#there is slow dancing. and bees. and fire.
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Hiii everyone I am here with another enemies to lovers fic because apparently I never know when to give up! Behold… a 90k slow burn where Dean is a hunter and Cas is the sin-eating demon he accidentally binds his soul to, so now Dean has to deal with things like the passenger deciding what music to listen to (Taylor Swift), unceasing threats of vehicular harm, and a disturbingly high propensity for arson and knives.
In The Flesh? (E, 90k)
Blue Eyes tilts his head. A predatory smile twists his lips.
Dean squirms beneath his gaze. “What? Does it look like I know your name, demon-priest?”
“Mm. Names have a lot of power, you know.”
“God, why did I have to get stuck with the most pretentious demon that’s ever-”
“Mine is Castiel.”
And, oh, Dean doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his tongue around it.
“Castiel.” He likes it. Please, God help him, he likes it.
“Is there an echo?”
Jesus Christ.
#there is slow dancing. and bees. and fire.#bed sharing even! hoodies!#if you’re asking how on earth this fic has all of that… I’m just going to say that it contains Multitudes#and that the author doesn’t know when to quit :)#I also have no idea who’s still active/who even wants to see these tracking tags so I apologize in advance!!#seffersonjtarship#plantdadcas#tearsofgrace#cowboykait#chocolatecakecas#angelscas#destiel#supernatural#spn#deancas#destiel fic#fanfic#my writing
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Hey mate
I was wondering if I could get a Hobie brown x reader where Hobie decided to visit his s/o at their apartment and finds them sing/dancing along to one of his band's songs
Everything else is up to you
Thanks mate
this is so cute
hobie brown x reader
Hobie wasn't the type of guy to announce his arrival. He enjoyed the impromptu visits to your apartment after he had finished his patrol, plus he loved scaring the shit out of you every now and then as well.
He used your fire escape to slip into your bedroom quietly. He was a little suprised to not find you there, considering you're already in bed this time of the night. He could hear you moving around in the kitchen, the open and shut of various cupboards and drawers and the sizzle of a pan.
He could smell it too, all the divine spices' aroma filling his nose and making his mouth water. He followed the smell, nose in the air like cartoon, till he found you in the kitchen, chopping up a bell pepper.
You hadn't noticed him yet, your back facing him as he quietly stood in the small hallway observing you. You were singing along to a song playing softly on your phone, belting along to some parts and then humming where you didn't know the words. He let out a quiet snicker at your singing, and at the way your body absent-mindedly moved along with the music.
The audio sounded awful though, scratchy and filled with a cacophony of background noise, like it was recorded on video rather than playing from whatever app. It was then that he realized what song it was; his band's song. It was a video you had taken at one of their performances, one of many you've attended.
At some point you peered at your phone, watching on the wobbly image of Hobie and his bandmates on stage. You couldn't help the smile appearing on your face, still singing along passionately. Towards the end of the video, when they finish their performance, you could be heard cheering loudly, screaming your lungs out excitedly.
Hobie couldn't help but laugh at your enthusiasm, and the sound prompted you to turn around quickly, the knife in a death grip and ready to swing if necessary. You calmed down considerably once you realized it was just Hobie, placing the knife on the tabletop and giving him a stern look.
"Why don't you ever use the door like a normal person?" you asked, not realizing how mean you really sounded. He only smirked, moving closer to you. "Nothing normal 'bout me," he said, as he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in his warmth and comforting scent. You hummed in agreement before pulling away.
"Why were you spying on me, bee?" you asked returning to the half cut bell pepper. "Couldn't interrupt your little performance now could I?" he replied smugly, his back against the table's edge as he watched you intently. "Didn't know you were such a big fan, babe," he continued, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, although you felt a bit embarrassed being caught.
"They're my favorite band," you said nodding your head to where your phone still displayed the paused video. "The guitarist is a real jerk though," you added, your snark being deflated with the small smile that appeared on your face. "I dunno," he shrugged, "I've heard he's pretty cool, quite a looker too." You hummed sarcastically, taking the chopped peppers and throwing them into the pan.
"Are you hungry?" you asked and he gave you a slow nod, moving over to the small living area and throwing himself onto the couch, his long legs having over the edge of the armrest.
"Food'll be ready in about half an hour," you said and his head rose from the couch pillow as you moved to pick up the extra pillows he dropped onto the floor. "More than enough time to give me another performance, yeah?" He barely got the sentence out before you threw the pillow at his stupidly smug and pretty face.
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown#spiderman atsv#likedovesinthewindd
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Am I Just a Joke to You?
Note: this was supposed to be so short. It was supposed to be a little drabble but noooooo I have to establish a whole ass dynamic and side characters. God damn it. Why is it this long. Jesus Christ.
Content: Long post, 4.6k words. Slow burn. Leon x Reader, no y/n, ambiguous era Leon between re2 and 4, mutual pining, jealousy, fake dating?, don't get caught, rough sex, size kink, slight possessive kink, proof read.
It takes Leon getting jealous to finally do something about your feelings for him.
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"I don't dance."
You rolled your eyes at him. You were both all dressed up for a fancy, UN event that was supposed to be some kind of summit but was really just an excuse for bigger fish to rub elbows. Your job was to keep an eye on things. You were supposed to be protecting the president from the shadows. But honestly? You both scanned this place top to bottom. Half the fucking people here were probably various secret agents from every country on the planet with the exact same job as you. You did this kind of shit 5 times a year and nothing ever went wrong.
"How do you just not dance?" You asked him, picking out a martini from a tray as a caterer passed by. "I bet you're just bad at it."
Leon was leaning against the wall, scanning the room like a BOW was going to materialize out of the meticulously waxed tiled ground. He was clean shaven, his hair slicked back in a way that said he cared, but not that much. His suit fit him well. It perfectly hugged his shoulders and was tailored exactly to his height. His sleeves were rolled up, and you had to stop yourself from staring at his toned forearms. How many times did you fantasize about them wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him while he...
"Focus on the mission," he said. You met his eye and instantly felt embarrassed by the amused expression on his face. Fuck. He totally caught you staring.
You hid your embarrassment in the bottom of the martini glass, tilting it up to hide your face while you downed the whole thing. You passed it off to another serving tray bobbing between bodies.
"And maybe ease up on the drinking. We're on the job."
"Oh, like you've never gotten drunk on the job," you replied with an eye roll.
You'd gotten drunk together on a mission just a couple weeks ago! You were trapped in a snowy Swiss cabin with that blizzard keeping the chopper from retrieving you. He was the one that suggested it, even! Bringing over a crystal bottle of whiskey while you stoked a fire. The wood was limited, you needed to ration it carefully so the two of you didn't freeze. It'll warm us up, he said. It'll help with the adrenaline crash, he said. If we don't sleep next to each other, we'll be popsicles by morning, he said.
"That was different. The mission was over." You tried not to get your hopes up that he thought about that night too. It was the most recent incident, of course you'd both think of it. He didn't think of your bodies side by side, just centimeters from touching, hoping with bated breath that he would turn around and kiss you.
"This mission is basically over," you push. "Come on, Leon, this is a cake walk. We're getting paid a boat load just to be here, and if you want to just stand there, then you go ahead. But I didn't sew myself into this dress not to enjoy myself."
He was getting under your skin. He was always getting under your skin. You needed some space from him.
You turned your back on him and walked into the crowd. You didn't really have a path in mind but it looked like you were bee-lining for a buffet table, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself by doubling back. Especially not with his cool gaze on you. God, he was so irritating. Always so unbothered, like everything was a little bit boring to him, or worse - like everything was a bit of a joke. You knew if you turned around he'd have some wisecrack about getting lost, or missing him, or... Oh, who even cared. Why were you still thinking about him and his cocky smile anyways?
"Difficult choice, huh?" A different voice broke through your daydreams and you cursed yourself to get your shit together. The voice was a low, rolling Ghanaian accent, coming from a tall man that was wearing the best fucking cologne you'd ever smelled. You looked up from the expensive deserts you didn't realize you were staring at.
"Y-yeah," you smiled up at him, sizing him up while he took stock of you too. Broad, but not the kind of broad Leon was. Well built, healthy skin, shiny hair, but no scars or callouses. There was intelligence behind his black eyes. He wasn't a threat. Likely a diplomat of some kind. "There's always so much food I've never heard of at these things."
"You are naturally curious, then?" He leaned against the table while he talked to you. He flashed a charismatic smile that should have charmed you, but irritation still itched at the back of your mind.
"As much as anyone else is," you shrugged, pushing away thoughts of Leon and grounding yourself. A perfectly handsome man was flirting with you, fuck Leon. "Are you?"
"Absolutely. My name is Kwameno. Not that one." He extended his hand to shake. You took note of his perfectly manicured nails. You'd wager this man knew how to dance.
Your eyes darted to where you last saw Leon. You didn't know what you were hoping for. His eyes were fixated on you, expression unreadable from this distance. His posture was as unbothered as always. He was probably worried you'd do something stupid, like give your name. You know, you know, we're on a mission, we couldn't underestimate people, this man could be an enemy lying in wait. You had to blink to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You forced your gaze back to Kwameno and shook his hand.
"It's a pleasure." You didn't release his hand, instead taking it in both hands like the two of you were good friends. You leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. "Do you know how to dance, Mr. Kwameno?"
You knew the answer before he gave it. He was the kind of man who was used to women sneaking off with him with just a few words and a brilliant smile. So, you'd be the challenge. A mysterious stranger in a tastefully tight black dress, making him work to charm you. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
"I know a little," he said. "May I offer you a dance, Ms..."
"Mrs, actually," Leon's voice hovered behind you, smouldering with something you couldn't quite figure out. A knot worked it's way into your stomach.
"Oh, I apologize sir. I did not realize. I did not see a ring," Kwameno replied. He sounded genuine, but that last comment was an intentional jab.
"Her fingers swell when she drinks," Leon lied. He took one hand in his as if to prove a point, rubbing his thumb in a small circle in your palm. You couldn't ignore the intimacy of the gesture, his chest so close to your back you could sense the rise and fall of his chest.
What the fuck was he doing?
"If you wanted to dance, darling, why didn't you just ask?" Leon's voice was lowered, making it clear he was talking to you and only you. His breath stirred the hair at your temple. Your face almost turned to meet him, but you stopped short. The air felt hot suddenly. The closeness was decidedly unprofessional. It got your hopes up for something you knew he wouldn't give you and worst of all was that smug fucking tone in his stupid voice.
"I did, dear. I believe you told me that you didn't dance." There was barely hidden venom in your voice.
He moved so fluidly you hadn't even noticed that he was already leading you away from the other man. One hand on your waist, leading you towards where people were dancing in a slow, classical style. Some kind of tango, maybe?
"I didn't like that song," he deflected. He turned you to face him, that stupid smirk on his face. You wanted to hit him. You wanted to ask what he was doing this for. He was probably just going to lecture you about letting your guard down and you didn't want to hear it, and your arms were wrapped around the back of his neck before you knew what you were doing.
You should stop, you thought. He probably knew how you felt. He was probably teasing you, always looking for something he could have over you.
Then, one hand was taking yours in his, the callouses mirroring your own. Another found its way to your lower back, pulling you in close to him. He was steady and strong. Confident. You could feel his solid frame beneath the suit as your body pressed close to his. He led you through the dance expertly.
"Where did you learn how to dance?" you asked.
"Would you believe it was part of training?"
"Not unless I missed a memo," you replied.
You didn't know the tango or whatever dance you were doing, and you couldn't pull off any flashy moves, but you also didn't have to. He led, you followed, wordlessly reading and responding to each other. It was like fighting together, but quieter.
You knew you should stop. You knew that whatever this felt like, it wasn't. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from placing one hand at the back of his neck, feeling the fine hair there. He reached his hand up and pulled yours from the back of his neck, and you burned with embarrassment. He uncoiled your arm from his shoulder. Then, he held you at arm's length.
You were struck by how beautiful he was in the warm lighting. Blonde hair pushed out of his chiseled face for once, letting you take in the sharpness of his features. A soft smile played on his lips. His blue eyes, normally so shadowed, were gentle. They gave his expression something close to open affection. He smiled playfully. Then, he rolled his hips in an exaggerated, flamboyant motion and the sight was so absurd you barked a laugh. He pulled you back in with a spin and a flourish. Your bodies pressed against each other again.
He returned your hand to the back of his neck.
I could kiss him, you thought. His face leaned down towards yours, a hand tracing your back from lower to middle. I should kiss him.
He let out a soft chuckle that turned your blood to slush.
Was this just a fucking game to him? See how far he could take it, just to... To laugh in your face when you finally think of giving in like he's won something? Tears welled in your eyes from the frustration. You pulled away from him.
"Wait, no-"
"Fuck you," you snapped.
You turned on your heel and started to walk away from him. He followed.
"No, wait, let me explain-"
"Am I just a fucking joke to you?" You couldn't look at him. This room was too small, too hot, too many watchful eyes.
"No!" He started to say the first syllable of your name but stopped, seemingly noticing the eyes on you. "Darling, I wasn't-"
"You were being mean!" You turned to face him now, swallowing the tears with your pride. You had killed BOW's the size of a tree and Leon had reduced you to a school-yard child, calling your bully a big dumb meanie pants. You couldn't think of anything else to say. "I can handle the teasing, and the snide insults, and the smartass comments but that was mean."
He stood there, open mouthed and rooted to his place. You took the moment of him being stunned to make your escape. He moved to follow you again when Kwameno stepped between the two of you, and you were thankful to get more ground.
"I don't think the lady wants to talk to you right now," you heard him say. A split moment of quiet before you heard Leon's response.
"If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you take it off me."
You'd rarely heard Leon's voice so threatening. You cast a look behind you to see Kwameno's hand was on Leon's chest. Kwameno was taller than Leon, but Leon was bigger. In muscles and energy. Leon spoke in the kind of way that commanded obedience.
Fuck it. Let them fight, blow our cover, I don't care, you thought, and kept walking.
Ten minutes went by of you searching for a bathroom to hide but, but for whatever goddamn reason the mansion the event was being held in was the only mansion ever built without any goddamn bathrooms.
Fuck! You were so stupid. Not only did you potentially blow your cover with that high school drama bullshit, but you actually believed Leon might want you.
God fucking damn it.
You were lost. You'd wandered into some dark hallway you were pretty sure was off limits, but there was no red tape anywhere and you were pretty dead set on finding a bathroom to hide in. Besides, what else were you going to do? Go back into that ballroom and do your job like an adult? Look Leon in the eyes and pretend like he didn't lean in to kiss you and then laugh in your face?
"Asshole," you said to the empty hallway. You tried a door knob, but it didn't turn. "Why isn't there some kind of bathroom usher. Fucking. Open goddamn it!"
You heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall. You knew they were Leon's. You didn't even have to turn your head. You tried the door again like it would magically unlock for you this time.
"I don't think they want you in there," he said, his voice attempting levity.
"Shouldn't you be watching the president."
"Like you said, half the people here are probably secret agents."
"Go do your job," you tried so hard to sound cold, but there was a waver in your voice. You abandoned that door and crossed the hall to try another.
"I wasn't laughing at you," Leon said. There was something genuine in his voice that caught you off guard long enough for him to close the distance between you. "I was just... Surprised."
You looked up at him, defenses flaring, only to lose momentum the second you saw him. The hallway was empty, and the two of you were far enough away from the main party that it felt like you were the only two people in the building. You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. He shoved his hands in his pockets and did the same, infuriatingly handsome while he did it.
"I know you know how I feel about you," you said. You were almost surprised by how tired you sounded. This quiet moment drained the anger from you. "You aren't stupid."
He chewed his lip, meeting your gaze but clearly mulling over what to say. You gave him the time to think it out.
"I didn't think anything would happen between us," he said eventually. "I realized I could kiss you, and..."
He trailed off. He didn't wear vulnerability well. But, neither did you. This was uncomfortable.
"Let's just... Forget this ever happened," you offered.
"No."
"Nothing is going to happen between us."
He took a single step towards you, closing the small distance between you entirely. He leaned on one arm between you and the door, looking down at you. A strand of blonde hair fell loose from his style. There was something pleading and a little confused in his eyes. His other hand brushed your jaw and tilted your head up to look at him. He was so... Gentle. Earnest. Your heart pounded in your chest.
"I want this," he breathed. "Don't you?"
There was no humour or sarcasm in his voice. He wanted you. And, if you were reading this right, he wanted you to want him too. He didn't push, but he didn't back off either. The next move was yours.
Oh, fuck it.
You kissed him. The second your lips met his, everything else faded away except excitement. And then, heat.
He didn't rush the kiss, but his hands were on your body immediately. Grasping at your hips while his tongue met yours, pressing you into the doorframe behind you. Your own hands slipped under his jacket, feeling the muscles under the silk button up he wore. You knew he was fit, you'd seen him in action, but god it was entirely different to feel it for yourself. To feel his strong arms wrapped around you. His hands travelled up the curves of your hips, then gently caressed your shoulders. He was so gentle.
He bit your bottom lip, earning a small noise from you. His kiss traveled down your jaw to the sensitive spot below your ear, beside your throat, the curve of your collar bone. He licked up the length of your neck with hot breath meeting cool air in a way that made you shiver, ending with a kiss that made you moan.
"Leon, don't-" he was already pulling away. You had to catch his shoulders and pull him back, "- don't leave any marks, we're at work."
You could feel him grin into your neck.
"But that's half the fun," he complained, his sultry voice coiling in your stomach. Oh, you'd let him do anything he asked if he asked in that voice.
One of your hands found his belt, pulling his hips flush against yours with it. He groaned, his hands becoming more insistent. They grabbed your hips and the outside of your thighs. He found the hem of your dress and pushed it up, fingertips brushing against the bare skin. One hand tucking around to the back of your leg, lifting your thigh so you could wrap a leg around his waist. You pulled him close with your leg and almost whimpered. You could feel how hard he was in those dress pants, pressed right up against where you needed him most. You could probably just push your underwear to the side and...
"Fuck," you muttered, fire burning in you now.
"Yeah?" He asked, grinding against you just lightly enough to tease. You whimpered, hands tightening on his back. "Oh, what was that, sweetheart?"
"Shut up," you tried to kiss him but he hovered just out of reach. Stupid, cocky smirk on his face. How was he still irritating you?
Fine.
You reached down to where your hips met and grasped his cock over his suit pants. You weren't as gentle as he was, stroking him firmly through the fabric. His eyebrows stitched together, a low groan rumbling from his throat. He looked so fucking pretty like that.
"Oh," you whispered mockingly, "what was that?"
He sighed something that sounded pretty close to bitch and your hips rocked up at the thought. He noticed, something between a moan and a laugh hummed into a kiss.
You wanted him to fuck you. God, you wanted him so fucking badly. But there was a reason you couldn't... What was it again?
Oh, shit. You were huddled in some off-limits hallway at a UN meeting when you were supposed to be protecting the president.
"We can't," you whispered. You pulled back from the kiss, the two of you panting with lust and adrenaline.
"Why not?" He asked, but he stilled his hands on you.
"We're at work!" You reminded him, giggling. His forehead rested against yours and he started to chuckle too. And then it grew to full blown laughter from both of you. Some of the tension defused between you, laughing it away until your cheeks hurt from grinning.
"You're right," he conceded. Then, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It wouldn't be appropriate."
"It wouldn't..." You cautiously agreed. He was up to something.
"Especially out in this hallway where anyone could catch us."
"Mhm...." The thought of getting caught bloomed warm between your legs, making you realize then how worked up you were. Could be feel how wet you were between the cotton underwear and his suit?
A hand left your body, leaving you cold where it had been, and grasped the doorknob next to you. You watched his arms flex with effort, tendons coiling under the skin. Goddamn, he was strong. There was a loud metallic pop as the doorknob snapped. The door swung open.
"Then we better not get caught," he said.
You were on him in a flash. The show of strength turned you on, urgency building up inside you. You really shouldn't be doing this. That only made it hotter.
He led you into the dark room, closing the door gently shut behind him. There was no lock to keep it closed, but no breeze or uneven ground to swing it open.
He backed you up towards a surface- a desk maybe?- the solid wood biting into your ass as he pinned you against it with his body. Your kisses grew messy, strands of spit connecting your tongues when you parted for air.
You pulled your underwear down, stepping one leg out of them. He followed your lead, pulling his zipper down. You could hardly see him in the dark, but the outline of his cock pulled from his boxer-briefs intimidated you. You watched, transfixed, as he worked his cock. He leaned his face closer towards you. You could still feel his movements, the wet between your legs threatening to start dripping. His breath was hot against your ear when he spoke.
"Getting me jealous like that was a clever little trick," he said.
"It wasn't on purpose," you said, and realized then you were lying to him.
"Bullshit." He pulled one of your legs back up around his waist, hands gripping you harder this time. It hurt a little. He stopped stroking his cock to press his fingers against your slit. He groaned, voice shuddering, "fuck, you're so wet for me."
For me.
"All for you," you told him. Goddamn, that sounded dumb, but you wanted him to say it again. You needed to hear it again. For him. His.
Two fingers dipped into your cunt and you moaned. He hesitated like he was deciding between two options, and then his fingers pushed inside you. You buried your face in his shoulder to muffle another moan.
"So needy for me," he cooed. He curled his fingers inside you, expertly working that sensitive, bundle of nerves. Fuck. Fuck, that felt so good. "I know, baby."
You must have said that out loud. Shame burned your cheeks red but you quickly forgot it. The tension in your center was growing quickly. Dizzyingly quickly.
"Does that feel good?" he asked. All you could do was whimper and nod. "Yeah?"
Your legs were shaking, your breath was coming quicker. He let out the occasional groan along with you. Was he that turned on working you up like this? Fuck, you could feel his cock leaking onto your leg. It was too much.
"Leon, please! Fuck, fuck I'm so close," you tried so hard to keep quiet.
"Yeah? Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on. Cum for me." His begging in your ear pushed you over the edge, cunt spasming around his fingers, whimpering into his shoulder.
He slowed as you came down, letting you catch your breath. You didn't need to see his face to tell there was some proud, smug look on it.
"Fuck you," you muttered, hearing him chuckle in response.
"That's what you get for making me jealous," he told you. He slipped his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. You watched him use the wetness on his hands to circle the head of his cock.
Oh my god. Using your own cum to fuck himself. The combination of your wetness made a lewd, squelching sound as he fucked himself.
He rested his forehead against your shoulder and lined his cock up with your warmth. You were breathless with how badly you needed him to push into you.
He let out a shuddering breath and didn't move. You rocked your hips against him, trying to get an angle that you could slide onto him, but failed. You let out a frustrated whimper.
"Please, Leon. Stop teasing me."
"Beg for it."
"What?"
He placed a hand on your cheek and made you look him in the eyes. The hand drifted around to the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. His gaze was heavy. Serious. "Beg for me."
You searched his face, weighing your options. The growing need you felt was almost unbearable but begging for him felt like admitting defeat and you weren't about to grovel.
Then it dawned on you. He was looking for consent. You nodded, desperation driving you mad.
"Fuck me," you begged, "please fuck me."
His cock pushed into you with an obscene noise, gliding into you so, so easily. He filled you almost to the point of hurting you. Then he pulled out again, slowly, almost to the point of leaving you empty.
His hand tightened on the back of your neck, using it as leverage to pull himself into you. His pace got frenzied. Hard. The two of you whimpered, moaned, babbled out nonsense of mostly "fuck," and "please," and "so fucking good."
You were getting close again. Your pussy tightening around him, only making you more sensitive. You didn't realize how loud you were getting when his hand left your thigh and clapped around your mouth. You blinked in surprise, meeting his eyes: heavy lidded and pussy-drunk.
"If you don't shut the fuck up, we're going to get caught," he groaned. The timber of his voice, the roughness of his hands on your face and neck, the relentless pace he set with his hips... All topped off with the threat of being discovered doing something you really shouldn't. You tried to quiet down, but you were so close, and he felt so good. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything.
"Skirt hiked up, fucking me on the job," he grunted out, his voice getting higher pitched near the end. His pace was less steady, more erratic. "Fuck, m'so close."
You moaned your encouragement into his hand, pleading with your eyes. He tightened his jaw, fighting to keep himself quiet. His pitch got higher, faster. The sounds of your pussy soaking his cock heard over your muffled moans. You were close.
Fuck.
Fuck.
His hips snapped into you harder than before, just pushing you over the edge with white-hot ferocity. He pushed into you deeper, gasping and whimpering, cumming with you.
He looked so pretty when he was cumming.
You came down together, breathing hard, gently rolling to a stop. He slowly moved his hands from your face and his grip on the back of your neck eased up.
"I can't believe we just did that," you whispered, laughing in disbelief. He chuckled too, the sound familiar to the laugh on the dance floor, and another soft realization dawned on you.
He slowly pulled away, gently cradling your face, his eyes asking a question you weren't sure you understood.
"I don't regret it," you guessed. He smiled, then shook his head.
"I'm glad, but I didn't hurt you, did I? I was holding your face pretty hard."
You shook your head, gently kissing him.
"It was hot," you reassured him.
You held each other for a few minutes longer and enjoyed the afterglow. You both knew you needed to go, but neither wanted to initiate it. You tried to ease out of the moment.
"We should do that more often," you joked. He laughed softly in surprise.
"Yeah, we should."
He stepped away from you with a final kiss, pulling up his pants and tucking his silk shirt into them. You pulled your underwear up and smoothed down your dress. You helped fix each other's hair, soft, giddy smiles between you.
Then you snuck out of the room, hoping no one noticed you were gone for too long.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fanfic#resident evil smut#re4r smut#leon kennedy smut#re4r fanfic#re2r fanfic#leon kennedy x you#hey if you liked this consider leaving a comment!
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Of Dragons and Maelstroms
Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Chapter Seventy-Six
In the late afternoon, just outside of Harrenhall, a small lavender field bloomed in all its glory. The air was infused with the delicate fragrance of lavender, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled through the rows of purple blooms. Bees buzzed lazily from flower to flower, collecting nectar as the sun cast a warm golden hue over the scene. The lavender plants stood tall and proud, their slender stems adorned with clusters of vibrant purple flowers that swayed gracefully in the breeze. Each bloom seemed to dance in the sunlight, their petals glistening with dewdrops from the morning's light rain.
As Maera walked with Ser Arryk through the flowers, the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the scene, illuminating the rows of purple blooms. With a basket in hand, they strolled leisurely along the fragrant pathways, surrounded by the soothing scent of lavender. Just an hour before, Maera had visited Maester Cain to check on her pregnancy, relieved to hear that all was progressing as it should. The Maester had assured her that the babe was growing steadily and that there were no signs of complications.
He had recommended using lavender oil for its soothing properties and to promote relaxation, which had led Maera to decide on a walk to the lavender field. Wandering among the flowers, Maera plucked a few stems of lavender, carefully placing them in her basket whilst chatting animatedly to her protector about the morning’s meeting.
"You should have seen her face," she chuckled to the knight, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Not a single soul in the room supported her idea of sending me back to the capital."
Ser Arryk's smile mirrored Maera's joy as he listened to her recount the events. "Would it be too bold of me to suggest that the Prince has finally grown a pair?" he quipped sarcastically, his tone teasing.
Maera gasped in mock astonishment, playing along with the banter. "Why, yes, Ser, I do believe it would be," she replied with exaggerated surprise, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Then I shall refrain from saying it," Ser Arryk declared with a laugh, the sound echoing through the tranquil surroundings as the two shared a moment of lighthearted camaraderie.
As Maera bent down to pick another stem of lavender, she was interrupted by Ser Arryk's voice, his tone suddenly serious. "Princess," he uttered, his gaze fixed on something across the field.
Puzzled, Maera straightened up, her hand instinctively resting on her growing bump as she followed her protector's gaze. Across the field, she spotted Alys amidst the blossoms, her figure hunched over as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Good, Maera thought. For all the pain and suffering the witch had caused, finally it was being reflected back to her. And yet… the Princess was unsure if it was due to her own pregnant state, or concern for the child within Alys’s womb, but something compelled her to go over to her.
With Ser Arryk close by her side, she called out to the weeping witch, her firm voice cutting through the somber air. "Do not cry so, Alys," she urged, her steps careful as she navigated through the fragrant lavender blooms. "It is not good for the child."
When Maera finally reached Alys's side, she observed the tears upon the witch's reddened face, her gaze drifting down to the prominent swell of Alys's pregnancy bump beneath her faded green dress. Despite her emotional state, Alys offered a quiet acknowledgment of Maera's presence with a subdued "Princess."
Sensing the tension in the air, Maera broke the awkward silence, her tone both empathetic and assertive. "You're upset because of the meeting this morning," she observed, her words carrying a subtle hint of triumph. "The Lords and my husband would never have supported your idea. My place is by my husband's side, and that will never change."
Although it may have been somewhat cruel to confront Alys so directly, Maera knew it was necessary to assert her position. However, when Alys remained silent in response, Maera sighed softly, her expression softening with a hint of compassion. "How are you faring? The child, I mean," she inquired, gesturing delicately towards Alys's swollen stomach, her concern genuine despite their strained relationship.
The witch wiped her eyes on her sleeve before offering a subdued reply, her voice tinged with weariness. "The Maester says a few more weeks, then he will be here."
Maera couldn't help but roll her eyes at Alys's insistence on referring to her unborn child as a "he," knowing full well that such knowledge couldn't possibly be accurate. The delusion stemming from Alys's supposed prophecies frustrated Maera to no end. The witch then attempted to stand but struggled due to her advanced pregnancy. Maera glanced at Ser Arryk, his hazel eyes staring back at her as they exchanged a knowing look. Despite her reservations, Maera nodded, and the knight stepped forward, offering his arm to help the heavily pregnant witch to her feet.
As Alys rose to her feet, she gestured towards the field of lavender surrounding them, her voice carrying a tone of authority. "The lavender will help you ward off any infections and prepare you for the pain of labor," she advised Maera, her hand instinctively moving to her own swollen belly. "At this stage, the plant is also known to induce labor. At least it did for my other children."
Maera and Alys began to walk side by side among the fragrant flowers, Ser Arryk steadfastly at Maera's side. Despite the unusual camaraderie between the women for the moment, there lingered an unspoken tension between the princess and her protector, both sharing suspicions about the witch's intentions, even in her current state of distress.
As they walked through the lavender field, Maera couldn’t help but inhale deeply, the scent of lavender reminding her of the birthing rituals her stepmothers performed using the flowers. Memories of Rain House flooded her mind—the stormy weather, the laughter of her younger siblings echoing through the halls. Despite the turmoil of war, Maera longed for the comfort of her family’s home. She made a silent vow to visit them once the conflict had ended, curious to see how her younger siblings would react to her dragon companion.
Lost in her thoughts, Maera momentarily forgot about Alys's presence beside her until she re-focused on their conversation. It occurred to her that Alys had been a wet-nurse, but she hadn't made the connection that the woman was also a mother herself. Alys didn't strike Maera as a maternal figure, so she found herself curious about her companion's experience with motherhood.
In an effort to ease the awkward atmosphere, Maera initiated conversation. "How many children do you have?" she inquired, her voice softening with genuine curiosity.
A note of sadness crept into Alys's reply as she spoke of her past. "I had four," she confessed, her gaze momentarily clouded with sorrow. "But none of them lived. Each were stillborn."
The weight of Alys's words hung heavily in the air, stifling further conversation. It was Alys who eventually broke the silence, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "You are most fortunate, Princess," she remarked sadly.
Maera's response was swift, her frustration evident in her retort. "Fortunate?" she scoffed, her head shaking in disbelief. "I am here walking with my husband's whore, who is also carrying his child. How is that fortunate?" Her words dripped with bitterness as she grappled with the complex emotions swirling within her.
"You are high-born," Alys declared, her demeanor unwavering despite Maera's evident disdain. "Your child will receive the best care and live a healthy life." Maera remained silent as the witch pressed on, her tone taking on a softer, more contemplative quality. "Your status gives you power, Princess," she insisted, her gaze steady as she met Maera's eyes.
With a resigned sigh, Maera admitted, "It is a gilded cage," her hand drifting instinctively to her pregnancy bump as the child within stirred.
As they walked, Alys came to a sudden halt, causing Maera to pause and regard her with curiosity. "Low-born women have little options, particularly bastards," Alys explained, her words tinged with a hint of bitterness. "You do not have to sell your body or talents to gain some semblance of power. It is born within you."
This was true- low-born women had few prospects in life, often at the mercy of their circumstances. And though Alys spoke of lack of power, her words struck a chord with Maera, but in a different way than perhaps intended.
Despite her highborn status, Maera had felt utterly powerless in the face of Alys’s manipulation and promise of prophecy. The witch’s influence, bolstered by her supposed visions, had cast a shadow over Maera’s life, leaving her feeling vulnerable and disregarded by her own husband. It was a bitter realization that even those with privilege could be at the mercy of those who wielded power in subtler ways.
While she could understand the challenges Alys had faced, she refused to let the witch’s victimhood diminish her judgment of Alys’s character. The resentment and mistrust Maera harbored for Alys ran deep, and no amount of sympathy for her past could erase the harm she had caused.
"I have never felt more powerless in my life than being here," Maera sneered, her frustration palpable.
Alys chuckled softly, her laughter tinged with a hint of irony. "You wish to talk of powerlessness?" she retorted, her gaze unwavering. "I came to be because a Lord of House Strong raped my mother." Maera blinked in surprise at Alys's revelation, her resolve faltering slightly in the face of the witch's vulnerability. Yet Alys pressed on, her voice filled with quiet determination. "My children came to be because the Lords of House Strong forced themselves upon me too.”
The Princess froze, that familiar sense of dread gnawing at her insides. It was a sensation she knew all too well—the icy grip of fear that tightened her chest and sent shivers down her spine. Memories of her own encounter with Aegon came flooding back, vivid and unwelcome—the crushing weight of Aegon's strength as he pinned her down, the sound of her own desperate pleas falling on deaf ears, and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that had consumed her.
Glancing at Ser Arryk, Maera was reminded of the pivotal role he had played in her life. It was his intervention that had saved her from a fate she dared not imagine. The witch’s declaration hit home and Maera began to struggle to maintain her composure, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her cloak as she listened to Alys’s anguished confession.
"But that was not the worst of it," Alys continued, her voice thick with emotion. "After losing each of my babies, I was forced to feed the nobles' children," Alys revealed, her tone heavy with anguish. "You cannot imagine the pain. How your body cries out for its child while you provide their milk to a stranger in your arms!"
The story Alys painted was too difficult to even think about. The love Maera already felt for her unborn child surged within her, and the thought of losing that child whilst having to care for another was crushing. Despite her loathing of the witch , Maera couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the woman before her.
The intensity of her own pregnancy had perhaps softened her resolve, allowing her to recognise that they both had something in common- they loved their children. Tears threatened to spill from Maera's eyes as she struggled to maintain her composure, her lips pressed tightly together in a silent show of strength.
Rubbing her stomach tenderly, the witch continued, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "The Gods promised me a child one day, a child of great importance. And here he is, almost ready to be born." Her gaze locked with Maera's, burning with a fierce intensity. "But the Gods' path is being desecrated, and I fear I will lose another child."
"Enough," the Princess interjected firmly, her voice cutting through the emotional turmoil.
Maera was no monster. The struggles and hardships Alys had endured were undeniable, and it was clear that she had fought tooth and nail to ascend to her current position of power. Maera couldn’t help but sympathize with the pain and desperation that must have driven Alys’s actions. The child in her belly was innocent as well, and had not asked for any of this. The babe was probably like a beacon of hope to the witch, her chance to a mother once again.
However, Maera also recognized the inherent danger in Alys’s lack of attachment to what was happening around her. With nothing left to lose, Alys posed a significant threat, capable of unpredictable and potentially destructive behavior. And as dreadful as everything Alys had been through must have been, it did not excuse what she had done and the choices she made.
And though moved by Alys’s story, Maera remained steadfast in her determination to assert her own position of authority, not only for herself but also for the sake of her trueborn child. She couldn’t afford to appear weak or vulnerable, especially in the face of someone as unpredictable as a witch.
"Your child is a bastard, nothing will change that. My husband will not legitimize them, nor give them the dragon egg we found." Alys swallowed a sob, her features contorted in a mixture of grief and resignation. Maera let out a heavy sigh, her own heart weighed down by the weight of the conversation. "But your child will be provided for, and never go hungry or sick," she promised, her voice softening with empathy as she placed a comforting hand on Alys's arm. "I swear this to you." The witch did not reply, instead sniffling and nodding in response, acknowledging the Princess’s vow to her.
As Alys and Maera reached the end of the lavender field, the tension between them lingered in the air, but there was a newfound complexity to their dynamic. Alys offered a small curtsy before they parted ways, leaving behind a sense of unresolved tension mingled with a hint of mutual understanding. Walking with her basket of lavender and Ser Arryk by her side, Maera found herself reflecting on her conversation with Alys. Despite the lingering tension, Maera couldn't deny that she now had a deeper insight into what drove the witch's actions, and to comprehend the motivations of one’s enemy was a valuable insight.
On that quiet night at Harrenhall, the castle seemed to hold its breath, enveloped in a serene stillness that draped over the ancient stone walls like a comforting blanket. The moon hung high in the sky, its soft silver light filtering through the windows to cast gentle patterns on the polished floors. Within the chambers, the air was hushed, disturbed only by the faint crackle of the dwindling hearth and the occasional rustle of fabric as the night breeze whispered through the curtains. Shadows danced silently across the walls, painting fleeting images that seemed to sway with the rhythm of the night.
Nestled against her husband’s chest, Maera’s breathing was slow and steady, her features softened in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. Aemond’s arm draped around her, offering both warmth and security, as if he were a steadfast shield against the uncertainties of the world. Beneath the surface, the child in Maera’s belly seemed to rest as well, its movements gentle and subdued, lulled by the soothing rhythm of its mother's heartbeat. In that moment, all was calm and still, as if the world itself had paused to catch its breath.
As the peaceful silence of the night enveloped the chamber, it was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the corridor outside. The tranquil atmosphere was shattered by the clamor of men shouting, the sharp sound of blades being unsheathed, and the resounding banging against the heavy wooden door.
Aemond's senses sharpened in an instant, his instincts roused by the unexpected disturbance. With a jolt, he sat bolt upright in bed, his movements swift and decisive. The sudden motion startled Maera awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm as she grasped the gravity of the situation. In the dim light of the chamber, Aemond's hand darted beneath the bed, fingers closing around the hilt of his sword with practiced ease. With a determined grip, he withdrew the weapon, the glint of steel reflecting the urgency etched on his features.
Wide-eyed and alert, Maera shifted closer to Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest as they both fixed their gaze on the door, anticipation mounting with each passing second. The sound of running footsteps drawing nearer only served to heighten the tension, their presence an ominous harbinger of the danger lurking just beyond the threshold.
With a thunderous crash, the door burst open, sending Maera's heart into a frantic rhythm as she braced herself for whatever threat awaited on the other side. Relief washed over her as she recognized Ser Arryk's familiar figure entering the chamber, his presence momentarily easing the tension coiled within her.
“My apologies my Prince, Princess. But we have a situation.”
Her breath caught in her throat as Maera listened intently to Ser Arryk's words, the gravity of the situation dawning upon her with each passing moment. The panic etched on the knight's face and the urgency in his voice shattered the fleeting sense of relief, signaling that something was gravely amiss.
Without hesitation, Aemond sprang into action, his movements swift and purposeful as he hastily donned his tunic, pants, and boots. With sword in hand, he wasted no time in leaving the room, his departure leaving Maera with a sense of helplessness as she watched him vanish into the darkness beyond.
Restless and unsettled, Maera found herself unable to find solace in sleep after the harrowing interruption to their peaceful night. With a heavy sigh, she slipped out of bed, the soft fabric of her nightgown enveloping her as she moved with a sense of urgency. Pulling on her black robe for warmth, she made her way to the hearth, drawn to the comforting glow of the dwindling flames.
With a furrowed brow, Maera tended to the fire, adding more wood to stoke the flames and bring renewed warmth to the room. As the crackling fire grew brighter, Maera settled into a chair before the hearth, her thoughts consumed by the tumultuous events unfolding outside their door. Anxiety gnawed at her insides as she contemplated the cause of the commotion that had shattered the tranquility of their night. The uncertainty weighed heavily on her mind, fueling a sense of unease that refused to be quelled by the flickering flames before her.
Maera’s gaze drifted to the iron pot nestled next to the flames, cradling the large black and green dragon egg above the hot coals. The sight of the egg, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, stirred a mix of hope and trepidation within her heart. She pondered the uncertain fate of the egg as half of them never hatch, she reminded herself, a sobering reality that tempered her optimism.
Alys’s vision of Aemond’s future son as a dragon rider lingered in her mind, casting a shadow of doubt over the true meaning behind the prophecy. Why would Alys’s child, this supposed son, be the great rider of a dragon? The ambiguity of the vision only added to the uncertainty surrounding their situation. A sense of dread crept over Maera as she contemplated the tangled web of fate and prophecy that seemed to entwine their lives. With Alys’s impending childbirth looming on the horizon, she knew the complexities of their situation would only intensify in the days to come.
“Ooof!”
A sudden sharp kick from the child in her stomach jolted her out of her reverie. She gasped, hand instinctively flying to her belly, before a smile spread across her face as she remembered the source of the sensation. The child’s movements were becoming more pronounced, and Maera couldn’t help but marvel at the tiny feet that seemed to press against her skin from within.
Beneath the fabric of her nightgown, the outline of the child’s movements was visible, a gentle swell indicating each kick. Maera tenderly stroked the spot where the child made its presence known.
“It’s ok. We’re ok,” she whispered, unsure if she was trying to calm the unborn babe, herself, or both. Her gaze shifted to the door, her heart heavy with worry and anticipation. With each passing moment, the uncertainty of the situation outside weighed heavily on her mind.
After some time, the Prince returned, his face etched with rage, causing Maera’s heart to clench with concern. Reacting instinctively, she rose from her chair and moved to his side, reaching out to grasp his arms as he held hers. Their connection was palpable, a silent reassurance amidst the tumultuous emotions swirling around them.
“What has happened?” she inquired softly, her voice laced with apprehension.
Aemond’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with restrained anger. “When you patrolled today, did you see anything out of the ordinary along the border?” he questioned, his tone clipped with urgency.
Maera furrowed her brow in concentration, mentally retracing her steps from earlier. She remembered the tranquility of the Riverlands beneath them as they flew, Ēbrion seemingly at ease without any signs of imminent danger or threats. She remembered the lush green trees, towering mountains and the cloudy sky. On the ground, she remembered tiny dots, which she assumed were people, going about their day. Families travelling, or merchants transporting goods, just as usual.
"No, nothing out of the ordinary," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Aemond nodded curtly before pulling away from Maera's touch, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth. "More of my cunt sister's rats," he muttered under his breath, his words heavy with disdain.
Sensing her husband's agitation, Maera's nerves heightened, her hand instinctively drifting to her pregnant belly. "Aemond, what is going on?" she pressed, her voice trembling with worry.
The Prince turned to face her, his features hardened with resolve. "Men have broken into Harrenhall, planning to assassinate us," he revealed, his tone low and ominous.
Her heart stopped. Fear gripped Maera’s heart like icy tendrils as the gravity of the situation sank in. Men had dared to threaten her husband's life, her own life and by extension, their child's. In that moment, fear and protective instinct surged within Maera. Her own safety took a backseat as her maternal instincts roared to life.
She felt an overwhelming sense of dread for her child's well-being, a fierce determination to shield their unborn babe from harm at any cost. The gravity of the situation sank in, and she swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice amidst the chaos of her thoughts.
"It seems my uncle prefers dishonorable schemes rather than an honest death on the battlefield," Aemond growled bitterly, his fists clenched at his sides as he looked into the flames of the hearth.
With a fierce gleam in her emerald eyes, Maera confronted her husband, her voice laced with tenacity. "Where are they now?" she demanded, her tone sharp and commanding.
Aemond's expression darkened, bitterness coloring his words as he responded, "The guards are escorting them down to the dungeons," he explained, his gaze fixated on the dancing flames before him. "They will be dealt with on the morrow.”
Her resolve unwavering, Maera shook her head adamantly, her determination shining through. "No," she declared firmly, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. Aemond snapped his head up to look at her, confusion etched across his sharp face.
Summoning her strength, Maera closed the distance between them, her gaze never wavering. "Order everyone to wake. We will deal with them now. Together," she commanded, her voice unwavering.
Aemond's gaze softened as he looked at his wife, a silent understanding passing between them. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear before his hand came to rest on her pregnant belly. With a nod of agreement, he turned and strode purposefully out of the room. As her husband departed, Maera rang for her maid, her mind already racing with plans and preparations for what lay ahead.
At the hour of the bat, the once-quiet halls of Harrenhall were abruptly filled with the clamor of hurried footsteps and anxious voices. Every inhabitant, roused from their slumber, was summoned to the main hall by urgent decree, the echo of worried chatter reverberating off the cold, stone walls.
In the flickering light cast by the hearth, a large table was hastily brought forth and positioned at the center of the hall. Seated around it were the members of the war council, their faces drawn with tension and anticipation. At the head of the table sat Maera and Aemond, both clad in resplendent attire of black leather, their expressions stern and unwavering.
The attention of the room was fixed upon the three figures bound in chains, positioned in the middle of the hall under the watchful gaze of armed guards. These men, their faces masked by shadows, were the would-be assassins who had dared to threaten the lives of the Prince and Princess. Despite their predicament, they maintained an air of defiance, their eyes meeting those of Maera and Aemond with a mixture of fear and resentment.
Rising from his seat at the end of the table, the man who had supported Maera in a number of council meetings, Lord Unwin Peake, addressed the assembled crowd with authority. "My Lords and Ladies, people of Harrenhall," he began, his voice carrying across the hall. "There has been a threat to the lives of our Prince and Princess."
With measured steps, Lord Unwin moved to stand beside the first man, kneeling and isolated from the others. He pointed accusatorily. "This man broke into the castle a few hours ago, with the intent of assassination," he declared, his words echoing in the hushed hall.
Then, gesturing towards the two men shackled together, Lord Unwin continued, his voice unwavering. "And these two were waiting for his return on the other side of the Gods Eye, prepared to assist the would-be killer in his escape."
The room erupted into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs as Maera's gaze swept over the trio of assailants, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. As the clamor subsided, the Lord of House Butterwell rose from his seat, his voice laced with skepticism. "How do we know this was their intention?" he challenged, his words met with murmurs of agreement from some of the onlookers.
It was then that Ser Arryk, the stalwart knight, stepped forward, holding up a small scroll for all to see. The crowd fell silent as they awaited his revelation, tension hanging thick in the air. Ser Arryk presented the parchment to Aemond, who accepted it with a tight grip, his expression darkening with each passing moment. "A written order, in Prince Daemon’s own handwriting. I know it well," Ser Arryk declared loudly, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere of the room.
Aemond's gaze remained fixed on the scroll as he silently read its contents, his breath quickening with each passing word. Maera, sensing his distress, leaned in closer, her voice laced with concern. "What does it say?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for answers. When he didn't respond, she pressed further, her tone growing more urgent. "Aemond?"
Ignoring her, Aemond pushed the scroll away, his jaw clenched with barely contained rage. Without a word to her, he moved to address the assassins, but before he could speak, Maera rose from her seat with a determined expression. The scrape of her chair against the floor echoed through the hall as she reached for the scroll, her hands shaking slightly with emotion.
Unfurling the scroll, Maera read its contents aloud, her voice steady despite the horror of the words she spoke. "An eye for an eye, a son for a son," she began, the weight of each syllable hanging heavy in the air. “Carve…” She stopped, the words catching in her throat at the sheer brutality of what she was revealing. She paused briefly, looking around the room. If there were any traitors amongst them that could support the people who wrote the order, Maera hoped the Gods would deliver justice.
Gathering her composure, she cleared her throat before forging ahead, her voice ringing out with authority. "Carve the babe from his whore wife’s belly so that he may feel a fraction of the anguish our rightful Queen felt when Prince Lucerys was taken from her- Daemon Targaryen, King consort."
The hall erupted in a cacophony of outrage and disbelief, the shock and horror evident on the faces of those gathered. Guards rushed to contain the chaos, grappling with onlookers who attempted to reach the assassins, their shouts and cries filling the air with tension and unrest. Seated amidst the chaos, Maera watched with a mixture of satisfaction and apprehension, knowing that the revelation of the scroll had unleashed a storm that would have far-reaching consequences.
Aemond then stood from his chair, tall and imposing, and the room fell silent. “I shall feed them to Vhagar and Ēbrion myself,” he proclaimed, his voice resonating with determination. As the crowd erupted in cheering, Aemond strode confidently around the table, his words ringing out. "Let these traitors experience firsthand the power of dragons."
Maera sat motionless, her gaze fixed ahead as a numbing sensation washed over her, a stark contrast to the heightened emotions that had gripped her moments before. Amidst the gruesome details outlined in the scroll and the chilling realization of the peril she had narrowly escaped, she found herself overwhelmed.
She watched as the guards attempted to pull the three men away, their faces twisted in fear. In the midst of her turmoil, Maera’s attention was drawn to one of the two men who would aid in the escape of the assassin, his desperate gaze locking with hers. He appeared no older than herself, with short auburn hair and pleading blue eyes. It struck her deeply that this man, a stranger to her, had conspired to end her life.
As the guards began to drag him away by his chains, the young man called to her. "I plead mercy, Princess," he cried out, desperation evident in his voice.
Aemond's expression darkened as he approached the man, seizing him by the hair and forcing him to meet his gaze. "Mercy? And what makes you think you deserve that, hmm?" he growled, his voice dripping with contempt.
Despite Aemond's intimidating presence, the young man managed to divert his gaze to Maera once more. "I am wed to your sister Wynnifrid," he confessed, his voice trembling with fear.
The Prince glanced at Maera, who was now alert and staring right back at the red-haired man. Wynni. Gods, Wynni. A thousand memories of her little sister stirred in her head, memories of a sister she had not seen nor heard from in what felt like an eternity. Reacting on impulse, Maera raised her arm to halt the guards from dragging the men away.
The room fell into an eerie silence as Maera left her seat, a determined yet composed figure amidst the tension. With measured steps, she navigated around the lengthy table, her demeanor exuding an air of regal poise. Despite the turmoil roiling within her, Maera maintained an emotionless facade, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly as she advanced.
As Maera approached the assailants, her presence commanded attention. The onlookers watched in muted anticipation, their eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. Without a word, Maera halted before the man who had called out to her, her gaze piercing yet inscrutable.
The one-eyed Prince forcefully threw the man on the floor before Maera, the sound of the chains binding him clinking as they hit the stone floor. Aemond’s expression was resolute, his features etched with disdain for those who had threatened his family. Standing by his wife's side, Aemond stood as a formidable presence, a silent sentinel guarding Maera against any further harm.
"You are Lord Tarly," Maera stated evenly, her voice betraying no emotion.
The young man, now identified as Alan Tarly, nodded, his eyes pleading for clemency. "Please, I beg you. Release me, I will tell you everything I know," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.
Maera stood over the man, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Doubt gnawed at her, questioning the authenticity of his claims. Was this a desperate attempt to elicit sympathy? A ruse to manipulate her emotions? Yet, beneath the layers of suspicion, a flicker of longing emerged—the longing for her sister.
Ser Adrian Tarbeck's voice cut through the tension in the hall, his accusation directed at Lord Alan Tarly. "Your House has just turned cloak, have you not? Why should we believe a word you say?" he challenged, his tone laced with skepticism.
Lord Alan Tarly's voice quivered as ignored the comment and looked up at Maera, his revelation catching her off guard. "Wynni is with child," he muttered, his words sending a shock through her.
The revelation struck Maera like a blow to the chest. Wynni, pregnant? The realization pierced her heart, stirring a tumult of anguish and regret. She hadn’t heard from her sister in ages, hadn’t known if Wynni’s marriage was one of happiness or sorrow. And now, to learn that Wynni was to become a mother, it was a revelation too overwhelming to comprehend.
The Princess took a deep breath to steady herself as she saw the man kneeling before her shaking his head. "I should never have agreed to be part of this plot. Never. I thought I was doing right by my House," he confessed, tears welling in his blue eyes.
Aemond scoffed with disdain, his voice laced with mockery as he addressed the assembled crowd. "Doing right by your House," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "Behold, my Lords, what Rhaenyra will do to take power."
Maera fixed her gaze on Lord Alan, her expression steely as she urged him to speak. "Start talking," she demanded, her patience wearing thin. Leaning closer to him, she delivered a warning in a low voice. "I am a lot less desperate than you are in this moment."
Lord Alan hesitated, casting nervous glances around the room before finally speaking up for all to hear. "The Queen has enlisted the help of Targaryen bastards, promising knighthood and wealth when the war is over," he revealed, prompting exchanged glances between Maera and Aemond. "She will use them to fly the riderless dragons and win the throne.”
As news of Rhaenyra’s plan sank in, Aemond's expression darkened, his frown etched deep upon his face. With a heavy heart, he stepped away from Maera, his mind undoubtedly consumed by the implications of this newfound knowledge.
Maera's gaze followed her husband, sensing the weight of his thoughts. The numbers didn't lie—while the Greens boasted five dragons, including the formidable Vhagar and Ēbrion, the Blacks had six, albeit mostly juveniles. Yet, even in their youth, these dragons possessed formidable power.
The realization hit Maera like a thunderbolt. She knew all too well the strength of the dragons. There were many known wild dragons on Dragonstone, but also many unknown in the dragonmount, just like Ēbrion. If Rhaenyra had acquired additional riders and dragons, it would tip the scales of the war irreversibly in her favour.
“You cannot win this war,” Lord Alan stated with desperation. But it fell on deaf ears as Maera clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing with resolve. She turned to Aemond, seeking strength and solidarity in their shared determination.
With a steely gaze, Maera spoke softly but firmly to her husband, her words resonating with unwavering conviction. “Morghon ondoso zaldrīzes tolī adere.” Death by dragon is too quick.
Aemond’s expression hardened at his wife’s words, a silent agreement passing between them. He moved to once again stand beside her, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around them.
Turning his attention to the other two assailants, Aemond issued a harsh decree, his voice cutting through the air with authority. “Those two are to be hung, drawn, and quartered. Let their bodies serve as a warning to all who dare defy House Targaryen and its rightful King.”
The condemned men protested vehemently as they were dragged away, their cries echoing through the hall in vain. Aemond glanced at Maera, searching her face in order to get a glimpse at what she was thinking they should do with her supposed brother-in-law.
The Princess bent down again, her gaze softening momentarily as she addressed Lord Alan, her concern for her sister evident in her voice. "Is my sister well?"
Lord Alan nodded eagerly, relief flooding his features. "Very much so, Princess. She is looking forward to becoming a mother," he assured her.
A small smile tugged at Maera's lips as she acknowledged the reassurance. "Thank you, good-brother," she said, her gratitude evident in her tone. With a solemn nod towards her husband, Maera stepped back, her hand instinctively resting on her swollen stomach, a silent reminder of the life growing within her.
Her green eyes remained fixed on Aemond as he unsheathed his dagger, a glint of steel in the dim light of the hall. In one swift motion, he cut the man's throat, crimson blood spurting forth in a gruesome display. The sound of the body hitting the stone floor echoed through the hall, a grim punctuation to the grim act.
Notes: this was a big chapter so I’ve split it. Alys’s death is coming, don’t fucking worry 🤣 gotta get that lore in though. So chapter seventy-eight we will see the last of the witch. You guys can wait till then it’ll be worth it 😉 also I will not be taking questions about the assassination attempt and if this had anything to do with Alys, I would like to watch you all debate each other in the comments 😏
Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy
Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤
#maera wylde#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#aemond fanfiction#chapters#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house targaryen#house wylde#hotd helaena#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen fanfiction
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Childhood lovers with Jake ‘H_ngm_n’ Seresin
All the Pretty Girls- Kenny Chesney
American Kids- Kenny Chesney
Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not- Thompson Square
Austin- Blake Shelton
Beautiful Crazy- Luke Combs
Buy Dirt- Jordan Davis, Luke Bryan
Carrying Your Love With Me- George Strait
Chicken Fried- Zac Brown Band
Cover Me Up- Morgan Wallen
Cowboy Take Me Away- The Chicks
Crash My Party- Luke Bryan
Craving You- Thomas Rhett, Maren Morris
Diamond In My Pocket-Cody Johnson
Die A Happy Man-Thomas Rhett
Dirt On My Boots-Jon Pardi
Dirt Road Anthem-Jason Aldean
Do l- Luke Bryan
Drunk On You-Luke Bryan
Even Though I'm Leaving-Luke Combs
Fast Car- Luke Combs
Feathered Indians- Tyler Childers
Fire Away- Chris Stapleton
Footloose- Kenny Loggins
Forever & Ever Amen- Randy Travis
Galveston- Glen Campbell
God Gave Me You- Blake Shelton
Greatest Love Story- LANCO
Hard To Love- Lee Brice
Heading South- Zach Bryan
Head Carolina, Tails California- Jo Dee Messina
Heartache On The Dance Floor- Jon Parti
Heart Like A Truck- Lainey Wilson
He Could Be The One- Hannah Montana
Hold My Hand- Lady Gaga
Home- Blake Shelton
Hometown Girl-Josh Turner
Honey Bee- Blake Shelton
Hotel California- The Eagles
I Ain’t Worried- OneRepublic
I Don’t Dance- CHAD, Ryan, Disney
I Don’t Dance- Lee Brice
I Don’t Want This Night To End- Luke Bryan
I Drive Your Truck- Lee Brice
If I Didn’t Love You- Jason Aldean, Carrie Underwood
If I Was Your Man- Blake Shelton
I Like The Sound Of That- Rascal Flatts
I’ll Name the Dogs- Blake Shelton
I’m Comin’ Over- Chris Young
I’m In A Hurry (And I Don’t Know Why)- Alabama
I Wish Grandpas Never Died- Riley Green
The Kind of Love We Make- Luke Combs
Last Night- Morgan Wallen
Life in the Fast Lane-Eagles
Life’s a Dance- John Micheal Montgomery
Like I Love Country Music- Kane Brown
Love Like Crazy-Lee Brice
Lovin' On You Luke Combs
Meet In the Middle-Diamond Rio
Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right-Billy Currington
My Maria-Brooks & Dunn
New Kid In Town - Eagles
Night Shift- Jon Pardi
Nobody But You- Blake Shelton, Gwen Stefani
ONE BEER- HARDY, Lauren Alaina, Devin Dawson
One Of Them Girls- Lee Brice
One of These Nights -Eagles
One Thing At A Time- Morgan Wallen
Playing with the Boys -Kenny Loggins
Play It Again- Luke Bryan
Renegade- Styx
Rhinestone Cowboy-Glen Campbell
Rumor- Lee Brice
Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)-Big & Rich
She Got the Best of Me- Luke Combs
She Had Me At Heads Carolina-Cole Swindell
She's Country- Jason Aldean
Sixteen-Thomas Rhett
Slow Dance In A Parking Lot-Jordan Davis
Small Town Boy- Dustin Lynch
Sold- John Michael Montgomery
Somebody's Problem-Morgan Wallen
Something in the Orange-Zach Bryan
Song of the South-Alabama
Southern Nights- Glen Campbell
Stay-Florida Georgia Line
Strawberry Wine-Deana Carter
Sure Be Cool If- Blake Shelton
Take It Easy -Eagles
Take My Breath Away -Berlin
There Was This Girl-Riley Green
Things a Man Oughta Know-Lainey Wilson
Thought You Should Know-Morgan Wallen
Til You Can't- Cody Johnson
Two Dozen Roses- Shenandoah
Unforgettable- Thomas Rhett
Wagon Wheel- Darius Rucker
The Way I Talk -Morgan Wallen
What Ifs- Kane Brown, Lauren Alaina
Why Don't We Just Dance-Josh Turner
Write This Down-George Strait
You Should Be Here-Cole Swindell
#playlist#spotify#top gun fandom#sereshaw#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#country#country music
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You’re enabling me 😘
I rambled about it in the tags of the Vespiquen post I reblogged earlier but I really wish Vespiquen was better. I know it’s foolish to want each Pokémon to have a unique niche and function and everything, but Vespiquen has such a cool design I think she deserves better. They apparently cared enough to give Vespiquen 3 unique signature moves that literally only Vespiquen can learn which thematically play off of her gimmick of being the queen bee with a swarm of Combes. In actuality her signature moves don’t really get to have their potential realized and frankly don’t do anything particularly interesting with her concept, but they still make Vespiquen one of the pokemon with the most unique signature moves. (Also they cared enough to create a unique item that is generated by Vespiquen when she Dynamaxes in Sword and Shield, not super relevant but worth pointing out that Vespiquen has some unique things going for her).
Anyway, her signature attack, Attack Order, is an extremely solid 90 power 100% accuracy physical bug move with high crit chance, it’s not particularly exciting as it’s just a slightly better version of X-Scissor but it is quite good and frankly if other bug pokemon could learn it there are quite a few who would enjoy it (it would still have to compete with Leech Life but it’d be an option). Vespiquen is a Pokémon with respectable stats, 70 base HP, 102 base Def and Sp. Def, base 80 Atk and Sp. Atk, and an underwhelming 40 speed. With tied Atk and Sp. Atk, Vespiquen could go for a physical or special attack moveset, and despite Vespiquen’s signature attack being physical, I’d argue her move pool has better special attack options, although her inability to use Quiver Dance despite seemingly like exactly the type of Pokémon that learns Quiver Dance is unfortunate as it would really boost the potential of a special Vespiquen set. On paper her stats are quite solid and should give a Pokémon respectable bulk and alright attack stats, but because Vespiquen is a Bug/Flying type with 2x weaknesses to Fire, Ice, Electric, Flying, and a miserable 4x weakness to Rock that causes her to get set to half health from stealth rocks alone, Vespiquen’s solid-on-paper bulk doesn’t really hold up in practice, and her slow speed and mediocre attack stats prevent her from playing a sweeper role. I’m saying all this to get across that Vespiquen is very likely to take hits that she can’t survive because of just how many weaknesses she has, this unfortunately makes her other two unique moves significantly less useable. Defend Order increases both defensive stats by one stage, it’s not bad by any means and would probably be very powerful on the right pokemon, but on Vespiquen it’s unlikely to make a difference when a 4x damage rock slide is coming your way. Vespiquen’s final unique move is Heal Order, which restores 50% of her hp, a really good move if it was on a Pokémon that could take multiple hits, but as I’ve tried to explain, Vespiquen realistically is not one of those Pokémon. What’s even worse about Heal Order is that, in Vespiquen’s debut generation Gen 4, there is a TM for Roost that Vespiquen can learn. So while a lot of flying types dislike losing their ground immunity when using roost, Vespiquen would gladly trade it for temporarily removing several weaknesses, meaning that Vespiquen’s signature healing move is, in most cases, worse for her than the other recovery move she can learn. If by some miracle you are able to get Vespiquen in against Pokémon that don’t have coverage for any of the common types she’s weak to, and you’re actually able to set up a turn or two of defense order followed by heal order healing, Vespiquen could probably be useful, but even then you probably wouldn’t want to use one of her remaining move slots on Attack Order since it’s not going to do much because with a mediocre attack stat on a slow Pokémon you probably had to invest in defensively just to get to survive up until this point. What’s most disappointing to me is Vespiquen’s abilities. I would think a Pokémon whose entire gimmick is about having combee swarming around her and doing her bidding with her literally being the beehive would maybe have something interesting as an ability, but unfortunately she only gets Pressure and Unnerve, both of which are useless in most battles.
Whenever I think about Pokémon like Vespiquen that have lots of problems preventing them from reaching their full potential, I try and thinking what ways you could fix them. The immediate obvious answer would be to change her type, even something as uninteresting and common as bug/poison would be a significant improvement in terms of weaknesses (at the cost of STAB Acrobatics and Air Slash I guess). Another approach could be improving her move pool, I don’t think letting Vespiquen learn Quiver Dance would necessarily do much for her, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. The methods I think would be the most interesting of making Vespiquen and her unique signature moves more usable would be to change/buff the moves significantly or give her a real ability. Given Vespiquen’s unique design I personally think she deserves a unique ability themed around her design gimmick gmaybe something like “in double/triple battles, moves targeting Vespiquen are redirected to her Bug-type allies”), but even just something thematically appropriate like Tsareena’s Queenly Majesty would be a massive improvement over “your opponent uses more PP per move” and “your opponent can’t eat berries”. As for the moves, maybe they could do the kind of combining two existing moves thing that they’ve been doing lately and add the Infestation effect to Attack Order, or change Defend Order to reduce damage dealt by super effective attacks to her team sort of like a light screen. Really I just want a Pokémon as cool as Vespiquen that has 3 entire unique moves to be a functional Pokémon that actually has some sort of reason to pick and use said unique moves
And don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware that Vespiquen’s signature moves are actually quite good compared to other Pokémon whose signature moves are lacking. It’s hard to complain about a really solid attack, a boost to both defenses, and a basic 50% heal when some Pokémon get slaps in the face like Octozooka, but knowing that doesn’t make Vespiquen’s moves actually any good
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Please Don't Wake Up
(Part Four)
Summary: You have a crush on your best friend and you're sleeping over when you get hard and can't sleep; you try to rub one out quietly and not wake him up, you'll be mortified if he notices, but then he starts to stir...
cw: nsfw, m!reader x m!bf, oral (m!rec), handjob, voyeurism, mlm, thigh fucking, bottoming, small dom/big sub, pwr bottom/soft top
a/n: this is the product of 3 am horny fantasies, I apologize in advance; if you're looking for slow burn, I have other stories in my masterlist for you
[image is a couch from ikea, don't judge me]
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You swallowed your reservations and reeled in the glee, before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Mouths parted and tongues danced as you kissed like the air from each other’s lungs was the only air you could breathe.
A wayward hand of yours left his thighs to play with his hair, the moans that escaped the airlock you had created confirmation for you continue.
You could have spent all night kissing him, if his hands didn’t wander to your dick. His slender fingers wrapped themselves around you both, sliding up and down as he kissed you even deeper.
“Shit,” you hissed when he started going faster, your mind numb with desire, every nerve on fire with his touch. “Wanna go inside?” he whispered into your ear before gently biting it. You didn’t even need to answer, but you did, anyway.
“Yes, please,” you begged. “So polite,” Bee replied, leaning back. His eyes never leaving yours, he slid his middle and ring finger into his mouth, sliding them wet and glistening off of his tongue. With a steadying breath, he moved them to his ass, slipping them effortlessly in.
“I’ve done this a lot, picturing it was you, you know…,” he confessed, bending down to take you in his mouth. At that moment, all you wanted to do was rail him. Fuck him, claim him, and make him yours and yours alone; bury it so balls deep inside of him that you’d just fuse there and become one so he could never leave you.
“Fuck,” was all you could say to the possessive thoughts and the way he swirled his tongue around you. He kept going while stretching himself with another finger, and you watched as his face slowly became more and more undone before you.
The vibrations from the moans he was making while his mouth was busy was enough to send shivers down the entire length of your spine. Suddenly, after a while, he leaned back, leaving you there, wanting, waiting, before quickly reclaiming his spot atop your legs.
“I can’t do this, anymore, just fuck me, please,” he pleaded. “Gladly,” you replied honestly, running your hands along your favorite of his features. Guiding your dick with his hand, he slowly let you slide into him as he lowered himself down.
“It’s tight,” you breathed, leaning into him, resisting the urge to buck your hips every time he moved. Bee laughed again, yet another new sensation to remember as it made his muscles contract around you.
“More than anyone else you’ve been with?” he joked. You moved in front of his face and gently brushed the hair out from his eyes. “I was never interested in being with anyone else,” you answered seriously, staring into his surprised eyes.
“But I thought you and-?” you cut off his question with a long, desperate kiss. You grabbed his chin and turned his head, playing on his ear with your tongue. “I lied,” you whispered, gripping his thighs and snapping your hips, before moving him just a little bit faster.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, holding onto you tighter. “Fuck, do that again,” he begged, and you were more than happy to oblige. A new pace set, you finally got your wish of railing him like you’d wanted.
A mess of limbs, pleasured voices, and strained curses, you fucked him, just like he asked. The sounds your bodies made when they slapped together would ring in your ear like the aftermath of a loud concert for hours, you thought.
You didn’t really mind.
He really was a gifted musician, with the symphony he was conducting, and you were honored to be his accompaniment. You’d have made music with him for hours, if your bodies didn’t betray the idea.
Breathless, you both collapsed into a heap on the couch. In an apparent moment of post-nut clarity, Bee pushed himself up on your chest where he had been laying and looked you in the eyes.
“I didn’t just ruin our friendship, did I?” he asked.
Part Five
#male reader#best friend#reader x best friend#mlm#voyuerism#thigh fucking#power bottom#soft top#minors dni#minors do not interact
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Spotify Discovery Review
So I wanted to try something new and figured I'd dive into more music thoughts, and since I've been actually listening to my Spotify Discovery (I needed new music lol) so yeah.
Overall Rating: 13/30 that I really like and even sort of like, so not bad. Probably won't be saving a ton of these for later listening, a few might go into some character playlists at least so that's good. We'll see if any grow on me. Below are some of the standouts good, bad, and indifferent. A few songs I didn't include bc they're instrumentals that I didn't really have any thoughts on. Not even neutral thoughts.
Good
Dear Alice (rainy days)
Slow and dreamlike, it's not really a surprise that there's heavy Alice in Wonderland theming but even though there's not a ton of singing, I found myself enjoying the ride.
Femme Fatale
A fantastic beat, a combination of western and tango aesthetics, a fast paced ride that makes me want to groove. Love the flirty danger that drips off of every word, it's got a solid identity and doesn't feel like it's trying too hard to be "edgy" or anything.
YOUR HEAD'S ON FIRE
Louie Zhong is always a bop and his lyrical style is always a joy. Unconventional metaphors and fun little bits, a very groovy guitar line that makes you want to wiggle.
Blink of an eye
Halfy and Winks make DSMP songs, I'm aware of this, however I love their musical style and lyrics. Gives me heavy inspiration for my own story just with how vivid and story based their stuff is. The revolutionary spark in here is nice.
Invisible
Dan Avidan has popped into my feeds and I’m not really complaining? I love the rock style/retro vibe that this one has going on, his vocals really sell it. A little bit chase scene a little bit breakdown but overall a good time.
The Moon and Stars
Good folk vibes, gets close to scratching the same itch that The Crane Wives do but not quite, which is still a good time for me. We'll see if this fits a character in future.
The Manic
A great character song, will be applying to my blorbos soon. The pushing away from someone you love because you know you'll hurt them eventually and can't take it. Very good stuff.
Dance While the Sky Crashes Down
Eyyy Jason Webly, I remember you from WTNV. A tango for the end of the world and honestly isn't that a mood? I love the lyrics, although it drags a smidge at the end. Maybe because of TMA I'm a little more inclined towards this.
A song whose title is in Japanese. It's from land of the lustrous and I cannot copy paste the title.
Very eerie, very atmospheric. I haven't watched the show in its entirety myself, but I know that it has horror and suspense interwoven in some of the back half, and the clanking bells and echoes really give the sensation of being watched. Of being on edge. Good stuff.
Break Your Cranck
An altogether inexplicable piece. It’s done on a hurdy gurdy which is already a plus but. It. It sounds like electronica crafted by pirate bees. With some Indian influence thrown in for flavor. Like a space punk pirate bazaar. Very atmospheric but also so so confusing. I love it.
Dance of the blood drunk
A balance of wild carnival and orchestral splendor, feels like an epic batter on a grand scale. The unsteady thrill of never knowing if you’re winning or not.
Neutral
Absence
I kinda forgot what this sounded like tbh.
How Dare You
Pretty good? No real feelings on it.
I was an island
Again with the good lyrics, but the instrumentation and singing are on the verge of being unlistenable? Like I can listen, and I could see myself putting this on a character playlist or two for sure.
Tavern crawl
A fun little bawdy medieval style song, Annapantsu kills it as expected, but bar songs/drinking songs aren’t really my vibe? But I could see myself grooving to this generally.
Brand new city
Mitski, which is good, but some of her stuff doesn't hit me as much as it does others, and this is one of those times. Not bad by any means, just not something I can see myself going back to.
Cold, cold, cold
Has a story to it, the grandiosity is nice especially near the end but the whole song together doesn’t quite capture me in the way that other artists in this space do. I could listen to it if I was in a particular mood but otherwise it’s not a stand out.
Bitch, Bitch, Bitch
I do like the Jekyll and Hyde musical don't get me wrong but I'm not a huge fan of this one? It's mostly a song meant to establish the upper crust as mindless gossips and twits, the combination of the old Disney-musical style instrumentals and the rather vulgar (by Victorian standards) lyrics is funny but that's all its got.
Timekeeper's Heartbeat
An interesting case where I like the instrumentals and most of the lyrics but it fails to really coalesce into a song? There's bits that don't rhyme for no reason, it comes across like one of those English vocaloid covers that doesn't adjust for the context. If it is, I wouldn't be surprised.
Nah
Whiplash (Black Math)
Don’t like listening to it, not much else to really say here.
Wish you were gay
I’m aware this one is a bit of a darling in some of the animation meme circles but I don’t really care for the instrumentation or the lyrics. Unpleasant to listen to.
Two's a party
Jazz/cabaret but there’s not really a depth to it imo. I find it a bit hard to listen to despite the singer being pretty good if a bit... too whispery. A combination of the lyrics and sudden trumpet jump scares ig.
Judas
An interesting concept and premise, the dichotomy of a queer relationship contrasted with the religious imagery is layered but the vocal performance doesn’t really do it for me. Seems to want to be mountain goats but it’s a little too raw?
I DONT TRUST U ANYMORE
Person with a guitar genre, valid feelings but vocal performance is a bit flat. Reminds me of blink 182 but with none of the energy.
#melody rambles#spotify discovery review#might also open up my inbox to song recommendations if y'all feel like throwing something in there
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For playlist requests: I’d love like a contrasting/split one for either Joleta pre and post leaving Gabriel at the end of DK or Joleta pre and post PiF
Stop your breath - A band AU playlist for Joleta (link to Spotify)
And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you / Just what you want me to / You're not the kind that needs to tell me / About the birds and the bees *** Maybe I'll be as fast as you / Maybe I'll break hearts too / But I think that you'll slow down / When your turn to hurt comes around *** Well, you may be the king / Of this discoteque thing / But honey, I ain't looking for that *** Under the Boardwalk / Down by the sea / On a blanket with my boyfriend's where I'll be *** This could be our final dance / This could be our very last chance / And if you cut me / Don't you think I feel / Is this body made of clay / Is this heart made of steel *** So he's lying on top again / Just like Gepetto with his doll *** Cold burns powerful / Has powerful needs / Holds back / What's my worth? / There's a fire *** When I was a teenage whore / The rain came down like it never did before / I paid good money not to be ignored / Then why am I a teenage whore? *** I'm the kind of woman / I'll do almost anything to get what I want / I might play any little game *** Fifteen have passed and straight out of school / She was hard to handle / She was easy to fool *** Nobody believes we got something they haven't got / They've never seen a fire this hot / They never got that far / We're burning as bright as any star.
#thanks so much for the ask kay!!#i'll post commentary later :)#but basically it starts off more under gabriel's influence and progresses to more self-awareness and her owning her narrative#though chronologically i've taken a few liberties as some of the earlier tracks are '90s whoops#character: joleta reid malett#playlists: period-appropriate#playlists: period appropriate
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My media this week (5-11 Jun 2022)
📚 STUFF I READ 📚
😊👂 Peril at End House (Hercule Poirot #9) (Agatha Christie, author; Hugh Fraser, narrator)
😍 Slow Dancing In A Burning Room (No Sweeter Death #1) (feelslikefire) - great 00Q slow burn
😍 Whoever Fights Monsters (No Sweeter Death #2) (feelslikefire, circ_bamboo) - 00Q/White Collar crossover - though technically a sequel, could easily be read as standalone; does have a pandemic storyline that def hits differently in 2022 than in 2013 when it was written
🥰👂 Lord Edgware Dies (Hercule Poirot #10) (Agatha Christie, author; Hugh Fraser, narrator)
Hold It All At Bay (psocoptera) - decently entertaining zimbits soulbond fic (a small but unfortunate use of the 'magical negro' trope)
😍👂 Murder on the Orient Express (Hercule Poirot #11) (Agatha Christie, author; Dan Stevens, narrator) - no matter how many times I reread this, it never gets old
No Superman (WhoNatural) - sterek Scrubs AU
💖💖 +170K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖
MWR (One-EyedBossman (desert000rose), SecretFandomStories) - MCU: stucky, 26K - Differently Okay Local Idiots #5 - can't get enough of this series!
Dash Yourself Upon the Rocks (triedunture) - OFMD: BlackBonnet, 15K - actual Kraken AU - Stede wants to be the fearsome 'Kraken Hunter' & then he finds it; lots of delicious monsterfucking tentacle sex
With Shoes Like Those (AidaRonan) - MCU: stucky, 10K - reread, perennial fave - pre-war setting with tiny Dom Steve giving Bucky exactly what he's been craving
pretty baby you have me (so weak) (inevitablemeow) - MCU: stucky, 10K, canon-divergent Daddy kink - Bucky talks in his sleeps so now Steve knows that Bucky wants to say it. And Steve is going wild waiting to hear it.
📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺
Fire Island - 😍😍😍 thee best modern Pride & Prejudice adaptation
Legends of Tomorrow - s5, e13-15; s6, e1-4
Bob's Burgers - s3, e20
Murderville - s1, e3; interesting concept, Kumail Nanjiani was good, but I feel like the original British show is probably better (though this could be bc I'm largely meh on Will Arnett)
🎧 PODCASTS 🎧
Hit Parade - The Nights on Broadway Edition
Lingthusiasm - #61: Corpus linguistics and consent - Interview with Kat Gupta
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Eastern State Penitentiary
99% Invisible #494 - Flag Days: Unfolding a Moment
Richmond Til We Die: A Ted Lasso Podcast - Ted Lasso S2E8, Part 2: You Have to Put Your Heart Out There
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Nakagin Capsule Tower
Big Gay Fiction Podcast - Fiction Fest Panel Discussion: Historical Romance with Annabelle Greene, Merry Farmer and Cat Sebastian
Ologies with Alie Ward - Gorillaology (GORILLAS) with Tara Stoinski
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Phone Booth on a Roof
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - World’s Oldest Edible Ham
This is Good for You - Ep 33: Former Boy Band Fandom Is Good For You
The Jump with Shirley Manson - Courtney Love: Boys on the Radio
Sidedoor - The Hungerford Deed
🎶 MUSIC 🎶
STRONG SONGS playlist
Disco Sweat
On The Industrial Dance Floor
Penned By: Smokey Robinson
Presenting Bee Gees
Summer Luxe
"Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)" [Looking Glass] radio
my faves playlist
Presenting Steely Dan
Low Rise Jeans and Baby Tees
Produced By: Dallas Austin
#sunday reading recap#bookgeekgrrl's reading habits#bookgeekgrrl's soundtracks#agatha christie#hercule poirot#fanfic ftw#that big gay fiction panel podcast was so much fun#cat sebastian#hit parade podcast#atlas obscura podcast#big gay fiction podcast#99% invisible podcast#lingthusiasm podcast#richmond til we die podcast#ologies podcast#the jump podcast#sidedoor podcast#disco music#industrial music#'70s music#'70s pop#steely dan#'90s music#'00s music
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@deviatory asked: Vanilla Sunday Meme: 3,9,12 ( lets go for Levi and Bee :) ) / Vanilla Sunday Meme.
3. Is your muse good at kissing? Are they experienced?
-> Leviathan doesn't indulge in relationships or intimacy, simply because he does not trust others enough to allow himself to be vulnerable. Kissing someone is extremely intimate to him and considering he doesn't feel comfortable making out with someone he barely knows, he hardly has any kissing experience. Because of his fangs he is also quite bitey, so he might need some guidance on how to tenderly kiss his partner.
9. Is your muse attracted to any features in particular?
-> He also cares more about character than looks but he does like gentle smiles and an overall soft person.
12. Is your muse easily flustered? Do they blush, swear, etc.?
-> Blushing is only limited to soft, romantic interactions: cradle his face, brush his hair from his face, pull him into your chest and he will turn away with a light blush on his ears and cheeks.
3. Is your muse good at kissing? Are they experienced?
-> Beelzebub is only experienced in pushing her tongue down other people's mouths because she is intense like that. When she is hungry, she wants a taste of everything, not just a little peck. Her partner might need to tell her to slow then but even then she will just occupy herself with biting their lips or neck.
9. Is your muse attracted to any features in particular?
-> Wide grins, covered in blood, being a naked woman dancing around a fire in the woods ( she is absolutely weak for witches ). Jokes aside, possibly long hair and big eyes. And also being devoted to Lucifer, that's an instant attraction,
12. Is your muse easily flustered? Do they blush, swear, etc.?
-> Not at all. This woman has no shame and hasn't faced anything that would cause her to splutter and blush. Compliment her lovingly? She will laugh and call you a sweet thing. Tell her what you're going to do to her in bed? She will just arch up into you and grin delightedly. There's no breaking her.
#deviatory#( nsft. )#(( levi is soft; bee is just insane adfghfdfg ))#( hellspeak. );; replied.#( saint babalon. );; about: beelzebub.#( the dragon of the sea. );; about: leviathan.
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Judd and Grace Ryder playlist {9-1-1 Lone Star}
In order of artists
Take My Hand- 5 seconds of Summer
505- Arctic Monkeys
Till Forever Falls Apart- Ashe, FINNEAS
Stand by Me- Ben E. King
Take My Breath Away- Love Theme from “Top Gun”- Berlin
Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)- Big & Rich
Honey Bee- Blake Shelton
I’ll Walk- Billy Covington
Cowboy Casanova-Carrie Underwood
Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’- Charlie Pride
Hold On- Chord Overstreet
This Side of Paradise- Coyote Theory
Can I Call You Tonight?- Dayglow
Islands In the Stream- Dolly Parton, Kenny Rodgers
I Will Always Love You- Dolly Parton
Can’t Help Falling in Love- Elvis Presley
Love Me Tender- with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra- Elvis Presley, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Let’s Fall in Love for the Night- FINNEAS
Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)- Frank Sinatra, Count Basie
Love Me Tender- Frank Sinatra
Calling Baton Rouge- Garth’s Hits
Soldier- Gavin DeGraw
Write This Down- George Strait
Carrying Your Love With Me- George
Strait Check Yes Or No- George Strait
we fell in love in october- girl in red
Hey Good Lookin’- Hank Williams, Drifting Cowboys
BOYFRIEND-HARDY
Love Of My Life- Harry Styles
I Want You Back- The Jackson 5
When You Love Someone- James TW
Lover, Lover- Jerrod Niemann
Hey Good Lookin- Jimmy Buffett, Clint Black, Kenny Chesney, Alan Jackson, Toby Keith, George Strait
It Ain’t Me Babe- Joaquin Pheonix, Reece Witherspoon
Heaven Sent Me You- John Michael Montgomery
Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)- John Michael Montgomery
High School Heart- John Michael Montgomery
Cat’s In The Cradle- Johnny Cash
Ring Of Fire-1988 Version- Johnny Cash
I Walk The Line- Single Version- Johnny Cash, The Tennessee Two
SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK- Joji
Somebody Like You- Keith Urban
American Kids- Kenny Chesney
Hold My Hand- Lady Gaga
Atta Girl- Lainey Wilson
A Woman Like You- Lee Brice
I Don’t Dance- Lee Brice
Drunk On You- Luke Bryan
Fast Car- Luke Combs
Ain’t No Mountain High Enough- Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell
As the World Caves In- Matt Maltese
Ophelia- Matt Schuster
Vienna- Matt Schuster
Tennessee Orange- Megan Moroney
Great Balls Of Fire- Live- Miles Teller
Me and My Husband- Mitski
Sweater Weather- The Neighbourhood
Heaven- Niall Horan
Fishin’ In The Dark- Live At The Red Deer Fine Arts Center, Canada/1991-Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Dixieland Delight (Alabama Cover)- Old Crow Medicine Show
Story of My Life- One Direction
Mr. Loverman- Ricky Montgomery
Unchained Melody- The Righteous Brothers
See You Tonight- Scotty McCreery
You Belong With Me (Taylor’s Version)- Taylor Swift
Everybody Wants To Rule the World- Tears For Fears
My Girl- The Temptations
Die A Happy Man- Thomas Rhett
Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not- Thompson Square
Always On My Mind- Willie Nelson
Something in the Orange- Zach Bryan
Oklahoma Smokeshow- Zack Bryan
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“Cupid stone go tell,”
Salted creatures are bull, your lives
off from a stage set, A
soft peace had not the rest renowned
ship and tender bay? And
now it, and countenances apart
make us a family
of conscience give more pretty,
to thee. Drawn up in sheaves
which whoever tastes in gray shadows
bathe means prepare than
that Love our skin, the wind the light,
and lives are puppets, Man
in hideous human race; beauty
be; it is delight:
the threatened shine like a jewel-print
on what Meg o’ the sweet
hopes of the press Stature one to
war nor princes do them
not; the fair ones; compass round his
Anguishing, and loathed to
blame the time, and streams with what other
I bow’d: I bow’d that
gallant badge-the dead! But, as soone
will making ears, instead
of pleasure, measure, a shield, and
poor; then second rape, for
his breast: she oft haue for those next?
To this earthly thing trimm’d
in the hand, or I’d enter,
and sighing smile, so as
some honey on her alone? Cupid
stone go tell, but thy
secret sent bee: and touch that dullard
fit? When forsake these
long I hope nothing whisper, and
bishoped by former
height of her Eyes wide world where passive
weapons fly. Dark, an
Isis hid by this my inner
shrine, thy lawn, see the lamp
of her eyes our wishes has-ke.
My naked morn. A fruit.
The same film over, what you my
buddhist my naked to
the dance was sweet influence, and
somethinks, not so, lest
a hands in natures&above though
too much fires, yet doubtfully
she struggle forth of their sighing
and to gathered in
a harmonized the foes. Backward
as a Nun breathless with
slow haste fled from the best it in
parliament; for in gear,
we’re rich interwove with thing, to
put thy bed; my dust would
rise and mouth were joins me in heauens
doe melts into his art
can tell, blest, but in their couplings,
and given here with the
world that weaves rain stood with thy mystic
case, still I was
desolate another before. Way
by day, or Trimmer air
is of a pleasure in the maple
sets their forefront bare
to seeming Death may oft be
unreturning wind the
ancestral crooked like morning like
Dian and revive the
gross, and long brain; for she would a
man and by now just from
me, and force you inside your coming,
my own hues all the
dayly, once possess’d of gently
she gloriously, and
his suit was long blink is none little
head, their end know the
daylight a tutor of his mantle
hath so displaced, and
the ship already sheltered in
natural. I see a better
of this dungeon darken’d in
jollity, and fill with
increases their sight blind the prophet
dreaming. While these
tuneless ill. So as soon signed, who
scorne, to warm starfish. The
shrike, and permitted, not so great
appear untouched by the
East, sighing and kissing, and the
power, debased by thee
sing, and have I not Honour more.
While storm; the bird, that all.
Of hem, that was, distrust abused;
to justify the hill.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#129 texts#ballad
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LFF2023: The list of films
I should have started from the beginning, so to understand this blog read my mission statement back in 2021 when I thought this was a great idea :-D and then feel free to peruse my reviews of the films, all listed below, and from the previous 2 years as well.
I will link to my musings about each film from here as I progress and I hope to refine them as I revisit them in the future, apologies about the silly mistakes, I am writing of the cuff mostly on my free time, away from my job that has nothing to do with film.
Any comments and suggestions can be done to my twitter X account @allyear_lff ( https://twitter.com/allyear_lff ) and I believe comments are open here in Tumblr.
(Full list of films to be added when published)
20,000 Species of Bees
All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt
All of Us Strangers
ALLENSWORTH
Àma Gloria
Animal Kingdom, The
Animalia
Anselm
Apolonia, Apolonia (HBO Max Spain)
Asog
Baltimore
Banel & Adama
Beast, The
Behind the Mountains
Bikeriders, The
Birth/Rebirth
Black Dog
Black Pirate, The
Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry
Bonus Track
Book of Clarence, The
Book of Solutions, The
Boy and the Heron, The (late addition)
Bride, The
Buckingham Murders, The
Bye Bye Tiberias
Catching Fire: The Story of Anita Pallenberg (billed as Anita in brochure)
Celluloid Underground
Chasing Chasing Amy
Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget
Close Your Eyes
Cobweb
Common Sequence, A
Copa 71
Croma Kid
Daaaaaali!
Dancing on the Edge of a Volcano
Dancing Queen
Dear Jassi
Deep Sea (3D)
Delinquents, The
Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World
Dupes, The
Earth Mama
Echo, The
Eileen
End We Start From, The (Curzon Home from March 2024, BFI Player)
Eternal Memory, The (BBC iPlayer, available at least until Feb 2025)
Europa
Everything Worthwhile Is Done with Other People
Evil Does Not Exist
Fallen Leaves
Fancy Dance
Fingernails
Fire Through Dry Grass
Foe
Foremost by Night
Four Daughters
Gasoline Rainbow
Gassed Up
Girl
Going To Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project
Goldman Case, The
Goodbye Julia
Gush
Haar
High & Low - John Galliano
Hit Man
Hoard
Holdovers, The
Housekeeping for Beginners
How to Have Sex (Curzon Home)
Hypnosis, The
I am Sirat
If Only I Could Hibernate
Indésirables, Les
Inshallah a Boy
Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell
In Camera
In Restless Dreams: The Music of Paul Simon
It can’t be that nothing that can be returned
Kensuke’s Kingdom
Kidnapped (UK: Curzon Home Cinema)
Killer, The
Killers of the Flower Moon
Kitchen, The
Klezmer Project, The
Last Summer
Late Night With the Devil
Little Girl Blue
Lost Boys, The (Curzon Home)
Lost in the Night
Lubo
Macario
Maestro
Mambar Pierrette
Mangosteen
May December
Memory
Menu-Plaisirs Les Troisgros
Mission, The
Molli and Max in the Future
Monster
Music
Nature of Love, The
New Boy, The
Nightwatch – Demons Are Forever
NYAD (Netflix)
Occupied City
Omen
On the Adamant
One Life
Only the River Flows
Our Body
Paradise Is Burning
Peasants, The
Peeping Tom
Penal Cordillera
Perfect Days (late addition)
Pigeon Tunnel, The
Poolman
Poor Things
Pot au Feu, The
Power Alley
Practice, The
Pressure
Prince, A
Priscilla
Queen of My Dreams, The
Queendom
Ramona
Red Island (Curzon Home Cinema)
Red Rooms
Robot Dreams
Room in a Crowd
Royal Hotel, The
Rye Horn, The
Ryuichi Sakamoto | Opus
Sacred Cave, The
Saltburn
Samsara (Curzon Home)
SCALA!!! (BFI Player)
Self-Portrait: 47 KM 2020
Settlers, The (MUBI)
Shame On Dry Land
Shayda
Shortcomings
Shoshana
Silver Haze
Sky Peals
Slow
Spectre of Boko Haram, The
Starve Acre
Stolen
Stopmotion
Stranger and the Fog, The
Surprise film: Ferrari
Swan Song
Sweet East, The
Taste of Mango, The
Terrestrial Verses
That They May Face the Rising Sun
They Shot the Piano Player
This Is Going to Be Big
Tiger Stripes
Together 99
Tótem (Curzon Home from January 2024)
Tuesday
Unicorns (late addition)
Unmoored
Vincent Must Die
Wilding
You Can Call me Bill
Youth (Spring)
Zone of Interest, The
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Adjacent 04 of 25
Don't get me wrong. I'm no prude. Despite much embarrassment during our teenage years Mother had given us a liberal dose of education in the finer points of sex, sexuality, and the mysteries of the male and female body once puberty came knocking; she had also encouraged us to experiment - safely and with respect. She also respected our privacy, but she had demanded certain niceties in return and discouraged furtiveness.
Elric for some reason had taken this on board without question; often embarrassing some poor smitten girl by introducing her to Mum and asking her to stay for Breakfast. For some unknown reason, this mostly worked in his favour. I had taken Mum's advice and done some experimentation on my own. Several of the village girls thought I was worth a tumble; tho on reflection, this often seemed a ploy on their part to get closer to Elric.
The Blacksmith's Apprentice made more than one visit to my bed, tho he declined to stay for breakfast; pleading the need to rise early and stoke the forge. He was pleasantly muscled and decidedly enthusiastic in his love making; but after each visit I would develop painful hives where he'd lain against me. After one particularly painful bout I asked my mother about it. She had sighed and led me to the window "Watch him working, what do you see?"
I'd watched him for a while, stoking the fire, pounding on a piece of steel, appreciating his muscles and sweat and his outline against the sparks. Damned teenage hormones, I'd just ended up getting aroused.
Mother looked at my flushed face, and realised I wasn't thinking clearly. "The sparks you cow-eyed fool; they get into his clothes and into his skin; iron in his skin ... you're lucky you're only a half-blood or I suspect it would affect you worse. Sadly lad, I expect the reaction will get stronger each time he visits, like people who gradually grow allergic to bee stings and such. Has it indeed been getting worse each visit?"
My mother and I had never actually had this conversation. We'd danced around it plenty but never put the words in the air for fear of actually saying them or having them heard.
Iron in his skin ... "Yes, it's been getting worse each time ... So, my father was Fae then?"
"I honestly can't say for sure. Probably not pure-blood Fae, but I suspect Fae touched at least or somehow associated with them; That was why there's no iron in this house except for your brothers’ mail and sword; and I keep those locked in Oak. I've seen you handle them and other iron without harm, but only briefly." She laughed, "but having that lad inside you, shaking the whole house with his thrusting. No wonder some of his sparks rubbed off and got under your skin in the bargain."
I felt my face get even hotter. She laughed again. "I've taught you better than that; no shame to be had in a bit of consensual fun. Get away with you, go and have a hot bath to open your pores and give yourself a good scrubbing with soap sand and thyme to get rid of it. Then you have to figure out a way to break it off without breaking that boys’ heart; he's as fond of you as you are of him."
Several days later serendipity had intervened; I was going questing with my brother and was able to bid my Blacksmiths Apprentice a teary goodbye, without breaking his heart. As much as I would have enjoyed it, I chose to avoid one final night of passion and the inevitable consequences, by pleading a need for a good night’s sleep in preparation for an early departure.
…
We’d been on the road a month when we got to “Two Bends” which was short for “tween two bends on Tyne”, a trading town that had sprung up on the Tyne River - between two bends. Rural folk aren’t renowned for inventive naming. The river was slow and wide here and an ancient causeway allowed crossing, one of only three crossings on the river. A week downstream you could cross by ferry at one of the few places where the canyon relented. Upstream, a week by foot and uphill all the way, you could cross at an ancient stone bridge that spanned a narrow spot in the canyon thru which the waters roared. Despite this the River Tyne wasn’t the obstacle we dreaded; what we dreaded was the forest.
Shortly after crossing the Tyne, you are confronted with the Eastern Range, a range of mountains that forms the Eastern border to the forest. The Western border to the forest is the escarpment - the edge of the highlands. Sometime in our history, a great earthquake had split the lowlands from the highlands, creating the Tyne, and both the Eastern Range and the escarpment … and the Riven Lands … a broad fertile valley filled with the ruins of a long-lost empire and the forest that had claimed it back.
There was nothing inherently bad about the forest; none had come to harm there; there were no monsters or great beasts or much of anything except the forest and the things that usually live in forests. But there were only the 3 crossings, and each took at least a week on foot; and anyone who spent a week crossing the forest knew instinctively why no-one had ever tried to build a village in its midst. Something about the forest inspired care and superstition, and people didn’t linger in their crossing.
We had enough coin between us for a weeks’ worth of supplies or for a pack animal, but not both. So, we were limited by what the 3 of us could carry. The consensus was you didn’t light fires in the forest unless you could find a clearing with a rocky outcrop. So cold and dried provisions that packed a lot of energy it was.
The Wizard and Elric left it to me, and I was able to put together 3 packs of food that should last each of us a week. Water wouldn’t be a problem, and I was hoping I’d be able to gather berries and the like to supplement our supplies as we walked. I had a hidden pocket in my satchel were a few gold coins for emergencies, but I hadn’t had to use those; in fact, I had a few coppers left over from our supply budget - which was enough for a small supply of travellers’ biscuits as insurance.
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