains and its enjoyments are without anxiety. Neither is it affected by the sorrows of the past, nor can anxieties for the future prevent it from the enjoyment of its life. It leads a comfortable life, and praises its Creator.

To conclude, if man, who has been created on the best pattern, concentrates on the worldly life, he is reduced to a rank a hundred times lower than a sparrow, although he has a hundred times as many and developed faculties as an animal. In another treatise, I explained this fact in the form of a parable. I will now repeat it, as it is related to the subject.

A man gives one of his servants ten gold lira and orders him to have a suit made for himself of some particular type of cloth. He gives a thousand gold lira to another servant of his and sends him to the bazaar with a shopping list. The former has an excellent suit made for himself of cloth of finest quality. The latter acts foolishly. He does not notice how much money was given to him, nor reads the shopping list, but thinks he should imitate his friend. Therefore, he goes to a shop, and gives all of the thousand gold lira in exchange for a suit. That unfortunate servant then returns to his lord and recieves a severe punishment and a terrible torment.

Anyone with a bit of intelligence perceives that the thousand gold lira were not given to the servant to buy a suit, but for a very important transaction.

Similarly, the spiritual faculties and the feelings and senses with which man has been endowed, are much more developed than those of animals. For example, his eye can identify all degrees of beauty; his sense of taste, his tongue, can distinguish the various tastes of all kinds of food, his intelligence can penetrate into the many details of visible realities; his heart yearns for all ranks of perfection, and so on. Whereas, the faculties of animals (with the exception of some one particular faculty which greatly develops in each animal according to its particular duty) can realize only a very little development, if any.

The reason why man has so many faculties is that man’s senses and feelings have developed very far owing to his mind and intellect. The large variety of his needs has caused him to evolve different types of feelings, and to become very sensitive to all kinds of things. Also, due to his comprehensive nature he has been given such desires as are turned to several aims and objectives. Because of the diversity of his essential (natural) duties, his senses and faculties have greatly expanded. Furthermore, since he has an inclination and capacity to perform all types of worship, he has the potential to realize all kinds of perfection.

Obviously, this kind of richness in faculties and abundance of potentialities can by no means have been given to him for an insignificant, temporary, worldly life. They exist in man because his essential duty is to perceive his obligations that are directed to endless aims, to affirm his impotence, poverty and insufficiency in the form of worship, to study by his far-reaching sight and penetrating understanding and to bear witness to the glorification of Allah by all creation, to discern and be grateful for the aid of the All-Gracious One sent in the form of bounties, and to gaze and, reflect upon, and draw warning from, the miracles of the Power of the Lord manifested in His works of creation.

O world-worshipping man, who are charmed by the worldly life and ignorant of the meaning of your nature as the best pattern of creation! Once I saw the true nature of this worldly life in an imaginary vision, as follows:

I happened to be on a long journey. My Lord had caused me to set out on this journey, and had assigned to me sixty gold lira, which would be given to me in instalments on different occasions. This went on for some time and after a while I arrived at an inn where an entertainment was going on. I gambled away my last ten gold lira there in one night of entertainment and notoriety. When it was morning, I had no money to buy the provisions that I would need at my destination. All that remained to me of my allowance was pains and sorrows and regrets left by sins and illicit pleasures.

I was in that wretched state, when a man turned up and said to me: ‘You have lost all you had, and hence you have deserved punishment. Moreover, you will go on to your destination with no money. But the door of repentance is not closed, if you use your mind. Save the half of the fifteen gold lira which will be given to you as the rest of your allowance, and buy with that the (necessary) provisions you will need at your destination.’

My selfhood was not content with putting aside half, so the man said, ‘Save a third of it then.’ But with this also my seltbood was not content. The man insisted ‘then a quarter.’ I realized my selfhood would not be able to abandon it addictions, so the man turned away in some indignation and disappeared.

At just this moment, I found myself on a train speeding down a vertical tunnel. I was alarmed, but there was no way to escape. To my curious surprise, I saw that there were very attractive flowers and tasty-looking fruits alongside the track, hanging out from the sides of the tunnel. I foolishly attempted to pick some of them. But all around them were thoms which hurt and cut my hands as I touched them; what I tried to hold slipped from me because of the speed of the train. I could take hold of only a few and not for long. An attendant came beside me and said: ‘Give me five pence, and in return I will give you as many flowers and fruits as you want. Otherwise with your hands all cut up, you will lose a hundred instead of five. Besides, there is a punishment for picking them without permission.’

Depressed by this condition, I looked out from the window to see when the tunnel would end. But there was no end in sight. I observed many openings in the walls of the tunnel into which passengers from the train were being thrown. Suddenly I caught sight of an opening just opposite me with a gravestone on either side. When I peered out I made out my name, SA’ID written in capital letters on the gravestones. I gave a cry of bewilderment and repentance. Unexpectedly, I heard the voice of the man who had given me advice at the door of the inn, saying to me:

- Have you come to your senses?

- Yes, I have. But I am in despair and there is nothing I can do.

- Repent, and trust in Allah.

- I do.

Then I woke up and I found myself transformed into New Sa’id; the Old Sa’id had gone away.

I will now interpret some aspects of this imaginary vision:

The journey is man"s life, which is, in fact a journey from the incorporeal world of eternity, passing through the stages of mother"s womb, youth, old age, the grave, the intermediate world, resurrection and the Bridge. The sixty golden lira are the sixty years of an average lifetime. I was forty-five years old when I saw that imaginary vision. Only Allah knows when I will die. A sincere student of the Holy Qur'an showed me the true path so that I might spend half of the remaining fifteen years for the Hereafter. The inn, as I came to understand, was Istanbul for me. The train represents time, and each wagon, a year. The tunnel is the worldly life; the thorny flowers and fruits stand for illicit pleasures and forbidden amusements that make the heart bleed with the idea of seperation at the very moment you reach out for them. Disappearance of pleasures increases sorrow, and besides, being unlawful, they cause one to suffer punishment. The attendant on the train had said: "Give me five pence, and in return, I will give you as many flowers and fruits as you wish." This means that the permissible tastes and pleasures, obtained in lawful ways, are enough for one"s satisfaction; they leave no need to have recourse to unlawful ways. You can interpret for yourself the remaining details of the vision.

[cerberus253]

Is there a chance to become Drago's girlfriend, if, for example, you are just a sweet, most ordinary girl? Not a villain or anything like that. Maybe she is a master of extreme sports to get his attention. Or it could be a punk girl from the friends of Ice's team. But if she's just ... in high school? It is very difficult for me to imagine how, under the conditions of the events of the series, Drago can meet a girl, become interested in her, it is enough to know her as a person and fall in love.

Oh so like me?? XD (except that I’m 21 and straight outta a 2-year college)

The main qualities that one primarily needs are patience and understanding. If you have some sort of mental disorder or physical disability, one would also need to, more-or-less, understand and accept thyself as well, for you cannot help someone else without working on yourself first, at least to reasonable degrees. I say this because Drago WILL be a piece of work that WILL wear-and-tear the s/o down often with just how much mental and emotional work that the relationship will take; that’s just what happens with incredibly broken people, sadly. With that being said, one also needs to know when to put their foot down and not be stepped all over. Not only would Drago be personally impressed that you have a backbone, but it is also needed to help him through his problems, knowing how stubborn he is. So, if this “ordinary girl“ has these qualities, including the “sweet[ness]” you’ve stated, a romantic relationship is most likely possible.

With meeting, I want to say the most likely scenario would eventually be through the Ice Crew because, well, they are humans full and through, while Drago isn’t and has no interest in getting to know people on a personal level. I’m not saying the situation of the person going up to Drago directly and initially, saying ‘Hi‘ or the vice versa isn’t possible, it’s just highly unlikely and would only happen under very specific circumstances. Anyway, meeting the Ice Crew first would be the most plausible. How that introduction starts is up to the fanfic writer, but again, it should follow the listed characteristics of the individual that I’ve laid out, not some OOC crap-- but I also have to state you can do what you want! My words are not a Bible to follow; these are just my own thoughts and opinions!

Moving forward, I say “eventually through the Ice Crew“ because you’d have to have at least someone in the whole four group (this includes Drago) to encourage you to hang out with them. It is possible to always be going to the junkyard while no one really cares that you’re there, but that doesn’t feel good, does it? Like, of course Drago would rather not have you around, but include the Crew in that? Yeah, that’d be pretty debilitating to one’s psyche. However, if you want to do the story that way, go ahead; I ain’t stoppin ya. But I also have to add, what else is the individual going to do? Just sit in the background, eating popcorn, watching them like entertainment, like a weirdo? I mean, sure, but that’s not going to get you anywhere. What I’m trying to get here is you need something else to do aside from following Drago around like a mosquito, and the only other activity is either hanging out with the Crew in their off time, or go along a completely different route and just work in the junkyard or something. Ya need another reason to be at the junkyard often than just (trying to) hanging out with Drago because he’s going to use all his power to make you stay away since you’re technically not helping him with his endeavors; so, do a junkyard job, junkyard diving, hanging out with the Crew, or whatever because Drago would have little reason to argue with you at that point. “He could still try and scare you off, though.“ I don’t think he’d want to waste his time with scaring off one measly human, ya know, as long as they’re not THAT annoying. (”Whatcha doin’ whatcha doin’ whatcha doin’ whatcha doin’????” “GrrrRRRR! SHUT! UP!”)

Aaaaaanyway, doing whatever other activity one is doing at the junkyard, and occasionally expressing the desire to interact with Drago, as well as acting upon said desires, would be the better vantage point. So, if Drago tells you to go away and threatens you if you don’t, you can walk away like he requested, but still have a reason to be there in the premise. A lot of times to people your mere presence is enough to make someone happy (or at least keep you on their mind), whether you’re interacting with them or not. “Wouldn’t Drago want you to go far away, like away and out of the junkyard?“ Yeah, probably, but you can argue that you still need to do your primary activity, which doesn’t actually involved Drago to begin with. So, you’ll just step away from HIM, and by staying in the premise, it gives you (and him) and second chance to interact with one another sooner or later.

A lot of this occasional interaction, maybe increasing if Drago seems to tolerate you more and more, you could get on his good side, but be warned he will not admit he likes your presence because originally he really wouldn’t want you here if you have no use to him and his goal. But wait, making him happy IS something useful, right? Yeah, and he, deep down inside, knows it, but will deny it because he isn’t suppose to like humans to begin with. This is the point where Drago will start to become frustrated with his different desires and need, ones for his human half and ones for hi demon half, which I believe I have discussed before. You could also label this as your first Trial and Tribulation(s) with your patience, understanding, and kindness, for he will get more irritable and mean than usual. These events will also take a VERY long time to get through; he needs to be encouraged that it’s okay to be different, but still given a lot of time to digest that hard-to-swallow-pill fact. As a bonus, when these events do begin, you have the Ice Crew to talk to! They may not care about Drago at all, but they do care about you as a friend, so they can tell you what they know AND step in if Drago wants to physically harm you at any time. Befriending the Ice Crew first has many perks and very little downsides ;) At least, the Ice Crew inside my head does...

Gifts like edible treats, badass jackets, and (my favorites) getting decent food and making tents and decent beds for them (so they don’t have to sleep on hard tires and gross-old car seats) would always be great. Like, I personally like to think about making breakfast for them; the Crew would be like “Hell yeah!“ and Drago would be like “... I’m not thanking you, but I am hungry“ and then just sits by himself to eat because fuck you guys, he doesn’t have feelings (b-baka...).

I also want to say do not be afraid to express your enjoyment of Drago. Even when he’s in a sour mood, try not be reluctant to be around him. Yes, there is a good chance something will get physical in the bad way, but the point is you’re trying to show him you genuinely like him and want to help even if it’s not in the way he admittedly wants. It’s okay to be afraid of him, but not letting that fear get the best of you and going up to be nice to him will show him that not everyone hates him for being what he is and his negative aspects. Of course, like I’ve said, don’t let him walk all over you, so you don’t have to be kind ALL THE TIME, but you need to be able to discern when to be passive and when to be aggressive. It’s good to have a lot of the former, because compassion is what he needs, but too much of the later makes him harbor permanent resentment; resentment in general will happen, but it would/should be temporary. Like, ya know when one character says something critical to another, and it pisses that second character off, and they think about it a lot, but then they actually learn from it and that critical statement ends up being helpful to them? Yeah, that’s what I mean by “temporary resentment.“ Permanent resentment would lead to a relationship not too different than the one with his Dad.

A lot of the time you will need to be taking the initiative when doing activities, from talking to Drago all the way to suggesting hanging out outside of just normal junkyard stuff. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I feel like if done right, the payoff will be worth it. Drago will definitely be the territorial and controlling type, but by God will he love you; he would probably aggressively SMOTHER you that you will have no idea if it’s actually obsession or actual love feelings XD That may sound OOC of him, but... I dunno, I feel like he can learn to love and be scary flustered by/with it.

“Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.“ - William Goldman, The Princess Bride

But, like, “Drago’s heart was a buried garden, the ground suffocating the very little life left, and the walls were very high and heavy.“

[faewhump]

Unseelie Pet: 13. Chapter

Malachi takes Alex to visit another Fae Lord and his pet, where the promised ‘playdate’ suddenly takes a different route than they expected.

Previous Masterlist Next

Content warnings:  dehumanisation, non-consensual touching (not sexual), drugging (faerie food), noncon kiss, dubcon kiss, mentions of noncon, captor bonding 

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpsideblog @frnkieroismydaddy @slaintetowhump @thewhiteraven73 @galaxywhump

The game Malachi had forced Alex to take part in had rattled him more than he would have liked to admit. He had seen similar and way worse games before, but back then they had been easier to ignore, especially when Rían told him not to worry about the human pets in general. As a pet himself now he’d been aware that he would probably have to join such games, and yet it had come unexpected. Even though he feared and hated Malachi, he still had naively believed that the Fae wouldn’t treat him like that.

Meanwhile Malachi didn’t seem to understand the problem, after all Alex hadn’t been hurt or punished. And besides, some of the other pets had enjoyed the game, so clearly it wasn’t all that bad. Alex still continued to sulk, which Malachi tolerated with a sort of exasperated amusement for a couple of days, before he strictly reprimanded him to watch his tone and behaviour, lest he gave the impression of being ungrateful.

A week after the ball Alex’s routine of feeding his meals to the crows, reading, being taken on walks and fed by Malachi was suddenly upheaved when he was informed that they would visit Lord Cian this afternoon. Alex wasn’t too thrilled; he hadn’t liked the creepy Fae they’d met outside and was a little worried about what the ‘playdate’ with the other pet would entail. But there was nothing he could do about it, and so he didn’t resit when Malachi hooked the leash into his collar and led him to Cian’s rooms.

“I would like to urge you to be on your best behaviour today,” Malachi told Alex on the way. “I will not let you embarrass me in front of Cian again. To make this easier for you, you will not speak at all during our visit. If I should hear only one word from you, the muzzle goes back on. Understood?”

Alex swallowed at the threat, then mumbled an affirmative. He understood, no matter what happened he wouldn’t speak a word.

The other Fae received them warmly in a beautiful drawing room and immediately offered his old friend a seat and something to drink. Peering over Malachi’s shoulder Alex saw Cian’s human pet for the first time. Lukas had reddish brown hair, a small frame and looked younger than Alex, probably in his early twenties. His only piece of clothing was a roughspun trouser, and Alex shuddered at the scars and bruises on his bare chest.

Malachi sat down on the sofa across from Cian and placed one of the pillows on the floor for Alex to kneel upon. Cian didn’t offer his pet a pillow, and so Lukas just slumped at his feet with a lowered head. The skin underneath the dark metal collar around his throat looked painfully raw. Alex remembered the one time he had complained about the fit of his beautiful golden collar, and how Malachi had immediately adjusted it and even put soothing creme on the slightly sore skin.

“Yes, he’s perfectly obedient now,” Cian said, giving Lukas a short kick. Alex winced with him in sympathy. “What about your little human?”

Malachi gently ran a hand through Alex’s hair. “Oh, we’ve been making great progress.”

He continued to pet Alex while talking to Cian and even handfed him a couple of treats from the canapé plate on the table next to him. In turn the other Fae completely ignored his pet. Alex couldn’t stop staring at Lukas, he felt so sorry for him. How must he feel right now? Seeing him in his fine clothes and golden collar, unhurt, clean, and clearly spoiled by his owner…

Up until now Alex had always felt sorry for himself, he’d hated everything Malachi did to him and thought he was suffering. But compared to the way Cian seemed to treat Lukas… Alex was ashamed, if Lukas knew of his previous thoughts, he’d surely think of him as incredibly spoilt, bratty and ungrateful. Alex realised that despite his rebelliousness Malachi treated him quite well.

“Enough of that for now,” Cian decided eventually. “I remember I promised our little pets a playdate, so why don’t you two go ahead and say hello?”

Alex frowned, he’d been explicitly ordered to not speak, so how was he supposed to say hi? He didn’t understand what the Fae wanted him to do and stayed where he was, while Lukas pushed himself to his knees and crawled over. About a three feet away from Alex he stopped, looking down. Confused Alex glanced up at Malachi in question, who merely smiled and nudged him encouragingly. Slowly he moved closer to Lukas, still unsure of what Malachi expected him to do. Lukas seemed to notice his uncertainty and gave him a shy smile, then leaned in to nuzzle at his face. Surprised Alex jerked back; he hadn’t expected that.

Cian chuckled. “Your pet is a shy one, isn’t it?”

“He generally does need some more encouragement to show affection, yes,” Malachi said. “Come on, darling, don’t be rude now.”

Angered Alex turned his head to glare at Malachi. The Fae merely raised an eyebrow, and it was enough to remind Alex of the stern warning to behave he’d given him. Alex took a deep breath and moved closer towards Lukas again, and when the other human carefully nuzzled at his face he didn’t pull back. He knew that Lukas wasn’t doing this out of his free will either, neither of them had a choice in this.

Lukas slowly reached his hands out towards Alex, who gently took them into his and was appalled at how much smaller they were. From up close the bruises littering his body looked even worse, and although Alex had lost weight too lately, he wasn’t nearly as thin and weak as Lukas. The urge to protect the younger man surged through him, but he knew well enough that he couldn’t even protect himself. Alex stiffened when Lukas hugged him, then carefully wrapped his arms around the thin, shivering body.

“Aww, how cute!” Cian cooed. “I knew they’d look adorable together.”

“They do indeed,” Malachi agreed, sounding pleased.

“Hmm, I’m sure they can be even more entertaining, though,” Cian said, then coldly addressed Lukas. “Go on, boy, you know how much I like a show, don't you?”

In his arms Alex felt the other human freeze.

“Yes, master,” Lukas replied meekly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at Alex apologetically, then suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Shocked Alex yelped and tried to pull back, but Lukas held on to him desperately, shaking in fear. What the hell was going on? Was this what the Fae had meant with ‘playdate’? Would Malachi really force him to ‘play’ with this other human, on the floor in front of him? When Lukas finally paused the kiss Alex pushed back, pleadingly turned around to Malachi and whined.

Up until now Malachi had watched the happenings passively, but now he placed a hand upon Alex’s shoulder and made shooing motions with his hands towards Lukas. “Shoo, away with you!”

Lukas recoiled immediately and whimpered apologetically.

“Hey!” Cian complained. “They were just getting started.”

“You know that I don't like sharing what is mine,” Malachi said, his hand closing tighter around Alex’s shoulder.

Cian huffed. “Come on, pets playing isn’t serious and just for entertainment, it’s not sharing. Of course I know your preferences, but I really wouldn’t have expected this to be a problem. It's really fun to watch, and since your pet clearly doesn't have any experience, this would be the perfect opportunity for it to learn from Lukas… which could improve your enjoyment as well.” He winked.

Unsettled Alex moved back to press himself against Malachi's legs, looked up at him and whined pleadingly. Malachi slid a hand into his hair, and Alex leaned into it. Maybe if he was good enough Malachi wouldn’t force him to do this. He wanted to ask him to please not to, but the threat of the muzzle successfully kept him quiet.

Malachi smiled at him, then turned back to Cian. “I’m sorry, but this human is mine,” he stated. “And I am too possessive of my pet to allow anyone else – be they faerie or human – to touch it.”

Relieved Alex sunk back against Malachi’s legs, he hated how grateful he felt towards the Fae for declaring him his.

“Alright, alright, it’s your choice,” Cian appeased, sounding a little disgruntled. “What a pity though...” His eyes raked over Alex, then fell upon Lukas. He snapped his fingers. “Heel, boy.”

Lukas, who had cowered shivering on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible, quickly obeyed. The two Fae Lords smoothly picked up their conversation again, and Alex slowly allowed himself to relax. He stayed close to Malachi, feeling oddly safe and protected by his side. Across from him Lukas had slumped at his master’s feet again, eyes unfocused and not looking up or reacting in anyway.

Watching the other pet Alex felt almost overwhelmed with pity, he just hoped that Malachi would never let him end up like this. For the first time he was incredibly glad that it had been Malachi who’d found him that night, and not someone like Cian. In a way he had been very lucky. It was hard to hate Malachi seeing how much nicer he was compared to other Fae. In contrast Malachi was very soft on him, giving him so many luxurious things, taking care of him even though he rebelled at every turn… And he was incredibly beautiful. Glancing up, Alex thought that wouldn't mind kissing him as much as he had minded Lukas.

The moment they entered his room again, Malachi immediately began fussing all over Alex.  

“You did so, so well, my darling,” Malachi praised and guided Alex to sit at the dressing table so that he could remove the make-up. “You behaved so perfectly; I am very proud. Such a good pet, staying quiet and obedient all throughout. And when you looked at me with those adorable big eyes and made those sweet, sweet whines…”

Malachi removed the ornate drop earrings from Alex’s ears and replaced them with a pair of small pearl studs. Ever since he had spontaneously pierced Alex’s earlobes he’d forced him to constantly wear earrings to keep the piercings open.

“I am sorry you were frightened like that, though. I thought Cian knew better, but apparently not.” Malachi sighed and shook his head. “That dirty mutt shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

“It…it wasn’t his fault,” Alex mumbled. “Lukas didn’t want to either. Cian forced him.”

Malachi’s hands faltered for a moment, then he continued to comb Alex’s hair. “Quite right, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

Alex licked his lips nervously, collecting his courage. “Is there… is there a way we can help him?” he asked quietly. “Cian seemed so… cold to him, and he was hurt…”

Malachi chuckled. “You want to help someone you’ve only just met?”

“Yes.”

“That is quite adorable of you, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. It’s Lord Cian’s choice how he treats his pet, as it is the prerogative of every Fae.”

“Do many Fae treat their pets like that?” Alex’s asked, his eyes flitting to Malachi’s in the mirror. “Or… or start to when they get bored?”

“It varies, I’d say. But I’m afraid that it isn’t uncommon,” Malachi replied. “Why, are you that I will get bored and stop spoiling you?”

Alex shrugged, but his expression said enough. Malachi turned him around and cupped his cheek, titling his head up.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said gently. “I would never treat you like that; I promise. I love my darling pet way too much for that.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Really? You… you love me?”

Malachi smiled. “Of course I do. And you should know that unlike you I truly cannot lie.”

“Oh,” Alex said tonelessly. He didn’t know how to feel about this revelation, didn’t know whether he should be relieved, disgusted, happy or scared … But when Malachi slowly leaned in to kiss him, he didn’t move away.

The Fae’s lips were unexpectedly soft and gentle, and he kept the kiss unhurried and short. It felt… nice. Alex was confused, he knew he shouldn’t like this, he really shouldn’t… and yet it felt good. Eventually Malachi pulled back, somehow both too soon and not soon enough. Alex looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be shy, my sweet,” Malachi said, still holding Alex close, and ran a thumb over his cheek.

Alex made a disagreeing sound, he wasn’t shy, he just hated the decisions he made recently. A part of him screamed at him to push Malachi away and refuse to let the Fae touch him again, but instead he leaned in closer, rested against Malachi’s chest and allowed himself to relax into the comfort.

“Good boy,” Malachi whispered and pressed a kiss onto his hair. “My perfect darling.”

[moth-sounds]

- the great undertaking -

this innocuous thumbnail currently rests in a folder in my laptop marked ‘Albums.’

it stares at me innocently, and I blink back, unnerved, for I know what lies underneath. it took me a week to put together, and still it continues to grow, almost against my will. I have heard the siren’s call, and it already seeks to be my undoing.

at present, this document runs 16 pages. it contains a list of albums sorted chronologically from 1966 to the present (June 2020, should this post find readers in the future). 

just under a third of these albums are ones I have listened to before: whether it was a one-time occurrence, or an album that has serenaded my ears repeatedly, guiding me through my formative years, accompanying a particular season of life, or seizing me in a frenzied week-long fit of cramming for finals that one time in 2015. (thank you, Tame Impala.)

the remaining albums are ones I have not listened to. these run the gamut from musicians I have been meaning to check out but put off (sometimes for years), to new releases from artists I have liked for a long time, to ‘I really liked this album, what else have they done?’, to ‘Spotify recommended me a song once and I saved the whole album for later because why not.’

the current combined total -- which is ever subject to change -- is 618. (the ones I’ve listened to already? a mere 186.)

let me take a moment to clarify what this list is not. 

it is not a list of the most influential artists to date. there is no Johnny Cash on here, or Billy Joel, or Taylor Swift, Nirvana, Beyonce, or the 500 other musicians I would get chewed out for never listening to. there is no classical music. there is no early-era jazz. there is very little modern pop. there is a startling abundance of 90s Christian rock and an unstartling overabundance of They Might Be Giants, and there is nothing prior to 1966 because I am one small human being and I have to draw the line somewhere.

this list is also not subject to outside input; I won’t be posting it anywhere and I will only ask for requests on my own terms (if I do, because there’s a solid 400+ untouched albums I want to get through first).

tl;dr, this list is a reflection of my personal tastes in music, and what I am personally curious to explore further.

so I invite you to come with me on this journey. I’ll be exploring a good number of things I haven’t heard before. I’ll be sitting down to actually listen to the Beatles instead of passively absorbing their music secondhand. I’ll be investigating what else Relient K has done since I dropped off somewhere in the mid-2000s. I’ll be revisiting plenty of old favourites and gushing about every TMBG and FIF album along the way. 

I will, eventually, make it through Gorillaz’ entire discography. (and Sufjan Stevens. and Kanye West.)

this is going to take a very, very long time. 

but where we’re going, there’s no rush. just simple enjoyment of tunes and the happy sharing of tunes that my earholes liked. that is why I am titling this project,

one album at a time.

let’s do this thing.

[secrets-and-aetherlight]

Of Brambles and Visions

Yves has always had a peculiar fondness for the bramble patch that covers much of the eastern reaches of the Black Shroud. Something about that sprawling tangle of oversized thorns speaks to the predator in him. Many dangers lurk in these bladed shadows, but he rests himself before a humble campfire, content in the knowledge that he is the most dangerous among them.

It’s a clear night. Stars peer through the crevices in the patchwork of thorns overhead. It’s an ideal night to camp in the open air. 

Or it would be, with fewer interruptions. The wind is still, which means that the rustling he can hear in the underbrush nearby must be the sound of an approaching creature. He wonders absently if it’s another bandit intent on ambushing him. The last was enjoyable, but he has had enough terror and blood to sate him for one night.

A small figure weaves its way nimbly between thorns the size of falchions. As it approaches the campfire, its outline becomes clearer. It’s a Miqo’te. Hardly a surprising sight in the Shroud, especially at night. But then her violet eyes come into view. Her pupils are narrow, better suited to daylight than to the darkness. A Seeker of the Sun. And a familiar one, at that.

When she finally stands before his campfire, he rises. Not to attack or to defend, but to acknowledge the presence of someone with whom he has history.

A longer history than even she knows.

“J’aeda,” he murmurs, “what an unexpected pleasure.”

The Seeker gives a derisive snort. She folds her arms across her chest and eyes him skeptically. “Is it? I seem to recall that the last time we met, you called me an ill omen.”

Her talent of looking down her nose at him when she is little more than half his height has always fascinated him. Even as a child, her mastery of the withering look was already flawless. Perhaps a healthy dose of disdain toward those outside of one’s tight-knit community can be counted among the essential accomplishments of a young refugee.

“I believe when last we met, I was still a touch disgruntled that you had foretold a Calamity and failed to mention that it would rain down fire on my head, specifically,” he explains dryly.

“My visions are hardly that clear-cut.” 

She settles herself on the ground before his campfire and loosens the ties to the large knapsack strapped to her back. Making herself comfortable without invitation, Yves notes with mild amusement. Fearless as ever. He would have it no other way. He lost the right to object to any liberties she chose to take with him years ago.

Yves resumes his seat on the opposite side of the fire and regards her curiously. “I was under the impression you were still in Gyr Abania.”

“My work with the resistance has come to its natural conclusion.”

“Why not stay? Ala Ghiri is your home, is it not?”

The looks she gives him this time is not precisely withering, but it is chiding. “That’s where I was born. You know very well I didn’t grow up there. The concept of ‘home’ has never really meant much to me. I go where I’m meant to be. Where my dreams lead me.”

“And they have led you here, to me?” Yves says, his tone mocking. “They must be more akin to nightmares.”

J’aeda is in the act of searching through her knapsack for something, but at these words, she stills. Perhaps he has come a little too close to the truth for comfort. But whether she has come to utter dire prophecies about his future, or whether he haunts her nightmares for reasons related to their shared past, is difficult to judge.

Her next words do little to enlighten him. “Just so.”

She rummages around in her knapsack for a few more seconds, and then she withdraws a tin which, once opened, is revealed to contain some sort of jerky.

“I assume you’ve already fed, judging by the corpse I passed on my way here,” she comments, selecting a strip of jerky. 

He doesn’t bother to confirm or deny it.

J’aeda chews on one end of her jerky for a few moments in silence.Then, perhaps catching a hint of uncertainty in his expression, she says, “Relax, Yves. You’re a mere stepping stone for me this time. My dreams only made two things perfectly clear in regards to you. First, that you hold the key to the riddle I’ve been dreaming for several moons, and second, that you’ve finally finished your quest.”

“My quest?”

The look that she gives him suggests he’s being obtuse.”Your wife’s killer?”

“You dreamt about that?”

“It was tangential to another dream, but yes.” She pauses to take another bite of her jerky. “I’m glad you finally got your revenge.”

Yves finds himself with nothing to say in reply. The subject of his late wife and her murder is fraught, and not merely due to his grief and rage at having lost her too young. It was in the pursuit of his revenge that he first encountered J’aeda, and nothing about that meeting, or the fortnight that followed, was pleasant for her. No doubt the memories of his abuses as he attempted to drag information out of her 12-year-old self are still vivid in her mind. And yet she has the grace to congratulate him on his belated victory. 

Oppressed by he knowledge of his own sins, he cannot even bring himself to thank her.

“Fate wasn’t kind to you, was it?” she continues, clearly not expecting an answer. “I finally saw his face in my dreams. I know his name. And it’s too late to be of use to you. But that’s the trouble with the Sight. It has a time table of its own. I rarely get the information I want when I want it.”

“Even with an angry old man poking at you with magic,” he mutters.

She hesitates momentarily before answering. “Especially then. Visions don’t like to be forced. At least... mine typically don’t. At best, I can ask my soul a question before I go to sleep. Burn incense, draw a circle of runes to sleep in. Sometimes that will work. But chances are I’ll get an answer to an entirely different question instead. Often one I never even knew to ask. If there’s an art to this process, I have yet to learn it.”

Again, he’s not sure quite how to answer. A belated apology for his treatment of her all those years ago would be in order, but that’s not really his way. The words ‘I am sorry’ have never sprung readily to his lips. But he has been acquainted with J’aeda for 18 years now. Surely she knows. Surely there is no need to speak the words aloud.

“Anyroad,” she says a moment later, coming to his rescue by changing the subject, “That wasn’t my main reason for seeking you out.”

Ah, right. “You said I hold the key to a riddle.”

J’aeda nods, selecting another piece of jerky from her tin. “It’s not actually a riddle per se, but a vision that I want you to interpret.”

Yves lifts a brow at her, intrigued. “What makes you think I can interpret it?”

“You’re in it, for one.”

“How worrisome.” His tone is flippant, but he is not entirely at ease with the knowledge that he featured in one of J’aeda’s dreams. Given that some of her dreams involve Calamities and other disasters, it’s not necessarily a good sign.

“Just listen,” she says, but then she takes a bite of jerky before immediately launching into her description of her dream. He waits patiently for her to finish chewing, knowing that this hint of passive aggression on her part is deserved.

“So,” she finally continues, “in my dream I saw a house by the sea. The rafters of the house were on fire, but instead of swallowing up the house, the fire was losing ground. It was flickering like a candle in a windstorm, threatening to blow out. Meanwhile, dark waters surrounded the house, flooding the basement and gradually rising.”

“How dark were these waters?” he asks.

“Black. Like pitch, or--”

“Ink?”

She looks at him oddly.

“Do please continue,” he says smoothly. “Where was I in this vision?”

“Standing on a hill nearby, watching.”

“Just watching.”

“Yes. As though you were interested in the outcome, but not enough to interfere.” 

“That seems callous of me,” Yves comments, recalling Michaux’s words during their midnight meeting in the Coerthan snow. 

You left them behind... You abandoned everyone!

Yes he did. And he would again. 

J’aeda is gazing thoughtfully at him, as if trying to puzzle out what he’s thinking. “I suspect you know what house I’m talking about. Perhaps you’ve even been there, but at the very least, I think you’ve heard about it, haven’t you?”

“Hmm.” Yves tilts his head as he meets her stare. Yes, it seems fairly clear which house, and which organization, her vision pertains to. Whether he feels like sharing that information is another matter. “A house by the sea, you said? Why are you so curious about it?”

“Presumably because I’m meant to go there,” she says, shrugging. “I follow where my dreams lead. That has been my rule since I was still in my teens. You know that.”

“I know that, yes,” he agrees calmly, “and I am also aware that those dreams have led you into danger more than once.”

“Yes. And out of danger, too.”

“But why would you wish to go to a house that is simultaneously flooded and on fire? One could argue that it is already a lost cause.”

J’aeda shoots him an impatient look. “I’m assuming the dream isn’t literal.”

“Literal enough,” he mutters. 

“Then explain,” she demands, gesturing with her half-eaten strip of jerky for emphasis. “You seem to know even more about this situation than I expected. You’re not just a disinterested observer, even if that does seem to be your preferred role. You’re invested. So what do the fire and water signify? Why do you think the house from my vision is a lost cause?”

Yves lets out a soft huff of annoyance. He doesn’t want this. Not for J’aeda. True, she’s no defenseless child anymore, and true, she has spent years working first with the Ala Mhigan resistance and then, presumably, helping with the ongoing war effort in Gyr Abania. And even before she slipped behind enemy lines, she wasn’t exactly leading a safe existence. But this is a different kind of war. J’aeda is used to fighting an enemy that views her as a savage, but considering her gifts, the Ink and Flame are likely to view her as something more: a desirable recruit.

But whether he helps her or not, J’aeda will inevitably find what she’s looking for. If he truly cares about her, he’ll give her all the information she needs to navigate this treacherous sea of Ink and Flame safely.

And so he does. 

He explains the Ink and Flame in as much detail as he can, and even briefly outlines his own experience with the former. He describes the major players in each faction. He tells her about Priarch and the Covenant of Ash, not neglecting to heap disparagement upon the former. He explains why, in her vision, the flames appeared to be losing ground while the inky waters continued to rise. He even tells her about the disastrous masquerade in Ishgard.

He doesn’t mention the conflict within his own mind and heart. He doesn’t tell her that he has begun to feel the call of the Ink like an ache in his bones. But judging by the shrewd look she gives him, she’s a touch suspicious.

When he concludes his explanation, J’aeda takes some time to mull it over. Then she murmurs, “So... Priarch is the house divided. A literal house by the sea, inhabited by Ink and Flame. I’m not used to my dreams being quite that easy to dissect.”

“It might not be that easy,” he suggests. “Perhaps you are not actually meant to go to that house. You could join me on my hill instead.”

She smiles, amused, but shakes her head. “You seem to hate Priarch, and yet it sounds like there are several people you care about who are already involved in it. Watch from your hill if you prefer, but I’m not interested in being a mere observer.”

“And yet, do you even know what you will do when you get there?”

“Offer my services as a healer, naturally.” She smiles grimly. “One thing I have learned in my travels is that healing talents will always be relevant. That is as true in times of peace as in war.”

True. Presented with a competent healer with wartime experience who is neither infected nor tempered, Secariot would have to be a fool to not recruit her. Yves sighs. As useful as it would be to have another contact in Priarch, he is still reluctant to see her installed there. Perhaps he is not merely worried for her safety, though. Perhaps he feels that a seer of her caliber is much too valuable an asset for the likes of Priarch. Perhaps he thinks Covenant deserves her more. Or it is even possible that he prefers to keep her as his own personal secret.

But that is not his decision to make. It’s not his place to interfere with J’aeda’s choices. He learned that lesson the hard way 18 years ago.

“Well then,” he replies, returning her smile. “I suppose all I can do is to wish you safe travels. May Azeyma and Nymeia guide you.”

She will need all the help that the gods are willing to grant her.