#very possible I missed the tag to find people discussing it

[vamptoll]

Seeing so few posts about this- it's really good

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all.��

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[y-rhywbeth2]

In your post about Durge's sudden normality you mentioned implied SA in the tags; would you mind elaborating on that? I don't remember seeing any implications like that, but I know I missed a lot of details in my first run. (Obviously if you would mind feel free to ignore this.)

Naturally this is going under a cut for discussion of rape, sexual exploitation and incest:

Some of it is mostly me reading into things and frowning, but Bhaal being able to violate Durge sexually and the intent of sexual exploitation (regardless of Durge's will) is canon and it does lend credence to the idea.

Durge is obligated to breed, and Bhaal can and will force them to; the original version of the feral ending in the dialogue files involves him forcing them into a state of sexual hyperarousal and forcing them to mate with a gnoll, in the same way he can force the urge to slay on them. Bhaal's intention there is to see if he can breed more monstrous Bhaalspawn. Some of the dialogue options are just Durge screaming in horror.

Durge has no memory of the actual rape; Bhaal forces them to spend the entire time thinking about him: "Your memory of last night's act is absent. In the moment of mounting, your mind emptied itself, and you could think only of Bhaal."

And knowing that, when I saw "I love you father. I'm a good [child], a good, good [child]" in the released version I had to go sit down for a bit.

We know that Durge is expected to have kids - it's a mortal sin that they haven't. It's also vague whether they tried or not pre-amnesia; they're described as "failing" not refusing, it could've gone either way. Durge may already have been exploited. Even if they don't disappoint Bhaal in game, this "duty" remains. It's not just the Tribunal making shit up; Sceleritas is your direct liaison to Bhaal, and he makes this clear to them as Bhaal's Chosen too.

We know that if Durge won't kill then Bhaal will force them to, and we know that he can force them to have sex too. It's entirely possible that Durge's only say in this is to either fuck partners they chose or have them chosen for them (as we all know, Bhaal has zero respect for his kids' bodily autonomy or desires past his use for them, and Bhaal wants more babies.)

At the very least, it doesn't seem to be a major part of Bhaal's plan for Durge yet, so Durge may have dodged this specific form of abuse for now.

Bhaal has also done this to Sarevok, it seems, who would probably have killed himself back in BG1+2 if he could see what would happen to him in his future.

Knowing that Bhaal has no issues inflicting sexual arousal on his own kids, those scriptures you find that explicitly refer to the pleasure he bestows on his followers when they kill as "erotic" unfortunately have little reason not to be applied to Bhaalspawn. It would also explain the necrophilia if Durge has been conditioned to see killing/corpses as sexual.

Not quite the same thing, but the thing where people think Durge fucked the Netherbrain is actually from a remark by Bhaal in the journal update, where he makes a crack that "That slimy thing in the Moonrise called you its fallen star. It was very reverent [...] apparently [you're] good at playing with tentacles."

That's not inherently sexual, but knowing that Bhaal is willing to sexually exploit Durge and that the fandom had already interpreted it as sexual, I did kind of stare at it in horror for a bit.

[batsplat]

hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

[anna-hawk]

You tell me you hate me [Yeah, I bet you do]

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: You and Shane never got along, yet desperate circumstances make you cross an unexpected line.

Warnings/Tags: Post ZA, Canon typical violence, Enemies to lovers, Near-death experience, Hate sex, Bearded Shane

WC 9,7k // Explicit 🔞

Written for the Beardthal Bash 2023

Read it on AO3

“No… Absolutely not.” 

You crossed your arms resolutely as you stared Rick down, the man standing across from you at the large table in the Greene dining room. He closed his eyes and rubbed over them as he sighed your name pleadingly. 

“Listen, I know that you don’t like him-”

“Trust me, it’s very much mutual,” you ground out under your breath with your top lip curling up in distaste. 

“So you know I wouldn’t be askin’ you if I had another option,” Rick continued without missing a beat. 

You gave him a surly look before looking down at the large map lying unfolded on the table. Various circles and other notes were scribbled all over it, highlighting spots with existing or possible food, ammunition and fuel supplies, as well as information on walker hordes and so on. 

“Everyone is gone doin’ something else and… I’d go myself if Judith wasn’t-”

“No, you can’t leave her alone,” you cut in, your voice softening at the mention of the baby. “She needs you.” 

You gritted your teeth as you thought. 

Running across the Greene Farm several months earlier with your little group of four friends, you hadn’t expected to find a lasting shelter and people that would quickly become the next best thing to a family. Especially since things had been tense, to say the least, when you’d arrived. Between Rick and Shane, in particular, since the two leaders of the group hadn't always seen eye to eye. Shane had been less than thrilled at the idea of letting you join, while Rick had tried to convince everyone that having more people around to help would be beneficial to everyone in the long run. Hershel Greene had been the one to put a stop to the argument, reminding Shane that he’d decided to open his doors for them just a couple of months earlier and that he’d be doing the same for you. Shane had left the room in a huff, muttering about more mouths to feed. While you’d understood his concerns, his aggressive behavior had your hackles rising instantly and fighting down the urge to snap back. Still, you’d felt beyond relieved to be invited to stay. Shane had ultimately stopped complaining when your group had proven its worth more than once over the following weeks. 

With you personally, it was an entirely different story. You and Shane never managed to get along. After that first day, the man’s attitude had kept rubbing you the wrong way. Simply put, he was an utter asshole, and you’d made sure he was aware of it any chance you got. Whether he liked it or not. Whenever you were in the same room, discussing chores and missions alongside Hershel, Daryl, Rick and Hunter, one from your original group, you’d end up sniping at each other. Whatever the one said or suggested, the other would find something to complain about. It wasn’t like you couldn’t admit that he came up with clever plans or that he was generally good at keeping everyone safe, it was more his snide remarks and the way he tried to mansplain everything. It made you feel like you needed to take him down a peg. 

A few weeks after your arrival, things changed between Rick and Shane on the day you all found out that Lori was pregnant. Rick had almost lost it at the idea of them having a child in this terrible new world, especially after coming so close to losing Carl, as you’d found out a few days after settling in. Yet, while the close call had clearly done something to Rick and Shane’s friendship, maybe triggering their fights because of how they suddenly viewed things, this news changed their relationship again. You didn’t know what had happened between them after they’d found out, but things had gotten better between the two men. While their relationship had slowly been mending, you sometimes felt like Shane was only able to get along with Rick again because he was fighting with you instead. 

Looking at the map now, you checked the distance separating you from the nearest general store that you knew still had food and other goods, like baby formula, among other things. A pang of sadness ran through you at the reminder that little Judith didn’t have her mother anymore. 

“Can’t I just go on my own?” you mumbled, knowing full well that you couldn’t with how far and dangerous the road was. 

“Told ya she wouldn’t like it.” 

Shane stepped through the dining room doors and joined Rick’s side, his eyes on you and a scowl tugging down his lips, the expression almost hidden in his beard. Almost. This winter had proven to be colder than the previous ones, and both Rick and Shane had let their beards grow out. While Rick’s was lighter and less long, Shane’s beard was thick and matched his curly dark hair. 

“Sure, because you like the idea of spending hours alone with me in a car,” you sneered with a roll of your eyes. Shane’s nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened unhappily at the prospect. “Yeah, thought as much,” you scoffed and returned your attention to Rick, who sighed at the two of you but focused on the map, understanding that the matter was settled, and you would go with Shane. 

“‘kay… You’ll need to take the pickup. Hershel said that the generator’s nearly out of fuel, so are a couple of the cars, and that place…” He pointed at the gas station across from the general store. “Still had some of the bigger gas cans the last time we checked it.” 

Picking up the list with the items you were supposed to find off the table, you quickly scanned it and nodded before turning your back on the men. 

“Meet me at the car in an hour,” you told Shane without a backward glance, it was late morning and the quicker you left, the sooner you’d be back and out of each other’s hair.  

His lack of answer was answer enough, so you left the room to get ready for the trip. 

Back in the room you shared with some of the other women, you dressed according to the situation before you headed to the makeshift armory to pick out a couple of guns and knives. 

“Going out too?” 

You turned to find your friend Nicole standing in the doorway, one of her arms in a sling. She’d nearly gotten bit by a walker the previous week and thankfully only came out with a sprained shoulder. 

You nodded briefly and returned your attention to checking the bullets in the magazine and adding a few when you noticed that it wasn’t full. 

“What’s wrong? I’d have thought you’d be happy to get out of here for a bit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose at her remark. She really knew you well. 

“I’m going with Shane,” you said simply, as you turned around, knowing that it would be enough to explain your mood. 

Sure enough, she grimaced. “Oh.” 

It was no secret to anyone how Shane and you felt about each other. But you were actually the odd one. As with most people in the group, except for Dale, since the older man had a penchant for being nosy, and you didn’t enjoy that about him either, Shane actually got along with Nicole rather well. It was the same for her sister Jasmine, and just as much for Hunter. They’d been as angry as you about Shane’s behavior at the start, but they’d all warmed up to the man quickly enough after a while, and it had gone both ways. Jasmine and Shane had even flirted around for a bit, before Hunter had come through and snatched her away, much to Andrea’s relief, who’d seemed to carry a torch for Shane for a while. Objectively speaking, you’d have been interested as well had Shane not been… Shane. While you shared most of your thoughts with Nicole, you certainly hadn’t admitted to finding Shane attractive. Even less about how good the beard looked on him.

“Yep.” You finished with the guns and put them into their holsters at your hips, along with a knife, while the other one went to an ankle. 

“Shit… I’m sorry. I wish I could go and-” she started, fidgeting with the sling at your situation. 

“Hey, no, no.” You gently grabbed her by her good shoulder and clasped the hand of the injured one as you gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry, okay?” 

Nicole sighed and nodded. “Maybe… try not to kill each other?” she smiled feebly, as you let go of her, and she watched you walk past her and to the main hall. 

You snorted loudly. “No promises there.” You briefly turned towards her again and gave her a small smile. “See you later.” 

Your last stop was the small box sitting against the entrance door wall, containing all the car keys. Opening it, you grabbed the key ring for the pickup and made your way outside, glad that the weather was sunny even if the temperature was rather crisp. 

Before the whole hour had gone by, Shane joined you at the car, rifle slung over his shoulder as he stalked towards you with a duffle bag in his other hand. 

“Where are the keys?” he barked, putting his stuff in the bed of the pickup except for the rifle. 

You lifted a fist in front of you and opened the palm, letting the keys dangle from the ring sitting around your finger. 

“I’m driving,” you smirked, snapping your hand closed before Shane could get the idea of taking them from you.

“Ah, Christ,” he groused, throwing you a dirty look before heading towards the passenger side and climbing in with the gun. 

Grinning in satisfaction at his reaction, you took your seat behind the wheel and started the car. You drove down the small dirt road that led to the gate and found Dale checking the perimeter. He picked up his pace to reach the gate and opened it for you. The older man grinned at you before he noticed Shane, his smile turning into an apprehensive expression. You opened the window as you rolled up to him. 

“Rick said you’d be heading out but…” he said as he looked through the window, his voice trailing off. You could still hear the ‘I didn’t know it would be with Shane’ part. “You be careful, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane grumbled with a roll of his eyes, while you just gave Dale a tight smile and a nod. 

Nodding in silence, Dale stepped back while you pressed the button to get the window back up and drove through the gate. 

“Meddlin’ ol’ man,” Shane muttered to himself, as he stared out his side of the car. 

You didn’t say anything, agreeing with him for once. 

After driving for a long while in complete silence without meeting any walkers, you turned at an intersection. Shane sat up straighter from the slumped position he'd been in and looked around himself. 

“What are you doin'?” he snapped.

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “Driving to the store?” you replied with a tone that clearly stated ‘duh’. 

“Exactly. You shouldn’t have turned here. See, this is why I should’ve driven cause-”

“Oh, fuck you, Shane,” you bit back. “FYI, if you’d checked the map, you’d know that this is actually a shortcut. Trust me, this’ll save us at least twenty minutes.” 

“Trust you,” he rumbled under his breath, while his eyes kept checking your surroundings. 

You lifted your eyes heavenwards and sighed, mentally preparing yourself for his explanation of why he did, in fact, not trust you at all. To your surprise, though, he didn’t say anything else and only put his chin in his palm, his elbow on the door as he looked ahead. 

As promised, you arrived at the store earlier than through the original route. Since Shane had accepted your decision without too much complaining, you chose to pay him back by not going ‘I told you so’, like you actually wanted to. Instead, you parked at the gas station and slowly got out of the car, your knife in the hand under the one holding the gun. Throwing a quick glance at Shane, he nodded at you in silent understanding as you both moved to the front of the car and then took each one side of the building to inspect it. You came back to the entrance at about the same time, and Shane pushed the glass door open with a little more noise than necessary to lure any potential walkers out. Shane went in first, while you checked your back before following him inside. 

A gurgling sound came from your left. Two walkers slowly stumbled towards you, one in a more advanced state of decay than the other. You and Shane quickly took them out with your knives before you made your way through the couple of aisles to check for any potential items of interest. After several long minutes, in which you did find a few useful things like batteries and the likes, Shane walked up to you with his own large canvas bag in hand. 

“Let’s get this ball rollin’, beautiful, and get the gas,” Shane suggested, as he leaned against the aisle you were inspecting with his shoulder and jerked his chin towards the entrance door. 

“Don’t call me that,” you huffed in annoyance without looking at him as you put one last item in your bag. 

You heard him scoff. “What, you prefer I call you dick or bitch or somethin’?”

Facing him with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you stared at him with an unimpressed expression. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. Shane was someone who easily used endearments and pet names, and you knew that it sometimes just slipped out, but considering your relationship, it simply didn’t sound right.

“Well, at least it would be more honest, wouldn’t it? But how about just calling me by my actual name?” 

Shane gave you a long look before he shook his head and laughed through his nose. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ pain in the ass and I could sometimes…” He made a strangling motion that had you actually snorting because that feeling sure did go both ways. “Don’ change the fact that you are.”

“Are what?” you asked suspiciously. 

“Beautiful.” He shrugged and gave you a quick once over. 

Not having expected that reply at all, your eyebrows lifted high on your forehead. You knew, without a doubt, that he was absolutely honest. Shane wasn’t someone for false pleasantries, and especially not with you. 

“Let’s just go get the gas,” you said after a couple of seconds, as you shook your head in bemusement. 

Shane only nodded and followed you outside to find the gas cans and cylinders. He drove the rear of the pickup closer to where they were stocked to make loading the car easier. There were quite a few cans left, and you felt lucky that your group had stumbled upon this little town on your way to the farm, the place recluse enough that it hadn’t been fully raided yet. Once you were done with the gas, you jogged across the road to the general store and repeated the same process as before to make sure that there was no threat. This time the coast was clear, and you separated again, with each taking a piece of the list to search for what you needed. 

You didn’t know how much time went by, but you did take your time filling the four large bags you had with you. The weather could change any day and the less frequently you needed to leave the farm, the better. Meaning that stocking up as much as possible was the way to go. Seeing how Shane meticulously scanned each aisle, he was thinking the same thing. Coming back to the front of the store, you noticed movement out of your peripheral vision and snapped your attention in that direction. Your eyes widened in terror as you took in what was happening outside. 

“Shane,” you hissed urgently, not daring to look away from the large horde that had slowly snuck up on you and was spreading through town. “Shane,” you said more loudly and finally turned to look at him.

The horde was still far enough away that none of the walkers would have been able to hear you, but you weren’t taking any chances. 

“What?” he snapped, only for his eyebrows to lower in confusion as he saw your expression. 

You saw the second he noticed the horde as his eyes looked past you and they widened like yours had. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, while quickly joining you and checking the scene, the two of you crouching down to be out of sight and peaking around the aisle. 

“There’s no way we can reach the car,” you muttered before throwing a glance at Shane, who was still looking outside, but nodded in agreement. 

You watched the front of the horde surround the pickup as it went past the car and continued ahead of the road. 

“They should just walk past us,” Shane said in a low tone, one hand on his rifle anyway, ready to aim. 

You were about to hum in agreement, when there was a commotion at the gas station and several loud crashes came from where the gas cans and cylinders stood. A few cylinders rolled into the direction of the store, and you cursed yourselves for leaving the empty ones standing next to the pickup instead of putting them away. Some of the walkers must have knocked into them as they passed. To your horror, the noise caused the horde to shift its focus, and some of the walkers began turning towards the store. 

“We gotta move,” you gasped out, as neither of you were able to hide quickly enough and you realized that a handful of walkers had seen you. 

To your surprise, Shane shot forward to the entrance, jumping over the register, instead of following you to the back. About to yell at him for his actions, you saw him locking the doors right before a small dozen of walkers crashed against the windows. 

“That’s only gonna buy us a little time,” he panted, as he ran back to you and you both grabbed the bags to hurry to the other side of the store. 

Sure enough, a few seconds later you could hear thudding sounds coming from the front, as well as cracking glass. If the whole horde pressed against the front side, the glass panels would shatter underneath the pressure, and they’d be able to get in. As the noises got louder and louder, you tried to keep a level head to think. There was an exit at the back, but it was locked, and you wouldn’t have the time to pry the door open before the walkers got in. Or the noise of you trying to open it would lure others around to stop you from leaving. Shane seemed to come to the same conclusion as he stared at the door and then at you. 

“The stairwell’s blocked too,” you sighed, as you leaned against an aisle. 

The store had another floor, with private rooms, you guessed, since the door leading to the stairs had a sign with “Private – No entry” on it. Shane nodded in acknowledgement and leaned back across from you. You felt strangely calm at your imminent death. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to kick the bucket with you,” you chuckled, as you breathed out slowly. 

Shane barked out a sharp laugh. “Could’ve been with Dale,” he smirked, knowing that this was one of the few things you agreed on. 

You snorted loudly and nodded. “Mmh, small mercies and all that, I guess. ” 

Shane hummed, while you leaned your head back and looked at the ceiling. And frowned. Some of the styrofoam tiles had fallen off, showing the metal of the air vents, the cabling… And a large hole to one side, revealing parts of the stairs above. It looked like the wall the stairwell was in had collapsed for whatever reason, and the fallen debris had caused the ceiling to break through. With several of the aisles knocked over and the general state of the store, you hadn’t bothered to check where the rubble lying on the floor had come from. 

“Shane,” you breathed, pointing to the hole in the ceiling. 

His eyes followed the direction your finger pointed at, then he turned to get a better view after realizing what you’d seen. 

“Come on,” he said urgently, as the first crashes of glass started. 

Shane jumped on top of the aisle closest to the opening in the ceiling and reached down a hand for you to pass him the bags. The list fell out of one of your bags and fluttered to the ground. About to grasp Shane’s proffered hand to help you up as well, your eyes picked up one word on the list. The item that you’d been about to get right before you’d seen the horde. 

“Be back in a sec,” you yelled, turning tails and running off, ignoring the sounds of the undead as they walked inside. 

“The fuck are you doing?!” Shane bellowed after you.

You skidded to a halt in the desired aisle, coming face to face with a walker who stumbled in our direction. With a well-placed hit of your knife to his head, it fell to the floor, leaving you to pick up what you’d come for. Turning around to run back to Shane, your path was blocked by three walkers this time, and others coming from the right. Cursing, you turned to the left and then right again, ducking the outstretched hands of some other walkers following you into the aisle you’d just walked in. One of them managed to grab the back of your coat, but before you could turn and do anything about it, another one came in from your other side. The sound of a gun shot rang through the whole store as Shane aimed from his spot on the aisle, taking out one walker after the other as they came at you. This allowed you to jerk free of the loose grip of the now dead walker and dash towards the back of the store, jumping over bodies and avoiding the moving ones, one arm still holding on to a tall container.

“Move, move, move!” Shane barked at you, as you ran up to him at full speed. 

You threw him the container, which he quickly put next to him, before you jumped and caught his hand, the momentum helping him pull you up faster. Shane tugged you upright and shot the walker trying to grab your feet as soon as both of his hands were free again. 

“Get the fuck up there!” he yelled over the noise without looking at you. 

Shane had managed to stash the bags in the opening and you did the same with the container before you grabbed onto the bars that used to hold the large, styrofoam squares to lift you through the ceiling. It took some maneuvering since you had to move over the vents to get to the hole in the wall, but it was doable. After another shot rang out, you got into the best position to aim at the growing throng of walkers gathering at Shane's feet, the aisle rattling precariously now. 

“Move!” you shouted, taking out a walker that was tall and getting too close to Shane for comfort. 

Shane looked up and instantly jumped into action, sliding the rifle through the bars to stop it from falling. He smoothly slipped through the ceiling as well and stared down at the groaning and rasping creatures. 

“Can you reach the stairs or not?” he asked with his eyes still downcast. 

Satisfied that he was safe for now, you put your gun away and started moving further over the vents to reach the stairs. You had to push broken cinder blocks to the side, some falling and taking out other styrofoam squares. It took you a couple of minutes, but you finally managed to squeeze through the opening and land on the stairs. Which led to a closed door at the top. 

“Come on.” You stuck your head back through the hole to look down at Shane, the man working to get the bags over the vents and towards you. 

You took the bags from him one at a time and grabbed his arm to pull him through as well. He leveled you a questioning stare, one eyebrow lifted, as he saw the closed door. Shrugging, you both made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle with a glance at Shane, who slung the rifle into position. The door was thankfully unlocked and opened with a long creak to reveal a small apartment. You stood inside the door for several seconds, waiting in case something moved towards you. Shane gave you a quick nod, so you stepped over the threshold and checked the place. It looked surprisingly untouched, as if the owner had left before anything happened, or they left at the beginning. Considering the damage in the stairwell, something must have exploded close by, yet thankfully left the apartment undamaged. 

“We got water,” you announced with incredulous excitement as you reflexively tested the faucets in the bathroom

“And canned food,” Shane chimed in from the small kitchenette that was sitting to the left of the apartment, while a convertible couch took up the right side with a coffee table and a TV set. 

“It’s like a luxury hotel,” you laughed lightly as you ducked your head to drink straight from the faucet. 

You heard Shane chuckle at your comparison and hum in agreement. While he retrieved the bags, you walked to the long window in the living area and looked outside. 

“Think we’re stuck here for a while,” Shane grumbled after he’d joined you, observing the mass of walkers milling around everywhere. 

You nodded with a sigh. If there hadn’t been the incident with the gas cylinders, the horde would have probably walked through town without stopping and you’d have been safe to leave at some point. You would have had to find a different way home, but you would have managed. Now, who knew how long it would take for enough walkers to wander off for you to leave without being at too much of a risk?

“Jackpot,” Shane suddenly exclaimed, having you remove your attention from the window. 

You turned to find him holding a camping stove. It wasn’t the safest object to use indoors, but it was perfect to heat some of the cans Shane had found in the pantry. Despite the cold outside and the sun setting, you opened the window a crack to let some fresh air in and evacuate most of the carbon monoxide those kinds of stoves could produce. Shane nodded approvingly at that and turned it on after getting a couple of cans and plates. You’d found a large amount of canned food downstairs, but chose to leave the contents of the bags for the farm for now. Shane also found a few packs of tall candles and lit enough of them once the sun had gone down completely for you to walk through the place comfortably. You ate in silence while you also heated a large bucket of water before you checked the place for blankets and potential toiletries. While you did that, Shane took the hot water into the bathroom to clean up a bit. He came back wearing his jeans and a thick sweater that he got from the store. Before taking his place in the bathroom, your eyes caught onto his damp hair and beard, and the way the sweater hugged his broad shoulders and trim waist. Looking away and shaking your head, you closed the door while Shane looked through the items you’d both taken and reorganized them in the bags to make them easier to carry. With a pile of blankets in hand and feeling much better after getting to take the day’s filth off and dressing into fresh clothes as well, you found Shane sitting on the couch and staring down at the container you’d run back for. 

“You risked your life for baby formula,” he stated, his voice giving nothing away, the fire of the candle creating flickering lights on his profile. 

“We’re nearly out and Judith still needs it,” you shrugged, busying yourself with unfolding the blankets. 

“Do you ever think before you act?” Shane growled at how you dismissed his words. 

“What?” you ground out, facing him again. You must have heard him wrong, right? 

“What’s the point of pullin’ a stunt like that if it gets you killed?” 

“It didn’t, did it, though?”

“Because I was there to cover your sorry ass.”

You threw your hands in the air and sighed explosively. 

“Ugh, this is why I don’t like teaming up with you. You always complain about things that might have happened.” 

“No, what you don’t like it that I’m the only one remindin’ you that your actions can have fuckin’ consequences for you or even for all of us. You – don't – think. You just do your thing and expect us to go with it.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, Shane. Bossing everyone around and just deciding for everyone what’s best.” You strode up to him and stared him down. 

He rose to his feet and met your hard gaze head on. 

“Yeah, but I let people know before I do somethin’. But that’s what you don’t like, right? You're too good, too clever to bother listenin’ to others, let alone me.”

“Only because you treat me like I’m some fucking idiot little girl. I’ve gone through just as much shit as you before we got to the farm, but you act like I know shit…”

“No, no, no, I don’t treat you like some fuckin’ idiot little girl. If anythin’, I treat you like a fuckin’ idiot, period. Woman or not, I don’t give a shit. You’re a fuckin’ piece of work, is what you are. You’re so fuckin’ hot headed and stubborn, you just always expect whatever I say to be some kinda bullshit.” 

You bared your teeth at him. “Cause you keep underestimating me. No matter what I say or do, you never trust me from the start… Fuck!” you spat, your temper flaring white-hot. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Shane watched you intently as you ranted at him, his mouth pulling up into a lopsided smirk.

“Yeah… but you wanna know what pisses you off even more about all this?” Shane asked, his voice lowering as he leaned towards you, his head tilting to one side. 

“Oh, please, do enlighten me,” you scoffed with sarcasm dripping all over your words, but didn’t pull your head away. 

“No matter how much you might hate me… you still wanna fuck me.”

“What?!” you choked on your laugh as you stared at him incredulously. What the hell?

“Come on, you don’t think I noticed, but I see the way you look at me.” He lifted an eyebrow with his smirk still in place. 

“And how exactly do I look at you, pray tell?” you snorted, your mouth pulling up in amusement despite yourself. That wasn’t how you had expected the argument to go. 

Shane nodded his head from one side to the other as if he were thinking about his answer. 

“Definitely like you wanna fight me… but preferably in a bed,” he leered, to which you rolled your eyes with another snort. 

“Hm, you sound awfully sure of yourself,” you humored him with a chuckle, resisting the desire to cross your arms, not wanting to look defensive. 

Shane’s eyes slowly roved over your whole body. Then he moved just slightly closer until your faces were only a few inches apart. 

“Well, haven’t heard you denyin’ it even once, have I?” he rumbled in a low voice. 

You held his gaze defiantly but remained silent as your heartbeat picked up speed. 

“I’m sure you thought of a couple o’ ways to… settle our disagreements,” Shane continued, grinning knowingly. That smug bastard. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “But I’m not sure you’d like some of the ideas I had,” you hedged, your tone light but your gaze between cutting and sultry. 

Shane laughed under his breath. 

“Ah, come on, Darlin’. Tell me what got your pussy all wet while thinkin' o’ me?”

Heat slowly spread through your face and body at his crass words and direct approach. 

“Did you think ‘bout ridin’ my face to shut me up?”

You managed to school your expression into being neutrally entertained, since Shane had hit dead center with this one. Hearing him speak your most private fantasies out loud had you breathing faster. You’d thought about riding that stupidly beautiful mouth and nose a few times, for sure, but you weren't going to admit to that. 

“Or maybe you’d be so good at suckin’ my cock with that pretty mouth of yours that I'd stop talkin'.”

Smirking and shaking your head, you inclined your head to one side. “To me, it rather sounds like you thought about it quite a bit.” You’d meant for it to come out as a taunt, but your voice came out more breathy, Shane’s words getting to you. 

Shane drew his tongue over the edge of his upper teeth. “Yeah… Maybe I have,” he replied slowly.

You both stood like that, eyes locked and breathing fast, as if in a sort of stand-off; one waiting for the other to move or say something. To give in. You didn't know how long you stood like that, the anticipation rising until it was practically unbearable. You wanted Shane, you could admit it to yourself, but to him? And what about Shane? Despite what he’d said, did he really—

Then Shane’s eyes fell to your mouth. 

As if that look triggered everything into action, you were suddenly on each other, kissing and biting at each other’s mouths. You wouldn’t be able to know who moved first, but something between you had finally snapped with that one look. Hands fisted in shirts and hair or flew over chests and asses, your bodies in constant movement as every moment of conflict between the two of you poured out in that instant. You each fought for dominance, but neither was willing to give in, and it didn’t really matter anyway. It certainly didn’t matter to you. You only needed more of this. It felt incredibly liberating to push against Shane in that way and have him pushing back with just as much strength; just the feeling of his beard scraping against your mouth and chin had your nerve endings on fire. Both sets of hands simultaneously went to the buttons of each pair of jeans, fingers grappling to get them open as fast as possible before you’d even removed your sweaters. Your lips never stopped their hungry and vicious exploration of each other’s mouths as you both shimmied out of your jeans and underwear before stepping out of them. You took the opportunity of Shane getting a foot caught in one pant leg to push him down on the couch. He’d unfolded it into a bed while you’d been in the bathroom, meaning that he had to brace himself with his hands behind himself so he wouldn’t fall flat on his back. With a smirk, you straddled his lap and crushed your mouth into his again. Shane growled and caught you without missing a beat as he sat up and pulled you further down. His hands squeezed your ass as soon as you could feel his hard dick pressing into your crotch. Slightly rocking your hips and sliding yourself over his length – of course that asshole had to have a dick as big as his ego – your hands went to the bottom of his sweater and pulled it up and off, your lips parting for a brief second. A moment later, Shane did the same with your top. Except not entirely. Instead of pulling it off as you lifted your arms, Shane twisted the fabric around your wrists into a sort of bind, stopping you from freeing your hands. He kept you like that, your hands held behind your head before he tugged them back a bit more, forcing you to arch your back, which pushed your chest out. You were now fully naked and sitting astride Shane, but barely able to move. The various candles around you lit up his face and his wolfish grin right before he bent his head towards your breasts. You groaned as he wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked on it hard. He bit and sucked, nibbled and pinched at each of them, his free hand playing with the one his mouth wasn’t focused on and drawing moans and small cries out of you. 

As much as you enjoyed his mouth and beard on your breasts, you refused to stay bound and unable to move. While Shane was leaving marks all over your chest, you wiggled and twisted your wrists until you were able to slip one hand free. Obviously, had it been a serious situation, you doubted that you’d have been able to get out of Shane’s hold that easily. Between his distraction and the loose fabric of the sweater, however, you soon had a hand between your legs and on his dick. Shane jerked in your hold, his head lifting to your face while he let go of your other hand. Planting your knees more firmly on the bed and putting your weight forward, you pressed at his shoulders with both hands this time, until he fell onto his back. 

“Got some ideas?” he smirked, his tongue dancing over his top lip. 

“Didn’t you say something about shutting you up?” you asked conversationally, as you pressed a biting kiss to his mouth, before you swiftly moved up his body until your knees were at each side of his head.

The way Shane’s eyes lit up as he caught the meaning of your words had your pulse racing in your chest and heat pooling in your center. He apparently had really thought about this scenario before as well. His arms wrapped around your thighs as you lowered yourself over his face. With parted lips, you looked down as you slid your folds over his lips and up over his nose. That ridiculously gorgeous nose. Maybe broad and faintly crooked, but this combined with the slope of it was what made it perfect for exactly what you were doing. It felt even better than what you’d pictured while getting yourself off. Between the physical stimulation and the view, you weren’t surprised to find his nose and mouth already coated in your juices. 

“You're so much easier to be around when your mouth's busy with something else,” you teased, as you repeated the motion with relish. 

Shane shot you a look that had you bracing yourself for an attack, expecting him to hold you still as he ate you out harshly, but he took you by surprise once again. He did hold you in place, but his tongue oh so slowly slid through your lips, parting them, running around them, teasing your entrance before dragging the tip up to your clit with the faintest of touches. With the addition of his beard that he was rubbing maddeningly over your sensitive skin, this actually drove you wilder than if he’d gone fast and hard. Especially, since his eyes never left yours, him watching you watching him. As he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it with intent for the first time, he stared at you avidly, clearly getting off on the way your mouth opened further on a long cry of pleasure as you flung your head back in bliss. Leaning your head forward again, you fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head back to rock your hips into his face harder. 

“Fuck yes, there we go, just like that,” you moaned, picking up speed as you rode his face for real this time when two of his fingers pushed inside you. 

The sensations were incredible as you moved up over his mouth and back down onto his thick fingers, the beard meeting them in the middle. But you needed to wipe that smug look off his face anyway, even as you felt the first signs of your release nearing.

“Mmh… I already liked you better with a beard ‘cause I don’t have to see half your stupid face, but this is a much better way to do it. Look how pretty you are now with my pussy hiding your face,” you taunted right after Shane managed to get another long moan out of you.

As expected, Shane glowered at you, which had you grinning in satisfaction. Except that you cried out in part shock and part outrage a few seconds later as Shane pressed the first knuckle of his thumb inside your ass, the finger wet with your essence. 

“You fucking asshole.” You slapped the top of his head, while Shane laughed darkly against your thigh, before he caught your wrist as you came back for more.

“More like your asshole, Darlin’,” he sneered before continuing. “Thought you’d enjoy it with how you always seem to have a stick up your ass.” 

Growling at him, you tugged at the arm he was holding, intending to hit him again, but Shane held strong this time, and instead, he used his shoulders to unsettle you and flip you onto your back next to him. You landed with a gasp and barely had the time to see him slipping between your legs. Since your mouth was still partly open from your hard breathing, it took Shane no effort to press two fingers between your lips and press them against your tongue. 

“Suck,” he ordered, his eyes dark, as he leaned over you, his body pressing yours down. 

You had half a mind to refuse, but it was the fact that you were sure that he was expecting that from you that had you doing as told. The flavor bursting on your tongue had you realizing that those fingers were the ones that had been inside you just a few moments ago. Keeping eye contact, you moaned around Shane’s fingers as you sucked and pulled at them, and felt satisfied by the answering groan you got in return. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Shane cried out a second later, as he pulled his fingers back, which you’d just bitten.

You grinned. You never said that you’d do what he wanted all the way. 

Growling and twisting his fingers in your hair, Shane kissed you harshly, his tongue fighting yours as he moved on his knees to shift his hips closer to yours. Feeling him reaching between your legs to guide himself inside you, you suddenly pushed at him. 

“Wait, wait… Not like that,” you breathed quickly. “Condoms. We should,” you trailed off at Shane’s nod of agreement, which you felt glad about because, as much as you hated to break the flow, there was no way that you were taking any chances. 

“Hold on.” Shane got off the couch and quickly rifled through one of the grocery bags. 

You watched him pull out a foil package and tear it open before he fitted the condom over his cock and knelt back between your parted legs. The way he touched you then and stared down at you irritated you. It wasn’t enough. It was too slow, too… You needed more of what was happening before.

You slapped him, the smack resounding in the small apartment. 

“Don’t you dare go soft on me now, Walsh,” you hissed. 

The slap had barely gotten Shane’s face to move, but it had the desired effect. His eyes flashed in warning, which only had you grinning devilishly, before he snarled and one of his hands went to your neck. The fingers curled around your throat, squeezing just that tiny bit that had you gasping in a sharp breath. 

“You never know went to fuckin’ stop,” he rasped viciously. 

Before you could reply, Shane pushed his hips forward and breached your entrance. He slid in with a long thrust, not bothering to give you any time to adjust to the sudden overwhelming feeling of being so full before he was pounding you into the bed. Your fingers scrabbled to get a hold on his shoulders as you screamed, while Shane slid his arms under your knees to pull your legs further apart and fold you almost in two. 

It felt amazing. Shane fucked you with brute force, his hips slapping against your ass, but the way he was staring down at you, focused on your expression, showed that he wasn’t only aiming for his own release. 

“That what you wanted, Sweetheart? Huh? Me fuckin’ that pretty pussy hard?” he whispered roughly against your lips, his beard tickling your skin. 

You took hold of his face and kissed him deeply in reply, moaning into his mouth with his every thrust. 

“Make me scream, Shane,” you half ordered and half begged, your voice low with want. “Do it.” 

With lust sparking inside his eyes, Shane reared back briefly only to throw your legs over his shoulders, and actually fold you in two this time as he picked up his earlier pace. A loud scream escaped you at the first plunge back inside you, followed by another and another. With his hands now free, one of Shane’s hands returned to your throat, the touch sending shivers down your spine as he fucked you without ever missing a beat, his eyes fixed on yours. You came completely undone a few moments later, the sheer force and intensity of Shane’s thrusts throwing you over the edge and into an orgasm that had you crying out as you could only take what Shane was giving you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shane chanted as you tightened some more around him, his movements losing their rhythm for a moment. “So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, fuck!” 

You had your eyes shut as the wave of bliss ran over you, but you forced them open when you felt Shane start to shudder on top of you. You needed to see him come, just like he had wanted to see you. Meeting his gaze, which never seemed to have left your face, you slid your legs from his shoulders and brought them to his still moving hips, and squeezed. 

Shane came with a long hiss of pleasure, his eyes fighting to stay open as you watched each other. 

You remained unmoving as you panted and stared at each other, Shane braced on top of you with his forearms at your shoulders while your hands held on to his biceps. Now that the heat of the moment had gone, you began to feel how cold it was getting in the room. 

After a few more silent seconds, Shane got up without a word and turned away. Exhaling a small breath at the complete change in mood, you rolled off the bed to vanish into the bathroom, picking up your clothes in passing. You used some of the now tepid water remaining from earlier to clean up and caught a glimpse of your messy and fucked out appearance in the mirror. 

“What now?” you muttered to yourself as you stared at your reflection and dressed quickly. 

You shook your head decisively a second later. No, this didn't change anything. It was just sex, nothing more. It had been good, more than good, but that was it. You weren't suddenly going to get along only because you'd fucked once. Shane had to be thinking the same, of that you were certain. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Shane, fully dressed once more, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over his rifle as he checked it on the coffee table by the light of a couple of candles. He'd also made the bed, and you headed for the side closest to the wall. Shane didn't look up, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to avoid you. You felt a certain measure of relief at that. No awkwardness. Good. 

With how soon it got dark in winter, you didn't know how late it was exactly, but you felt suddenly kind of exhausted. You wrapped the covers around yourself to stave off the cold, and turned on your side to face the wall, your eyes staring ahead for a moment before you closed them. 

“For what it’s worth,” Shane started after several minutes of silence. “I do trust you.”

Your eyes opened at that, landing on the wall again as you stayed where you were. 

“It’s just-” he continued, and you snorted this time, turning on your back to find him facing towards you and not the rifle anymore. You raised an eyebrow; of course there was a but. “You tend to let your emotions get the best of you… Like today, you…” he sighed, and you decided to wait him out before biting back. “Listen, I get it, okay? What you did for Judith? You know I’d do anythin’ for her ‘n Carl. But… I quickly realized that, in this world, you gotta make hard decisions in order to survive. Take a step back from your feelings, analyze, and then act… I know you think I’m an asshole about it, but it’s helped us survive through a lot of bad shit, cause people don’ play by the previous rules anymore,” he paused for a second as he stared at you. “But really? Most of all, all I’m askin’ you is that you talk to me before you run off like you did. Askin’ me to cover you or somethin’, y’know? Warn me.”

Rolling onto your side to face Shane, you rose on an elbow and held your head up with one hand. 

“You’re right,” you admitted after a beat of silence. You were aware that you let your emotions dictate a lot of your decisions, and that it wasn’t always a clever thing. As he’d said, in this world, things were different. Especially playing it solo like you’d done earlier. Now that things had calmed down, you knew that you could have died in the store had Shane not been as quick to react has he had. “Next time I’ll give you a heads-up.”

Shane hummed in satisfaction, and you grinned. 

“But,” you intoned, and Shane huffed out a snort. “As much as I get what you mean, sometimes you can’t ignore your gut feeling. When you just know that something’s up, that the split second decision you’ll make is what’s going to mean either life or death. Sometimes you don’t have the time to analyze anything.”

Shane watched you thoughtfully but nodded in agreement. 

“Look at us, agreeing on somethin’,” he chuckled as he put the rifle down next to the bed and got up. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you smirked up at him. “It’s not because we fucked once that we’re not going to fight anymore.” 

Shane barked out a loud laugh. “I wasn’t expectin’ anything less. The opposite would’ve surprised me more.”

Laughing as well, you watched Shane head into the bathroom and fell to your back again, your eyes closing. You briefly woke to the candles being extinguished and the bed dipping as Shane got in, but you only shifted under the covers and rolled to your other side. 

The next time you woke, late morning light was shining through the apartment window. Shane was standing next to it and looking outside. Stretching as you got out of bed, you quickly headed to the bathroom to take care of morning business before you joined Shane. 

“What’s the situation?” you asked as you looked outside as well and found far fewer walkers stumbling around in the parking lot. 

“This side looks okay, but we don’t know how it looks where the car is,” Shane grumbled. “This floor's not that high, but it’s gonna be a bit of a pain to get outta here if we can’t go back the other way.”

Your mouth twisted in thought, and you were about to suggest that you should go check over the vent, when something crackled with static inside your coat that was lying on a nearby chair. Shane and you stared at each other with wide eyes before you launched yourself at the coat, scrambling to find the walkie-talkie you always carried in case you needed to split up. Shane must have switched his off, but you’d completely forgotten that you’d let yours on. And if it wasn’t Shane talking through it, then it was someone from the farm, and they were close by. 

“Hey … or Shane? Do … guys copy? Over. ”

It was Jasmine’s voice. With a relieved glance in Shane’s direction, you finally got the device out and pressed the talk button. 

“Hey, Jas, we’re right here. Over” 

“Oh, thank God. We were so worried when we got home and you hadn’t come back. Where exactly are you? There are a lot of walkers around here. Over. ”

“We ran into a horde and now we’re stuck on the second floor of the store. The main access’s blocked. If you drive to the parking lot at the back of the store, we’ll be able to see you. Over.” You walked back to the window and looked outside. 

“Okay, we’ll be there soon. Over. ”

“Let’s make a rope with the sheets and get the bags down first,” Shane suggested as he opened the window to the cold winter air. 

Nodding, you both quickly put on your shoes and remaining clothes and each took a sheet to knot it with another. You felt the sudden need to laugh at the moment, feeling like you were in a bad movie and trying to escape prison. 

Shane was just done with the makeshift ropes when you heard an engine getting closer and looked through the window to see a blue pickup driving up to the store. You waved at Jasmine, who was accompanied by Hunter. A few walkers came closer as Hunter drove the back of the pickup towards the building, but Jasmine opened her side of the car and used her knife to silently kill them. Hunter jumped out of his side and you saw Jasmine slipping back into the car and into the driver’s seat as her boyfriend lifted himself into the bed of the pickup to receive the first bag of groceries. You made quick work, only stopping a couple of times to get rid of a few more walkers. With the last bag down, Hunter untied the rope so you could get down yourselves. Shane had wrapped the sheets around a long and thick rod of iron that he’d found in the debris in the corridor. It was longer than the width of the window so you could slide down the rope without fearing that it would slip free. Shane let you go first. As Shane had said, the floor wasn’t high and it took little effort to get into the pickup. Shane followed you quickly, and Hunter hit the roof of the car to indicate for Jasmine to drive. She drove towards the other side of the store and towards your own pickup. You jumped out at the side of the gas station and watched Hunter join Jasmine again before they were off and honking to get the walkers’ attention. It worked as intended, and soon enough you were able to run towards your car and climb inside. 

“Did you use the shortcut? Over,” you asked through the walkie-talkie, while Shane put the key in the ignition and started the car. 

“No, we’re driving east for now. You were talking about a horde earlier and I think that’s what we saw on the shortcut so we backtracked. Over,” Hunter explained, as Shane swerved through the walkers to join your two friends and follow behind them. 

“Okay, east it is. See you at home. Over and out.”

It took you an extra hour to get back to the farm, but you made sure that you wouldn’t lead any walkers back with you. Nicole, who was standing on the porch steps and watching you pull up, drew you into a bear hug as soon as you were out of the car. You smiled into the side of her neck as you squeezed her back. 

The rest of your family came out of the large house as well. Judith was sitting on her father’s hip and sucking on a pacifier while Carl came running towards Shane. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Shane cooed, as he approached father and daughter, kissing her tiny head after he’d hugged Carl and ruffled his hair. 

“You guys okay?” Rick asked, scanning the both of you for injuries. 

“Yeah, we’re good, don’t worry,” Shane said, as he walked up the steps and started explaining what had happened to the people following him. 

“And here I thought that you’d finally killed each other,” Nicole said, laughing at her joke as you began walking up the porch steps with her.

You smiled and hummed, faking a serious look. “It was a near miss,” you grinned as you entered the crowded kitchen.

Shane was drinking down a tall glass of water, and your eyes met over the glass. 

“What was a near miss?” Maggie asked from her perch on a stool. 

“Before they left, I was joking about them trying to not kill each other and I thought that they might have failed when they didn’t come back,” Nicole explained with a small chuckle and got an amused snort from everyone. 

“Yeah,” Shane laughed under his breath. “Sure was a near miss.” 

You looked at each other for a second, faces impassive, but you were both clearly thinking about the same thing. Then the moment passed, and Shane continued the story like nothing ever happened.

After all, it had only been a one-time thing…

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

~*~

1. I have been looking for this fic for WEEKS!! , I read this fic many months ago, so I don't really remember it well. In this Wei Wuxian is kinda like possessed or something, it's like after his 3 months in burial mounds he comes out very changed he has become very emotionless and has become mute as in he neve ever speaks at all, he always obeys his Sect Leader (Jiang Cheng) and has over all just become a machine who listens to what his master say. Jiang Change,Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji are very concerned and disturbed about his behaviour. There are chapters where Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng try to cheer him up or make him speak something but it never works.And as u can imagine lan Wangji is heartbroken as well

Then i don't remember how exactly but in the end they show Jiang Yanli,Jiang Cheng,Lan Wangji,Nie Huasiang, and an unconscious Wei Wuxian in the burial mounds and it shows that the burial mound spirits had bargained with wei wuxian when he was thrown in and in order to escape from the burial mounds and to protect his family Wei Wuxian had sacrificed his heart to it. But in the end he regains it and he goes back to being normal. And it's an Overall happy ending.

I have been searching through all the tags of ao3 that could possibly be linked to that fic but I just can't find it

Please help me find this soon

FOUND? between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, wangxian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating, Happy Ending)

~*~

2. Hey! I’m looking for a certain fic. It’s a rogue cultivator wei ying. All I remember is that during a cultivator event, he takes jiang yanli on a sword ride. He leaves a note, but everyone gets worried she is missing. I think there were corpses attacking. Madam Jin accuses him of starting shit, but jiang yanli defends him. Hope someone’s know it, thanks!

FOUND? SanRen by Kyogre (T, 87k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Different First Meeting, Romantic Fluff, Action & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending) chapter 14

~*~

3. hi i was wondering if you know the fic where lwj visits burial mounds but then a-yuan started crying so he said that he’ll stay once he calms down but ofc by the end both him and wwx have confessed their feelings for each other. please help me i have been trying to find it for the past hour. thank you very much!!! <333

FOUND? A Crying Shame by thunderwear (G, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, A-yuan to the rescue, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kissa, LWJ joins WWX at burial mounds, LWJ is soft pass it on, literally all fluff, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious WWX)

~*~

4. Hello. I’m looking for a long fic. It’s wangxian HAPPY ending and after jin zixuan “dies”. The truth is, He’s not dead. Everyone belive he is, but the jin clan got him and put him on the underground. Some time ago, wen qing, who everyone think is dead too, ends up there with him. They stay years on that prison and, besides some jin and meng yao, no one knows. After some time they get out, I don’t remember how, and the fic continues from there. I looked at all my bookmarks and havent found it.

FOUND? You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, wangxian, WIP, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, bad dog names, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

FOUND? 🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don't know what daemons are that's ok because I explain it in the author's note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn) That part happens near the end iirc / it might be this one? Chapter 37 is the bit the anon mentions

~*~

5. Hi! (This part added to itmf) cuz I lost the one I’ve read where wwx has a sister who’s paired with xichen and I remember her having a kid with xichen but she died(?) and xichen had to raise their son alone and when she came back she lost her memories. Thank youu!! @gideonmorningstar

FOUND? your smile tells me im safe by TheDoctorDionysus (E, 143k, LXC/Female Reader, WangXian, XuanLi, Reader-Insert, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Blood and Injury, Crossdressing, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicide Attempt, Explicit Sexual Content, Semi-Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Hair-pulling, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drunk LWJ, its brief but drunkji is there, Amnesia, Major Character Undeath, Canonical Character Death - WWX)

~*~

6. hi im looking for an omegaji fic that was really beautifully paced and written, published sometime last year i think. it had an inn, really creepy atmosphere and background xiyao. i can’t remember anything else about it and i want to reread it so bad

FOUND? penumbra by globose (E, 21k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Mpreg, YLLZ WWX, Demon/Human Relationships, Supernatural Elements, Omega LWJ)

~*~

7. Hiii!! I am looking for a fic I read a long time ago, so I don't remember most of the details. Sorry about that. What I remember about it clearly is that WWX was never found by Jiang Fengmian or any cultivator. Many years later he becomes a minister/official of some kind for the emperor, who is not related to the cultivation world. Now comes the fuzzy part, so it may or may not be helpful for finding that fic. The emperor knows when the war breaks out and sends WWX to help settle the war, and WWX once again becomes a leading cause for the demise of Wen Sect. And obviously WWX and LWJ fall in love during that time.

Once again thanks for all the hard work you do to keep this fandom well fed. @songtaegguk

FOUND? Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei (E, 31k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, Genius WWX, Palace, canon wangxian dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, LWJ Bites, LWJ is the baby of the Lan Clan, Good Uncle LQR, WangXian are parents, Fluff, Blood and Injury, Self-Harm)

~*~

8. Hi again! I'm looking for a modern AU where LZ gains friends after wy's death/disappearance.

So wy has a lot of friends, like jc jyl wq wn nhs jzx lqy etc, and by being in a relation w wy, lz also has access to them.

But once wy is gone lz thinks the link between wy's friends and lz is non-existant and starts to spiral from the loss of wy, alone.

But the friends don't let lz go, barge into lz apartment and makes a space for themselves and help lz grieve n move on from the loss of his partner.

Slowly through the years lz feels he also has friends.

Eventually wy does come back and wangxian rekindles their flame. @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

NOT FOUND! Sounds like it could be The transitive property as it applies to love by deliciousblizzardshark, part 2 of the series (T, 10k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LWJ & WQ, LWJ & WN, Modern, Grief/Mourning, Mention of substance abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic LWJ) also as a side note, parts 1 & 2 are open, but part 3 is locked to AO3 users

FOUND? Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention) its not the WWWWXD series, but the focus isn't on LWJ as much as it is on WWX

~*~

9. Hi! I’ve been searching for a fic I read a while back. It was a modern omegaverse AU (also maybe soulmates) with younger omega LWJ and older alpha WWX. They were in university (LWJ in his 1st year and WWX in his last I think). The uni had a research facility studying a/b/o dynamics, or it might have been soulmates? Anyway, Madam Yu was a professor, and she was actually good and liked WWX and was on his side. Lan Qiren was a professor as well, and I think Wen Qing worked at the clinic as a grad student. I remember one scene where Wangxian were in the clinic and they were fooling around and it was their first time, and the staff had to shoo all the doctors and researchers away (I think there was a 2 way mirror). I don’t remember much else but would really appreciate the help—I can’t find it anywhere and it’s driving me to distraction!

FOUND?🔒 I is for Instinct by beeswaxing (E, 71k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Public Display of Affection, Public Claiming, Omega Verse, Good Parent LQR, Alpha YZY, Good Parent YZY, Family Feels, Fluff, Romance, Aftermath of Violence, Slice of Life, Modern AU, College/University, BAMF WWX, Soft WangXian, Barebacking, Knotting, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg)

~*~

10. hi !! just wanted to let you know that this fic could possibly be deleted, but i hope it isn’t. i vaguely remember this is abo — wwx is an omega and lz is an alpha, wwx is kicked out of gusu for reasons (i think lz had something to do with it), madam yu then trains wwx to be this spy/assassin who is to protect jiang cheng and yanli, during xuanwu wwx pretends to be someone else but lz and nhs find out, wwx fakes his death during/after xuanwu, last chapter is letters from nhs (to madam yu?)

FOUND?🔒Pendulum by ShippersList (M, 69k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, A/B/O Dynamics, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good MY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

~*~

11. hello ! I recently lost track of a wangxian proposal au, like the movie lol. pretty sure it had something like “the proposal au no one asked for” in the summary. Ik that’s not a lot to go on, but I was hoping you could help. tysm!

FOUND? The Grandmaster of Foolproof Proposals by chronicallylethargic (G, 16k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, The Proposal Fusion, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, The Proposal AU, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Fake Marriage, deportation, Green Card Marriage, Miscommunication, Horseback Riding, wwx isnt adopted by the jiangs in this fic)

~*~

12. fic finder request! having no luck looking through my history for a fic, where i only rmb the ending. wangxian are with dafanwen. after giving lwj two flowers (or sth similar) from himself and ayuan, wwx reveals that he is expecting their second child by presenting lwj with a third flower. i can't rmb if ayuan is wangxian's biological child in this fic.

thank you so much for what you do and happy new year!

FOUND!🔒Blooming in white by luckymoonly (T, 38k, WangXian, XuanLi, MianQing, NieLan, ChengSang, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending starts from chapter 71, hidden pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Drama, Misunderstandings, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Miscommunication, WWX and NHS are BFF, matchmaker!NHS, Fix-It)

~*~

13. Hi! I’m trying to find a fic and I can’t remember the name. From what I do remember, it focuses on Lan Sizhui as WWX’s son while he was dead, with Jiang Ching repeatedly inviting him over to get to know his Jiang heritage. I don’t think he knows his other parent is WWX? LWJ doesn’t really want him to go but he eventually goes anyway and learns about his dad’s sect. @finmoryo

FOUND? Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics) this story doesn't feature a lot of actual wwx (tho he very much plays a part) but technically it fits the prompt and it's a great fic

~*~

14. Hey, Can you help me find a fic? In the fic wwx owns an apothecary. Lwj and wwx meet bcz lwj is injured. Wwx is adopted by either the apothecary owner or a doctor who owns an apothecary. Hope you are able to find it for me. @mayavsworld

FOUND? A Heart Made of Jade by makkurokuro93 (E, 66k, WangXian, Historical, Ancient China, Politics, Drama & Romance, Love Triangles, One-Sided LXC/WWX, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending, Top WWX/Bottom LWJ, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, of course they switch ssh, Fluff, Eventual Relationships)

FOUND? what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death) probably isn't "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre but I wanted to mention it in case -- wwx & meng yao are brothers in this fic, meng yao runs an apothecary, and wwx meets lwj (and saves him) b/c lwj is injured

is it a historical/no cultivator clans AU where the Twin Jades are a pair of outlaws a la Robin Hood?

FOUND? Eyes by SplitGirl28 (M, 60k, WIP, WangXian, Adopted by Doctor, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Cultivator Apothecary WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Meet Different, WWX has a secret, Secret BAMF WWX, Pining LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

~*~

15. I'm looking for a Xicheng fic that I once read and I cannot find It was a 'smut' fic. Modern day. LXC was the son of the owner of a restaurant in which JC and NHS worked. it's LXC's birthday and he comes to the restaurant to celebrate and he had a 'special service' dinner planned out, but the waitress is not available or something , so NHS asks JC to do it instead and LXC and JC have ***. Turns out this was set up by LXC and NHS coz LXC had a crush on JC! If anyone has an idea please help out !

~*~

16. looking for a fic where wwx makes a bet at the cr that he’ll kiss lxc before the summer is up but he actually ends up w lwj obviously

FOUND? Bet Your Heart by Vamillepudding (G, 14k, wangxian, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together)

~*~

17. Hello, I’ve been desperately looking for a particular fic but all I really remember is one scene, where after wangxian reunion and justice being served and all (at least I think that bit has already happened by that point of the fic), it turns out that Wen Qing survived after all but had been kept prisoner. I just remember this scene of her in her cell considering her imminent death because her meals have stopped for a some time already (since JGY is no longer around to provide them or something along those lines, but she doesn’t know that) and then she hears a familiar voice outside and she calls desperately despite barely having a voice and despairs for a moment thinking no one noticed but then WWX, who very much did hear her and was wandering around Koi Tower with Lan Zhan for some reason I can’t remember, brings down the entire prison around her and rescues her. I’m fairly certain there must have been a happy ending, because that’s all I ever read. I know it’s not a lot to go on but it’s been driving me insane trying to find it. Thanks for all your wonderful work!

FOUND? Reunion by LtLJ, last part of the series (G, 3k, WWX & WQ, wangxian, WQ & WN, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, WQ Lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Angst with a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, BFFs)

~*~

18. Hello I'm translating on Google Translate, so sorry for any mistakes. I'm looking for a fanfic at the time of the siege at the tombs, instead of Jiāng Yànlí, he stood in front of Weiying to protect him and Lan Zhan, who was injured and Weiying thought he killed him, until he handed himself over to the Lan clan.

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, wangxian, JC & JYL & WWX, LXC/NMJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Not Everyone Dies AU, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Loss, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

~*~

19. Hi, I'm looking for a wangxian angst fic I read a while ago? It was a modern au, and I can't remember if they were married or not but it was definitely an established relationship and it was about lan wangji being upset because he thought wei wuxian had moved his mother's urn and wei wuxian ended up apologizing after lan wangji got mad even though he hadn't done anything. The fic had a really nice make up afterward and i want to read it again so bad waaah

FOUND! under my skin by wqngji (M, 3k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Established Relationship, Fights, Crying, Married Couple, Insecure WWX, Self-Worth Issues, Hurt WWX, Sex in a Car, Car Sex, Day At The Beach)

~*~

20. Hi I am looking for a fic in which wei ying wakes up in the burial mounds, which have turned green.

He basically growns flowers and seems to be some kind of deity @pigtruffles

FOUND? the trees welcome with open branches by defractum (nyargles) (nyargles) (T, 13k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Supernatural Elements, Getting Together, Fix-It of Sorts)Wwx turns himself into a forest on the burial mounds. Lwj visits, and they Communicate

Is this a time travel fic? Where he wakes up and sees the wens alive and the burial mounds flourishing with life? And he's so confused because he doesn't know how it happened? But it was because he wished for the wens to have a better life before he died or something? I can't remember the name of that fic but maybe some one else can?

FOUND? 🔒 Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, underage, rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, God WWX, God Verse, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Gods & Goddesses, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell) He didnt wake up in burial mound but he is a god and make burial mound green

~*~

[moonspirit]

Now that u have answered Annie’s sister in law, we need Armins siblings in law (so Pieck and Reiner)

Maldonado as a side note Annie is Pieck’s younger sister, but she is also Reiner’s older brother. Idk why but that’s just how it is based on dynamics.

Hi anon!

Hahah xD Oh Reiner and Pieck.

Tbh post-canon I really enjoy thinking about these two sets of relationships: Jean-Annie-Connie and Pieck-Armin-Reiner. Each half of Aruani sandwiched between two people from the side opposite to which they once belonged.

Anyway. I said it in some set of tags recently, but I love the potential of the bond Reiner and Armin could share post-rumbling. They're both similar in the respect that they have some self-hatred (though the root-causes are a bit different). This self-hatred, if shared, is something they'd understand. Reiner fought the very essence of life (the hallucinogenia) to help humanity live despite yearning for death himself. After the battle, his mental health is a goner; the guilt of everything that happened right from his birth to the present is extremely heavy to bear alone. If he was at rock bottom before, well now he's below any visible surface lol. Armin isn't too different from him then; he's just as shattered, guilt-ridden and debating his right to exist - but the hope that's inside him is a very, very hard thing to kill. It's because of that hope that the battle could end at all, and even if Eren's death and the loss of much of humanity is a planet-sized sin for him to carry, he's still hopeful, he's still a dreamer, he still sees the beauty in life.

Armin has the potential to lead the way in both his and Reiner's paths to healing. And Reiner, ever the protective big brother, will be unable to hide his genuine care and concern for Armin's well being and safety throughout their political work. The two go on long walks, hands in their pockets, talking about the past and future and everything in between; they play plenty of chess; they pore over maps of the remaining world; they rely on each other to pick the other up when the bouts of guilt overwhelm them.

Pieck now, is very very interesting. Not only is she the sole outsider in the Ambassador group, but she's also the one person who carries no good memories nor much empathy for Eren. She's every bit grounded in reality as Armin cannot help but dream. Initially, I think she'd find Armin's optimism and hope quite naive and delusional; after all she's always been aware of the cruel truth of their existence and the Eldian race's place in the world. Moreover, Armin's bond with Eren puzzles her - she can see that Armin is not a bad person; far from it in fact, he's reasonable, empathetic, careful and strategic. How could it ever have been possible that someone like him and Eren used to be inseparable friends? Over time though as Armin confides in her more about his and Eren's friendship, she learns to appreciate the bittersweetness of two boys who were each the other side of the very same coin.

Pieck and Armin, I hc, share a love for music and gadgets. They are both incredibly smart and this makes it very easy for them to fall into place as a very strong political team. They plan, they strategize, they discuss methods and tools and issues in their way. Armin values Pieck's level-headed approach to viewing and solving problems, while she appreciates his innovative ideas, tact, and careful consideration in minimizing damage. They enjoy conversations, they buy each other music records to play on the gramophone, and while Pieck helps Armin see the things he misses when he's lost in dreams, Armin helps Pieck feel welcome and like family, in their gang of six.

(Bonus: Reiner's always prattling on to Armin about how he's so glad his "little sister Annie" is happy with Armin, while Pieck annoys him to no end by never missing a chance to point out what an adorable simp he is lmao)

[athousandbyeol]

discussion #6 (only friends): boyfriend, bed friend and friend with benefit— are these colours a possible 'spoiler' to their ending?

three couple posters were released, and i'm thrilled to see three primary colours representing each pair. after sanray's green bed friend and topmew's red boyfriend were shared, i speculated bostonnick's to be yellow. one of the reasons this prediction arise is because of the nature of their relationship/personality and also my personal opinion on these pairs' possible ending.

however, i saw this tweet last night and i thought it was very insightful. thanks to op for sharing their input. it's interesting to observe these colours associated with each pair from the viewpoint of the traffic light. :)

thus, in this post, i wish to highlight some core points and assumptions about the dynamic/nature of each pair that corresponds with their designated colours; red, green and yellow.

as always, this (and any) of my discussion post is a space to welcome a disparity of thoughts from everyone who watches this drama. please take it with a grain of salt. :)

[warning: a very long post ahead].

let's begin.

topmew | boyfriend [jealousy and manipulation]

first and foremost, when this poster dropped, i was surprised. i didn't expect topmew to get this colour. i was expecting red to represent sanray because of their passion and overall fieriness. even in the trailer, we can see how tense those two are, like fire on fire, one inciting the flame and the other just making it worse.

however, after watching the trailer again, i understand the purpose of red as topmew's colour.

before we jump into the assumption, let's dive into the meaning behind the colour.

red: an emblem of true love and revenge

red often symbolises strength, passion, action and energy. the simplest example i can use in this context is the red rose. usually, a red rose is given to glorify the profound love a person has for someone. it's ironic considering red is also the colour of blood— and blood is somewhat a sacred and eerily beautiful symbol of infatuation in many love, tragic, horror and sad stories.

despite its positive connotations, red also means danger, anger, revenge and aggression. as i've mentioned, red is another classic symbol/motif/metaphor of anger used in many stories or movies— the best example is also blood.

why red is topmew's colour?

jealousy

interestingly, aside from the poster, there's something else in the tweet that needs attention.

เราเล็งใครไว้ ไม่เคยพลาดนะ translates to whoever we aim for, we never miss. this is the line top says to mew when they are playing laser tag (which looks so fun).

i find it fascinating when top says this because it happens after top catches mew hugging ray;

why does this matter? well, i believe this is the start of top's jealousy.

the clenched jaw, his body tensing, and a tiny bit of sadness in those eyes— i have to say, this is one of the points that can potentially be top's moment of epiphany. this (or the kiss in the shower) might be when top realises he likes mew.

additionally, it's very ironic that topmew are playing laser tag; a game that focuses on strategising and 'killing' your opponent. this somehow makes me view topmew's relationship as a hunter hunting its prey. however, in their case, top believes he's the hunter (as explained in top's introduction post, top is the top of everything). yet, top has never met the best opponent. not until mew.

p'book explained that mew is helpful and generous with his friends. but one thing he despises the most is dishonesty. people who take advantage of him will face the greatest disaster. these are very strong representations of mew's character, already denoting mew's colour as red. my initial thought was mew was generally blue (calm and level-headed), but his colour will change when his trust on top falters.

furthermore, as i've mentioned in my previous discussion posts, mew is more than what we think he is. the introduction post is already giving so much of mew's personality and vibe. he doesn't smile that much, and his eyes are very dark and hollow. the smirk he wears is not really evident, but it promises a sinister and potent impact. (once again, kudos to p'book for portraying these nuances of mew so well even in the intro video. i still get goosebumps when i watch it.)

top thinks he can outsmart mew. i believe he's going to eat his words someday.

side note: boston displays lenience when he's with top. boston is more of the submissive type with top, proof is taken when they had sex in the car, boston does all the work. this illustrates the power top has over boston and his reluctance to lose. it's also likely that boston was the one who called top that night, even though he (might have) known top was with mew before.

when top knows he likes mew— genuinely likes him and experiences jealousy for the first time— this is why he (and mew) represents red; you're mine. don't be someone else's. just mine.

manipulation

next, in the shower scene, top says—

—and is followed by a kiss.

as p'force mentioned in his intro post, the word love that comes from top's mouth is never sincere.

side note: i'm a bit conflicted when i learned about this because it made me think of two possibilities, 1) top genuinely falls for mew after they become boyfriends or 2) top never likes mew and he's just playing with him (like his other boyfriends/casual hookups). i hope top will like mew for real because if he doesn't, it won't really add much to his character— or simply, it'll just make him a flat character at the end. also, it doesn't give significance to mew's character as well, given his transformation is deeply rooted in top's dishonesty.

in both scenes, top says things that i personally don't understand its significance, but it's his way of claiming ownership and setting foot in mew's life, an indication that mew is his and he wants mew (and everyone) to know that.

it's a form of subtle manipulation from top— masked with sweet promises and again, (faked) honesty. top knows it's the only way to gain mew's trust: by making mew believe that top only sees and wants mew.

top surprises me in this frame because is that jealousy and anger on his face? (i think it is).

it's the way he says it. the slight quiver of his voice, the quietness of it almost brings forth his insecurity about losing mew's trust. although he's certain mew likes him too, ray is mew's friend and they've known each other longer than mew knows top. in one way or another, mew will possibly believe ray more than top, given mew hates dishonesty in a friendship/relationship. mew will treasure anyone who treasures him, but top worships and bends mew's trust simultaneously. something painful will be the price top has to pay after the truth unfolds.

another act of manipulation i noticed from mew is when top hugs mew and cries.

i believe mew might want a break-up at this point, but top doesn't want to. the little smile mew wears is an indication that mew knows he won this fight— he successfully manipulated top into thinking yes, i'm wrong. yes, i lied to you. yes, i can't live without you. an honourable mention includes mew's little smirk when top hugs him on the bed.

mew has it in him— that instinct— the hey, this top guy is interesting. mew keeps his cards safely in his hands, and once he thinks it's best to use them, oh, he will.

it's going to be very fascinating if this is the shift of mew's transformation— if this will be the second mew starts kicking off his plans on destroying top.

topmew's possible ending

as red signifies revenge, i think topmew won't be the endgame.

i personally think it'll be silly/unrealistic if mew still gives top a chance even after discovering about him and boston. it also doesn't add up to mew's personality as someone who is determined, resolute and sticks to his virtues. them being together at the end isn't what i want. the ending i want from topmew is 1) top will learn from his mistakes and 2) mew doesn't rely on love and friendship to determine the route of his personal life (he should take charge and make decisions for himself).

i assume topmew's break-up will be the start of mew's character growth and a revelation of top's true personality. but them being the endgame? i hope they won't. hehe.

//it's funny to me considering i adore forcebook but i don't want topmew to end up together...//

sanray | bed friend [safety and envy]

previously, i correlated sanray with greed and gluttony (thoroughly explained in this post). i view sanray as the right person and right time, but ray is somewhat too afraid to admit it, and san is somehow 'weak' to make ray believe it's true.

however, despite the turmoils they face in this relationship, there's a strong feeling of positivity i get from these two (and also bostonnick). why?

do you notice: sanray and bostonnick have always been honest with each other?

ray says he just wants someone to keep him company. san wishes ray can just focus on him. boston says he doesn't love nick that way. nick wishes boston can only love him. from the start of their relationship, they always vocalise what they really want from each other.

side note: topmew is different because they aren't honest, to begin with. we can expect a painful downfall from a relationship that is based on deceit.

but what is green, and why does it symbolise sanray's relationship?

green: a token of hope and balance

the colour generally has a positive meaning. green often resembles nature, and nature encompasses home, balance and relaxation. yet, green also means envy and judgement, hence the saying, green with envy.

why green is sanray's colour?

safety

ray (and i assume, top) are battling with different mental health issues. possibly, ray suffers from depression (assumption made by the bathtub scene when mew hugs ray),

and top is insomniac (pills scattering near the sink).

(i can be wrong).

what i'm trying to say is ray might feel 'bare' and 'naked' as his feelings for mew aren't reciprocated. this also roots in his insecurity in knowing that this won't change— mew won't ever like him— especially after he likes top. ray knows he no longer has a chance with mew despite still liking mew. and that messes with his head.

what does ray want in his life? security. a home. a place to be and feel safe.

i don't know if i can explain this well, but there's always dread whenever something doesn't go how we want it to be? i think that's ray's major problem: he can't come to terms with his feelings. he sees the world as a solid entity. he doesn't possess the fluidity to 'shape' himself differently from that belief. thus, this is why ray is so afraid of the growing infatuation he has for san, because san isn't in that box— it has always been mew. but mew doesn't want to be in that box— san does.

ray is a ticking bomb in the sense that he's very unexpected and volatile. there are many instances in the trailer that shows ray's explosive reaction and approach when he confronts san. one of the examples is when ray says having san in his life won't make it better (it's the opposite. ray knows this too.)

all he wants is safety and assurance. ray also wants clarity and an end to the doubts in his head. befriending san, having this 'bed friend' relationship helps ray see that it's possible. but as i explained, ray doesn't know if he can have that with san. it's a very sad and (twisted) understanding of love. ray believes he's 'cheating' on mew by having romantic feelings for san. yet, i reckon, mew doesn't want ray to feel that way. mew also wants ray to find his happiness, even if it's not from/with him.

i do believe ray's perception of love will change. there's going to be a cathartic moment he experiences one day that gives him the certitude he needs. san has always been the door that ray can open anytime. it's only a matter of acceptance and forgiveness that will save ray from his own devils. it's only a matter of time for ray to accept his feelings as they are— to take san's hands and walk on this journey together.

envy

envy is a potent driving force between san and ray. even though it's mainly from ray, san also shows nuances of envy.

in one way or another, san knows ray likes mew. but san likes ray— ray (who isn't ready) to like san back.

the pattern i see in every couple is they're each other's reflection. they might not realise it now, but they will when they're about to lose their other half.

in sanray's case, san hasn't fully grasped ray's train of thought. although he assumes he knows what ray is thinking, his speculations aren't entirely true. it's also because san has his own ideas about ray and how this relationship should work.

san wants to fit ray into his mould and expects ray to abide by it, but he knows too well that ray is still bound to mew. this will frustrate san the most and further amplifies his anger/despair/jealousy.

(why must first cry in every role he acts in? my heart is breaking for him...)

i guess it has to do with san's personality as a survivor (extracted from san's intro post). he battles with himself every day to make ends meet. he isn't financially well-off while ray is rich.

furthermore, from this line included in the poster tweet;

เพื่อนกัน เค้าไม่คิดตังค์เว้ย = friends, they don't think about money, parallel this scene—

—which adds another layer to san's character as a faithful/sincere/kind person/lover. he doesn't blur the lines between friendship and love if his feelings aren't involved (making him a bit selfish, but it's a given when a person so strong-headed and passionate like san starts loving something/someone). from the beginning, san never wants ray's money even though that's the most important thing in his life.

different living status promises a different set of challenges. i don't mean to be biased, but the reality is, the poor will always endure the toughest battle. therefore, san's insecurity is valid, and his confusion is necessary. why?

as san's feelings for ray grow, he starts doubting his worth. he doesn't have much to offer, only his body, soul and time— that's all. san will make deductions— am i just only that to ray? just a bed friend? can he ever be more than that to ray?

sanray's possible ending

sanray is the pair that i hope (and somehow confident) will get a happy ending.

there's so much to them that fits the holes and gaps in each other. they do feel like two people finally finding one another after all the chaos and heartbreaks. they make me want to root for them because the pain they've endured is just so gut-wrenching that i insist they'll be the endgame no matter the circumstances.

i also believe since green is their colour, sanray will achieve that balance and harmony in the end. despite not knowing how and when they'll get to that stage, i'm quite certain they'll be together. these two incendiary characters can finally simmer down the rupturing fire in them by being together, taking and discarding the positive and negative, and also achieving the clarity they've always wanted— together.

bostonnick | friend with benefit [happiness and egoism]

from the two trailers, we get so little of boston and nick's dynamic. it touches on the core elements; lust and envy (further explained in this post). we're seeing only the gist of what and who they are to each other and other people, which attributes to a wonderful surprise awaiting us once only friends airs.

i expected bostonnick's colour will be either yellow or orange, and i'm happy my assumption hit the jackpot this time hehe. although boston's character is likely the antagonist of the story, nick balances his negativity really well. nick's brightness manages to dull boston's darkness.

yellow: a sign of happiness and egoism

yellow is generally a happy colour. it reminds me of the sun; bright and hot. yellow is often associated with cheerfulness and energy. it's a colour that incites many good emotions.

even though this colour shines with positivity, yellow can also represent cowardice and lies; it also acts as a precautionary sign; kind of like the traffic light; yellow— prepare to stop (not to speed up hahaha).

why yellow is bostonnick's colour?

happiness (light)

i see bostonnick as yellow because i think they're genuinely happy when they're together.

boston to me is very red, and nick is somewhat white. they're from two different ends of the colour spectrum, with nick being the bright sunshine while boston is the dark clouds. however, i see only positive influences nick has on boston, mainly when they meet outside of the bed and in the red (developing) room.

their relationship might begin because of boston's habit/obsession with capturing moments of sex with his partners. nick might be the tech-savvy guy that is coincidentally working on the day boston pays a visit. the universe really wants them to meet somehow.

i can't exactly picture how they go from this;

to this;

i guess the attraction is mutual from the first encounter (or one of them is very horny at that time [read: boston]), and they begin to confide in each other afterwards.

although we know the foundation of their relationship is mainly boston seeking nick's help (with his equipment (?) and urges), there are also moments of them spending time with each other like how lovers do. the wakeboarding date (?) and other possible meetings are just happy days spent together.

moreover, it's evident that nick is happy to be boston's favourite.

regardless of boston still having an on-and-off connection with top, boston will cave into nick more and more because nick can give him everything he wants fast. nick's availability appeals so much to boston. this makes nick his favourite because again— boston and his idea of controlling the things he likes— applies to nick too.

side note: i don't know if boston is a sex manic or he's insatiable, but i assume nick doesn't mind feeding boston's constant need for intimacy (even though it'll hurt him the most eventually).

ego

boston has a big ego, and he knows this. that ego is one of boston's strongest (and toxic) traits. like top, boston believes he can have everything and anything he wants. why? because of his brazenness, boston doesn't really have much fear in him as well as decency. he's the go-big-or-go-home type of person. this portion of boston is also one of his most appealing qualities, and nick clearly takes the bait.

however, boston's ego is also his greatest downfall. he thinks he won't be affected if someday, nick decides to leave him for good (and go to p'papang's character, which i honestly approve of). when that day comes, it will make boston realise (hopefully) that the truth is; he does love nick all along.

but this is the thing boston and top have in common: they don't understand what love is. the concept of love to them is vague and stupid. they don't know if true love exists, and i'm guessing it has to do with their (painful? embarrassing?) past experiences. they perceive love in the same manner; sex. they objectify their loved ones to benefit their pride and ego. if they don't get something in return, it'll be useless. they won't use them.

boston says he never loves nick because he knows he has never given nick anything but pain and pleasure. a part of boston is aware that he's unforgivingly mean, but it's a feature he can't discard easily; this ego. boston can't see himself falling to his knees and acknowledging his feelings for nick because that hurts his pride.

boston is a walking disaster, and he doesn't want to lose that title— he glorifies that label— because it makes him feel powerful and in control, a common trait of a narcissist.

and because boston clouds himself by believing nick is just an object, he gets angry when nick stops serving his purpose; to satisfy boston. it infuriates boston that nick found his voice and wants boston to listen to his needs. boston can't let that happen, mainly because of his ego. he's just too prideful to be at anyone's mercy.

it's not because nick can't get enough of boston— it's boston who never thinks nick is enough.

side note: let's be real— top chooses mew. top wants mew. top sees boston as an object of lust. that's all. what he does to nick is what top does to him. it's like boston's cry of protest— feeling unwanted by someone he (thinks) he wants.

yet, boston also uses his ego to control, play and manipulate nick's feelings.

sadly, nick's honesty gets the best of him because boston prefers to overlook that sincerity; nick's desire for love.

กูแค่อยากให้มึงรักกูคนเดียว = i just want you to love only me; boston can't. his ego doesn't let him.

bostonnick's possible ending

i'm inclined to bostonnick having an open/ambiguous ending. like the colour yellow, there's going to be a balance of optimism and cowardice. nick might still want to be with boston despite the hell boston brings into his life because he really loves boston. unlike mew, nick doesn't have malicious intent (i don't see this in him, really) in seeking revenge etc. he reminds me of the character that is truly broken by a person they love the most. nick somehow illustrates how pure love is and how painful it can be.

also, it'll be exciting if there's a redemption arc for boston as he's likely the antagonist of this story (honourable mention will be mew). he might realise nick's worth and start things over. there'll be hesitation and doubts— does nick still loves me?— but if boston is honest and willing to fix this, nick is always open to accepting him.

nick has a soft spot in my heart and i'm genuinely hoping better days will come to him (because mark shared in nick's intro post, nick cried so much. it's rare to get a smiling nick).

conclusion

colours play an important role in telling or showing intent, purpose and significance. it's a widely used symbol/motif/theme/metaphor to give the audience a better picture of the storyline, plot, characters, etc.

as always, i find it interesting that these primary colours are so basic but it gives so much depth to these three couples. all of them are distinctly unique with so many humane attributes. it's riveting almost to see three different dynamics in a series.

their red and green and yellow will bring forward so many colourful emotions from us. are we ready to be painted black at the end of the drama?

side note: do you know? the first step in making black is mixing red, green and yellow.

(i tried it with pencil colours and it's almost black. all it needs is a touch of blue.)

what awaits us? are these colours the possible spoiler to each pair's destiny? let's find out starting this saturday. surely, it'll be a hell of a ride.

[1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (i) | 4 (ii) | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12]

references:

only friends twitter page

only friends pilot trailer

only friends official trailer

colour meanings: red | green | yellow

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones V

Summary: Agent Rohr keeps pushing, are you going to cave? Meanwhile, Clay is fighting his very own demons.

Pairing: Clay Roach x afab!cop!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k (short but dense!)

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Drug Paraphernalia, Agent Rohr, Emotional Distress, Explicit Withdrawal Descriptions

A/N: Genuinely can’t believe this is actually happening rn. I’m back in the fucking building.

Find The Other Parts Here!

Tagging the horde: (Y’all….it’s been a hot minute. I don’t know who’s still active)

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp @starry-eyed-wild-child

All we are is entertainment

Caught up in our own derangement

Tell us what to say and what to do

- Entertainment By Rise Against

You gagged; a myriad of rotten cardboard boxes wearing a now brown-tinted strawberry print rumbled into the blackened trash bag as you jerked the overflowing bin upside down, various stages of decomposition on full display. In your means to clean this place, you had quickly learned to be grateful if the task at hand was only about picking up brightly orange needle caps or tossed and scattered Fent strips.

“We gonna get you a chore planner, Clay.”, The words trickled into the dusty and thoroughly musty air as if he was right there with you and not miles away, pushing himself through an unmedicated living nightmare, “I swear, I’ll bust your balls if it ever gets that bad again!”

The deadpan statement coaxed a shallow, quick laugh to roll over your tongue chased by a heavy pang of anxiety cutting right through your stomach as you remembered just how fucking bad it had gotten on your end now, too. 

It’s been days since Rohr has had the audacity to show up at your own house to shove his nose into business that wasn’t his in no way shape or form. However, he’d made a point; HR wouldn’t like your little stunt at all, no matter how hard you were to push the harm reduction agenda, pleading for humility and understanding in front of people who’d be more than pissed about the financial hassle of hundreds of missing test kits.

Just the thought of this shit-eating grin beaming right at you from the opposite end of your kitchen table whilst he’d drawn out photograph after photograph to punch his point down your throat a little harder with each picture rendered you sick to the bone and had your insides twitching in every possible direction. There wouldn’t be an easy way out of this, that much you knew, yet, risking Clay’s already fragile chance of actual sobriety was no point of discussion to be had for it being blatantly out of question. It had to happen, had to work out, and then… then it would all be good again; calming little white lies you told yourself to keep that last shred of sanity alive and fed somehow. 

You forced your attention to return to the now plump trashbag, once hollow edges rounding with the sheer amount of strawberry milk boxes, if they’d let you, you’d bring some full ones to the facility soon in the hopes that the little things might make it more bearable for him. 

During the past nights, you’d spent hours upon hours staring at your ceiling wondering, your thoughts conjuring images of pain levels you hadn’t felt yourself, not even when inflicting it upon yourself. Simply the mere train of thought about Clay going through days of crippling withdrawal shook you, made you flinch without any physical incentive to do so around you, wishing that you could help him carry the weight and pain in whatever ways possible.

The mobile device in your pocket buzzed, announcing a text that was waiting to be read. The sudden bzz-bzz humming through the fabric of your pants nearly had you crawling out of your own skin for a second, your ribcage exploding from the sudden jolt of adrenaline.

“Jesus, fuck!” You huffed out in a raggedy breath, dragging your phone from its confines, display lighting up with the touch of your thumb.

- Hey, sweets, I’m free tonight, just saying. Are you going to be? -

“Motherfucker!” The need to throw your phone at the next best wall rippled through your arm but you kept your composure, trashing your mobile over a text from that asshole wasn’t exactly on your to-do list, not today and not in the near future either.

His entire ribcage cramped, shrunk together as his stomach pumped a new wave of bile upward his esophagus to wash around the root of his tongue and eventually gush free from parted lips, the acidic amalgamation of mucus and foodless vomit slumping down into the pristinely white toilet bowl, the scent of harsh chlorine cleaning solution burning it’s way into his overstimulated nostrils.

Clay felt sick like a dog, sick to a degree the term “dope sick” didn’t even fully convey the level of misery his body and mind were going through as the wash of throat-burning barf left his trembling statue. The lump thumbed down in a dull thud as he reached for the button to flush it all down just like everything that had left his body beforehand already; trembling fingers barely able to push against the mechanics with enough vigor.

After he’d wiped quivering lips with a bunched-up fistful of cheap and coarse toilet paper, Clay slumped back down onto his heels, lungs burning with the attempts to gasp for air after it had felt like the mucus and puke damn near choked him out. His eyes burned and his entire vision was blurred with the intense amounts of pressure throbbing through his skull every time his stomach contracted with the means to violently eject the few crumbs Clay had managed to shove down for breakfast.

“Peak between 48 and 72 hours, my fucking ass.”, Dry lips smacked against each other, the sensitive skin brittle and chapped, “It’s been 5 days, you fuckers.”

Clay’s already sore voice broke off almost immediately, turned into a pathetic, whimpery croak as a surge of violent tears oozed from his lashline. He knew he could push through it, it wasn’t exactly his first rodeo, however, the helplessness of it all that had his body trembling, muscles aching and joints feeling like they were about to break apart got to him. He couldn’t help it and the trivial, set-in-stone-fact drove him to the edge of crumbling.

Unless inevitably medically necessary, this facility had a strict no-medication policy. No helping hand, no little pick-me-up besides vegetable snack plates and smoothies, fucking smoothies. Clay could’ve sworn to still taste the biting hint of celery that ruined damn near everything in larger quantities, especially now that the deep green liquid had found its path all the way back since ingesting it in a faint moment of hope along the afternoon hours. 

With a long groan rolling over his tongue, Clay let his head loll back against the uncomfortably bright white tiles of his adjoined bathroom, thinking about a cheeseburger and fries. For a little while, his thoughts stayed there as he slid down from his heels onto his ass, pulling his knees underneath his chin to rest his head upon. Greasy, salty goodness with an extra large diet coke for that nice crisp and tingly feeling dancing amongst his ketchup and mustard battered tastebuds. Fucking smoothies.

He closed his eyes, wiping the wetness from his cheeks on gray hoodie sleeves. The piece of clothing felt like a warm, comforting hug, all cozy and fuzzy on the inside. Clay pushed his face into the fabric, the thick cloth blacking out the harsh bright light from above, and he sighed in relief, a faint smile ghosting around his mouth. He was thankful; thankful for you packing that duffle bag for him, thankful for the sploppily put together grilled cheese that had tasted like heaven, and grateful for that black and purple polka-dotted cup filled with hot chocolate.

Clay knew that he didn’t owe you anything, you weren’t that type of person to push your thumb onto all the good that you’d done until someone gave you a badge of honor for it, no, nonetheless, almost all of his motivations to go through with this led back to you, back to you crouching in front of him whilst he had sluggishly come to, back to how you’d held him, dragged him to your car and took matters into your own hands because everything had eventually slipped from his that night. 

[direwombat]

another wip wednesday another dollar. tagged by the beloved @socially-awkward-skeleton

got a couple things cookin' on the stove, so to start, here's a bit towards the end of katc ch 7 wherein shaw is helping syb escape st francis after her emergency appendectomy. still very rough/unedited (as evident by an instance of brackets) and subject to change but here's something

“Because I made a mistake and now I’m trying to fix it.” He grips her by the shoulders and squeezes them tight. Firmly, he says, “Listen to me: Augustine is alive. You need to find him.”  

In a flash, she grabs him by the collar and drags him towards her. “Where is he?” she snarls -- teeth bared, eyes narrow. She shakes him for good measure. “Where the fuck is he?” 

He lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t know,” he says. “Most likely somewhere in the Valley or Henbane.” 

“So help me, if you lyin’…” She has no idea how she's going to finish that threat -- just that it involves excessive and horrific violence.  

“I’m not! I’m just --” he cuts himself off at the sounds of low chatter and approaching footsteps. “Someone’s coming. Get on the truck. You need to hide. Now!” 

With a harsh shove, her back falls onto the bed of the truck, and her legs are quickly swept into the air as the man lifts the tailgate. She rolls onto her belly and crawls between white boxes bearing the symbol of Eden’s Gate. The motions press and pull at the tender skin of her abdomen, held together by a series of sutures. She bites her tongue to prevent herself from hissing through her teeth. Once she’s nestled herself between two that have been securely strapped down, her rescuer throws a tarp over cargo, further obscuring her from view. 

As he finishes securing the covering, the approaching footsteps come to a halt near the truck. “Brother Shaw,” drawls a feminine voice. The name tickles her brain with a sense of familiarity, but she brushes it aside. She’s had so many fleeting interactions with people in her time as a deputy sheriff. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility this Shaw was one of them. 

“We missed you at the service this evening,” the woman continues. “Is everything alright?” Her light and airy tone is belied by a cruel sneer; spoken like a high school hall monitor with an inflated sense of authority. The unspoken observation and threat are plain as day: You weren’t where you were supposed to be. Do I need to tell the higher ups about this?

“Sister,” Shaw greets curtly. “I may not have been at the chapel, but I had my radio tuned to the same frequency as everyone else. Someone had to make sure the trucks were loaded with supplies to aid in the siege against the sinners held up at the jail.” 

“And was this a direct order from the Herald?” 

“The Deputy butchered my whole squad tonight, Emily,” Shaw says tersely. “Forgive me if I wasn’t in the mood to sing and rejoice in preemptively celebrating the Project's victory.” Sybille’s eyes go wide. Could it be? The same man who’s helped drag her to freedom is the same one who found her at the ranger’s station and brought her here in the first place? “Unless Brother Jacob specifically asked after my absence, then I have nothing more to discuss with you.”

“And if he did?” The woman’s voice pitches higher; her arrogant posturing rapidly crumbles at the slightest challenge.

“Then I will explain myself to him.” 

[A beat]

“You should’ve died with your squad,” Emily sneers. “Only a weakling and a coward would abandon their brothers in arms like that. I don’t even know why the Herald keeps you around. You should have been culled with the rest of ‘em.” 

bonus snippet 1: from a scene that possessed me the other day wherein jacob and syb are stuck in a bunker and they're talking about their daddy issues (and what they want to leave behind/how they want to be remembered). which is to say. this is the closest to therapy they'll ever get <3

"Told myself I'd never end up like my old man. Sooner put a bullet in my head than wind up old and miserable like he was. But shit happens and then suddenly…" [Jacob] trails off, his thumb idly playing with the tab.

"Suddenly you seein' 'im every time you look in the mirror," Sybille supplies. She proceeds to down the rest of her beer. She crushes the can under her palm and lets out a loud belch.

"Yeah," Jacob says lamely, and he does the exact same thing.

She reaches back into the 24-pack of lukewarm bunker beer. "Wanna'nother one?"

"Please."

bonus snippet 2: from the jakesyb bliss-induced-sex fic :)c

“What the fuck is this?”

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked!” [Faith] grins. “I’m doing some…hm, what’s the term for it? R&D?”

“R&D?” Jacob parrots. 

“Yup!” She lifts the leash and waves it in her hand, the motion making the tags on Sybille’s collar jingle. “Doing some testing on a new strain of Bliss. One to store for when we emerge in New Eden. That'll…” she bites her lip, contemplating her words, “...help us repopulate.” 

He comes to an abrupt halt, just out of reach. Faith’s words knock the bluster from him. “What?” 

“I don’t know how to put it more simply, Jacob. It’s a strain of Bliss meant to help encourage procreation.” 

“You’re making an aphrodisiac?” he states dumbly. 

She clicks her tongue and scoffs. “A vulgar way to put it, but yes.”

“And you’ve used the Deputy as a guinea pig.”

“Mm-hm,” she nods, “as one, yes.” 

“And this is a gift to me, how?” 

Faith cocks her head to the side. “Do you not like it?” She frowns. “I dressed her up all nice for you and everything.” 

taglist (opt in/opt out)

@buggknife, @cloudofbutterflies92, @josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarishikages,

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl,

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners,

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies,

@josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain, @voidika,

@strangefable and anyone else who wants to share a wip today <3

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 17: "Les coquelicots rouges"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You and Benedict finally sit down to have a conversation.

Word count: 2.1K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Benedict went inside Lady Danbury's home, waiting for you to get ready to meet him.

He knew you were taking so long entirely on purpose, and he hated you for that. What he hated you the most for, though, was that he couldn't possibly fathom the idea to hate you at all.

Because he adored you, but Benedict wouldn't act upon said fervent desires that threatened to burn him alive.

He was the suitor of Miss Prince, it would be unfair to her, he couldn't simply be led by temptation and fall for you all over again. Although, how can you fall again if you never stood up after the first drop in the first place?

"Mr. Bridgerton?" He stood up immediately. "Lady Y/N is ready to receive you."

"Thank you." he replied politely, quickly walking to the sitting room.

There, he saw you, radiant as ever.

"My Lady," he called for your attention, and your gaze went from the bouquet of red poppies to him. "We must speak."

"We must," you confirmed, trying hard to ignore that he used your title, taking a seat and motioning him to do the very same. His eyes followed your every move, hypnotized by the way you looked on your white dress with embroidered lavenders and dark purple vest. "Do tell."

Benedict cleared his throat. No matter how far from the red flowers you were, they still caused some sort of discomfort to the sight, to him, for whatever reason. "I believe I should be grateful to you."

You hummed. "What for?"

"You, uh…" he began. "Taught me a lot. Things I never thought possible for me, you motivated me to try them… to experiment and truly learn from myself and others."

You gasped quietly. "Did you kiss or advance kiss another gentleman, Benedict?"

"Y/N, I-" He blushed, making your face go warm at the thought. You were actually just teasing him, but his reaction told you there was no joke. "That is not an appropriate topic of conversation and not at all what I was hoping to discuss with you."

"Alright, I shall not say a word." you murmured.

Benedict cleared his throat and looked at you. "More than once I tried to find you, but I stopped myself. There was a reason: it was not the right thing to do. You are not the right-"

"If you came to reject me, allow me to tell you that I have known nothing but repulsion for two years," you stated firmly, forgetting the light turn your conversation had seemed to take, and swallowing the heart of shattered glass. "I needn't anymore of it, so you might as well take your leave."

"If you could let me speak, that would be very much appreciated," Benedict said, sarcastic. "I understand why you did what you did, I do; I simply find it cruel that you knew well of my struggles and did not have the decency to put me out of my misery. For both of our sakes."

You sighed. "I wanted to do so, but I could not, Benedict, because…" You stopped.

"Go on." He rushed you.

"It was not until the night before I left that I went from seeing my cousin as an utter idiot to an actual threat. He said 'we must marry if you wish to keep living this life for you are infatuated that I will never become the Duke', which was true. But then he told me that I would either marry him willingly, or he would marry another lady, throw me to the streets as the sole owner of everything that is mine, and make sure that no gentleman marries me… After that night in Aubrey Hall, I realized what he truly meant by making sure I lacked something every lady must have to be worthy of marrying. I knew what he truly meant by that."

Benedict stayed in silence, partly because he didn't know what to say and partly because he wouldn't dare say a word.

"I left, then. I had planned to, but I was going to let my cousin know I would leave. He gave me no choice," you continued. "My initial plan was to come to London, go to the Academy, make a name for myself, be the artist I had always wanted; but when Claude did that, I knew that I needed an alternative to take care of myself: sell my art, which could only be accomplished by being a renowned artist and that was only possible if I were a man," He sighed heavily at your words. "I gradually changed my mind, but the need to be wed set when I received a letter from France. Right then and there I knew it was time for me to get married and have children: the next rightful Duke, an heir of mine. It was Father's will, for my cousin to be the lord of the house until I got married, but for the successor of the family to be our own flesh and blood, his future grandson… The King agreed to it, but if he ever finds out about what happened here in London, he will throw that away and name another duke instead. Not my husband, not my child, not my cousin: a stranger to the region, the winery, and the duty. And as for me, my fate would be most tragic, Benedict."

"I am truly sorry," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the poppies that disrupted the harmony of the white and pastel pink color palette of the rest of the flowers in Danbury House. "I never wished for any of this to happen, for us to end like this."

"The story isn't over just yet," you announced, and he nodded for you to keep going. "When my Grandfather took me under his care, he changed completely: he despised me for escaping, for pretending, for seducing you into tarnishing my innocence, and only the Lord knows how he found out about what we did… He took me to the Americas, he ruined my life, and he found a bastard child of my father to take my place. I managed to get rid of him, but I am afraid it is only a matter of time until my grandfather realizes the ruse was orchestrated by me and tells everything to the King. Then, it will be over for me unless I have someone to look after me."

"You could marry anyone, then, for it is so urgent."

"I do not want just anyone, Mr. Bridgerton," you answered. "I want you, and you should know by now that I do not get intimidated easily, much less by a mere miss who disrespects the family of Simon and Daphne and disregards the importance of culture, not to mention that has such terrible opinions on your sister Eloise, firmly supports the toxic patriarchy, and believes herself to be too good for you."

Benedict frowned, leaving alone the flowers for once. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Worry not, my heart, for as long as I breathe, no one will dare speak of my loved ones in such a way."

"Whatever did you do, Y/N?" He sighed.

You smiled sheepishly. "Nothing just yet."

"Y/N…" He groaned. "Why don't you just stop interfering in my life? You could have anyone, but you just want me, I beg you to tell me why."

"Because I love you," you replied. "And I am not giving up on us, because if you didn't love me as well, you wouldn't even have come here in the first place."

"You do not need me…" He pursed his lips, his gaze returning to the poppies. "These are ruining the aesthetic of the house, I cannot stand them. Who brought them here?"

"You must forgive Lord Cortez, my heart," You shrugged. "He knows of my fondness for poppies."

"Lord Cortez?" he questioned, exhaling jealousy and air from his lungs. "Really? Are you doing this to catch my attention?"

"Only if it's working."

Benedict rolled his eyes.

Of course it was working.

"You have made it!" you exclaimed when you saw her, faking excitement as well as you could. "Thank you for joining me."

"Thank you for inviting me." she replied, greeting Madame Delacroix gently.

"I was telling Madame Delacroix how much I would like a wine-colored dress," you updated her. "I believe it would look fantastic on me. I know that burgundy is not a color ladies wear, is it? That will certainly catch some attention from the gentlemen."

Madame Delacroix smiled. "There is actually this silk that just arrived last week, Lady Y/N. I ordered it for small details on gowns, but there is certainly enough for a full dress for you."

"I would love to see that, Madame Delacroix."

"I shall be back in a minute, my Lady."

You looked at Miss Prince with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. She knew your intentions were not as pure as you disguised them to be, but she knew you were not precisely lying to her either.

A part of her knew you loved Benedict, it was as clear as the water. She could notice easily that there was a strong connection between you and him, but she was ignorant of how much had actually happened between you both.

Miss Prince believed, also, that you were a lady who would never allow a man dishonor her, whatever that meant. She was right, but not quite for Benedict was not any man. He was the man you loved, your former fiancé, even.

"There was a woman from the Academy," you mentioned once you were alone. "They used to spend a lot of time together, and it was obvious that Benedict was fond of her."

"How do you know that?"

"I was in the Royal Academy of Art, remember?" you said. "I saw them. He seemed utterly enamored. And there have been many more ladies as far as I know… If you wish for a husband whose only love has always been you, you are most certainly looking for him in the wrong place."

Miss Prince nodded, opting for ignoring your presence that annoyed her at this point.

You smiled proudly to yourself, knowing that you would not let her take him from you. Knowing that you could continue with your plan because she was now aware that Benedict is not the kind of man she desires so, and if she chooses to stick with him, she will have to settle for who she considers not enough for her.

"Here it is, my Lady," Madame Delacroix returned with the silks, a wonderful color you knew would look wondrous on you. "I have so much in my mind for your gown, I will make sure you are the most beautifully dressed."

"Merci beaucoup, Madame Delacroix," you thanked her, looking around carefully. Miss Prince was far away and a couple of ladies were near you both. "Uh, just between us, I am confident you remember an arrangement between us, do you not? About whose creative mind would be responsible for a dress for the most important day of a lady's life..."

"Mon Dieu !" she exclaimed knowingly.

Whatever it takes.

Dearest gentle reader,

To this day, it is not a novelty that Lady Y/N of Burgundy is back in London... What for, if we may ask? Your beloved author might as well have the answer to your questions.

After days of gracefully pacing around Mayfair with her sponsor for the season, Lady Danbury, Lady Y/N started regaining her status as France's finest and most coveted jewel. Among my speculations, her being named the Diamond of the Season finally was her to stay a maid until then.

Fortunately or not, we will never know about that, for rumor has it she is engaged to none other than Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.

taglist: @yentroucnagol @crimsonincursive @czarinera @uwumd @omgnctchina

[kytsuine-blog]

Ok so I'm going to do a better, Tumblr-focused writeup soon and also track down those blogs to talk about them more specifically, but I fell for a misinformation scheme today and want to talk about how and why. Here's an email I sent my little cousin about it.

This morning, I encountered a Tumblr post talking about the TikTok ban and the government's attempt to severely curtail digital privacy rights as part of it.

I had heard that the TikTok ban was currently up for debate in the Senate, after passing the House with strong bipartisan support. I was not surprised by the information in the screenshots; it matched with things I knew the government had tried to do often in the past, and often under similar circumstances. I looked up the bill linked to verify, and yeah, it was an active bill that had been introduced in the Senate. (I should have realized then that there was an issue with what I was reading, but in my defense it was about 6:00 AM, and I was just glancing over things in the parking lot before going in to work.)

Concerned for the digital privacy and security of my family, and especially the ones I can't just drive to, I drafted the following message to you:

"I haven't had time to read all the way through the RESTRICT act that the Senate proposed, but summaries I've seen indicate that as written it's a massive overreach. It's better known as the TikTok ban; the news has been focusing on that part as it passes through Congress so far.

I always sign my emails to you with my public key. Both of you should look up how to use PGP to send me encrypted emails with that. It may become even more important soon to normalize secure encryption in Internet communications, and there may also be things that we wish to discuss that state or federal laws may frown on in the future.

I planned to introduce topics related to computer and information security more gradually, but making sure that talking about those is possible at all is an important part of that.

Congress.gov page on the bill

Tweet thread"

(As an aside, I do still think that normalizing encryption is a very worthwhile thing to do; it makes the web a safer place for activists and informants needing a way to communicate without surveillance, without being singled out as enemies of the surveillance state.)

I then checked through the notes of the Tumblr post to see if there was more context I wanted to share, and noticed people who called out a detail that I missed. That post was first posted in March of 2023, a little over a year ago. It refers to an entirely different bill than the TikTok ban which is currently going through the Senate, one which activists successfully stalled (and likely killed) last year. This year's bill is much more targeted (though, as implemented, I still have issues with it); its text can be found here.

This is a classic example of how misinformation spreads. I did not have bad intent when I went to share that commentary on last year's bill with you, and I did not find it from someone with bad intent (in fact, she subsequently shared a commentary I posted on the actual bill, in reply to her original incorrect post.) From what I can tell, on March 14, a number of mostly inactive politically-focused blogs all shared that post directly from the original poster (not from someone who had it in their feed, like a normal Tumblr interaction). Each of these was tagged with fairly popular political tags. None of these blogs has posted since, keeping it at the top of their page to get more eyes on it.

Misinformation is spread deliberately, and it takes caution and checking of your biases to combat it. I almost fell for this one because I expected it to be true. I should have checked on it before sharing anything at all. Looking at it now, I ask: who benefits from this?

Most directly, proponents of the current TikTok ban benefit from activist efforts being directed towards a functionally dead bill. This, apparently, includes the strong majority of the House, on both sides of the aisle; it may be assumed that it also includes the government's surveillance agencies (as it is easier to compel data from American companies than from foreign ones, particularly Chinese ones). It could also include other social media sites, especially those like YouTube and Instagram that compete directly with TikTok in the realm of algorithmically driven short videos.

More abstractly, though, this misinformation benefits the status quo, and conservatism as a whole. By causing people who are invested in the TikTok ban (mostly left-leaning people) to engage with more stringent and concerning bills, stress is increased on activists and burnout becomes more likely. Targeting the mental health of left-leaning activists is a tactic we've seen multiple times recently in misinformation campaigns; another example is the "the Guardian is doing a story on DIY HRT" hoax that recently circulated among my trans friends. This type of stressful lie misinformation serves the dual purpose of causing activists to burn out and decreasing trust among communities that share it.

This is a new specific strategy to me, but the solution is the same as ever. Check your sources when you speak publicly, check how your biases affect what ideas seem "clearly correct", and aim for your statements to maximize quality, rather than quantity. That's a discipline I still need to refine, but it's not hard. Just requires a bit of diligence.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

I'm Ready

Summary: You and Sabine have a discussion before your rescue mission

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

This is a special platonic story with our lovely Sabine Wren, for the wonderful @skyofnostars as a thank you for being lovely and amazing.

I hope you enjoy this.

Love oo

Warnings: Not a one. Aside from playful banter. However, if I do miss any please let me know. Oh, there is one. Just potentially finding out character is deceased. I think that's it.

AO3 Link   |   OS & MS Master List |   Main Master List  

You sat outside looking up at Mandalore’s night sky.

“Are you coming in?”

“In a bit,” you answered, calling over your shoulder to Sabine, as she slowly walked over to you.

“What are you looking at?”

“Trying to think what the end of the galaxy would look like.”

She sat beside you, “You don’t have to come. Ahsoka and I can just take the experimental hyperdrive you’re working on. I don’t think I can handle it if something were to happen to you too.”

You let out a sigh, you knew it had kept her up nights, knowing Ezra was out there somewhere, and the last thing she wanted was to lose her second best friend, but you wouldn’t let her go on her own with Ahsoka, not if you could help. 

“No. I want to come with you, I know it’s scary and I promise I’ll do what I can to come back, and if it means getting Ezra back - - I want to go.” You turned to look at her, “You of all people, know how important it is for me, not just to prove my hyperdrive works,” you smirked at her, “but also because you both mean a lot to me.”

She nodded slowly as she leaned into your side, resting her head against yours, “I know, and despite my better judgement, that’s why I told Ahsoka we should come see you first.” Sabine shifted off your head and looked up to the sky again, “You really think this hyperdrive is going to work?”

“Well it’ll either send us to the other end of the galaxy or …”

“Or?”

“Sun bake us for fifteen minutes” you turned to look at her, meeting her eyes as you both laughed. As much as she may have asked, she trusted your math and engineering better than anyone else.  

She wiped her forehead, trying to push out the fear of not finding Ezra or worse finding him dead, she took in a shuddering breath, “Do you think we’ll get him back?”

You looked at her weighing the various possibilities and outcomes in your mind, one of the good things about being highly intelligent, was the ability to run through multiple what-if scenarios in a shortened time, “I think there’s a high probability we will get him back. You take into account his ability to survive the streets, irritate the Empire with little to no skills at the time, and mix in his training with Kanan and there’s no way he’d succumb just like that.”

Sabine nodded agreeing with your assessment, “And if worst comes to worst, at the very least we’d all get the closure we’re needing, right?”

You turned to look at her smirking, “That doesn’t sound like you. That sounds practically optimistic. Do you have a fever?” You pressed the back of your hand to her forehead, only for her to  flick your hand away, laughing.

“Hey! I’m optimistic,” she teased smacking your thigh with the back of her hand.

“I’m kidding,” you giggle holding up your hand in surrender, “I know you are. Now, do you feel better about this rescue?”

She nodded, smiling, “Yeah, I do.”

“Good, then I’m going inside,” you stood stretching your limbs, “I’ll see you in the morning, get some rest.”

“I will. Night.”

kWith that you walked in hoping that maybe this time tomorrow or maybe even a few days from now, you’d be able to see Ezra in the flesh and run into his arms.

AO3 Link   |   OS & MS Master List |   Main Master List 

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[antigone-ks]

Spoils of the Avvar

Summary:

After visiting the Avvar, Quiz shyly admits to Cullen that she'd like to see him in nothing but his furry mantle and a loincloth. He opts to surprise her with a full-throttle, bride-stealing Avvar roleplay one night.

Originally written for dragonage_kink, 2015

Warnings: consensual dub-con roleplay

Tags: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan; Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford; 

Roleplay; Sexual Roleplay; Virginity Roleplay; Explicit Sexual Content; Established Relationship; Avvar Cullen; Sexual Fantasy; Roleplaying dubious consent;  But not actual dubious consent; Furry Mantle fetish; Cullen is game for anything apparently; really cliched speech; sex is better with barbarians; Oral Sex; some people are better at roleplaying than others; dominant cullen; 

Chapter One

“They’ve read his books?” Josephine looked delighted.

“Well, one of them has,” Evelyn said, grinning. “He only mentioned Hard in Hightown, though. Nothing about . . . the others.”

“They’d hardly need something like Swords and Shields, though, would they?” Josephine asked. “Somehow the Avvar have always seemed so, so naturally bodice-ripping.” The women ignored the sotto voce “Maker’s breath . . .” from the other side of the war table.

“There is more to romance than tearing off one’s clothes,” Cassandra objected. “And they wear so much fur, it cannot be easily done.”

“Oh, the Avvar understand romance, Cassandra,” Leliana replied, a little smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. “There may be less bodice-ripping, but there’s enough dashing warriors and swooning maidens and bride-stealing in any good Avvar tale to satisfy even you.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“I can picture the dashing warriors,” Evelyn said, thoughtful, “they’re all very tall, and their weapons are massive; I – “ she broke off at a choked sound from the final advisor.

“Can we decide on a strategy for this issue, or should we table the discussion?” Cullen asked, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

Leliana turned to the door. “Some scouts have recently returned; I’ll see if they have new information. Josie, find out if we have anything useful to trade. They do enjoy Orlesian spices; it could open another door for us.”

Evelyn leaned against the war table as the three women filed out, Cullen fiddling with one of the map-markers. He looked up suddenly as the door shut. “Massive weapons?” he grinned. “How did you see any of their weapons?”

“Well, they wear them right out in the open. Big hammers. Swords made for just the right sheath.” She smirked at him. “Your ears are red.”

“You’ve been gone for two bloody weeks, and before you even say hello you’re talking about hammers and, and bodices. And ripping bodices.” His arm snaked around her as he bent his head. “I never knew you had such a filthy mind,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his lips, when at last they parted.

“Surrounded by dashing Avvar warriors, and you thought of me?” His lips traced a path down her neck as he slid a steadying arm around her waist.

“I thought of you a lot,” she confessed, sighing against his cheek. “Especially you in your furry mantle. Sometimes in nothing else.”

His warm breath huffed against her neck as he chuckled. “What, really?” She made an affirmative sound and he straightened, looking into her eyes. “Just the coat?”

“And maybe a loincloth. Sometimes paint.”

“I only wear loincloths on very special occasions.”

“We could go to my chambers and see how special today is . . .”

The blare of a horn signaled the return of Bull’s Chargers from their latest task. Evelyn sighed. They would want to debrief as soon as possible and move on to their celebratory drinking. “I think we’ll need to make it special very quickly.”

Chapter Two

The water hit her aching muscles, almost too hot to bear but instantly relaxing her. The scent of crushed embrium filled the steamy air, and Evelyn leaned back against the tub. Another long journey, nearly a month this time. A month of cold splashing baths and no tea and no Cullen.

Still no Cullen. He’d stood beside her at the war table as she gave her report, his fingers brushing against hers (quite brazenly, she’d thought, which was unlike him when he was on-duty), and hadn’t done more than murmur “that sounds like a good idea” when she’d mentioned going to the baths. She’d rather hoped he’d join her, but she was turning red and wrinkly and there was still no sign of him. Sighing, she wrapped a robe around herself and headed toward her chambers, hoping it was late enough to shortcut across the Great Hall without being noticed.

The Hall was utterly empty; not even Varric sat by the fire. Evelyn stared down the length of the room, a tense feeling creeping over her. Even in the evenings Vivienne would often be up researching and crafting, usually – if it wasn’t too late – with a young courtier dancing attendance on her. But all was still, as if the world held its breath.

Unsettled, she pushed open the door to her corridor and closed it decidedly behind her. A prickling feeling at the back of her neck made her spin around, peering into the shadows. Her heart pounded painfully as she heard a breath, a movement, a –

“Cullen?” She collapsed against the door, pressing a hand to her chest. “Andraste’s flaming hairy damned . . . things, why are you lurking in the dark?”

“I was waiting for you, lady.” His voice was different, deeper, darker, with an edge and an accent not his own.

Evelyn pulled her robe tighter and tried to look indignant. “I . . . I waited for you, in the baths.”

“Your men might have seen me, lady. I couldn’t let myself be thwarted beforetimes.”

“Um.” He stepped out of the shadows, the pale light from the windows shining on his hair, twinkling off the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. Strapped to his back? He wore it at his side. She’d made him choke on a frilly cake once, running her fingers over the pommel during an endless meeting with nobles. But now he had it – the sheath was – her cheeks flamed almost painfully as she realized that his sheath was missing because his trousers were missing because he wasn’t wearing trousers because he was naked – blessed Andraste, was that a loincloth? – under his mantle. His furry. His mantle. The mantle with the fur. The furry mantle she wanted to see him in and nothing but a loincloth and

“Paint?” she asked tentatively.

The light struck the side of his face and she saw swirling kohl markings down his cheek, around his eye. He looked wild, and dangerous, and somehow bigger than usual and oh, Maker, he moved like a prowling lion as he approached. If she pressed any closer to the door she’d leave an Inquisitor-shaped hole in it, and anyway this was Cullen, and she’d asked for this. Something like this, anyway.

His breath whispered across her face, his eyes hooded as she looked up at him. “Is this for me?” she murmured.

“I would do anything for you, lady.” His body pressed against hers, his hands sliding to her waist. “Let me claim you. Let me have you.” Her breath hitched as his lips traced the shell of her ear. “Submit to me, my pretty lowland maid.”

Evelyn felt giggles, unbidden, threatened to erupt from her throat. It wasn’t funny, she wasn’t amused, she was – she was nervous, just as if this were real. Well, two could play at this game.

Wriggling ineffectively, she threw her head back (a bit too hard, it bonked against the door and Cullen winced for her) and exclaimed “owOh, oh no ser, no! I must not!”

Even in the dimness, she could see his grin. His hold tightened. “Don’t fight me, lass. You shall be mine.”

“Unhand me, you barbarian!” His mouth twitched, then he swooped down and claimed hers. His lips, usually so soft, were hard against hers, demanding. He pulled her body tight against his, his muscled thigh slipping between hers. She mewled against his mouth as he rocked them together.

“Barbarian, am I?” he growled, tangling his hand in her hair. “A barbarian would take you here, against this wall, and let your people hear you scream. Let the men who want you hear your pleasure and know that a barbarian has given it to you.” Stooping, he swept her up into his arms. “I am no barbarian, lady. You will beg me lay claim to you.”

He started toward her chambers, stopping at the first flight of steps to rearrange her weight while she tapped her fists against his chest, protesting quietly. “No, you mustn’t! Let me go! Put me down – No, really, Cullen, put me down, these stairs are tricky.”

Setting her down, he looked momentarily stymied, then – “Will you walk to your fate, lass, or must I force you?”

“I needn’t be carried like a babe, ser. But, but you will not have me, brute!” she flung at him, marching up the stairs. As he followed, Evelyn was certain she heard him snickering.

Chapter Three

The fire was blazing, furs were piled into a nest before the hearth, and Evelyn took a moment to appreciate how much effort Cullen had put into this night. She gazed at him warmly as he approached, skin golden in the firelight. He smiled lopsidedly and reached for her, brushing the hair from her face and gently pressing his lips to hers.

“All that I have is yours, lady.” Cullen leaned his forehead against hers, eyes softening for an instant, before turning predatory. “If I may have all that is yours.”

“I have nothing, ser,” Evelyn said, looking down modestly.

He pulled her closer, provoking a gasp as his hardness pressed against her stomach. “No, lass, you have everything I desire.” One finger traced the line of her throat down, down, following the edge of her robe and dipping between her breasts. Evelyn squeaked and pushed at him, drawing a grin as he held her tight.

“I warned you not to fight.” Cullen’s smile turned hungry. Evelyn had only a moment to brace herself before his leg swept behind hers and he bore her to the ground atop the furs. His body radiated heat, and the scent of him, the warmth of the mantle cocooning them, made her feel as if the world had disappeared and there was nothing left but the two of them. She craved the caress of his naked skin against hers, the slick of their sweat as they moved together. Her legs parted, cradling him in the center of her being. His eyes glazed as the heat of her brushed his still-covered cock.

Pinning her wrists in one large, calloused hand, Cullen raised himself enough to force open the robe. “Conquering you will be so sweet,” he murmured, cupping her breast with his free hand. She arched beneath him as he flicked his thumb against her nipple, her cry swallowed by a punishing kiss. Trapped beneath him, she could do no more than gasp when his mouth followed his hand, suckling at her, nipping and teasing. Pleasure arced through her veins and she struggled against him, needing to touch him, to stroke him, to pleasure him as well as he did her.

“Please . . . please, Cullen-“ she gasped, and he released her, lifting her enough to pull the robe from her body. Evelyn wrapped her arms around him, fingers running through the fur at his neck and up into his hair. Her lips sought his, and she felt him tremble and for a moment thought the games were over and he would take her then, hard and needful.

Instead he nuzzled at her neck, seeking that sensitive spot below her ear, murmuring softly as he unwound her arms and laid her back into the nest. The fur beneath her was soft, smooth against her bare skin. She wanted to writhe against it, against the fur and against him, trapped between them until she could feel nothing else. She reached for him as he leaned over her and he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth.

“Lowlander,” he whispered, her pulse jumping as his lips brushed over her wrist. “Open yourself to me.” He kissed the tip of each finger, then guided her hand down his chest and lower, lower to the straining hardness still hidden in the loincloth. “You see that I need you. Let me give us both pleasure, my sweet maiden.”

“Ser, I cannot.” Evelyn gazed at him through her lashes, schooling her face into what she hoped was a wide-eyed innocence (but feared was just simple-minded). She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. “Please, ser. My maidenhead is all that I have, and it belongs to my husband.”

She wasn’t sure how he would react – was it too much? – but she got her answer when Cullen ground against her, eyes black with desire. He was so hard, and he knew exactly where she was most needy. She gasped and arched beneath him as he thrust again, then loomed over her.

“Your maidenhead,” he scoffed. “You writhe like a cat in heat, lass; you’re ready to be taken. You need it. And,” he lowered himself until his weight pressed her into the furs, his lips against her ear, “when I’m inside you, you’ll call me husband.”

How could something so staid and . . . and socially acceptable sound so unimaginably filthy? Evelyn whimpered and bucked helplessly against him as he sucked and bit at her neck, his hands leaving trails of fire as they roamed her skin, cupping her breast gently, then giving a bold squeeze. He swallowed her gasp, stole her breath with his kiss, and descended lower. He stroked the tender flesh of her thigh, watching her face with heavy-lidded eyes. As his fingers brushed through her curls, Evelyn gasped and reached for him.

At once, he gripped her wrist. “Be still, lass,” he whispered. “Let me please you.” She pulled against his grip, twisting against his strength, needing to touch him, to stroke his hair, to show him how very much he did please, but she could not break free. “I said lie still,” he said, his voice harsh. “Else I will bind you, and you will be at my mercy. Do you want that?”

“Oh Maker, yes,” she whispered. “But not now.”

“Not now,” he agreed. “Later, I’m going to fuck the air from your lungs. But for now,” he kissed the back of her hand, “be my good girl and let me love you.”

“Yes, ser,” she breathed, as he dropped her hand and slid both of his along the crease of her thighs, cupping her mound between them. He pressed a kiss, almost chastely, to her plump mons, then his thumbs parted her lips and he gently kissed her hooded pearl. Evelyn held her breath, held herself still, as his breath ghosted over her, his thumbs stroking along her lips. If she’d thought herself wet before, it was nothing compared to the moisture gathering as he toyed with her. He kissed her again, and she sobbed in need.

“Like a cat,” he whispered against her, so softly she didn’t hear it, couldn’t hear it, but she felt it crawl inside her skin, sparking against her nerves and setting her aflame.

“Please. Please, ser.”

“Please what, darling?” He kissed her again, just a touch of his lips to her, and her thighs quivered.

“Please kiss me there,” she whimpered, lifting her hips to show him.

Cullen chuckled. “I am kissing you there. Do you want more?” Before she could respond, he licked a long line up the seam of her lips, dipping deeper to flick against her clit, and she wailed.

“Yes, yes, Maker, yes please pleasepleaseCullen!”

He buried his face between her thighs and devoured her. His lips closed around her clit and he sucked, hard, as his long fingers teased her entrance, opening her gently. The contrast made her writhe. Evelyn covered her face with her hands as he stroked her slowly, invading her patiently, inexorably.

Cullen pulled his mouth from her with a gasp. “Maker’s breath, you’re so wet,” he said, sounding awed. “You’re dripping.” His finger curled inside her, and she mewled as he added another, sliding in a little more quickly, curling to match the other. His thumb pressed against her nub, the tips of his fingers found that perfect spot, and as he lowered his mouth to her again Evelyn sent up a prayer of thanks for this man and his hands. And his mouth. And his – and his – his hand thrust harder, his tongue flicked against her, and suddenly she was bucking and shaking, sounds like a trapped animal coming from her mouth. Cullen pushed her through it, not stopping until she twisted away and closed her legs. He chuckled as her thighs trapped his hand; he cupped her gently and let her ride him until the final throes dissipated.

Chapter Four

A warm drowsiness spread through her, limbs too heavy to move. Her eyes blinked slowly at the shadows on the ceiling, hazy and sinuous. Cullen gathered her into his arms, nuzzling her ear, his lips moving slowly along her neck. She could easily fall into sleep in this moment. She might, actually. It would take huge incentive to keep her awake. She shifted against Cullen.

Ah, there it was.

Evelyn cuddled close and rocked her hips, smiling lazily at his hiss. “Oh, ser, what have you done to me? I have thrown away all modesty for the sake of a few kisses!”

She felt his lips press against her temple. “Sweet maid,” he murmured, voice achingly low, “how can modesty stand against such delights of the flesh?” He seized her thigh, pulling it up over his hip, rocking hard against her. A bolt of pleasure shot down to her toes, and she gasped. His thumb caressed her lower lip. “And now you shall show me the same delights.”

Evelyn gasped theatrically, as heat spread through her body. “I cannot!”

Cullen smirked at her. “You don’t fight like an outraged maiden any longer, lass. Do not speak like one.”

Evelyn jerked out of his grasp and sat up, drawing a fur close around her body. “How dare you! It’s not my fault that a barbarian has kidnapped me and ravished me – “

“I haven’t ravished you yet.”

“ – threatened to ravish me, and made me feel such unmaidenly things – “

“And squeal such unmaidenly things.” Cullen was grinning outright, his grin, not his Avvar-predator smirk. Evelyn leaned forward, pecked her lips against his scar, and gave him a shove. It was like pushing a boulder.

“You beast!”

She surged upward, almost reaching the stairs before he caught her in his unyielding arms, pulling her tight against his chest. “Unhand me, or I will call the guards!”

“Do you want them to see your shame, lass?” He tugged the fur loose, baring her to the cool night air. Her nipples hardened, her skin flushed. “I will have you. I do not care who sees.”

“I could have you here where we stand,” he whispered, his hands moving down her body. He thrust against her, his heart thumping unsteadily against her back. “Would you like that, sweet? Do you want me to mount you, here, like a stallion covers a mare?”

Oh, Maker’s fucking breath yes.

Maker, he was still clothed. Well, still loinclothed. And furred.

His hand slipped between her legs, through the dampness that lingered, and parted her folds with an obscene sound. “That is no way for a maiden to be claimed, but I will do it unless you yield to me.”

Evelyn shook her head, gasping as his fingers drew circles around her bud. His other hand pressed against her back, gently but inexorably bearing her down against the railing. She rested her cheek on the cool stone and rocked against him, against his hand and against the thick weight that thrust against her core. He could almost push into her, just enough to make her thighs tremble and head swirl, and her breath caught on a sob when he removed his hand from her and pulled away.

“Cullen. Cullen, please,” she whispered as he caressed her back. “I need you. Maker, please fuck me.”

A rustle of cloth, and his cock slipped between her folds. Evelyn braced herself to push back against him, to take him deep, but he held her in place with more control than she’d known he possessed.

“Sweetheart, if you do what you’re thinking our evening will be over far too soon for my pride to bear.”

Her answering chuckle turned into a groan as he thrust so very slowly into her, shallowly as he would a true maiden. He was so careful with her, so gentle she felt overwhelmed with it, overwhelmed with the fullness of him moving inside her and with the fullness in her heart. He stroked her tenderly, running his fingers through her hair, whispering soothingly to her, until at last he was buried completely inside her. Bending over her, Cullen kissed her shoulders, her back, the hair at the base of her neck.

“Cull . . .” her voice choked off, unable to squeeze past the feeling of her heart lodged in her throat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his own voice thick. “Darling. Evelyn.”

At last he moved, pulling back until he lay just within her, thrusting forward slowly until the tip of him touched her womb, repeating until she writhed beneath him. She felt him smile against her shoulder.

“Lass, are you ready?”

“Oh yes . . . yes.” Evelyn braced herself as he straightened and began to move in earnest, his hips beating out a quick rhythm against her buttocks that matched the pulsing in her blood. She began to arch against him, and his hands pressed her down again, against the railing, holding her a still vessel for his lust.

“That’s it, sweet, take me deep, let me fill you, let me – ah – let me have you,” his voice broke and he gasped, hips stuttering. Evelyn gripped the railing and pushed back, forcing him deeper, to the barest instant of pain. Her breath came in sharp staccato moans, her cunt aching with need. She was so close, Maker, give her only a moment more and she’d –

She jumped as his hand swatted across her backside, then squealed in outrage as he withdrew from her.

“I did warn you,” Cullen said, more teasing than reproachful.

“You absolute bastard,” she hissed, turning on him. He laughed and caught her hands, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth with his.

He spun them toward the bench that rested by the railing and sat, pulling her into his lap, guiding her legs to cradle him, his cock nudging her entrance. “I need you like his,” he whispered against her lips. “Need to hold you.” She shifted against him and took him inside, took him fully as he took her mouth again. “Need to see your face as you come apart on my cock.”

His hands fell to her hips and lifted her, guided her, settled her into a rhythm that had them both crying out. His hot breath ghosted across her breasts, his mouth suckling her until she arched back, running her hands through his golden curls to hold him against her. She had no words now, only mindless mewls that fell from her lips with every thrust of his hips. One arm wrapped around her hips, moving her quickly; the other hand slipped between them. At the press of his thumb against her bud, Evelyn hissed and Cullen raised his head to look in her eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, pulling her hips down hard. “Look. At. Me. I need – “

Her body quaked.

She saw only his amber eyes,

felt her cunt clench,

heard an animal moan,

(is it me? Is that me?)

felt warmth filling her,

bathing her core.

When at last she returned to her body, her own body, the body on Thedas and not in some desire demon-wracked corner of the fade, her head lay against Cullen’s chest, his heart pounding in her ears.

She smiled and cuddled closer. “That was the nicest welcome-home-from-a-bog gift anyone has ever given me.”

“I certainly hope so.” His voice was rough and breathless, his lips soft as they grazed her forehead. “I’ll carry you to bed in a moment. Or, no, we need to. Um.”

Maker’s breath, that he could blush after what he’d just done to her.

“We need to clean the barbarian seed from my freshly-ravished thighs?” Cullen made a noise, half-laughing, half-choking.

“Just so, my pretty lowland maid.”

[isfjmel-phleg]

This is a personal post.

Day 2 of the recent convention ended with our having to go to bed insanely early so we could get up for our flight at the crack of dawn the next day, so I didn't get around to an account of how it went. I would be very much shocked if anyone was on the edge of their seats waiting for that, but if it still matters, here's how it went:

No dramatic five AM alerts, so that was nice.

We had to attend mandatory sessions of our choice of various presentations of information relevant to college students. Since I am no longer a college student, almost none of these were relevant to me, so I tagged along with the rest of my group, who decided to attend one on applying for grad schools.

Apparently this is a Grand Ordeal to be schemed and strategized for with all the thoroughness of preparing for battle. You have to be ambitious, you have to network, it sounds horrifying. (I ended up in grad school sort of accidentally, and it was not all that fuss because my school is very laidback about who they let in, which is lucky for me but probably an issue in other ways. But anyway.)

So I mostly just kept silent and people-watched. One of the presenters was a bubbly young woman in a strongly pink pantsuit with sparkly heels. Her term of approval in conversation was "Beautiful!" She was like a sort of real-life Elle Woods, except going into sports psychology. Good for her.

One of the girls from the group that I ended up arguing about the nature of hot dogs with two days before was presenting that morning on Jane Eyre, so I went and heard her. I was not familiar with the other text she was discussing, and I can't say that the lens of ecofeminism is one that fascinates me, but it was a fresh perspective, and she did a good job.

Then my friend and I went to hear a presentation on a certain personality type system, and...that poor guy was so nervous. He had potentially interesting things to say, but he was struggling to find how to discuss them. Presentations aren't easy. Also, he is possibly not the type that he told my friend (who asked him) he was.

Our faculty sponsor was judging during every session and so was not able to see any of us present, so it was my job to show up to the two other presentations from our group and take pictures. They were within minutes of each other under separate topics, but fortunately the rooms were next door to each other.

My friend was a communications major and she talked about muted group theory and consubstantiality in relation to a recent popular film. I don't feel the same way about this film that she does, but she had insightful things to say and she did an excellent job because she's fantastic at this sort of thing. She got good engagement too--including some guy who was missing the point and gave her an opportunity to address a common objection to her argument.

Our undergrad chemist did a fine job too, despite working with a setup that was very different from what she was used to. I had no idea what she was talking about at all, but she clearly knew what she was talking about.

We had hoped to go to a museum with a lady that my friend had randomly befriended the night before, who was planning to attend with a friend who had lived through the historical events in question, but unfortunately our schedules did not coincide, so we went to lunch instead.

Forgot to say that the day before we had lunch at a Brazilian steakhouse, which was An Experience. This time, though, it was chicken, and some fascinating conversation. Our faculty sponsor is a history professor, and she's going to be teaching a class on family genealogy soon, and so we were talking about family history and other things and finding out interesting things about each other.

The history professor and our chemist decided to go back to the hotel room to work on other things, but since my friend and I had nothing pressing to do, we went to the art museum.

Not just because art museums are fantastic, but because there was an exhibit of costumes from Disney films that we particularly wanted to see.

Before we could get in to that exhibit though, we had time to kill, so we wandered through rooms of European art, sorted by era, so it was like a history lesson too. Starting in the fourteenth century, and somewhere around the nineteenth we had to move on.

The costumes were glorious and I wish we had had more time to observe, but here are a few that were of interest:

Everything culminated in the big awards dinner. We ended up at a table with assorted other women, including my friend's new friend, who was just the sweetest, friendliest lady. Pretty much everyone we met from this area were very kind, very polite.

There were people from all over at the convention. One woman at our table was originally from Venice! Lots of fascinating conversation, and having all disciplines represented there rather than just one meant you were sure to learn a lot you might not have otherwise. At English honor society conventions I've been to, there can be a sort of prentiousness, so it was refreshing not to get that here. Everyone was supportive of everyone else.

(This was maybe the one opportunity of my life to wear a fascinator with a peacock feather--to match the peacock-patterned dress meant to coordinate with the dinner's desired color scheme of blue and green--and it was totally worth it. 10/10 would recommend going about with a bizarre thing on my head in public.)

No one in our group won an award. This was kind of disappointing. Undergrads were judged against only others in their discipline, but grad students and alumni members (like my friend and me respectively) as smaller groups were lumped in with all others of their standing. And if you're an English major jawing about a children's book, you can't really compete with a PhD presenting on a Serious and Important topic in American History, can you? (I didn't see that presentation, but I'm sure the award was well-deserved; there were a lot of strong presenters.)

However, this was my first time doing a presentation of this type. I got my ideas out there, there was good engagement, I got some ideas and hopefully others did too, so that's the main point, and I would say that the presentation was a reasonably successful one. And our faculty sponsor did not express any disappointment that we hadn't won anything, so that was a relief. We did not disgrace the school.

So then we did the last of our packing and tried to sleep.

This was difficult, because my brain chose that moment to light up with Thoughts about my friend's observations on muted group theory and how that might apply to how female writers (as opposed to male writers) address certain topics in comics such as Kon's and Grant's.

So my poor friend got treated to that discussion as our plane took off the next day.

It was a good trip, albeit quick and exhausting. I would visit this city again, and I would attend another such convention if given the opportunity. Maybe not to discuss another children's book. I should try for something more Serious and Important. Maybe comics. :P

(oh, and our chemist had a poster for her presentation that she had to carry around in a gigantic cardboard tube all through airports and to her session, and by the end of the trip we told her she ought to name it, so from then on it was Mr. Tube, whom the rest of us sometimes had to babysit. I was very glad I was not traveling with a poster.)

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Rec: The Prince's Consort

Special thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic for letting me borrow this format for long-form fic recs.

If you're not following @fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic for fiction recommendations, you're missing out on a lot of great stories.

The Prince's Consort by IneffableToreshi

Anthony Crowley has spent the majority of his life in Lucian's brothel, being specially trained and kept 'pure' for his eventual master. When he is finally purchased - despite Lucian's true wishes - he finds his world being very dramatically turned on its head. Not only has he been purchased for the man who will be the most powerful in the kingdom, but he also, unexpected, finds himself falling head over heels in love.

Length: 142,564 words

Genre/Subgenre: Human AU

AO3 Rating: Explicit

Read if you're looking for: Romance, Fluff

Triggers: Mildly dubious consent, discussions of past abuse in Crowley's brothel

Read it here by IneffableToreshi

*Minor Spoilers* This story is almost pure fluff; you won't find a ton of conflict and angst here. Instead, you'll be treated to a sweet and very kind growing relationship between Crown Prince Aziraphale and the sex worker, Crowley. I have a particular fondness for stories where one is a member of royalty and the other isn't, despite having a general dislike of unequal power dynamics, and I tore through this in a day or so.

This particular Crowley is characterized more like his pre-Fall self from the show: somewhat naive, full of questions, and he has a biting wit he's been forced to hide. He's not used to being treated well, so it makes him nervous and scared of being mistreated, and it takes Aziraphale time to bring him out of his shell and gain his trust.

Aziraphale acts like someone born into royalty. He's sure of his place in the world and not afraid to give orders to his advisers. But he also cares greatly for his people, and he never forces Crowley to do anything he doesn't want to do. The mildly dubious consent tag is mostly due to the power dynamic, but the author works hard to make sure everything they do is as consensual as possible.

The sex is pretty explicit, so I recommend reading this at home.

The Major Spoilers section discusses some of the side characters and the non-romantic elements of the plot.

Read it here by IneffableToreshi

*Major Spoilers*

While there's not a heavy plot outside of the romance, I'm so used to seeing Gabriel and Michael (Aziraphale's advisers) as villains that I kept expecting to find out they're behind some of the bad things that do happen in the story. They're instead decent people who care about Aziraphale, Crowley, and the kingdom, so you can read this and relax without stressing over a sudden betrayal. There's one villain in this story, and it's obvious from the beginning who it is.

*End Major Spoilers*