#(( and have written all the many many words i have for and about miranda and done all the art i have of her

[compacflt]

Sorry for the ridiculous ask (really it's unforgivable), but:

Iceman went to NYC to see A Chorus Line in '87.

2. Confirmed watched Sound of Music with Carole for her birthday.

Am I connecting any dots here and did Ice have to go to Hamilton as a publicity stunt in the last year of the Obama presidency?

oh no anon im being very intentional with my ice-musical-theatre links. its easy lazy writing shorthand for him being gay lol. even if he isn’t actively seeing shows he does put the tonys on in the background every year just bc he likes the color and dancing

he’s not a fan of rap and he doesn’t like how Hamilton bastardized american history for its own political aims thereby convincing multiple generations of laymen of factoids that simply aren’t true (Hamilton was strictly speaking not an immigrant & could only extremely loosely be called an abolitionist of any stripe) but he’s also a milquetoast liberal so he says he likes it for clout but he’s also a military flag officer so no one is really expecting him to go see Hamilton for publicity purposes so idk

the pentagon circa 2016:

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Heyyy 😗 okay so g!p Donna smut idea where its reader and Donna’s first time sleeping together. Reader isn’t inexperienced but has never had a partner with a penis, and she has a fear of pregnancy but donna doesn’t like the way condoms feel so they come to a compromise of donna pulling out. So donna does that and instead cums all over readers body and donna is really into seeing her cum all over Reader 😋 (Basically just donna realizing she has a cum kink)

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Unexpected desires

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI,fluff...

Word count: 7,847

Summary: You wanted to do it, but you were afraid....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

The way home had been different for a long time, longer.

The forest embraced you with its shadowy branches and the ruins of what was once a garden full of life became your new sights as you walked slowly. You didn't mind walking through those dark places, that wooden bridge that seemed unstable. The way home was the way home, it didn't matter which one it was.

You were never a particularly brave girl, one of those villagers who perhaps dared to abandon the tedious life that was already written for you. You were always conformist, happy with the life you had been given. The village was sinister, the Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... They didn't matter to you.

You thought that maybe that way of thinking was something like a rarity, a feeling that mixed with boredom to hide it completely, so as not to have any desire for freedom.

 Live quietly in a village or suffer the consequences of trying to escape from the Gods? You had the answer very clear for a long time.

You were never interested in men. Your expectations weren’t like those of your friends. Maybe that's why deep down you always considered yourself different. But even your short relationships with girls began to be monotonous, boring. None of them managed to fill that void.

Yes, they were pretty, they gave you love, sex... But there was nothing else. The feeling of wanting to stay with one of them in a more or less stable relationship was nonexistent. You, a lover of routine, of tranquility, began to be overwhelmed by them.

It didn't matter how much you tried to convince your feelings to make up their minds, to convince yourself to fall in love with one of the girls. It never happened. Those girls were fleeting loves that never returned.

None of those girls seemed to have any kind of feelings for you, just like you did with them. The difference was your decision to remain true to yourself. You couldn't say how many of those girls threw away what they said they were to end up in a boring and empty marriage.

You had just turned 20 and you couldn't help but feel like you were in an endless spiral of tedious routine. That tranquility became a nightmare, a sentence that told you over and over again that you would never get out of it.

You wouldn't have a great love, you wouldn't have a faithful woman at your side who loved you, who you wanted to love. At least that was what you believed.

You didn't have to pray for a miracle the day that, after a sermon by Mother Miranda, a lapse made you go back into the chapel, coinciding closely with the Four Lords.

Your head was lowered but you couldn't help but rise it when you saw a figure that was too close to you; a black figure covered by a veil, looking at you curiously. It could be a ghost, a shadow, but it wasn't. That figure had a name: Donna Beneviento.

The adrenaline that your body produced was reason enough to want to have more distractions, to get a little closer to that mysterious woman.

Her mind was sick, disturbed, but her hoarse voice was soft, her hands seemed delicate, skillful. You could say that with the passage of time that woman constantly appeared in your head, but that would be a lie. From that first day, she never left it.

The surprising thing was the sudden interest that the lady in black showed in you. You didn't know why, you even thought that she saw in you a weak and perfect victim for her macabre games. But none of that happened, she didn't play with you, she invited you to tea, she slowly discovered things about you, and you about her.

For the first time in 20 years, you had achieved something you didn't think possible, you had fallen in love.

Her beauty went far beyond that of any stupid village girl. The scar on her face was just a small detail that made her even more special. She was ashamed of it, but you weren't, you never would be. Donna was perfect, simply perfect. Being in love with her was the best decision your heart made. Your life would never be routine again, never again.

Your relationship with Donna progressed little by little although you really didn't have many options. Her years in complete solitude had worsened the evil she was born with turning her into an extremely possessive woman.

Jealousy, arguments… The phases you were going through passed quickly. Your smile was a balm for Donna. Your loving eyes were a reminder that you would never abandon her. Little by little the lady in black relaxed her attitude, especially when after weeks of pleading, you agreed to abandon your life completely, to move to her old estate.

The best decision of your life.

“Donna?” you asked when you entered the mansion after spending time with your friends. A precious time that cost you a lot to get Donna to accept.

“Tesoro…” she whispered, with the hoarse voice that made you fall in love, walking towards you quickly and grabbing your waist, kissing you, claiming you with the irrational ferocity of her lips. “You're back…”

“Yes,” you said, with your eyes in love, dazzled by her relieved, calm smile, by her soft caresses on your back.

“Mm,” she murmured, fixing your hair, which always used to cover your face. “(Y/N), don't put your hair in your face… It doesn't let me see how beautiful you are.”

“Donna…” you sighed, blushing at her eternal compliments.

“Leave my hair alone,” you joked, taking her wrists to play with her hands, to intertwine your fingers erratically.

“I still can't get used to see you walking out the door,” the lady whispered, with a slightly sadder tone, kissing you slowly, hugging you to feel you again, to feel you had returned.

“I've only been gone for an hour,” you said, with your cheeks becoming more and more blushed. Her voice, her gaze… She was perfect

Her grip tightened, holding your hands, surely imagining a horrible scenario in which you never came back. Fortunately, you had long since managed to overcome those little crises.

“Shh, eh, Donna, calm down, my love,” you said softly, placing a hand on her wounded cheek, forcing the trembling lady to look at you. “I'm here, I always come back, you know that.”

“C-certo,” she said, blinking hard and smiling again. “Y-you'll always come back.”

“Of course,” you said enthusiastically, finishing to scare away her demons with a tender kiss, one that elicited a sweet laugh from the lady in black. “Come, let's sit down, it's not dinner time yet.”

Donna nodded and let herself be dragged by your hand into the quiet living room, sitting with you on your favorite couch.

“How are your friends?” she asked after a few moments of romantic staring. No matter how much time had passed, she would always look at you like that. You were completely crazy about her.

“Donna? Where's Donna?” you asked jokingly, looking around with a frown. “How long have you been interested in my friends?”

“I'm not interested,” the lady said in a soft voice, turning on the couch, resting the head on her hand. “I feel like hearing your voice.”

“Um, that doesn't sound like you,” you joked, turning around as well and putting your legs up on the couch. “Surely what you want is to make sure I haven't been out there making out with girls, huh?”

“(Y/N), don't say things like that,” she protested, with a dark look, gritting her teeth. “It makes me sick…”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Donna,” you apologized in time, taking one of her hands and kissing the back of it romantically. “Anyway, I haven't spent much time with Irina.”

“Who is that?” she asked, pretending that jealousy wasn't speaking for her.

“The daughter of… Oh, come on, you don't have to worry about her, besides, she's pregnant.”

Donna nodded slowly, breathing deeply. Luckily that was a fact that relieved the lady in black, relaxing her expression. You remained thoughtful, since you had just found out that shocking news.

“Can you believe it?” you asked amused, shaking your head.

“Yes, I believe it, why wouldn't I?” Donna said confused, completely oblivious to your usual irony and sarcasm.

It might seem terrible that Lady Beneviento didn't have those communication skills. It was like a reminder of her former loneliness. You, however, found that innocence adorable in a not-so-innocent woman.

“She says it was a mistake, apparently her boyfriend wasn't careful,” you sighed, shaking your head again, pitying your friend. “Poor thing…”

“Poor thing? Why?” the curious lady asked.

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn't, frowning and scratching the back of your neck.

“A child is too much responsibility,” you commented, looking away. “Irina is still very young.”

“How old is she?” the brunette wanted to know.

“Oh, well, she's two months older than me,” you said. “Don't you think she's too young?”

The lady in black shrugged, blinking in confusion and shaking her head.

“No,” she said dryly, not seeming moved or surprised by the information.

That disinterested and very different attitude gave you an involuntary shiver.

“Oh, um… Well…” you stammered, arching your eyebrows. “I… I really think she’s too young…”

“Mm,” she murmured, with an impassive, almost expressionless look. “A child is a gift from the Gods, (Y/N). I’m convinced that your friend and that boy will be very happy.”

“You think so? The guy is a coward and he has abandoned her,” you commented, frowning at that uncomfortable conversation for you. “Sometimes I think that men only think with their…” you stopped before continuing, lowering your gaze. “Um, forget it. I didn’t want to offend you.”

“You don't offend me, I'm not a man,” Donna said, with that same expressionless look, serious but relaxed.

“Oh, that's obvious but... But you have... A penis, you know...” you murmured blushing. Your comment didn't offend the lady in black, who smiled tenderly, lifting your chin.

“I'm not like that, tesoro, I would never abandon you,” she whispered in a soft voice, with a hand on your cheek.

It might seem that this comment was sweet, even romantic, but for you it was a bit disturbing, it unleashed a different, strange fear inside of you.

“Oh, it's good to know, I guess, I...” you said stuttering, joining your hand with hers. “Don't listen to me, Donna. I'm just surprised by the news, that's all.”

“I love it when you get nervous,” the doll maker whispered adorably, getting a little closer to you to capture your trembling lips in a soft, intense kiss. “You're so sweet…”

You laughed shyly again, unable to resist her charms, biting your lip at the caresses of hers on your skin.

“Hey, let me go…” you said amused, trying unsuccessfully to escape from her kisses, from her increasingly intense caresses. “Donna.”

“Mm, no, I don't want to let you go… Come here, tesoro,” she whispered seductively, pulling your hand so you leaned on her body, climbing on top of her while she kissed you tirelessly.

Your laughter was camouflaged with the sound of the kisses, with the increasingly agitated breathing that came out of your lungs. Your mind began to cloud and the internal desire of your body hid that uncomfortable conversation, causing your hips to begin to move and your hands to run over the face of the lady in black.

“Bellisima…” Donna whispered in your ear as her fingers caressed your dress, while her kisses continued their path along the skin of your face, down your neck.

Of course there was nothing wrong with letting yourself be carried away by that growing passion. You liked to kiss her, to caress her, to let your bodies dance together, to have your ears blessed with her ardent whispers, even if you didn't understand them.

You pulled away for a moment, placing your legs on either side of her hips, erratically running your hands over her chest as you thought about how this outburst of kisses and hugs could end.

“I love you, you know that, right?” you said in a soft voice, not looking into her bright eye, carelessly playing with one of the buttons on the top of her dress.

Donna smiled as she caressed one of your legs, slowly returning to your lips, kissing them as her grip tightened more and brought you closer.

“Not as much as I love you…” she whispered playfully, slipping her mischievous hand under your dress, taking advantage of the distraction of her soft words to get further.

At first, that feeling comforted you, her nails running over your skin without hurting you, her kisses moistening your lips, her hips moving slowly to make contact with yours. It seemed like the perfect moment, the moment that you constantly delayed, the one you thought you weren't ready for.

Letting yourself go was much easier than on other occasions, but your mind was restless, working without you wanting it to, remembering that conversation with your friend, making passion slowly turn into irrational nerves.

“Uh, em…” you said nervously when her body began to react to your passion, when you noticed her erection pressing against you. “Wow…” you said playfully, moving away slowly so as not to make contact with her throbbing desire. “Donna…”

“What's wrong, tesoro?” she asked, breathing heavily, looking at you confused. “Come, come back here…”

“What’s in there?” you asked nervously, getting off her body and pointing at her lap.

The lady in black lowered her gaze and returned it to yours again, with a shy expression.

“Oh, um, well, I…” she said embarrassed. “I was really enjoying it…”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said nervously, looking away from her lap. “You, you are very sensitive Donna.”

“Yes, no, well, I… I thought that…” the lady stammered, visibly confused by your attitude. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, not exactly,” you said, making a gesture with your hands, trying to explain what still had no logical explanation. “It's just that…”

“I want you, (Y/N), I want to make love to you,” she said, letting herself be carried away by the excitement, bringing her hands to your face to assault your lips again.

“Yes, that's obvious,” you said, moving her careless kisses away from your lips, putting a hand on her chest and glancing sideways at her lap, at that lump you touched. “Pretty obvious…”

“Come, come, please…” Donna whispered, pulling you again, fearing one of your rejections. “Don't leave me like this…”

“Oh, wait, wait, I…” you interrupted, straightening your clothes that had been messed up by that passionate outburst, one that never came to fruition.

“It's just that… It’s, it's been a very…”you murmured, trying not to look at her bright, pleading eye, playing with the hand that was pulling yours. “Hard day…” you finished, looking again at her obvious excitement deforming her black dress.

“Oh, okay,” Donna said with a slightly sad voice, leaving you alone and sitting up straight again, looking nervously at her lap. “I'm sorry, (Y/N).”

“Don't apologize, you haven't done anything wrong,” you said with a relieved smile, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She didn't return the caress, her face relaxed, avoiding your gaze.

“My body makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?” she whispered sadly, moving her dress so you wouldn't feel intimidated.

“Donna, it's not that,” you said quickly, with the need to divert that thought from her head.

No, that wasn't true, she didn't make you uncomfortable, you liked her body, although it was true that you always ran away.

You couldn't blame her for thinking that way, on that occasion you simply couldn't.

“So why don't you want to make love to me?” the brunette asked with a brusque, inquisitive voice, crossing her arms. “I just want to love you…”

“I know, I know, darling but… I'm just a bit tired today, I want our first time to be more special,” you said, gritting your teeth to emphasize that lie, so Donna wouldn't think she was the one to blame.

She wasn't. It was only your fault and your stupid fears’.

“Special…” the lady murmured, shaking her head, repressing a sob that broke your heart. “Cazzo…” she hissed, getting up from the couch, putting her dress back. “I'm going to make dinner.”

You, fearing that she had really been offended and seeing how your excuses sounded weaker and weaker, decided to act, grabbing her wrist so she wouldn't leave.

“Donna, don't be mad at me, please,” you said in a soft voice, approaching her.

The lady looked away, her face serious, annoyed, much more so than usual. She was probably starting to get tired of your rejections.

“I'm not mad,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed her lie, removing your grip on her wrist with a brusque gesture.

“Forgive me, I'm just tired,” you said in a pleading voice, caressing her cheek, a gesture that, luckily, she didn't reject.

“If you don't like my body, tell me,” Donna hissed, with tears in her eye. “You do nothing but reject me.”

“I'm not rejecting you,” you defended yourself, shaking your head. “I don't...”

“Bugiarda...” Donna said again, with a dangerous look. “My penis disgusts you, just say it.”

“No, hey, Donna, don't start taking things for granted, you know that's not true,” you said nervously, knowing that at least you were sincere.

“I should have guessed before, I know you, I know what you did with the girls in the village, there is only one reason why you don't want to do it with me and that is my body, come on, don’t lie to me,” she snapped, pointing at you unpleasantly, breathing hard again.

“Donna, relax, okay? You're getting nervous,” you said in a calm voice, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, come on, look at me...”

She obeyed reluctantly with a hatred in her gaze that pierced your soul again.

“Honey, please...” you whispered, calming her nerves with your caresses, with a tender smile on your lips. “I have no problem with... With you, I love you...”

The lady in black sighed, closing her eye and nodding, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly in hers.

“Sorry, tesoro… You're right, I got really nervous,” she apologized in a soft voice, pulling your waist to hug you lovingly. “I'm afraid of losing you, that's all.”

“You'll never lose me, I'll tell you whenever it's necessary,” you said with a sweet smile, relaxed for having cut that crisis in time, although you didn't know how long the calm would last. “It's just my mind, you have nothing to do with it.”

“Your mind?” she asked, frowning again. “Are you afraid of something?”

“Um, well, I…” you stammered with a somewhat shy expression, shaking your head involuntarily. “It's nothing.”

“If something worries you, you should tell me,” Donna said, brushing your hair away from your face as always, staring at you. “If you don't tell me, I won't be able to help you.”

“I'll get over it,” you said, falsely downplaying it, smiling and kissing the brunette, who still had a spark of distrust in her eye. “It's nonsense, Donna, don't pay attention to me.”

“Va bene…” she sighed, shaking her head, but capturing your lips again, deepening a different kiss, an innocent, tender one. “I'll wait until you're ready.”

“I appreciate it,” you said, hanging on her neck to continue kissing her, to feel the love that invaded you both, a love that not even your stupid paranoia could eclipse.

Donna laughed softly, caressing your cheek and moving your hands away. That smile was the end of that awkward moment, it was the sign that the danger had passed.

“I'll make you something delicious, tesoro…” she said amused, with a mischievous look. “Let me make up for my stupidity.”

“Oh, come on, you always do delicious things to me,” you said laughing, swinging your body with hers, kissing her messily. “You have nothing to make up for.”

“I like making you happy,” she whispered, kissing your hand chivalrously and slowly moving away.

You looked at her, sighing romantically. She looked back at you, but her happy and loving expression faded just before she turned around completely, something subtle, but something you noticed.

“I'm sorry, Donna…” you whispered, running a hand through your hair, regretful for your attitude, walking towards the sofa and letting yourself fall on it. “I'm stupid…”

“Yes, you are!” a shrill voice made you jump in place. Angie made her appearance, taking advantage of any moment to make fun of you. That day you were not especially in the mood to put up with the irreverent doll.

“Angie, I haven't had a good day today, why don't you be a good doll and leave me alone?” you protested, ignoring the puppet's jumping on the couch.

“Silly, silly, silly! You're a silly villager!” the doll shrieked among sinister laughs.

“Okay, thanks for reminding me every day, I'm sure it takes a lot of effort,” you mocked, looking away from Angie, who laughed with satisfaction.

“I just don't want you to forget, silly,” she insisted, making you growl.

“Seriously, leave me alone, I'm not in the mood for your insults,” you said seriously, crossing your arms, thinking about everything that had happened, about your irrational fears, those that always overcame the lust you were repressing.

“Uhhhh, the silly girl is angry…” Angie sang. “I don't know how my Donna puts up with you.”

“Ugh, do you want…? Never mind,” you hissed, shaking your head and looking at the door through which the lady disappeared.

“You've left my Donna hanging again,” the doll accused you, startling you again, making the blush travel mercilessly down your cheeks. “You're cruel. Do you know what she's going through?”

“Hey, that's private,” you complained, looking away. “What do you care?”

“I don’t care, but if my Donna gets sad and cries again because of not wanting to open your legs, I won't forgive you,” Angie said, pointing at you with her finger.

“You're a very rude doll. Don't get involved in our affairs,” you said with a dark voice. You weren't really that angry with the doll, but with yourself.

“You're the one who doesn't let my Donna get involved in your affairs,” the doll hissed, looking away indignantly. “Are you playing with her?”

“What? Of course I’m not, I love her,” you said in your defense, entering into her game without wanting to. “It's none of your business, Angie.”

“Silly, idiota,” she insulted you again. “Donna is sad because she thinks you don't love her.”

“Is she sad?” you asked upset by that statement, which the puppet confirmed by nodding slowly.

“Oh... Now you want to talk to me, huh?” she mocked, making you snort and shake your head sharply.

“Why is she sad?” you asked again, frowning.

“Isn't that obvious? She knows how you fornicated relentlessly with other girls,” Angie explained, dropping down next to you.

“How do you know?”

“Donna and I are part of the same mind, remember, stupid?” the doll mocked again.

“I've only had four relationships before Donna,” you said, unintentionally starting an awkward conversation with the doll. “And I haven't loved any of those girls as much as I love her, you can be sure.”

“Ohhh, it doesn't seem like it,�� Angie said, crossing her arms. “Donna is stupid, as stupid as you, but she knows how to hide her feelings. Don't worry, silly, that's what I'm here for.”

“Oh, that's nice,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Wait, what feelings?”

“Mm, I'm not supposed to tell you anything but... Well, I like you,” the doll said, patting your back.

“Really?” you asked ironically, arching your eyebrows.

“Yes, you are a very funny silly, and you take care of my Donna…” the puppet sighed, nervous and uncomfortable saying something nice.

“I guess that's the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever hear from you so… Thanks, Angie,” you said with a genuine smile, patting her back and making her grunt and shift. “Tell me, what's wrong with her?”

“It's obvious, silly… Donna thinks you hate her body,” she explained, swinging her legs comically.

“That's a lie, I don't hate her body,” you said, lowering your voice in case the lady came back earlier than expected. “I love her just the way she is.”

“Do you think she likes having that thing hanging between her legs?” Angie asked with a nasty tone.

“Angie, don't be so… explicit,” you protested. “Besides, it doesn't seem to bother her too much.”

“Ha, that's what you think, silly,” Angie said, standing up and putting a wooden finger on your nose. “She didn't ask for it, the Black Gods changed her body involuntarily thanks to Mother Miranda's gift.”

“I already know that, she told me,” you said with a frown, impatient. “What’s the point?”

“Donna is ashamed of it in the same way as her scar, but she just got used to it,” the doll explained.

“Mm, I understand,” you whispered for her to continue.

“No, you don't understand,” Angie snapped at you. “Your constant denials are making her believe that you will never be able to truly love her, that you will never be able to accept something that wasn't her fault.”

“I've already told you that I don't care about her... Well, that I don't care,” you said annoyed by the conversation. “I've just never been with someone with... a penis, you know.”

“You said penis,” Angie laughed amused.

“Oh, please…” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “I'm going to make one thing clear to you, psycho doll,” you said with a firm voice, pointing at her. “I love Donna. She's the woman of my life. I'm crazy about her and her body doesn't matter to me at all. I, I like her body, I love it, in fact.”

“So what's your problem?” Angie asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Your own words did something in your mind, a click that led you to believe them, to consider yourself stupid for having delayed the moment you desired. An absurd fear prevented you from letting yourself go, forced you to reject her.

Her body wasn't the problem, in fact, you had showered with her several times, you had seen her naked and of course, displeasure or discomfort were not the words that came to your head when doing so, rather the opposite.

So… What was stopping you from enjoying, from making love with the woman of your life? A stupidity accentuated by the circumstances of those around you.

It wasn't the fear of pain, of feeling those new sensations, that wasn't a concern. Your greatest fear was the direct consequence of that act of lust, a consequence that you had seen in your friends and that you didn't want for yourself.

Irina was the last reason why you didn't let your body act the way you wanted. You were very young, she was very young, and she was pregnant. The idea terrified you. It's not that you didn't want to start a family with Donna, sometimes you even fantasized about it but… It wasn't the time.

You were still young, you had a lot of things to live. That absurd fear of carrying that responsibility was what dragged you again and again to refuse to join your body with hers.

But miraculously, those words you said out loud, the affirmation to Angie, and to yourself that Donna was the woman of your life, that you loved her just the way she was, unleashed a wave of thoughts that made you change your mind.

Your worries were absurd, and, unlike your unconscious friends, you had already prepared yourself for that. You had nothing to worry about. You couldn't wait another night to hear the lady sigh, to make her think that you were just playing with her, that you didn't really love her.

You had to prove it to her, give in to your desires and hers and make love for the first time, that very night.

“Where are you going, silly?” Angie asked when, after a sigh, you got up from the couch, turning to smile at the doll.

“Don't even think about going downstairs,” you threatened with a smile.

“You don't give me orders, stupid!” the doll squealed in a muffled voice on your way to the elevator.

Fully determined to make that night the most special of your life, you walked to the kitchen, where the delicious aroma of the food made you sigh pleasantly.

“Donna,” you said, catching the attention of the brunette, who looked at you briefly, smiling.

You did the same, approaching her from behind and hugging her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck.

The response was a shy laugh along with a hand in yours. It seemed like she wasn't upset at all anymore. She wouldn't be anymore.

“Amore mio…” she sighed calmly stirring one of her delicious sauces.

“It smells great,” you said, peeking around the lady's side and smiling pleased. She laughed again, taking out the wooden spoon and offering it to you.

“Do you want to try?” she asked in a sweet voice, a gesture that you accepted, keeping your eyes on hers, as if you wanted to communicate with your gaze.

“Delicious...” you sighed, savoring that sauce.

You really didn't know how to act, how to tell her what you wanted. Words would only hinder your intentions, it was much better to go straight to action. You subtly moved away, taking her free hand and playing with her fingers.

The lady in black didn't seem to want to pay attention to your clumsy mischievous glances, so you gently brought her hand to your mouth, kissing it slowly, bringing one of her slender fingers to your mouth, sucking on it in a terribly erotic way.

Of course that caught the attention of the doll maker, who looked at you with a frown, open-mouthed by what you were doing.

“(Y/N), what...? What are you doing?” Donna asked with a trembling voice. You let her finger go and smiled, moving closer to her ear.

“Donna, I want us to make love,” you whispered, biting her earlobe.

That dormant desire woke up at that moment, warming your body surprisingly quickly, forgetting for a moment your shame and your absurd worries.

“But, but tesoro... You, you said...” she stammered with a distrustful look, caressing your cheek and studying your gestures, looking for the reason for your attitude.

“I know, but I thought better of it... I want to love you, Donna, I want you to love me,” you said with a purr, biting your lip and scrutinizing the lady's perfect body with your gaze.

“Oh, um, now?” she asked nervously, but visibly excited by your change of mind. “I-I'm cooking…”

“Well, if you don't want to…”you whispered, pouting and pulling away from her, something you couldn't do completely as her arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you towards her body.

“Wait, wait…” the lady said nervously, turning off the stove and cupping your face in her hands, kissing you passionately, sighing in relief at your sudden decision.

“Shall we go?” you said, hiding your nervousness by turning around and taking her hand, walking towards the bedroom.

The kisses were hurried, wild. You walked clumsily while you devoured her, while you let your instincts take over your actions. You had never been so excited, so fearless, it was the perfect moment.

“(Y/N)…” she said, her voice agitated and with a predatory smile, leaving no corner of your face unkissed, no exposed part of your body uncaressed. “Ti amo…”

“I love you…” you whispered, walking backwards to fall on top of the mattress, so her body climbed on top of yours accompanied by her heels falling to the floor, just like yours. “I love you, Donna, I love you…” you repeated, as a reminder that you wanted to do it, that her body on top of yours sent hundreds of burning sensations to yours.

“Amore mio,” she sighed, excited by your unleashed lust, putting her hand through the ties of your dress, undoing them with a surprising skill.

Her fingers were soft, they were conquerors which didn't want to miss a single inch of your skin, which wanted to travel what was theirs, wander aimlessly through each of your curves.

Her hands traveled to the edges of your disheveled dress while yours struggled against the buttons of hers, making them disappear hopelessly.

The cold of that room reached your more and more naked, more and more exposed skin. The rush and desire mocked your bodies, forcing them to move against each other, to dance in a erotic way that caused a satisfied smile on your face.

Her skin was soft. Every part that black fabric left was like a gift for your mischievous hands. The lady simply panted, not stopping kissing you, getting rid of her sleeves to give you that divine vision of her half-naked body.

Her hands traveled down your legs, moved them at will, moved them away so her body could make more contact with yours, so her already eager erection could rub against the heat between your legs.

You moaned at the contact, letting your lust enjoy it for the first time, your hands accidentally pulling at her hair, causing a smile to spread over your neck, mercilessly attacked by her lips.

Donna sat up to look at you, to enjoy for a moment your already naked torso under her discreet hands. Her fingers tickled the skin of your breasts, her eye roamed over your nakedness in a terribly seductive way.

“Sei bellisima…” she sighed, shaking her head, moving closer to your lips slowly, letting your hands bury her head against yours, your fingers tangling in her black hair.

“Donna,” you said amused when her teeth gently dug into your skin, when her mischievous smile crossed your hot body, making you tremble.

Your hands rested on her chest as she removed her bra, mesmerizing you again with the perfection of her shapes, her curves, that body you couldn't stop looking at.

The kisses continued after some cautious caresses, a hug of her hands on your breasts, kisses that traveled relentlessly down your torso, filling it with a wet love, an unbridled passion that Donna struggled to control.

But there was no time for doubt or slowness. Your hips moved anxiously, free of fear, while her hands grabbed the edges of your underwear, pulling it down your legs under her watchful gaze.

The brunette paused for a moment, delighting in the sight of your naked body beneath hers, caressing your cheek with a confused look, with her altered breathing, with her hips unable to avoid moving against your wetness.

“You are perfect, (Y/N), I love your body, I love everything about you…” she whispered romantically, as if wanting to prevent her own desire from consuming her.

“You are so tender…” you said, noticing the blush on your cheeks, pulling the lady's hair to kiss her, with your hands already uninhibited, caressing her soft breasts, running your hand over her back, over her belly…

Her mouth left yours to rest on your nipples, to suck them slowly, without hurting you, nothing that could compare to the carelessness of your previous lovers. Donna was different, she always was.

“I want you, tesoro… I need… I need…” she murmured in a more nervous tone, keeping her lips on your belly, lowering the remaining part of her dress along with her underwear, releasing her desire, her throbbing erection that finally came out of its prison.

You moaned seeing her like that, seeing how her body was excited by the mere touch of yours, by your kisses. Her body was perfect, everything was perfect.

Your shy hand moved down her body as she impatiently studied your movements. You brushed her chest, her skin, even scratched it as you went down, caressing her shaft superficially, making her moan.

“I like it…” you whispered satisfied, moving the embrace of your hand on her erection, gently stimulating her to continue hearing those soft and discreet moans.

“(Y/N)…” the lady moaned, letting herself be carried away by the caresses of your hand, by your playful fingers stopping at the tip, exploring the best way to make her tremble.

But that gentle masturbation didn't last long, as did the touch of her fingers on your folds in compensation for your movements.

In a delicate way, Donna pushed your hand away, kissing the back of it and then your lips, sighing and placing your legs in a comfortable position before bringing her erection to your wet entrance.

The desire was overwhelming, but that terribly pleasurable contact activated the part of your mind that you had turned off. You almost forgot, you almost let yourself go.

“Wait, honey,” you said, moving away subtly despite the incredible sensation of her erection starting to enter you. She looked at you strangely, scared by your reaction.

“Cosa c’è?” Donna asked nervously, trying unsuccessfully to enter you again, something you prevented by moving away further and reaching out to your bedside table.

“Um wait,” you said with a shy smile, opening the drawer and taking something out of it, something you gave to Lady Beneviento and that she looked at suspiciously. “Put it on first, please.”

“Cosa?” she asked again, nervously, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “(Y/N)…”

“It's, it's a condom, Donna, put it on, come on… I want to do it…” you said nervously, helping her to open the package. The passion and desire disappeared from her gaze as you took it out, approaching her erection. “Let me help you… Let’s see…”

“Basta,” she said, grabbing your wrist tightly and pulling the condom away from her skin. “What are you doing?”

“Put it on, Donna,” you insisted. “Come on…”

“No, I’m not going to do it,” she said with a frown, shaking her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“No, what’s wrong with you?” you asked angrily, struggling with the lady until she managed to snatch the condom from you. “Donna… Come on, don’t be like that…”

“Me? What do you want, (Y/N)? Humiliate me?” the lady protested, throwing it across the room and leaving you speechless and surprised.

“No, Donna, I don’t mean to humiliate you, it’s for protection,” you said, crossing your arms and taking another one out of the drawer. “Do you want to know why we haven’t done it until now? Because I’m afraid of… Of…”

“Of what? Of feeling my skin on yours?” she said, protesting with a haughty, childish look, sitting on the bed. “Now I know that I disgust you.”

“No, damn it…” you said, hitting the bed with your fists and approaching her.

You didn't want it to be another failure, you had to convince her, help her understand your fears.

“Donna, look at me,” you whispered in a soft voice, guiding her head so she would inevitably look at you. Her brow was still furrowed. “Donna, honey I… I'm… I'm afraid of… Of getting pregnant…”

“Mm?” she murmured, with that same dark expression. “What?”

“That, that's my only fear, Donna… I… I don't feel ready to, to be a mother, do you understand?”

“I don't want you to be a mother if you don't want to, (Y/N),” Donna whispered in a dark tone. “It's not my intention.”

“But…” you said, rolling your eyes. “You know, you know that if we don’t protect ourselves, it could happen…”

“So… That's your fear, that's why you've made me wait so long…” she said, lowering her head and nodding, biting her lip before looking at you pleadingly. “It's not because of me.”

“No, no Donna…” you said with a smile, relaxing the tense atmosphere with a kiss. “I want to do it, really.”

“Okay,” she said with a calm smile, playing with your hand. “I'm relieved to hear that.”

“I'm relieved that you take it so well…” you sighed, opening another condom. “Come on, put it on, I can't wait to have you inside of me.”

“No,” she said in a brusque tone, looking away and crossing her arms.

“Donna… Didn't you understand what I told you? Come on, stop complaining and put it on… I'm going to get cold,” you said, nervous again.

“No, I'm not going to do it,” the brunette insisted with a childish protest. “That thing is humiliating, if I wear it I won't be able to feel you as much as I'd like. No.”

“Oh…” you sighed, comically scratching your face. “Don't be stubborn. I'm not going to take the risk.”

“Well,” she said, with a cocky tone. “I'm not going to put that on me.”

“Okay, and what do you propose? I'm not going to do it without protection,” you said, putting yourself at her level of cockiness.

“Well…” Donna sighed, thoughtful, scratching her head. “I can move away.”

“What?” you asked yourself with a frown.

“I'll move away before I cum, so there won't be any risk,” she explained, with a calmer tone.

“That's not… Oh…” you said unsure, thinking about your options. You certainly wanted to feel her, to truly love her, your fears couldn't consume you again. “Will you move away? Donna, I need you to promise me.”

“I promise you,” the lady said, approaching you and taking both of your hands, kissing them affectionately. “You have my word.”

“Well… In that case…” you said, smiling calmly again, fully trusting her word. Donna had never broken a promise and besides, the desire of your body was calling you. “Come here…” you whispered, pulling her to return to kissing, to reactivate that previous passion.

Without more patience, Donna positioned herself between your legs again, erotically stimulating her erection, which had been resentful of that argument, but which soon returned to normal, slowly entering you.

“Donna!” you cried out with a moan when you felt your body deform, your wet walls being stretched uncomfortably by the intruder. “Go slower… You're big…”

“I'm sorry,” she said, controlling her own pleasure. “I love you so much, amore mio…” she whispered, leaning down to kiss you, to relax your body overwhelmed by the intruder. “You’re… Tight…”

“Mm…” you said when that discomfort disappeared from your wetness, when the pleasure of having her inside of you overcame the lack of experience. You couldn't compare that sensation to any other, even your hips began to move on their own.

“Can I move, tesoro?” she asked kindly, holding and caressing your legs, enjoying that feeling of finally being inside you, of the obscene embrace of your body. “I'll be gentle…”

You nodded, unable to control your moans, moving slowly to the rhythm of her soft thrusts, sliding with extreme ease, impregnating her with your wetness. You didn't know exactly how it would feel the way you wanted at first, but now you didn't want it that way.

“Donna, Donna…” you moaned nervously from the pleasure, moving to get all those incredible sensations. Each thrust was ambrosia. It was an electric current throughout your body, a pleasure like no other.

“You are perfect… Perfect, (Y/N)… I love taking you…” she whispered, calming your hurried moans, the unleashed lust that could be sensed due to the soft movement of your hips, ones more and more skilled, more uncontrolled.

You smiled pleased, moaning without fear, grabbing the sheets to contain your fast and anxious movements, letting yourself be cradled by hers

Kisses, hugs of your legs on her waist, caresses, soft movements… It was a passionate session that would be unforgettable. Her hands held your legs, letting her hips take the initiative, filling you with that overwhelming pleasure you didn't want it to end.

Your dormant desire was so powerful that you were starting to move erratically, to hug the brunette eagerly as your muscles tensed, letting your desired orgasm leave your lips, making you move nervously and scream in a terribly scandalous way.

Donna didn't say anything, she only moaned in satisfaction at the movements of your walls squeezing her erection. Your body relaxed little by little, but hers did precisely the opposite, speeding up, moaning erratically, almost growling.

She was also close, very close, and you closed your eyes, hoping that she would do as she promised, that this lack of control wouldn’t make her break her promise.

Luckily, with a furious growl, Donna pulled away just before she released, filling your body with her wet heat, covering you with her seed as she held you.

The labored breathing replaced the moans and the kisses returned softly to your lips. It had been something impressive, memorable. You would want to do it every night.

You both laughed without saying a word, looking at each other intensely, romantically, at least until Donna lowered her eye to your belly, to your body stained by her passion, by that wet and obscene heat.

“Donna, it was great,” you said, caressing her cheek. She nodded erratically, her gaze fixed on your body, almost without listening to you. “Donna?”

“Yes... It was...” she said, opening her eye wide, as if she were nervous, touching your skin covered with her seed, breathing heavily and moving with a strange moan.

“Are you okay?” you asked curiously, confused by her attitude, by her dark gaze that seemed not to want to move away from your body.

“Cazzo…” she hissed, looking between her legs, where unexpectedly, her erection had returned again, something that surprised you.

“Oh, darling…” you said, amused by that curious reaction of her body, which you couldn’t find an explanation for.

“You look beautiful with your body full of me…” Donna whispered, with a dark and lustful voice, as if the passion had abruptly returned. “Come.”

Without giving you time to respond, the brunette turned you over on your stomach, holding you. You played along with that curious game and when you least expected it, her shaft entered you again, wetter, but hard.

“You look… Beautiful with my cum all over your body…” Donna repeated, beginning to move roughly, not very delicately, taking you from behind with intense moans, as if something inside her had awakened.

You enjoyed that improvised repetition. You were so blinded by the pleasure that nothing worried you, only the immense desire that seemed to have no end.

The lady quickly moved her hips, increasing the rhythm of her fierce thrusts and coming out again before releasing for the second time, now wetting your back.

“Donna,” you said amused by that strange outburst, by that strange obsession with covering your body with her seed. “Stop painting my body…” you joked, making her laugh too.

“I think I'll keep doing it, tesoro… I love seeing your body like that…”

[differenteagletragedy]

I saw you wrote a couple things about the MC dying. Have you written anything about Baxter finding out the MC died during the five years he was gone?

Haha, I wrote a whole thing about this yesterday then realized that I read what you wrote wrong, so here's another -- tough break, Baxter!

Baxter had gotten along perfectly fine without you for five years. Or, well, not perfectly fine -- he was miserable, riddled with self loathing and he'd isolated himself from anyone that might actually give a damn about him. But he was surviving.

But when he saw Miranda and Terry -- with a "y" now, he'd told him later -- so many memories came flooding back. It became harder to tell himself that he was ok when he just missed you so much.

It was pathetic, he thought, to be so attached to the idea of someone he'd known so long ago, for such a small amount of time, but you'd marked him during your summer together. And now that he'd been reunited with your friends, a small part of him started believing that he could be reunited with you as well.

During that first introduction, or reintroduction, as it turned out, he tried to keep things professional. Jude and Scott, his clients, were letting him meet with Jude's sister and her boyfriend, who were helping them get things together for the wedding. He did see Miranda and Terry exchange a number of glances after seeing him. He assumed it was because they weren't sure how to act around him after he'd cut off all contact after that summer.

Looking back, he wished that had been all it was.

Still, Baxter didn't bring you up during that first meeting. Or the second one. Or the third, or the fourth. There was a tension in the air whenever he interacted with Miranda and Terry, and finally, the night before the wedding when they were all together at Jude and Scott's home, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Terry, a word, if you would be so kind?" he said after wrapping up the wedding talk.

Terry shot another one of those looks at Miranda, but he followed him to the kitchen, then leaned on the counter and looked at him expectantly.

"What's up, Baxter?" he asked in a tone that was more forced than any Baxter had heard from him in the past.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, he went for it -- he asked Terry if you were going to be at the wedding.

Terry stared at him for a moment, confusion etched on his face. Finally, he began replying.

"Baxter, you don't know?"

"Know what?"

Terry took in a deep breath, but before he could say anything, Baxter held up a hand. He'd gotten scared.

"Please forget I asked, it's really none of my business," he said hastily, so sure that Terry was going to tell him something that would hurt. That you hated him, had gotten married yourself, moved to the other side of the world.

"No, wait," Terry started, but he'd put his walls up firmly. He stepped out of the kitchen, said his goodbyes and gave his well wishes to the others, then left.

It wasn't until the next day, during the reception, that he learned the truth.

When the guests started arriving at the wedding, Baxter kept an eye out as he rushed around, making sure everything was running smoothly. During the ceremony, he stood at the back, scanning the crowd, hoping to get a glimpse of you. Nothing.

After dinner had been served and the guests were finishing up the meal, he spotted Miranda and Terry at a table near the front. Cove was with them. You weren't.

It was strange, seeing your eternal sidekick without you there. Strange enough that he felt bold enough to approach the group.

"Miranda, Terry," he said, greeting the two he'd been reacquainted with already. With a nod and as friendly a smile as he could muster, he nodded toward Cove. "And how have you been?"

"Baxter," Cove said flatly, giving him the glare he'd gotten accustomed to during his time in Sunset Bird. "Hi."

He swallowed, but everything was almost over -- he just had to get through the reception, then he'd never see these people again. You'd gotten stuck in his mind throughout this process, and although he'd made it a point not to look you up in the five years you'd been apart, now he couldn't stand not knowing. So he asked.

Cove stared at him, then looked to his friends. Terry shrugged, and Miranda kept her eyes on the table. Then he told him.

You were dead.

A lifetime of showing a prim and proper exterior to hide the mess that going on inside him prepared him well for the moment. He nodded, gave his condolences, then excused himself. All the while, he had the strangest sensation of existing somewhere that wasn't reality -- it couldn't have been. Not if you were gone.

Throughout the rest of the reception, he stayed focused on his duties, all while his mind tried to reason its way out of this new information. Maybe he'd misheard Cove. Maybe Cove was mistaken. Maybe this was just a nightmare. There had to have been some sort of misunderstanding.

When Jude and Scott had left, as well as most of the guests, Baxter was standing by the window, looking out over the city and trying to reason with what he'd heard. A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts.

He turned, and Miranda was there.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "About ... you know."

He considered the question. He could have lied and said he was fine, but that would hardly be believable, given his behavior. He could have admitted that he wasn't ok, but if he wasn't ok, then what was he? Sad? Heartbroken? Angry? Regretful? Ashamed that he had all of these feelings and more when he had no right to them after the way he'd left you?

The hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and she sighed quietly, moving beside him to check out the view.

"What happened?" he asked after a moment.

"Does it make a difference?" she responded, a bit of coolness in her voice.

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

Miranda went to walk away, even getting as far as to make a couple of steps back towards her friends, but then she stopped.

"You really screwed up, you know?" she said quietly, more bite behind her words this time. "Leaving the way you did. It wasn't fair."

"I agree. And that haunts me more than I could possibly say."

Satisfied at that, she left him alone.

Eventually, when there was no work left to be done, he made his way down to his car. But instead of going home, he found himself taking a different route, and before he knew it he was driving into Sunset Bird.

He went past the main street, down to the old neighborhood where he parked his car in his old spot like no time had passed at all. He stepped out, then started making his way down to the beach.

You were gone, he knew that now. No magical reasoning could change that. But here, down by the shore, he could feel you. In the sand, in the water -- here you were everywhere, clear as day.

He slipped his shoes off, then his socks and set them down. He rolled up his pant legs next, and without any of the hesitation that usually accompanied everything he did, he stepped out into the water.

Then he stepped further.

His pants were getting wet, the waves splashing up well past his knees, but he didn't care. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't scared. What did he have to lose?

Baxter watched the water, dark and cold, come up around his waist as he kept going. It wasn't just the loss of you -- though that did hurt like hell. It was what losing you represented. All the wasted moments, all the missed chances, all the happiness that could have been his if he'd just let himself grab onto it.

When the water came up to his chest, he lifted his feet and started moving. There he was, his first time swimming in the ocean, and you weren't there to see it. He took a deep breath, then plunged down, fully submerging himself in the water.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed out there, letting the waves rock him closer to shore, then further away, but he wasn't afraid. And when he finally left the water, walking along the same sand he knew you had to have walked on countless times, he decided that he didn't want to be afraid ever again.

[etoilesombre]

I send you a message asking for fics about 2 weeks ago... i have since read them all and the blacksails brainrot has consumed me. Its not getting better. You were right... 'a month' is not long enough - it will be a decade of me thinking about black sails fulltime at the least.

I have read SO many good fics, honestly this fandom is blessed with great minds and great writers!! Your recommendations were excellent!! (Your fics too)

While going through the flintsilver tag I found a silverflinthamilton fic ('we can lose and call it living') and oh boy did that scratch an itch i didn't know i had!!

So now (after reading silverflint fics for like 2 weeks in all my spare time) I was wondering if you (or you followers!) know any flinthamilton fics. I don't know if that's your jam personally but I would love to read some fics about james and thomas (and possibly miranda) and how their relationship grew!! We see sooo little of it on screen!!

So if you have any recommendations once more, i would appreciate it!!

Hi! really sorry it took me so long to get to this, it has been a hectic week, I hope you see it!! Glad you enjoyed the recs, and I have rounded up some more.

I do read a lot less Flinthamilton(s), but a couple stick out in my mind, and I also crowdsourced some recommendations. I'm going to stick some other miscellaneous pairings on the end as well, in case you feel like further expanding your horizons.

Flintham recs: (most of them are postcanon rather than London era. I too would love more recs for London era.)

The Peaceable Kingdom by kvikindi (~45k words total) A Thomas-at-the-plantation novella length series that is truly beautifully written and engages with some hard, interesting ideas in meaningful ways.

The Sundering Sea by x_art (~140k words) I have not read this one but it comes highly recommended. One thing to note is that it is set post season two and was written in 2015, so BEFORE the ending had aired.

Rip Out All The Epilogues by Thatswherethelightgetsin (~60k words) An AU where both Hamiltons come to Nassau with Flint. This one has a side of Vane/Miranda which is interesting.

A Story Is True/A Story Is Untrue by FletcherHonorama (~210k words) This one is famous and well respected, it's a story told in parallel based on different possible endings, which is a really interesting concept.

Eye of the Beholder by Palebluedot (~2.6k words) Whew, some simple porn to balance out the many thoughtful novels people write for this pairing. They fuck in front of a mirror. It's hot.

5 Times Thomas and James Touched Foreheads Together by daylighthour (~12.5k words) Ok this is my favorite James/Thomas fic of all time, I think about it regularly - and it's rated g, imagine that. It's lovely, and supports my deeply held Autistic Flint headcanon.

NON-Flintham recs:

Ner Tamid by notfelix (~2.7k words) Ok this is technically Silver/Muldoon but it isn't really about that, it's a Jewish John Silver character study complete with cannibalism, oh my. It's great. For ACTUAL Silver/Muldoon I also encourage you to check out the same author's kinkmeme story Taking Care.

Marriage Is For Happy Men by QueerCrusader (~7.5k words) Flintgates, precanon. Flint has to perform a wedding, and has feelings about it. He and his quartermaster spend some quality time together after. This one is SO in character, really makes it work for me.

trust/caution by squidnapped (~5.4k) Also Flintgates. Disaster bottom Flint!! Love of my life!! Just. Just go read it. Trust me. This is one of my favorite fics of all time, also think about it regularly.

theives by ajaxthegreat (~3.7k words) Flintvane after Charles Town. This one is unfinished, but I really love how they talk to each other in it.

like real people do by thegreatblondebalrogslayer (~2k words) Vane is the one who shaves Flint's hair. No porn. You know it's good if I read it and there's no porn.

(If I may be so bold, I wrote Flintvane one time as well, here, try it you might like it)

your legs are the north star by Jaynovz (~3.6k) I can't usually do het at all but it works here. Flintmadi, taking comfort in each other when they're grieving Silver. Love the fealty dynamic, I'm weak for that.

[jigglypuff1994]

Thank you for the rec @uptoolateart! I feel honored to be included!

This was the original prompt: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Oh gosh, I don't have five fics yet, but I do have a fun time writing and soon, I will have many, many more. Lots of things in the works!!

But here's my library so far:

The Devil Wears Gabriel

One of my WIPs. This is a fun one for me! I've seen The Devil Wears Prada no less than fifty times, and I will never not watch it. One of my favorite comfort films.

I watched it back in March '24 and thought 'OMG. Miranda Preistly is Gabriel Agreste.' And it kind of spiraled from there. When I dove into the plot, it felt very crackish, and I grabbed onto that with two hands and rode with it.

I also didn't understand the importance of a beta until I met mine midway through this fic. She is wonderful and funny, and I couldn't live without her. Jodi, if you had a tumblr, I would tag you so hard.

Summary:

Being Ladybug is no easy task; she is the leader of Team Miraculous and keeps peace throughout Paris. Other than the weekly akuma attacks, her main problem is keeping Chat Noir and Viperion under control and out of each other’s jealous hairs. Sometimes, she misses the old days when it was just her and her kitty.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has recently graduated university and lives in Paris with her steady boyfriend of a few years, Luka Couffaine. After interviewing for a position she doesn't want in the first place, she ends up working as Gabriel Agreste’s assistant.

Between akumas, a narcassistic boss, and the men fighting for her attention, how will she survive the next year of her life?

past grievances

This one was inspired by the talented Christopher Nolan. I absolutely love the Nolan Batman Dark Knight series and DC in general (don't get me started on Young Justice, I won't shut up). And maybe one day I'll tiptoe through the window into the MLB/Bat fam fic world, but for now, I have my murder mystery fic.

I don't know where it really struck me, but I hadn't seen many MLB murder mysteries, so I felt compelled to write one in Felix's POV.

Also, I have a soft spot for antiheroes and comebacks, so, if that's up your alley, I have a tale for you.

Summary:

After the body of Adrien Agreste is discovered, Paris is in mourning.

After retracing Adrien’s last steps, Felix discovers more than he bargained for. He learns his cousin had a secret. One that leads him to his grave.

With this newfound discovery, Felix realizes that running away again isn’t going to work this time around. He needs to know what happened to Adrien.

While working through his own past grievances with his former teammates and through his own soul searching, he tries to mend himself, atone for his past mistakes and find Adrien's killer.

Bitten Smitten Kitten

I don't know what to say about this one. I am a vampire girlie at heart. I'm also a sucker for romance, smut and angst.

It's got it all: kidnapping, love, lust, clan vampire warfare, all of those tropes in 21k words.

I actually had the ending ambiguous at first, but I'm a big old softy at heart and had a couple commentors wanting more, so I wrote an additional chapter (it's fluffy and smutty *spoilers*)

Summary:

Born an orphan, Adrien was alone in this world. When the Black plague invaded Paris in the fourteenth century, at nineteen years old, Adrien became ill. On death's door, he was offered a second chance of life by a vampire with a kind heart, Emilie Agreste. Accepting her deal, Adrien found a family of his own with her vampire clan, the Agrestes.

After losing his eternal wife to vampire hunters, Gabriel became obsessed with finding the 'blood of luck'. When consumed by a vampire, the blood type is said to give a vampire unlimited power and is the key to ruling the underworld. Sending his adopted son on covert missions to find the human with this blood type, Gabriel was determined in finding the 'blood of luck'.

Transforming into a small black cat called Chat Noir, Adrien found the human who holds this special blood, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The only problem? He fell in love with her.

Now Adrien has to choose between the love of his life and his clan.

Can Adrien hide this secret from his clan or will fate intervene when all hell breaks loose?

The Treaty of Miraculous Nature

This is my first fic ever. It's my baby, my first, my beloved.

If I'm honest, everyone needs to start somewhere, and my writing journey has been an adventure. I've learned a lot overtime and sure, there are some plot points or scenes I could have fleshed out more, but I'm proud of where I started and where I am now.

This fic will always hold a special place in my heart. (and maybe someday will have a sequel that I teased)

Summary:

Prince Adrien daydreams of a life of adventure and romance outside of the palace walls.

Marinette Dupain is a commoner who dreams of becoming an aspiring seamstress and designer for the Royal Court.

Soon the two soulmates are thrust together as fate has intended, bestowing them with jewels of magic from a goddess which allows them to transform and wield powerful magic of creation and destruction.

However, with good, there is always evil. Things may not appear as they seem.

Which brings the greatest age old question: can love conquer all?______________________________________________________________

As part of the ask, please spread the love and include more fic writers! I nominate: @ladynoirfanao3 @hamsteriffic @talkstoself @coffeebanana @chatnia-starlight @wisteriasymphony @aidanchaser

[mrssturnioloo]

white liar

Pairing- jake seresin x reader, javy machado x reader, bradley bradshaw x cousin! reader

Warning(s)- cheating, i think that’s it if not lmk

Word count- 1.6k

Summary- jake cheated on you and he thinks you would never find out

 Hey, white liar

Truth comes out a little at a time

You and the Squad were hanging out at your place. Jake had gone to help Javy get something “out his car and as soon as he was out the front door, Bradley and Natasha had pulled you into the kitchen as a precaution to prevent someone else from hearing.

“Where were you the other night?” Your cousin asked. Bradley was more like a brother than a cousin. He was your safety net and you were his. You were there when his mother died. You were there when he graduated from college. You were there with him when he confronted Maverick about pulling his papers. You were there for everything just like he was always there for you.

“Here. Why?” It was the truth. You and Jake were going to go and meet the others for some drinks but you backed out last minute with a headache. Jake said he’ll let everyone know where you were but by the question Bradley had asked, you guessed that Jake didn't tell anyone.

Natasha looked at you with a look that resembled a mix of pity and anger. Bradley mimicked the same look.

You were about to comment on the looks but Natasha cut you off. “Jake cheated on you.”

And it spreads just like a fire

Slips off of your tongue like turpentine

And I don't know why, white liar

“Jake what?” You turned around to see the rest of the squad standing behind you with shock written all over their faces. Jake and Javy in the front. Bob and Mickey were the only ones who didn't look shocked, only disappointed.

Once the initial shock wore off, everyone was glaring daggers at Jake who looked extremely guilty.

“Is it true?” You asked, your voice wavering just a bit but you covered it with a cough. “Jake?” You repeated once he looked away to avoid eye contact with you. 

You knew about his past. His playboy ways. Everyone knew that Jake Seresin didn't do relationships and when you two got together, everyone was beyond shocked. You were a fool to think that he changed his ways just for you. “Jake?”

The guilt was eating away at him fast. He had the urge to say something, anything. So he said the first thing that came out of his mouth. “Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a nonchalant tone. Jake, along with everyone else, was shocked at what he said.

You said you went out to a bar

And walked some lady to her car

But your face has more to tell

A few nights ago

It was almost 4 in the morning when Jake came stumbling into the house. Jake groaned as he ran straight into the wall next to your bedroom door. “Jake?” You groaned as you rolled out of bed. As he walked into your room, Jake tripped over his feet and landed on the foot of your bed. “Did you drive here?” 

“No. Bernice drove me here.” Jake slurred. Bernice? Bernice? Your mind ran through multiple people trying to find out who Bernice was but you had no luck. You wanted to ask him who Bernice was but you knew not to question someone who was drunk after Bradley forced you to sing ‘Great Balls of Fire’  with him after you asked him how many drinks he had.

Instead, you pulled Jake up and walked him to the bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub as you gathered him some clothes to sleep in. After struggling to help get him dressed, you both went to bed knowing that you’d have to go to the bar to get his truck for him.

Hours before

Jake Seresin walked into the Hard Deck with an unknown redhead under his arm. It was a pretty bold move on his behalf. Bringing his side piece into the bar where his girlfriend, her cousin, and their friends hangout. This wasn't his plan. He just wanted to come play some pool and drink some beers, but when he ran into the redhead outside the bar, he knew his plans were about to change and not in a good way.

“Jakey!” The redhead shouted as she noticed Jake walking towards the front entrance with his head down. Before he had a chance to look at the owner of the voice, he was tackled into a hug. The yell had gained the attention of some of the regulars who were sitting outside. All the regulars had known that Jake Seresin had a girlfriend, but that red head he was currently hugging, wasn't you. Who the hell was this girl and why was she under Jake's arm? Where were you? 

“Wh-What are you doing here, Bernice?” Jake stuttered in a state of panic, frantically looking around to see if his friends were around. If they were, he was in a whole lot of trouble. Thankfully they weren't, which had calmed his nerves a bit. “To get some drinks and see my favorite man, silly.” and before he knew it, he was being dragged inside the bar trying to not be seen by his friends.

“I’ll be back. I'm gonna get a beer.” Jake decided that since his entire plan of relaxing went to shit, he should at least get a beer. He left and headed towards the bar top but immediately regretted his decision as soon as he saw Bob and Natasha talking to Penny. He decided to just ignore them.

“Can I get a beer please, Penny.” Jake asked. Looking over, Penny gave him a confused look as she noticed that you weren't with him. Jake noticed this look and sighed. “She's sick.” He lied. Penny didn't believe that one bit. You would’ve messaged Bradley or Natasha, not send Jake to tell them. Penny nodded and turned around to grab Jake his beer. 

Once Jake got his beer, Bradley was already walking up to the bar to question him about your absence. Bradley stood right next to Jake who had grabbed his beer and was about to say something but Jake was already walking towards a corner booth in the back. Taking a closer look at the person in the seat, Bradley knew that it definitely wasn't you who was there with Jake.

“Oh! There you are Jakey. I thought you ditched me for someone else.” The redhead said as Jake sat down. 

After a moment of silence, the redhead gasped which made Jake look up from his drink. “I need to freshen up. Excuse me.” Jake let out a breath of relief once she was gone.

As soon as Bradley came back, he told Natahsa what was going on. So, once Natasha noticed the redhead walking towards the direction of the bathroom, she let Bradley know that she was going to follow the redhead. 

When Natasha opened the door to the bathroom she noticed the redhead standing in front of the mirror fixing her makeup.

“Excuse me, do you by any chance have a tampon?” Natasha asked. She didn't need one. She just wanted a reason to make conversation with the girl.

The redhead didn't respond as she pulled out a tampon and handed it to Natasha. “Thank you. I'm Natasha by the way.” Sighing, the redhead responded. “I'm Berniceb and if you'll excuse me I have a hot date to get back to.” Then walked out. 

“Dumbass.” Natasha smirked and walked out.

Natasha walked towards Bradley and sat down next to him. “Her name is Bernice.” Bradley nodded.

'Cause my cousin saw you on the street

With a red head named Bernice

Turns out you don't lie too well

One drink turned into two. Two turned into four. Four turned into eight. Soon he was on his tenth. Jake was not a light-weight in any means. All the drinks hit him at once. 

“I need to get home.” Jake slurred and got up but stumbled into the table a bit.

Natasha and Bradley had been watching the two all night. “Should we take him home?” Bless Bradley and his caring heart.

“No. He’s a cheating snake. If I drove him home, I would drive him to his new home, off the side of a cliff.” Natasha smirked as Bradley gave her a somewhat scared and impressed expression.

Bradley didn’t respond. Natasha and him watched as Bernice helped a drunk Jake Seresin out of the bar and to her car.

Hey, white liar

Truth comes out a little at a time

And it spreads just like a fire

Bob being Natasha’s backseater, obviously made them close. 

“Can I tell you something?” Natasha asked as her and Bob were walking towards their cars after work. Bob nodded. “You just have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially Jake and Y/n.”

Now, Bob was worried. What was so bad that Jake and you couldnt know? Bob hesitantly nodded as Natasha looked around. “Jake cheated on Y/n. I dont know how long its beem happening though.” Natasha then explained the whole night to Bob.

Bob ended up telling Mickey, who surprisingly held onto that secret. Natasha shouldve know not to trust Bob with that secret since he was known as the person who couldnt keep secrets.

Here's a bombshell just for you

Turns out I've been lying too

Present Time

Nodding you took a deep breath and looked at Jake after a long moment of silence.

“Since you’re admitting that you cheated, I think it’s fair to admit something to make it even.” You said looking at Javy. 

Javy gasped in realization. “Y/n no.”  You ignored Javy’s shouts. 

“Me and Javy slept together.”

Now I'm the white liar

Truth comes out a little at a time

And it spreads just like a fire

Slips off of my tongue like turpentine

And I don't know why

White liar

people who may be interested: @sebsxphia @averagewriter-inthedark @imawkwardlysoc @hangmanbrainrot @topguncortez @virgosunbaby @hangmanapologist @bonitanightmxres

[antheiantics]

ENTJ Behaviours - Everyday things the Internet analysis don't tell you about - weirdly specific edition

Loud loud laugh. The type of laugh to make you go under the table. Happens roughly 2-3 times a day.

Shouting for no apparent reason.

Zoomies, yes, zoomies around the house.

Zoomies in talking - The point is to get it out fast and furious and go on with the day. Spoiler alert: 80% of the time I have to repeat myself, because people didn't understand my point delivered in Eminem speed. I'm fine, we're fine, it's fine.

Constantly forgetting people don't have the ability to understand with just one, maximum three words. Exception: INTX

Hating to be late and arriving early. Completing several tasks while waiting.

Having absolutely no tolerance on people who are late. Holding a grudge about it. Waiting for the day to just leave so the other person learns from it.

Abrupt style changes that shock people - going from casual business to grunge fairycore, not realising that people get confused with the vibe.

ENTJ procrastination is a thing - it's just procrastinating by doing other smaller tasks instead of doing the big looming one.

Being confident all the time except in a specific moment in which it's required to.

Ordering food at McDonald's because your extroverted friends were "too shy" to.

Waiting for those same friends to say "hi" to the entire planet while you try to look confident, pretty and approachable.

Being invited in the conversation in the span of one minute and hitting it off for the next 10 minutes.

Walking fast.

The boulevard is the runway and y'all are just peasants interrupting the strut.

Making detailed plans about being a successful company owner in 10 years, but forgetting to take in the sheets the next day. Short-term goals - a strong point, if forced. Day to day to-do list - not a strong point at all, unless written down (most of the time confident enough to remember our own tasks) (most of the time we forget to do several of them, or postpone them to shove three more that we planned to do after two weeks, but oh well, an opportunity arose - extremely specific, might not apply)

Patience. Monstruos amounts of it. Miranda Priestly was just fed up after so many years in the industry and I can see why.

Pet peeves are inefficiency and people who repeat the same mistake over three times, after it was explained to them by multiple people.

Strong opinions. Controversy. How are y'all dealing with Cruella (Emma Stone) and Elizabeth Bennett (Pride and Prejudice) mix, type of person? Genuinely curious. Not asking for a friend.

As for the ENTJ men reading this - do you have like a list or diagram, with all the people that manage to keep up with your Stewie Griffin (South Park) , Kaz Brekker (Six of Crows) tendency to "invest" and Thranduil(The Hobbit/LOTR) type of beauty and pride, and how long is it? Again, genuinely curious.

Wrote the origins of criticism and invented self-criticism in the process, because emotional liability got invented roughly around the same time and apparently it was "too much" *side glances INFPs*

Crying only out of helplessness (not if you can help it, ofc) and anger.

Fan of stupid puns (extremely evident)

Might unintentionally ghost people or leave them on seen, because they messaged you while your brains were working overtime (happens too often)

Caffeine doesn't work, but it's a ritual of pleasure, not to be missed, unless the day is bound to finish in prison. Same could be said if you take tea instead of coffee.

Relaxing by watching documentaries about successful people.

De-stressing by drinking wine with that one close friend that you see once a month due to busy schedules and talking about life.

That close friend also happens to be the closest one to IxxJ type and thoroughly listens while we explain the nature of emotions and why we think that the normal emotion we felt is a terminal illness.

Flirting is a way of surviving not a way of life. Take it as you wish.

Inspecting and dissecting your crushes so you know what you're dealing with. Most of the time we "un-crush" them with a snap of our fingers.

Sometimes we "just go with it" and end in a semi-casual situationship.

When they tell you we are confident and undisturbed by flirting, they're probably lying or not competent enough about speaking on real (not psychology explained) life. We do. It's just not obvious. INTJs, INTPs and ENFJs might not agree, because they somehow just know.

Getting hurt over minimal details people mentions about us throughout a conversation but being unaffected by "the big ones".

Which is hilarious because we're major "big picture" people - details are the things we see last. Sometimes, we don't even bother to inspect them.

ENTJ: Ah, ah, okay, bye-

Other people: No, wait! There's-

ENTJ: I pretty much got it, bye-

P.S. "Pretty much go it." or "I'm gonna wing it.", but make it organised, are probably catch phrases by now. No matter what people tell you that's a major trait of XXXJ people.

When I told you we invented criticism, I forgot to mention we also helped ESTJ and INTJ invent sarcasm.

[chainofclovers]

my new year's fics

If you know me you may have noticed that I'm an absolute lunatic about the passage of time. I'm not even 100% sure this represents every time I have written about New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, but I suddenly felt the urge to attempt to compile my fics on the theme in one spot.

.

Silver Lining (Ted Lasso, Ted/Rebecca/Keeley/Roy, explicit, 9840 words): 2022 ends with a whimper; 2023 starts with a bang. :) [side note: this is my favorite NYE/NYD thing I've ever written]

january (Ted Lasso, Ted/Rebecca, mature, 3482 words): The first hours of the new year—the first hours they’re together—are freezing cold.

More Than Life Itself (9 to 5 [film], Judy/Violet, mature, 8411 words): Her friends had so many memories to share that Judy thought she could successfully pull off the fade she sometimes fell back on—the quiet, pleasant fade into the edge of the scene, an appreciative witness to her friends’ bright glow. Judy wasn’t shy, exactly, but she often preferred to listen. It didn’t work this time.

the rose room (Grace and Frankie, Grace/Frankie, explicit, 7294 words): Frankie winces almost imperceptibly at the word friend. (A story for the new year.)

Lightyear (The Devil Wears Prada, Miranda/Andy, explicit, 6741 words, third story in "Land Fathoms" trilogy): Even after six years away from New York, Andy hasn’t forgotten the hush that falls over Miranda’s street when the weather is cold. [Note: This one is only briefly about New Year's, and I have the feeling I'm missing at least a couple other times I'd have written these two at New Year's since I've been in the fandom--or willing to be pulled back in--since 2008 and I was obviously obsessed with the passage of time all this time. But I couldn't find anything else in my quick peer through ao3!]

.

Whether you read any of these or not, I hope this post finds you—whenever you're reading it—feeling some of the hope for the future (and commitment to working for peace) that a new year can bring. ❤️

[daydream-cement]

Lake Date

Brienne of Tarth x Miranda Hilmarson

Brienne and Miranda have been officially dating for three months and now it's time for their first Valentine's day <3

Authors Note: This was written in collaboration with @bri-sonat. THIS FLUFF IS OFF THE CHARTS

Narrowing her gaze at her girlfriend in the driver’s seat, Miranda shook her head at Brienne, inquiring once again about the plans she had for the evening, “Why won’t you just tell me, Bri? Where are we going? Don’t tell me we are going back into work for an extra shift on Valentine’s Day?” 

The knight didn’t take her eyes off the winding road in front of her to look at her passenger, the large number of trees around them making it difficult to make out any landmarks. “Because it’s a surprise. That’s why I won’t tell you.” Brienne prayed to the old Gods and the new that Miranda couldn’t see how nervous she was, or that she looked in the rearview mirror every fifteen seconds. “No, we’re not. That I can tell you.”

Rather than pester Brienne with any additional questions, Miranda stretched a hand to rest at the back of the knight’s neck, fingers playing with her hair as she spoke softly, “Well, whatever it is... I’m sure I’ll love it.” The constable turned her eyes out the passenger side window, absentmindedly continuing to play with Brienne’s hair as her mind reeled at the possibilities of what Brienne may have planned for their first Valentine’s Day together. 

Brienne’s fingers anxiously tapped the steering wheel as she tried her best to not let her mind fall into the deep abyss that was her doubts. “I really hope you will.” The possibility that Miranda would hate her plans was at the forefront of her mind, but she really hoped that her cliché date would be romantic. She had never done this before, but she hoped that it would be adequate enough. “Do keep in mind that I have never planned out a Valentine’s before… and this date idea may be really outdated, like, people could do this in my time. But I hope you’ll enjoy the thought I’ve put into it despite that… I really tried to come up with something original but I got so caught up in my head that I didn’t have time to plan out an intricate date, I’m sorry...”

“My sweet Bri-Bri... I haven’t been on a Valentine’s Day date where I haven’t planned it myself, so this is monumental for me. And have you ever paused to think of how your quote-unquote outdated-ness is one of my favorite things about you? You know how I adore the way your brain works...” Miranda pulled over her words, wondering if they would actually be comforting to the knight. Her head swiveled back to the knight, her final words spoken with a sweet smile, “I’m so excited to see what you have done as I really, uhm, like you and everything you do.” 

Taking a moment to think over Miranda’s words, Brienne’s finger movements stilled on the wheel, no longer nervously tapping. “I suppose I have not considered that… thank you.” The knight began to slow the car down; the road she was supposed to turn onto was coming closer with every passing second. “I really like you too.” Removing one of her hands from the steering wheel to place it on the shift stick to shift down a gear.

“Of course.” The constable gave a curt nod and turned her attention out the window once more, maintaining her teasing of Brienne’s hair and light scratching of the knight’s scalp, a purely selfish habit she developed to bring herself peace on long car rides. 

Brienne switched on the turn signal to turn left down a slight slope leading down to an empty parking lot, not many people out here at this time of day. “Close your eyes, please.” The knight really didn’t want Miranda to see where she was taking her, knowing it could possibly ruin the surprise before she had the chance to set it up.

“Oh, okay...” The constable shut her eyes, a smile growing on her face at the thought she knew was going into all of this, “Do you need me to help with anything?”

“No. Just keep your eyes closed until I tell you it’s okay to open them, please.” Brienne quickly parked the car and turned it off before pulling the parking brake. The knight turned her head to look at her girlfriend, to make sure her eyes were really closed and that there was no peeking.

“Yes, Lord Commander.” The constable giggled, bringing her hands to cover her face as well to prevent her curiosity from getting the best of her. 

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Brienne hummed before reaching back into the backseat to grab the items she had brought. “Stay here. I’ll be back. And no peeking.” The knight opened her door and closed it after her, swiftly setting everything up so she wouldn’t be away from Miranda longer than she needed to be.

Brienne technically ran back to the car when everything was done, needing to collect her girlfriend. The knight opened the passenger seat door and held out a hand for Miranda to grab onto so the Lord Commander could guide her to where she had built up their date spot. “Your carriage awaits, M’Lady.”

Holding back a smile by biting her lip and dropping her hands to her lap, Miranda tilted her head up towards the voice of her knight, eyes still squeezed shut. The constable raised her hand up, moving it about to find Brienne’s, latching onto her girlfriend’s hand when she made contact, “Brienne, I better not trip and fall because my eyes are closed. I think we both know I can easily trip with my eyes open.” 

The knight chuckled slightly at the constable’s words, she was aware of how clumsy her girlfriend could be. “I wouldn’t dare let you trip. Trust me.” Brienne took a small step back so she could signal Miranda to get out of the car and give her the room to do so, her hand still firmly holding the constable’s.

Ducking out of the passenger seat, Miranda’s one hand glided along the top of the car door, searching for Brienne, who stood nearby for additional stability, “Okay, I’m ready. Take me on a date, honey.” 

Brienne closed the passenger door and quickly locked the car before she started to lead Miranda away to the little spot she had found for them. Truth was, she had come out here a few days earlier to scope it out to find the perfect place, working as a probationary constable had definitely made the knight more prepared than usual. “Watch your step here. There’s a small curb to step over a few meters in front of you.”

“Oh, Brienne of Tarth... The things I am willing to do for you.” Miranda whined in anticipation, knowing if there was a way to be clumsy, she would find it. Her hand had Brienne’s in a vice grip, not wanting to let go for any reason and her opposite hand reached across her body, holding onto Brienne’s bicep as an additional anchor. With cautious steps, the constable searched for the curb with her foot, stepping over the object when the toe of her shoe came in contact with the curb. 

“Marvelous…” Brienne mumbled as Miranda stepped over the obstacle, she led the constable down onto a grass plain, walking towards a large tree that would provide them with the shade needed on an Australian February day. “We’re almost there. Just a few more steps, darling…”

Giddy laughter rose up through Miranda as the anticipation was becoming almost too much to handle. She shook Brienne lightly, needing the other woman to know how excited she was about the entire premise of this date, “Oh, I’m so excited. I can’t believe you have something planned out like this...” After a few additional steps, Miranda felt Brienne stop and the constable went still, awaiting further instructions. 

“You can open your eyes now,” Brienne almost whispered, really wanting Miranda to like her surprise. She had worked her ass off in the kitchen to cook all the things she knew her girlfriend liked, she had also taken advantage of her partner’s best friend being her not-so-new boss.

Hands still clinging to Brienne, Miranda finally opened her eyes, now greeted with the sight of a picnic spread out under a large red river gum tree, whose branches dipped low as if they were reaching out towards the water’s edge. The constable looked to Brienne, to the picnic, and back again, “What is all of this? You- You planned a whole picnic for me?” Never able to help when she became emotional, Miranda felt her eyes fill with tears, the Aussie biting her lip and leaning her head against Brienne’s shoulder as an attempt to stifle her crying. 

The knight took a seat on the blanket she had laid out, still holding the constable’s hand as she gently tugged it as an indicator for her to take a seat next to her. “I’d do anything for you. That includes interrogating our superior for some of your favorite meals and then spending many minutes in the kitchen making them for you. I also made some dessert.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, the constable took her place near the knight, eyes examining the picnic spread before her, shaking her head the whole while. Miranda’s blue eyes met Brienne’s, more tears threatening to spill as she spoke, “No one... has ever done something like this for me before. Brienne... I- I-” Every aspect of dating Brienne had been absolute bliss for Miranda and from past experience, the constable had been waiting for ‘the other shoe to drop,’ where she figured out something terrible about her relationship. This was just an additional instance where Miranda knew Brienne was the only person for her, “You are just so- Thank you, Bri... It’s perfect.” 

“It’s my pleasure, and I’m so gleeful you like it.” Brienne smiled at Miranda before opening the picnic basket and pulling out a Tupperware box. She took off the lid before reaching it toward the constable, offering the food for the Aussie to take. “Don’t shed any tears, my love. Have some spring rolls instead, they’re homemade.”

Miranda went quiet, watching the knight’s every move. There was no one else in the world the Aussie could imagine spending a Valentine’s Day with for the rest of her life. Years ago, Miranda thought she was in love, but when she was with Brienne, she knew her feelings for her ex-boss could never compare to what she felt for the knight. No one had ever supplied her with the feelings of endless love, admiration, and safety. Without thinking, Miranda began to speak, stopping herself from finishing the sentence when her mind caught up to the drastic statement she was about to make, “Brienne, I-'' She couldn’t tell the knight those dreaded three words. At least, not yet. 

Putting the box with the rolls down onto the blanket, Brienne moved to take the rest of the things out of the basket but snapped her head up when Miranda started speaking. “Yes?” The knight pulled a thermos with iced tea out of the container and poured some for her girlfriend into a cup before offering it to her.

“I- I-” Miranda knew she was fumbling terribly, the sight of all her girlfriend’s planning making the frightful amount of emotions she felt worsen all at once, “I just- I really like you is all...” 

“I like you too, Mir…” Brienne responded before nodding down to the spring rolls. “Now eat. I spent a lot of time on those you know. As well as this iced tea.” The knight motioned to the cup in her hand that she was holding out for the constable to take. Her tone was teasing, she was desperate for her girlfriend to taste what she had made especially for her, but she didn’t want to sound like it, so she settled for playfulness instead.

“Thank you.” The constable gratefully took the cup and pulled a spring roll from the container, pushing any more thoughts of love to the back of her mind. As she continued trying different foods and sipping on her tea, the Aussie’s jovial nature resurfaced as she began to tease Brienne, “Since when do you know how to cook?” 

Brienne released a small laugh, knowing that this was new information to Miranda. She had never brought it up, and this was the first time the knight had ever cooked for her girlfriend. “I cooked a lot back on my travels but there weren’t many meals to make out in the wild. The best you could get in terms of a cooked meal was some bread, or a kidney pot pie. Supply was what you made or collected yourself. If you wanted meat, you had to go hunt for it yourself, or at least I had, and et cetera. Then when I permanently moved here and saw all the new cooking techniques, all the recipes, a stove, an oven? I got so intrigued, so I had to indulge and invest in the knowledge. So I have used all of my free time to master the ‘art of cooking.’ Has my time been well spent?”

“You are incredibly talented. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be a chef over a constable?” Miranda teased before taking another bite of her spring roll, deliriously happy to be eating some of her favorite foods while sitting in such a beautiful place with a beautiful person, “Or maybe you could do both, my fair knight?” 

“Heh, no. I’d rather it be a thing on the side. I’d much rather have a job where I get to help people, and serve justice, just like I had back in Westeros.” Brienne smiled at her girlfriend before taking a spring roll herself. “I could do both. I could definitely do both.”

Finishing with the spring roll in her hand, Miranda paused for a moment to chew and swallow, taking another drink of her tea. The constable cradled the empty cup in her hands, settling them in her lap, “Perhaps you can just be my personal chef then? The pay is good and so are the benefits.” 

Taking a bite from her roll, Brienne nodded as she finished chewing. “Whatever it is my Lady wishes, I shall be. I’ll cook for you whenever you wish. Even without the pay and benefits.”

“The pay and benefits aren’t that great anyway. It’s just my endless love and adoration with the occasional kiss, but I can hold off if you prefer.” Miranda was already giggling wildly at her own joke, reaching into a nearby container for more food. Gazing up to Brienne, the constable took a bite, her usual smile present as she gave the knight a wink. 

Brienne lifted her cup to her lips, looking at her girlfriend over the rim of it as she hid the smile Miranda’s wink had caused by taking a quick sip. “You drive a hard bargain, those are some benefits. I am inclined to accept them. I think it’s only fair for the work I’ll put in.”

The two women continued their meal, teasing and chatting as they ate, primarily soaking up the presence of the other and enjoying a bit of quality time. As the sun set over the pond, Miranda felt compelled to spend some time on the dock before darkness fell upon their date, “Let’s go look at the water, hon!” Jumping up from her place on the blanket, Miranda held her hands out to the knight, inviting her to take them to help her girlfriend up. 

“Sure.” The knight smiled up at her girlfriend before taking hold of her outreached hands. That’s when Brienne remembered there was still one more thing to eat, and she thought it would be perfect to consume, as they consumed the sunset with their eyes. “Would you like to have your dessert as we do? I think it could be nice…”

The constable mulled over the question in her mind, not quite ready to relinquish her grip on Brienne’s hands, “Do you mean actual dessert or are you being all cute and asking me for a kiss? You know I appreciate both.” She asked this question knowing full well, it was rare for the knight to ask her for physical intimacy like a kiss.

“I mean actual dessert. It’s just some strawberries dipped in white and milk chocolate… nothing special. Though I really like that other option you suggested.” Brienne felt shy all of a sudden, perhaps it was the setting or the idea of kissing Miranda in such a romantic spot on such a romantic day. Whichever one it was, the knight couldn’t deny the way her voice seemed to quiet down, almost shrinking.

“Both options sound wonderful. Which would you like first? It is your Valentine’s Day too, after all…” Miranda used her grip on the knight’s hands as leverage, pulling the woman closer, bringing the knight’s arms around herself, and holding Brienne’s hands tightly in her own behind her back. More often than not, Miranda preferred not to make the knight more nervous than necessary, but today she was enjoying the power she had over the Lord Commander for a few moments.

“The kiss, please,” Brienne whispered, head subconsciously leaning in so she could ghost Miranda’s lips with her own.

“Good choice.” The words came out quickly, only serving a seconds-long barrier from the women’s lips being separated any longer. Her hands relinquished their grip on Brienne’s when their lips made contact, one winding its way around the knight’s neck to hold the woman close for a few seconds longer. When she parted the kiss, Miranda kept Brienne close, their foreheads and noses still touching.

“Thank you…” The knight kept her eyes shut, savoring every second that she could still feel the flavor of Miranda in her mouth. A mix of spring rolls, iced tea, and an assortment of other small snacks together with the ever-familiar taste of her girlfriend. The last time Brienne had been kissed like she just was, was the day she had made the decision to stay here. The time she had done the most uncommon thing of kissing the constable with such vigor that caught her off guard. Since then, it had only been the smallest pecks, but after being kissed like that, the Lord Commander realized that she really likes it and that she wants to be kissed again. “I also wish to state that I have a pavlova in my fridge at home if that would earn me another kiss equally as wonderful as the one you just gave me…”

Biting her bottom lip, Miranda shook her head, finding Brienne to be unbelievably wonderful, yet again. Her next kiss for Brienne was more intense than anticipated, her other hand extending to Brienne’s face, deepening the kiss further. The constable exhaled with a small groan when she parted their second kiss, “Oh, I love pavlova…”

The Lord Commander whined when the constable broke the kiss once again, but giggled when Miranda spoke. “I know. Robin told me. Baking was a new venture for me, but I think it went well… you’ll just have to taste it and see, if you wish to end the night at my apartment, that is.”

“We can have another slumber party and you can tell me more bedtime stories.” Miranda kept the offer lighthearted, retracting her hands from the knight, not wanting the knight to think she would ask for anything she wasn’t ready to give. The constable knew she would wait forever until Brienne was ready to move forward with their relationship’s intimacy, “Now we can watch a movie too!”

“Sounds perfect,” Brienne breathed before pressing a quick kiss against Miranda’s soft lips. “Would you like to watch the sunset now?”

The constable watched Brienne’s lips as she spoke, wishing deep down the kissing didn’t have to stop where it did. Her eyes flicked up to Brienne’s when she spoke, her tone soft yet excited, “I would love to.” 

[theheartlandsblog]

happy macmarston may! i have something very special to celebrate... =) 💛💛💛

below the "keep reading" prompt is a portion of the enormous macmarston fanfiction that i have been working on for a YEAR! it's not finished, but in the spirit of the month, here's a segment for you to read if you'd like. i'm so impatient to get this fic done. i wish i could post this segment on AO3, but i only want completed works there!

6,632 words - john marston/bonnie macfarlane - canon compliant violence - emotional infidelity. enjoy =)

TGCAC. SECTION T1. • DURING THE MISSION "MY SISTER'S KEEPER". • JOHN MARSTON IS ESCORTING MIRANDA, LUISA FORTUNA'S FIFTEEN YEAR-OLD SISTER, TO THE MEXICAN BORDER. • IT HAS BEEN MONTHS SINCE HE HAS SEEN HIS FAMILY, AND WEEKS SINCE HE HAS BEEN IN HIS HOME COUNTRY. • THERE ARE UPON THIS VERY SAME EARTH PINECONES THAT ONLY FALL AND OPEN AFTER WILDFIRES. •

-

in the morning, an early, early morning like the rest of them, john awoke and raised himself up with his filthy elbows and within his first breath he already knew it was raining somewhere out there, behind the cliffs, the mountains. he could smell it - doglike he lifted his face to the meandering wind and huffed deeply, his mouth hanging open, tasting the scent. the cliffs kept the moisture greedily to themselves, however, hemming the clouds in with their brown peaks, and the best the weather could do for them was be determinedly humid. miranda asked him softly if he liked that smell over the dark remains of last night's campfire and he said he did. 

the dust stuck to itself instead of blowing, leaving the trail rather clean and open. on that second day they passed a man on a donkey that knew john by name or face and called out a greeting to him, pride written all over his face for noticing such a passenger. at miranda's amused questioning, he brushed it off. she sat closer to him that day and talked a little more - a lot more, in a loud voice, about her family mostly, and what she wanted to do in yucatan. the four horses pulled them past prickly pear and more dasylirion, took them under the shadows of big grey clouds.

once, one single time they stopped, to feed the horses and themselves. across from where john pulled the trembling wagon over was another such wagon, abandoned for what he reckoned was many years. standing beside it and irritably cropping grass was a beautiful wildlooking horse that did not run off when the human beings extracted themselves off the seat and tested their land legs. as john changed into his poncho, he studied the horse. it didn't run - maybe it was just feral, someone's escaped protégé. a light tan hide that turned darker down the legs, dark brown tail and ears, a dorsal stripe. it reminded him of a horse he'd had long ago and caught kicking and squealing in a land just like this. who goddamn knew what the pinkertons were doing with him now.

at the end of the day they found themselves riding outside chuparosa, like they'd intended to. it was, despite everything, beginning to be a sight john was warming up to. there were a couple memories attached to it now, ones that came back when looking at it. there's the length of wall he shot bottles off of with landon ricketts. there's the tracks that guided that godawful train he'd fired from. maybe ricketts was in there right that second, with whatever business he'd promised john.

"you wanna go in?" he offered, slowing the coach down and gesturing with his hat at the little white city. the young girl was already shaking her head, however.

"i can't. they could arrest me! someone could see me and arrest me, kill us both." she insisted, wringing her braid around her hands. the poor girl's eyes were steely and scared.

john furrowed his brows. "i've been in there a couple times and they ain't hung me yet." he said slowly, deliberately leaving out the part where he'd slaughtered three men like sheep in the road for touching his hat, all within minutes of arriving. "you're just a kid. and i'd come along with you. we could buy some sup - "

"you don't understand." miranda interjected him. her eyes and her jaw set and her brain working, working behind them. "i'm sorry. you don't understand what it's like to be someone like me."

a failure. he felt like a failure. john marston was such a godawful father that he couldn't even briefly soothe a child that wasn't his own and would be leaving in a matter of days. some man. some two-faced, unchanging bastard of a man. "i guess i don't." he admitted lowly, flicking the reins again and speeding them up. chuparosa rotating in their view. "we can just stop a little ways away. ain't no trouble."

at a fork in the road they stopped, right alongside a wooden signpost john had read more than a few times. TESORO AZUL / LAS HERMANAS / ESCALERA. they were near enough to chuparosa's rail line to see and hear the locomotives but not to feel them shaking the ground, and as the last light in the sky faded and made way for a dwindling moon the old cowboy and young fugitive watched in tandem the heavy black clouds of boilersmoke roll on by as the engine was fed to stop. the six horses lolled in the grass together, itching their backs, john's palomino with his long neck up, observing the city. 

they weren't near enough to hear that, but it sprawled across their vision pale and tempting. john was a long way from the days of arthur and hosea hissing the world civilization under their breaths like a forsaken, unprintable oath. so too was he a long way from their graves, and their homes, and his home. he didn't much know where he was anymore. the cowboy leaned against emilio's coach smoking and resolutely pointed away from chuparosa. directly across from it was el ojo de diablo. he watched that. a drag from his cigarillo. another. saguaro cacti and trees still stood along the edge of those ancient cliffs, like so many sentinel soldiers lined up for the kill. another drag. a wet hack into the dirt. fog swept over them all as they slept, a quiet and blue night save for john's tiny cherrylike glow. chuparosa glowed too.

"señor marston? are you awake?" miranda's voice suddenly peeped. he had been laying down smoking his third cigarillo and he gave a full-body jerk when she spoke. his hat fell off his forehead.

"i am now." he grunted.

from the dark he heard miranda shuffling in her bedroll. "we're going to be out here for a while, aren't we?" she asked him plainly. a particularly wet gust of wind blew across their shoddy campsite, carrying spits of vapour that, when they touched john's cigarillo, snuffed it out completely.

"that's right." he rasped, taking pains to try and not sound so goddamn dour for once. his fingers dropped the stick limply to the grasses.

"how long?"

"five days at least." john mumbled. he stretched his feet out in his horribly sweaty boots that he was wearing to sleep, and rolled onto his side. "we done two. we'll - "

miranda's voice cut him off, rising, hissing. "but my boat leaves - "

"i know when it leaves. i'll do what i can, miranda." john silenced her, truthfully even in his vague irritation. without thinking, he'd curled his legs up and inward. his knees nearly touched his chest, just by how long they were. in the anonymity of night he sought with his hands and gathered his knees up and hugged himself tightly. fetal, vaguely born. the scratch of the rough and worn denim and the ever-present twinge in his leg and the two random bullet casings in his pocket and the grit in the crease behind his knee - he could feel it all. sleep started to crawl across his eyelids and he shut them.

"i'm scared." miranda whispered. john squeezed his eyelids tighter.

"i know. stay scared. it'll keep you alive."

upon entering the third morning, john and miranda were damn near immediately set upon by the army. he woke and stretched and fumbled for something to eat while miranda sifted through her accouterments to find her comb, and it was a happy sort of morning, quiet and wide and blue and brown. once emilio's coach was hitched and been spurred into motion john had stopped them, idiot, godawful idiot, to pick prickly pear blossoms and wooly bluecurls in the shoulder of the trail. he twirled the orange and purple flowers around between his gloved fingertips and it harkened back to hand rolling a cigarette but this was nothing like that, only cleanliness and goodness, and then miranda screamed for him to get back to the wagon.

"john! john marston!" she shrieked, and immediately his heart dropped like a dead horse right into his heels, and the gunslinger turned and positively flew on them back to the wagon. dimly, he registered still clutching the flowers. she was in the passenger seat gripping the wood like she'd all but been nailed to it, staring wide-eyed down the hill. 

"quiet, girl! don't holler like that!" john snapped, foregoing chivalry as one often did in situations where he was about to be or was already getting shot at, and scrambled up the side of the coach. "what the hell is it?"

the young girl pointed - "more of them, near the train tracks!" - and he landed in the seat so roughly his breath huffed out of him in a nasty khufh. at the end of her thin and trembling finger trawled a group of seven or eight homogeneous uniformed men on horseback and a collection of three or four more fussing with sandbags. the wooden scaffolding that held up chuparosa's rail was buzzing the imminent arrival of a train and some of their horses were antsy, glowering up nastily at it. they were moving.

"they're on their way! dios mío, they're looking at me!" miranda despaired. one hand wrenched itself off the wood to clutch at her braid. aw hell. john's face contorted into a deep grimace as he took up the reins.

"ye-eeah, they're comin'. you had better hold on." he said ominously, and a bit unnecessarily. then he stood up and brought the reins singing down onto the animals and WHAP! and they were off, careening down the golden hillside.

the soldiers turned to look, as one would do, and he saw them draw their massive and terrible rifles from their saddlescabbards, like teeth, like beasts and snakes unhinging their jaws and unsheathing their fangs. john snarled and his scarred lip pinched and curled and he drew his revolver, abandoning the reins and reckoning speed over firepower, thinking even in the most fleeting of moments, and he reckoned with the eyewatering speed of the coach and the rattling seat and fired three times. one hit a horse and the other soared home into a grey chest and the third took a man's middle two fingers clean off. no time to mourn the animal. no time -

no time; no sooner had he reloaded than they set off after them, moving as one, one united entity. "head right! we will get back to the main road!" miranda called to him. all he could do was wince and pray the four horses would know what to do, swiveling and firing in rapid succession. when the horses realised they were heading directly for a wooden bridge they howled and wrenched the wagon right, and something went flying out of the back, and john wormed completely around in the seat, leaning over the back, one hand on his hat and the other firing, firing.

in a flash they drove under the bridge and the army flowed after them, bloodthirsty. mexico was a thirsty country. "i've got the coach! keep going!" miranda's voice suddenly, blessedly filtered in, thank god. the sound of the reins split the air in time with his bullets. he reloaded, fired, killed a second. días and the ricketts mare were thundering crazily beside the coach and running for their dear lives. john gasped hotly at the air and threw himself down flat to reload, his mouth opening and closing.

in what looked like a watery slow goddamn motion he saw a bullet fly past miranda's head and miss her by a hair's width. "oh, my god! they are still chasing us! get RID of them!" she shouted clear as day. bitterly, he clawed for his rifle. when he rose he rose and was already firing and a soldier pitched sideways off his galloping steed and his head pitched the other way. their chariot of war went flying around pale rocks in pale sand and rattled through a corner, and another life ceased to exist when it rounded after them.

a spoke of the wheel, right under john's shoulder, exploded in splinters as a bullet tore through it. there was something coming out of his mouth, some disgusting remark that would have had javier in stitches, and he aimed down the retreating road at the three oncoming men. CRACK - CRACK - CRACK - and their returning fire seemed to curve around him - and días wailed and shoved the wagon hard - and john marston killed the final three soldiers and left them tumbling to the dust.

miranda, goddammit, is she ok? without a second wasted john flipped about and all in one movement took the reins from her, snapped them over the horses' backs and checked her over. she was breathing hard and staring straight ahead but she wasn't bleeding and she looked strong. she was strong, he realised. looking at that girl of fifteen john thanked his stars that the gang was dead. they'd have snatched up a girl like her, a whole family like hers. potential, miranda had. she had potential. she was lucky. miranda finally glanced at him, and her eyes were clear and solid and bone dry.

for a long while after they pressed that coach hard in silence, until the horses foamed and shook. when they finally stopped that wild ride, the sands had turned white. the pair spent the rest of the day in a shaky adrenalin crash, stopping briefly to water and feed the horses and check on días and then pressing on again. the palomino was perfectly unharmed.

"you such a delicate little old bitch, ain'tcha?" john muttered fondly into his lowered ear, as he searched him for bullet holes. he got confirmation when the stallion huffed and pressed the weight of his huge neck into john's offered chest. then they rode, they rode.

miranda clambered into the back with her skirts bunched up at her knees to hand john a jug of water without stopping the coach. finally, the exhausted girl fell asleep among her scarce things. john was quiet. no whistling, no talking to the horses. he didn't look at her. the wagon rolled through chalky white paths in between raised, sunbrown mesas in miniature. and there were seabirds on the air. surely they were close.

when john finally caught a glimpse of the united states of america across the san luis river, his throat seized and his breath stuttered. only just, only barely, but it was there and my word, it was there. it had been a good couple of weeks since he'd been in america. without even seeing the river, however, he knew it was different and he knew what it was. it looked much the same as the portion of mexico they were in, dry, warm, wrinkled and seamed, but it was his, or he belonged to it, one way or another. emilio's wagon rumbled up the sands. not a half-day's ride away visibly twisted the rolling and sparkling line of water.

by the time a peachy sunset started to ripen, miranda awoke. peering over his shoulder at her, john reckoned she seemed better. taking her hair down from her braid to comb it again, gazing softly at the countryside. the hooves of all six horses beat upon the trail and it lulled john, soothed the stinging still-raw wound of losing his ranch, and then his country. it was open still, rotting still. the pair set up for the night deep in creosote bush and right smack-dab on the border between perdido and punta orgullo. they were close to the water. maybe a fifteen minute ride. john was nervous, excited, a braided rope of both offered to him by his own heart, and standing in his ribcage there holding the rope he knew not whether to climb somewhere with it or strangle himself. it felt strangling, anyway. he knew he wasn't going back there any time soon. again he raised his face to the air and sniffed it, tasting the water, and above him in that same air floated clouds lined in goldleaf from the sunset.

to catch dinner, john decided, rather cautiously, to go fishing. he got real nervous around water. but the horses needed to drink, besides. holding the reins of five goddamn animals at once and riding the sixth, a whimsical sight he did not miss miranda's tittering laughter at, he rode the quiet little ride it was to reach the shoreline and concomitant country. it was riddled with snakes that días eyed rudely. ironic. the horses pulled excitedly for the water and john let them go and tied their reins to each other and watched them line up military style along the edge. ripples arcing out from where their tired forelegs were submerged, arcing out from their dark muzzles sucking and breathing. 

"y'all feelin' peckish?" he muttered to the surface as he cast out his line from his battered fishing rod. he hadn't bought a new one since the year nineteen-oh-four.

reckoning with what little shadow he had in the fading dull light, keeping it off the water as best he could and never once by god never once relaxing this goddamn close, john marston caught five little mackerel-type things he hadn't seen before in rapid succession. the fish gave him a fleeting joy. he wished he could draw them, but he knew he wouldn't. even if he had that journal. after his thrashing bluish grey prey was dumped whole and unscaled into días's saddlebag, john took his poncho and boots and socks off and rolled his jeans up and cuffed them and sat with his legs out and swirled the filthy garments in the water. one hand always gripping the shore, buried in the gritty sand mixture, and the droplets spinning darkly off his stallion's whiskers, and the sun fading and the world greying, and america bedding down in the dark, soon to be unseen.

barefooted he rode back, the boots and socks cradled in his lap and the poncho slung wetly over días's hindquarters. miranda was waiting for him and when she saw him and his herd she smiled and giggled again and motioned for the fish. thankfully, she'd started a fire while he was gone, and hadn't gotten herself kidnapped or killed or any other nonsense. the coach was parked behind her and upon the scratchy wood jumped the jagged shadows from the flames and behind it the tall cacti, older than sin, cradling the stars. a treeless section of country. 

"lemme see the map, kid." john muttered, slinging his wet clothes down to the dust with loud slaps to dry by the fire. the man and child exchanged the fish and document. wearily he lowered himself to the ground and squinted at it, tilting it towards the fire. "yeah, we'll be there in two or three days."

"do you think it will be waiting still?" miranda asked meekly. she'd sourced silverware from her baggage - god, even that was a luxury these days, john took a fork gratefully - and had speared on it a little piece of mackerel. 

"i've no idea. depends on those folks you know." he said honestly. he ate a chunk of the mackerel while it was still hot and painful and steaming from the fire but he didn't care and went back in for another. "we're makin' good time, anyway. still got our hides on. ain't been flayed and all."

miranda shook her dark head and sighed, such a mature gesture. "it's been awfully close, though!" she exclaimed. john sat, nodded and thought yes it sure as shit has, and kept quiet. she shuffled about and ate some more fish and looked thoughtful. then across the fire they made eye contact and she smiled sagely. "i trust you, john marston. i think we will be ok."

she's a far cry from a couple-a days ago, john thought again, to when she'd begged him me equivoqué, voltéate, and he knew she'd be alright in the yucatan with a complete certainty. it felt better not to talk so he didn't and he wolfed down another halfcooked fish before quite suddenly remembering spices did exist out in that great big frontier. 

languidly he rose and retrieved his saddlebag, taking the whole thing off días's drowsing form and sitting with a puff in front of the fire with it. rifling through it awarded him nothing of the sort. two old newspapers ripped and torn and some small thing that was edible maybe four weeks ago and loose bullets and the paper he'd bought with luisa and his duster coat and a few bottled medicines were among the things he dredged from that creaking leather cesspool, but herbs were not. he moved onto his satchel, faintly frustrated, a subtle indignant warmth just touching along his neck. out of his satchel he unearthed dozens of sprigs of dried flowers that cracked and disintegrated in his touch.

"¿tienes un amor?" miranda asked him all of a sudden. john glanced up. her chin was nestled on her knees and her hands knitted about her legs. her voice was lively, sweet.

his jaw set into a hard line. "what?"

"a lover. a sweetheart. ¿una esposa?" she clarified. and oh, oh, that hurt, that hurt too, worse than the ranch, the aching deadness inside him, the wounded animal lashing out, the stray cur-dog, the mutt. john put a protective hand on his satchel and tried not to snap at her. it was not her fault. she didn't know.

"oh. sí. ¿por qué?" he said, his voice clipped. 

she gestured towards them by raising her chin briefly. light dancing upon her cheeks and fingers. one hand outstretched now and holding a mackerel over the flames. "tienes tantas flores, en paquetes, en el papel." and with gruff and indelicate hands he attempted to sweep the dead flowers away, flushing at her observations. they were useless by now. they rolled and clattered like bones and a few caught sparks from the fire and coughed a weak smoke. then she raised her eyebrows and nudged her head in the direction of john's messy satchel again. "¿para ella?"

he automatically moved to pack it all up, to stuff the paper and the mummified plant stalks away, but something made him pause. he was staring at the fire. the leather of his belt creaking as he held his pose, frozen half bent over, primitive. she was a good kid.

"...no, son para - son - um - ah, i'm sorry." john tried, stammered, huffed out his nose like a bull and shook his head. the fire crackled joyfully, started to thaw him on the inside. "i don't know that much spanish."

"it's ok. just talk." miranda fortuna brushed it off, her voice as warm as the flames.

john looked up, looked at her, and thought back to - well, it could only have been a few weeks ago, to meeting the old man named billy west under the boughs at stillwater creek, and the bittersweet insistence of his own ancient heart. he talked. "they're not for her. i was asked to gather flowers by a man in the states for his wife."

"but you do have one?" miranda inquired, the most cheerful interrogation he'd ever been a part of. she was leaning towards him with a wistful look on her young face in the dancing lights that reminded john of her sister.

"yes. tengo una esposa y un hijo y una hija en..." he tried, and trailed off. he didn't know why he was telling miranda about that. he didn't know. he wanted to. it didn't matter. "um, paraíso. en el cielo. mi hijo se llama jack, he's - él está vivo. tiene quince años."

his stomach flipped and wavered, and his eyes flitted to and from her, undecided. but miranda only shuffled happily, very obviously pleased with herself. "thank goodness! i was worried." she celebrated, around a mouthful of fish. "you have so much paper, you should write her."

like it was the most natural goddamn thing in the world. john leaned back like the words had tangibly pressed him backwards. he scoffed and, insouciant, started to pack his things into his satchel. he leaned and spat into the fire. but the words kept touching him and slipped in-between his cracks and unmended pieces and started to hold on. it was goddamn useless. when was the last time he'd written abigail? the old cowboy rose up onto his knees and slung his satchel over his neck and tracked it with his hand until it settled in its proper place on his hip and then he fixed her with a curious gaze and his eyes burned hotly in the semidark.

"you're the romantic sort, aren't you, miranda? it runs in the family?" he said, again thinking of luisa. what a curious sort he'd fallen in with. in the silence she'd moved to eat what little was left of the fish but snapped smartly back to attention and tried to press her hand to her collarbones despite it holding her fork.

"oh, yes, i can't help it." the girl said proudly. john scoffed again and this time it was almost a forgotten brotherly sort of thing and he rose and packed and hefted up his saddlebag into his arms and he'd thought she was done talking and for that some normalcy had finally started to peter back into him but while he was slinging it onto días she called to him.

"i can deliver it to the train station in the states. what is it called, benedict? i can slip right across the river. it won't be any trouble." she offered, the sound of her voice bouncing about the creosote, bouncing into him. john did not turn around.

"gee." he said simply, stunned. días's sides rose and fell. "thank you. i guess i will. ain't got nothin' else to do."

she told him then how to press the flowers in newspaper or other papers to dry and preserve them during his travels that would no doubt take him elsewhere and to great and wonderful places and she told him that he must have had a lovely mother who had taught him to care about even the lowly things such as inconsequential plants and she told him how she'd get to benedict point and she traced the route on his map with the handle of her fork. john was impressed by how studious she had obviously been during their journey, and at her apparent literacy. crickets chirped loudly and he slept to their song and dreamed of something he could not remember when the morning and consciousness came.

particulate matter of every kind and all eons old twinkled in the pale sand they rolled across that was as blinding as snow and the furthest thing from it. the smell of the water was constant, a harbinger of the end. john was on edge, on the edge of something - and his wariness paid off when, after not even an hour after he and miranda had broken camp, they came across a woman in white standing by an empty wagon in the side of the trail.

she saw them coming, and stepped abortedly into the hot packed dirt, then shuffled back. "¡americano!" she yelled, waving a hand.

"john, look, look!" miranda took him by the shoulder and pointed at the woman. he was stiff. he did not move under miranda's grasp. 

"americano, hermana, help chelo, ¡por favor!" the woman kept shouting, leaning out of the nick in the brown rock that clambered on either side, the nick she had wrestled her cart into. dirty and frail looking, still waving. john gritted his teeth and flicked the reins. the horses pulled them level with her.

"we can't stop." he grated out.

miranda's mouth snapped shut, then opened again. she twisted against him and he shut his eyes tightly and flicked those goddamn reins. "we have to, she needs help!" the young girl pleaded, a note of urgency creeping into her voice, and her sharp elbow dug into john's stiff shoulder in place of her hand. she was climbing over him to look at the woman.

the coach rolled past. she was calling, calling, calling into the harsh dry wind. "mi carreta eh - ahm - no work! ¿me puedes llevar a mi pueblo? ¡señor! ¡hermana!"

miranda's knee collided harshly with his ribcage. "miranda. we can't stop." john snapped, his eyes prying themselves open. she froze, hanging halfway out of the seat, and he looked forward, forward down his nose at the dust, the desolate country. the woman was still calling. slowly she settled back down into the seat. 

he tried glancing at her. she would not look away from him. she huddled in on herself and stared at john from the passenger seat, staring, staring. he could feel her looking at him. john tensed the muscles in his neck and jaw, first with intent, then without, felt them flex and ache and he narrowed his eyes and drove the coach through the complete silence until finally he broke and threw his hands up, exasperated.

"what if she was gonna rob us?" he tried, bringing his hands down with a smack. 

"we don't know that!" miranda instantly shrilled back. yeah, she'd been waiting for this to start up. there was sand in john's teeth. in the corner of his eye she hovered, acrid and scared and constantly looking over her shoulder back the way they'd come. it was never easy, this conv8ersation.

"i've been held up a hundred times. i know the look." john said suddenly - and he was lying. he'd robbed and been robbed and killed and been killed and done it all honestly and dishonestly but he was lying. "we have to reach the port. we didn't have the time to spare. still don't. don't you ask me to stop this wagon, miranda. we can't be too careful."

"i - i -" miranda stammered, and wrung her hands, and john felt in excruciating detail a bead of sweat track down his neck and soak into his red neckerchief and he was begging her in his head to stop, 'cause if you keep it up i'll turn around and kill all three of us, and thank god, she slumped and finally crossed herself. "dios mio. i'm sorry." she muttered.

no sound anywhere save only the wind. "i'm sorry too." john made his voice seep into it, be borne upon it to pollute and stink. "it's the way it is."

the country was all the more desolate that fourth day. horridly hot and the temperature steady and flat in both shade and sun and john's arms itched and prickled. he hacked off the side of the coach and in sun that strong even his spit had a wobbling shadow as it flew. another army roadblock crouched blackly along the coastline made them turn unexpectedly. miranda directed him left in a sad voice, told him to follow the railroad until she told him otherwise. they scuttled off the coast all eight of them like so many dried out crabs and slipped into the rocks.

after a short but excruciating ride on the devastated carthorses, they came upon the railroad, the very same that eventually ran to chuparosa. the tracks were bleached to a pink in that mexican sun, and reluctantly rusted. alongside it the telegram poles shuddered in the heat where they jutted crudely out of the land. like a knife unsure of itself and the effects of its wound unknown yet to it. no amount of ease they brought to modern life could quite erase the unease in john, bred into him, taught in infancy and never forgotten in age. steadily uphill they rattled, passing two trains. each time, their bullish clouds of dust and the jittering tracks foretold their arrival.

the traveling vagrants were granted the treat of watching the second train pass the united states and mexico border across the bridge, and even on their time crunch the coach's speed faltered, just slightly, just enough to watch. frontera bridge swayed perceptibly, and all the crows passing time upon it took off at once, and the engine howled and the smoketrail was light and grey and the long headlight cleaved the evening and cut out the six horses and two human beings in a brilliant yellow.

for the night they stopped right under frontera bridge, and john was aching, had been aching all day, his skin strange on his body, his teeth unsettled in his mandible. they both puttered around the fire as it got going and it ended up weak and pale and eventually they settled down in their spots across from each other. john marston's satchel was heavy on his hip, heavier than any iron. the aching nonstop and sending pulses of pain into his eyes. they'd gotten their stopping point godawful late due to the detour and he already knew it would be a grueling minimal hours of rest and he should really just go to sleep.

he stared into the flames sitting crosslegged and slumped over and smoking absently. he had no business thinking as much as he did. his mind conjured up horror stories of abigail starving in some dingy jail cell or consorting with some incarcerated man or dead and jack being handed a piece of paper with her inutile name scratched upon it. it was a waste of time.

do not think. he reached down and stirred up the contents of his satchel until he found a piece of paper and a pencil sharpened by his knife, the same he used to kill with. with crude movements he splayed the page out over his knee and then slowly put the pencil to the page and wrote the first line.

dear miss macfarlane.

their fire was meagre and spat and shuddered. his head shot up from the page at the noise, fixed upon the flame. he was being a better neighbour to her, to the whole family. no one could give him an earful about such a goodhearted thing. he wrote. i hope you and mister macfarlane are doing well at the ranch. i recall you mentioning you wished to travel one day. i am in mexico, due to foolish efforts i won't bother you with detailing, but maybe this letter will -

he paused, teeth clutching at his lip. no, that sounded stupid, like he didn't know what his own letter was supposed to do. at once john violently scratched that last portion of the sentence out and instead replaced it. so i will tell you about what i've seen. under the crude graphite tip the scratching was loud and ratlike. miranda suddenly looked up and began to watch him keenly over the fire, smiling, shuffling on her heels. he did not deserve this rapt little audience. 

slowly, he returned to the page, the cigarillo curling daintily at its end. i think you would like it. i met landon ricketts coming into town, of all people, if you are familiar with the name. i know your feelings about gunslingers, but he is a fascinating sort of man.

he could feel miranda's eyes boring into him. it would have been endearing in another world. his head tilted slightly in thought and the greasy black hair swept across his nose. i also met a family of mexicans which i am helping across the country and one of them is posting this letter in return. they're strong people. it is hot m -

"¡la carta de amor para tu esposa!"

john looked up at her quite suddenly, sharply. there she was, beaming with approval, her hands clasped by her chin. he was silent. in the complete void of noise, he suddenly realised someone had tied bells to the inside of the bridge and they were tinkling slightly in whatever wind, a tinny, lonesome sound. something compelled him to pluck his cigarillo out of his mouth and forcefully lay it on the ground next to him. he was not going to see this girl again. he felt...

"no es para ella." he said plainly, the words spilling off his tongue like terrified cattle off a cliff. "i don't know where she is. i don't even know if she's allowed to get letters. i haven't seen her or my son in months. this is a letter for someone else."

miranda's hands stayed clasped by her chin, but her eyes grew wide. firelight twisting in them. john stared her down unblinking and rigid and he did not know goddamn why and she opened her mouth to speak twice, failed both times. their campsite was so godawfully exposed, paths on all sides, mourning, he's in mourning, that's what it was. a cart pulled by two oxen with a little family in it clattered by on those paths. a dog was following. he was not doing anything wrong. god forbid he want some fucking company. 

his hand felt about in the dust and finally took up the cigarillo and he placed it slowly between his cleaved lips like he was smoking for the first time in his life and he bent back to the letter. it is hot most days, and the rains are refreshing. i have not had the chance to visit my land in escalera. but if i got my way, i would hope one day to show it to you and your father -

"it's a secret love. something forbidden." miranda managed to get out, her voice enthralled.

"pssh. i don't know. something like that." john drawled, his cigarillo bobbing. he was feeling every single emotion all at once at maximum capacity and not a single facet of his body betrayed it. he was rather proud of his self-control. pulling at the cigarillo with only his lips, just his black mouth visible under his black hat, he crossed out that last line. i doubt it's much good for ranching. he scratched instead. a familiar territory, marked in self-loathing.

i miss the united states and everyone on your ranch. i hope soon to be back.

yours, 

john marston

the assassin attempted to fold up the letter, fumbling with such a delicate action, dropping it once and savaging the left corner. heated, he relented and tugged off his heavy gloves and he folded it properly, turned it over in his huge, dirty hands, blew smoke out his nose in twin puffs. he - he didn't even remember how to address it, it had been that long since he'd participated in society. subconsciously his eyes flitted to miranda.

she was just as he'd left her and peering into his lap where the letter lay with no shame and with a wide and wondering innocence and behind her the horses were cropping the harsh grass and further still the scaffolding of the bridge stood completely black and sharp. no more trains. no moon. colourless everywhere save for that goddamn fire. finally he wrote on the back in his brutal scrawl. 

FROM JOHN MARSTON. TO MAIN HOUSE MACFARLANE RANCH.

the next breath he took was warm in a way a cigarette could not even pretend to understand. the old cowboy passed it around the side of the fire to miranda so as not to burn it and she took it with both slim brown hands and held it to her chest like it was a child. now, she was looking into his eyes.

"yo me encargaré, john." she whispered.

"gracias."

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Always her doll

Yesss!!! I hope you like it!!! Thank you for your request, and for your beautiful words!!! They lift my spirits!!! Sorry for the language mistakes!!! :))))

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, jealousy, Donna being Donna

Word count: 5,750

Summary: Maybe you you were too popular

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Mmm, I think they're ready,” you murmured, sighing and turning off the oven.

The old kitchen gave off a sweet, almost intoxicating aroma. Carefully, you took out that tray of freshly made muffins and ran a hand over your forehead, satisfied with the result.

“Perfect…” you whispered shaking your hands, scared when you noticed a presence behind you, gently grabbing your waist and pulling your body back. “Oh…” you jumped.

“Hi, tesoro…” the lady in black asked with a tender whisper in your ear, kissing your cheek, without letting your body go. “Did I scare you?”

“Donna,” you said smiling, closing your eyes to feel better her caresses, her displays of love that were not lacking in your daily life. “How long have you been hidden in the kitchen?”

“Hidden? You’re not thinking I was here to scare you,” she murmured amused, swaying your body.

“That's true, that's more like Angie,” you said with a tender smile, turning around to capture her lips with yours. “I thought you were busy with the dolls.”

“Mm,” she murmured, nodding, kissing you quickly and moving away from you, looking at the muffins with curiosity. “I couldn't concentrate with this delicious smell,” she commented amused.

“Oh, my bad,” you joked, pointing at yourself while wiping the excess flour from your hands. “Relax, I'm done.”

“What a pity…” she purred, with a tender smile, playing with your hand. “Muffins?”

“No, honey, they're not just muffins,” you said amused, pointing at your creations. “They're (Y/N)'s special ultra-delicious muffins”

“Mm, but they're still muffins,” Donna said, blinking mockingly. “Did you make them for me?”

“Well, you will have the honor of trying them,” you commented, with a mischievous smile. “But I warn you that they can give you a deliciousness attack,” you whispered, pretending a serious tone.

The lady in black laughed, shaking her head and studying those muffins, tilting her head.

It was just another day in your perfect life.

Being born in that sinister village was something like a life sentence, always surrounded by shadows, snow, grey skies… The fact that you had been blessed with a kind, fun and outgoing personality didn’t change your destiny, unless you yourself did something about it.

Not wanting to succumb to the shadows that surrounded that place, you decided to make your own path, to flee from the darkness, to avoid wasting your life in a loveless marriage, or serving day and night in the old castle.

No, a life of an ordinary villager was not for you, and you knew it.

After starting to lose hope, thinking that perhaps the Black Gods had already written your life and you could do nothing to remedy it, something that would change your life forever happened: you met her.

Donna Beneviento was one of the four pillars that held Mother Miranda's dominion. Mother Miranda, the priestess of the Gods and undisputed ruler of that snowy place.

You had heard so many things about that Lady Beneviento that having her near you made your body tremble.

But people like to talk, to invent terrible stories about the unknown, about the terrifying doll maker.

To be completely honest, some of those rumors were not wrong. The gifts of the Black Gods had granted that sick woman the ability to make you suffer the worst fear of your life, to turn anyone stupid enough to enter their grounds into a case of tears and unbearable terrors, if they survived…

Loneliness, darkness, complexes… All of this surrounded the young Lord. The claws of the dark demons had sunk deep into her skin. You always tried to live away from rumors, but even that didn't help when, on one of your endless walks, you crossed the threshold that separated light from darkness.

The woman in black had surely prepared to kill you, so her loneliness would be her companion once again. That was the only moment in your life when you were afraid, but it didn't last long.

Sick? Yes, disturbed? Oh, of course, sweet and kind? Sure. Little by little you discovered that  words were absurd if you compared them to reality.

An extroverted girl like you didn't seem like the companion she was looking for, nor did she seem like the great love you dreamed of every night, but your grandmother had a saying: wishes always come true, but not in the way you expect.

She was right, you fell in love with that lady in black, with that soft voice, broken by lack of use, with her hands, with her body, and, finally, with her beauty.

A wounded, deformed beauty, but a beauty, the most beautiful you had ever seen in your young life. Not even an insignificant scar, nor the worries she had about the gift of the Gods to her body, were enough of a reason to abandon her, to not feel the love that filled your soul when you were with her.

There were problems, yes, your social and almost popular character clashed with her desires for tranquility, for solitude. Of course, there was nothing that could break that love, nothing, not even that different behavior.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, savoring one of those freshly made delicacies, as always when you cooked, with a frown, studying each ingredient. “You put cinnamon on it.”

“You don't miss a thing, do you?” you joked, giving her a nudge, which made her laugh shyly, sweetly... You loved her with all your soul. “Eat as many as you want, but leave at least 5 or 6.”

Donna nodded with a tender look, checking every detail of that sweet.

“(Y/N),” she said, as if she had just realized something important. “You said they're not for me...”

You rolled your eyes, taking a breath, preparing for a tense conversation, as always when you wanted to leave the old estate.

“No, they're for Luiza and my friends,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. She looked at you with her eyebrow raised, her expression serious.

“You're going to leave again,” she murmured, shaking her head with a sad sigh. “(Y/N), you spent the whole afternoon out yesterday.”

“Well, I'm really in demand,” you joked, closing your eyes, instantly regretting your choice of words. “Um, forget I said that.”

“In demand? What do you mean? D-don’t, don't make me nervous,” she said, with a worried look, her brow furrowed, studying each of your possible micro expressions.

“I don't want to make you nervous, Donna, I mean... Well, you know I have a lot of friends,” you said, thinking better of your words.

“Too many,” she commented, in a small voice, looking away from you.

You, wanting to avoid a jealous attack, smiled tenderly, approaching Donna and cupping her face in your hands, kissing her to calm her nerves.

“Don't be mad, my love... I promise I'll be back soon,” you whispered tenderly, hanging on to her waist, without your lips completely leaving hers.

“You always say the same and then, then I spend the whole night waiting for you,” she said, nervous, moving away from your kisses, with a dark look. You snorted, guiding her face so she wouldn't stop looking at your bright eyes.

“I'm just going to have tea at Luiza's house, I'll be back before you know it,” you said calmer, playing with her hands, with your best good girl face. “Why don't you dedicate yourself to your dolls?”

“I've been in the workshop all day, I wanted to be with you,” she protested, with a tone that couldn't help but be a bit childish. “In-inoltre, you know perfectly well that when you're not her I can't be calm.”

“Well... Hey, I can call Luiza and tell her I'm not going, what do you think?” you offered, not wanting to argue with her, knowing that, in part, if we forget about the absurd jealousy, she was right.

You had many friends, in the village you weren't just any girl, everyone knew you. If they asked you, you could swear that it was the only part that Lady Beneviento didn't like about you.

The lady in black sighed, kissing your hand and walking away from you while shaking her head.

“I-I can't do that, I can't stop you from doing whatever you want... You, you told me it wasn't right,” she stammered, with her gaze down, biting her tongue so as not to tell you to do it, to cancel that tea.

“I say a lot of things,” you sighed, rubbing her back while she focused absurdly on the counter. A strange idea popped into your head. “Hey, why don't you come with me?”

“Cosa?” she asked confused, with a disoriented face. “Me? With you?”

“Yes, you, with me,” you repeated amused, being the one who grabbed her waist from behind, nodding profusely. “Why not? To get some fresh air from time to time is good for you.”

“I don't mind getting some fresh air, but, but...” Donna said, grabbing your hands so you would let her body go, turning slowly. “No, what do you want me to do with all those villagers?”

“Oh, sorry, Your Majesty,” you mocked, something that the lady growled annoyed at. “Hey, come on, it might be a good idea, right? I've talked so much about you to my friends that I'm sure they're dying to meet you.”

“Yes, literally,” Donna pointed out, shaking her head again. “They already know me, (Y/N).”

“Well, not as much as I do,” you insisted, hanging on to her shoulders again, kissing her lips in a mischievous way. “Come with me, Donna, you'll have a good time… Besides… Are you going to turn down the opportunity to know what I do when I'm not at home?”

“Mm,” she murmured, frowning, her gaze on yours, but at the same time, far away from it, thoughtful. “I hadn't seen it that way,”

“Don't forget that I always manage to convince you, always,” you whispered in her ear in a mischievous way, making her whole body tremble.

“I have that weakness for you...” she sighed, while you approached the kitchen door, winking at her.

“Put on your veil, darling, we're going for a walk,” you joked, leaning on the door frame and leaving the kitchen with a playful gesture.

The walk through the forest was always relaxing. The winter breeze seemed warm with her hand in yours, with that slow walk, with that desire to enjoy your company to the fullest. Unfortunately, you were not alone...

“Where are we going?” Angie, Donna's inseparable doll, asked. One doll that many times, made you want to throw her into the fireplace.

“Again?” you said annoyed, rolling your eyes.

“Where, where!?” the puppet shrieked again, forcing you to press your lips tightly.

“To Luiza's house, it's the fifth time I've told you,” you growled, being comforted by the soft caresses of the lady in black, who looked at you through her veil. “Donna, was it really necessary?”

“I'm not going anywhere without her,” the lady whispered in a dark voice. You had no choice but to snort in defeat, enduring the doll's mocking words.

“Ha! Suck that, you stupid village girl!” the doll mocked, clinging to her owner. You darkened your gaze, but looked away sulkily.

“Angie, basta,” Donna said, calming the doll's excitement, one that was inevitable every time she left the estate.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Angie shouted again, making you regret your offer. “Shall we play movies?”

“No,” Donna and you said at the same time.

“Come on, I'll start... Do you know what movie I think of when I see you two?”

“Oh, not again...” you lamented, especially knowing that her film culture had increased thanks to the Duke's forbidden tapes.

“Scema e più Scema,” the puppet hissed, making you dig into the snow, fists clenched.

“I've been living with Donna for over a year. Do you think I don't know what you said?” you asked angrily, but knowing that messing with you was her biggest hobby and that, after all, you could consider her something like a friend.

“Mm, you're Dumber,” Angie said.

“Don't listen to her, tesoro,” Donna whispered, pulling you to move, finally leaving the property.

“(Y/N),” an old woman, who recognized you as you headed to your destination, said. You stopped with a smile, separating yourself from your girlfriend and approaching her. “Gods, how nice to see you…”

“Mrs. Ivanovic, you look well,” you said in a friendly manner, shaking the old woman's hands. She looked over your shoulder at the lady in black, lowering her head in respect.

“My dear, if I'm here it's thanks to you… I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me with the cracks in my house,” the woman said, taking your hands in a grateful manner. “Tell me, girl, does she take good care of you?”

“Donna?” you asked, giving away the old woman's question, one that caught the attention of the lady in black. “Oh, of course she does.”

“Every day I pray for you, I pray for her to take pity on your soul,” the old woman whispered, with terrified eyes that discreetly looked at the Lord.

“Don't pray that much, Mrs. Ivanovic, you know you have a privileged place next to the Black Gods,” you joked, saying goodbye to the old woman, who almost ran past the lady.

“Who was it?” Angie asked, indiscreetly.

“Oh, well, a woman I helped a while ago, her house was almost in ruins,” you explained, taking the hand of the brunette again, who seemed to have her gaze fixed on that poor old woman. “Donna? Come on.”

The Lady grunted, and, after greeting a few villagers who came to talk to you, you arrived at your destination. Donna didn't say anything, she seemed nervous.

“My dear, what a joy to see…” Luiza said as she opened the door, turning pale when she saw who was accompanying you. “Lady Beneviento…”

“I'm accompanied today,” you said amused, running a hand over the shoulders of the brunette, who shifted uncomfortably. “I hope it's not a problem.”

“No, of course, of course it’s not,” the woman said, nervously, stepping aside. “It's an honor, my lady.”

Donna nodded kindly, entering the house with you, holding her faithful doll in her arms.

“The Black Gods bless me with your presence, my lady,” Luiza said, walking while playing with her hands, leading you to the living room, where your friends were already waiting.

“Hey, guys!” you said with a smile, greeting your friends effusively, leaving your girlfriend behind, who sighed, surely overwhelmed by so many people.

Everyone turned around with a smile that faded when they saw your companion, staying with their eyes wide open, totally petrified.

“What's wrong with you? Did the Lycan get your tongue?” you joked, approaching your best friend, Elena, patting her back affectionately.

“(Y/N)… Hey, hello,” the young Lupu said, as did the others, staring at Lady Beneviento.

“What are those faces about?” you asked, leaving the muffins on the table, frowning in amusement. “Calm down, she doesn't bite.”

“Speak just for Donna, silly,” Angie said, startling those present, who lowered their heads in terror.

“Oh, come on, relax, pretend she's not here,” you said, gesturing with your hand. “She's here to accompany me, not to judge you for your sins.”

“Please sit, my lady,” Luiza said, indicating a place for Donna to sit, without letting your friends' eyes leave her.

The lady nodded again, sitting down with a stoic pose.

“Would you like a cup of tea, my lady?” the woman offered, to which Donna nodded slowly, staring at your friends, as if she were analyzing their soul.

“Well…” you said, sitting down too, trying to break the tension of the moment. “I see your arm is better than ever, Viktor,” you said, pointing at your friend, who seemed to relax at last, now avoiding eye contact with Donna.

“Oh, yes, much, much better,” the boy said with a smile, taking one of your muffins. “Oh, really, (Y/N), you should sell these things…”

“That's what the baker is for,” you joked, always keeping an eye on the brunette, who remained motionless while Luiza served her tea, trembling.

“I've already lost two teeth because of his bread,” he joked, shaking his head. “Your hands are really divine…”

The lady in black abruptly turned her head towards you, but you ignored her, looking at your friend.

“Can't you stop flattering me for a second?” you said amused, with a blush visible on your cheeks. “Hey, Elena, how's your father feeling?”

“Oh, mu, much better,” the girl said, with a calmer smile. “If it weren't for you, he'd still be sick.”

“Don't thank me, thank Donna's fabulous plant encyclopedia,” you said, grabbing the lady's hand, which seemed to be shaking. “Right, honey?”

They all looked at each other, visibly uncomfortable.

The lady didn't answer, so you shook your head, ignoring her passivity.

“We missed you on bonfire day,” another of your friends said, changing the direction of the conversation, feeling less and less afraid.

“Yes, I told you…” said another of them, laughing amused, receiving a slap from Luiza before he took another one of your muffins.

“Let's pray,” the woman said, clasping her hands and bowing her head towards Donna, feigning fearful respect.

“Oh, come on Luiza, it's not necessary,” you said, indicating to the woman to sit next to you, something she did without taking her eyes off your girlfriend. “Come on, eat, they're freshly made. Do you want one muffin, darling?” you asked Donna, who gently shook her head, her whole body tense.

“You should have come,” your friend Ivan said, amused, when the atmosphere relaxed, almost forgetting that the fearsome Lord was present, something easy, since the lady in black looked more like a piece of furniture than a person.

“No, thanks, I don't want to get lost like last year,” you said, taking a sip of tea.

“You got lost by yourself,” Elena joked, with a calm smile. “I think you were sure you had seen the same tree twice.”

“Well, it was a very similar one,” you said. “Luckily you managed to find me.”

“Find you? I doubt you even knew where you were, (Y/N),” she said, arching her eyebrows and shaking her head.

“That’s true!” Viktor said, laughing mockingly. “We had to carry you… Home.”

You laughed embarrassed. You could sense from her awkward movements that Donna was not amused at all. After all, she was the one who took care of you that night.

“Poker, losers!” Angie shouted, who, unlike her owner, seemed to be at ease in company, taking the savings from three of your friends, who protested with a grunt.

“It seems that Angie is having a good time,” you whispered to the brunette, who looked distractedly at the doll while you calmed her with a soft caress under the table.

“Last year was very funny,” Elena commented, attracting your attention again. “Do you remember the bets?”

You were left breathless for a moment, praying that neither of you would talk about it.

“Yes, of course I remember, (Y/N) lost and had to spend ten minutes locked in the closet with Katia,” one of your friends commented, so you closed your eyes.

As expected, the brunette didn't like that comment, and she folded her teaspoon over itself, dropping it on the table and drawing everyone's attention.

“Oh, wow, do you want another teaspoon?” you asked cautiously, looking at that shattered cutlery. She shook her head. You couldn't see it, but you knew her eye was burning under the black veil.

Without saying anything to you, she reached out her hand for the doll, which moved towards her, floating in the air as she stood up abruptly from the chair.

“I'm going home,” she whispered so only you could hear her. She seemed terribly upset, and it was no surprise.

“Oh, yeah, okay... Um, we're leaving,” you said with an apologetic look. Elena looked at you and waved her hand.

“Are you coming on Friday?” she asked.

You nodded as Donna walked towards the exit, looking at you to follow her.

“Yes, I'll try,” you said in a friendly tone, hugging your friend goodbye, something that made a furious growl sound through the hallway. Donna was already gone.

“I'm, I'm leaving,” you said timidly, leaving the house hastily, trying to catch up the brunette. “Hey, Donna, wait!”

The lady stopped without looking at you, letting you take her arm, almost dragging you through the snow.

“Hey, hey, are you having a crisis?” you asked, noticing her labored breathing. She stopped and looked at you through the fabric.

“No,” she answered dryly, walking back towards the old mansion.

“Oh, okay... Um... Donna, don't go that fast...”

With a hurried step, without saying a word, the waterfall loomed over you again. The lady in black let you go and opened the doors with a furious gasp, pushing the veil away from her face, showing you her irrational anger.

“We had a good time, didn't we?” you said shyly, closing the doors again, with a good girl look.

“E che cazzo, (Y/N)?” she hissed leaving Angie on the floor, breathing heavily.

“What? I, I don't know what you mean…” you stammered, scratching the back of your neck. “What's wrong, honey?”

“What's wrong? How dare you to ask me what's wrong?” the lady said shaking her head, blinking in disbelief.

You rolled your eyes and sighed impatiently, kicking the floor.

“I ask you because I don't know, what’s wrong with you?” you said with your emergency tone, a calm and patient one.

“Why did you want me to go with you? To rub in my face how much everyone loves you?” Donna asked again, with a dark, dangerous look.

“Excuse me?” you said, arching your eyebrows. “Donna... It's not about that.”

“No? And what is it about? Do you know what it's been like for me to endure that kind of strange adoration that everyone has for you?” she asked, furious, pointing at you with her finger.

“Calm down,” you whispered, making a gesture of relaxation with your hands. “You're losing control, honey, come on, breathe...”

“Vaffanculo!” Donna shrieked furiously, moving her hands in an exaggerated way, dragging out her words. “I'm not losing control, you're driving me crazy, (Y/N).”

“How rude,” you joked with a mischievous smile, approaching the lady to caress her face. “Don't be mad, my love... That people love me shouldn't make you feel bad.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she said, with a nervous laugh, moving away from your reassuring caresses. “I'm very happy to see that everyone loves you, to see that they have fun locking themselves in a closet with you, that they only have nice words for you...”

“If I remember correctly, you like me that way,” you counterattacked, with a haughty tone, not letting yourself be provoked. You were already a black belt in arguments with Donna, in handling the problems of her wounded mind.

“What way?” the doll maker asked, shaking her head, blinking erratically.

“Kind and affectionate,” you said, raising your head. “According to you, that's what made you fall in love with me.”

“Yes, and I'm starting to think I'm not the only one who feels that way,” Donna hissed, without relaxing her hardened features. “Tell me, (Y/N), how many times have you cheated on me with that stupida?”

“Who?” you asked open-mouthed, surprised by that baseless accusation. “Oh, no, you can't be serious…”

“I'm completely serious,” she whispered threateningly, grabbing your arm too tightly, so you protested with a hiss of pain.

“Donna, you, you’re hurting me…” you said, fighting against her grip, against the nails that dug into your skin.

“You’re the one who’s hurting me, (Y/N)… Do you like hugging that stronza? Let's see if you like it the same way when I get rid of her.”

“Okay, that's enough, Donna,” you said, making an effort to free yourself from her grip and give her a slow slap on the cheek.

“Now you hit me… I see everything clearly,” Donna hissed, putting a hand on her bruised cheek. You rolled your eyes, starting to lose patience. “You've never loved me.”

“I hit you so you'll stop saying stupid things. I hugged Elena because she's my friend, friends hug each other, did you know that?” you said with a haughty tone, trying unsuccessfully to reason with her deranged mind.

“So how many friends do you have, (Y/N)?” she asked, not giving in. “Do you hug all of them?”

“Many, I have many friends, Donna,” you hissed, trying to be threatening, something that wouldn't be possible. “But you know what? I'm not surprised you don't know. You haven't had a friend in your entire life…”

Donna recoiled from your words, unable to respond to that terrible truth, one you didn't want to use, one you instantly regretted.

“Donna, honey… I, I didn't mean…” you said in a softer tone, moving closer to take her hand, a hand she pulled away with a snort.

“You said it, (Y/N),” she whispered with a broken voice, looking away from you. “if you said it, it's because you mean it.”

“No, well, I… Let's see, it's true that I…” you stammered, grabbing the brunette by the shoulders, fighting her attempts to get away from you. “My love… Hey, I love you, you know? I love you so much and…”

“You love them too,” Donna whispered, stopping resisting your hold, her eye wet with tears.

“It's not the same,” you explained, relaxing your breathing, controlling hers with gentle movements.

“You don't understand, do you?” she said, starting to sob, shaking her head, totally out of her mind. “You don't understand what it's like to always see you surrounded by people, to see how they smile at you and... Hug you and...”

“I guess I can't help it,” you said with a tender smile, playing with her hands that allowed your soft caresses. “You've fallen in love with a very popular girl…”

“A very beautiful girl,” Donna sighed, closing her eye to calm her demons.

“Well, that's what they say,” you joked wrongly again. Donna didn't seem angry. She simply brought a hand to your cheek.

“It hurts me, tesoro, it hurts me to think that someone could... Could take you away from me... Y-you're right, I, I've always been alone and... I don't... I don't know what...” she said with a broken voice, passing her hand over your face, touching, feeling all your beauty.

“Shh…” you whispered, moving a little closer, swaying your body, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead against hers. “Shut up, my love… My precious Donna… You have nothing to fear…”

“You know that no matter how many times you tell me… I will always be afraid of losing you,” the lady whispered, placing your hair, letting her body move with yours.

“Well, but I can do something to make you believe me,” you said with a tender smile, running a finger along her lips. “There is something I don't do with anyone else…”

Slowly, you approached her lips, kissing them softly, savoring the salty taste of her desperation, of her irrational fear. She deepened the kiss, as if that romantic and simple act had been enough to calm her. You knew it wasn't like that, but at least, it seemed to have an effect.

“See? I only do this with you…” you murmured with a tender voice, biting your lips. “I'm yours, darling, only yours…”

“Only mine…” Donna whispered, blinking in confusion, as if she was thinking about something. “You're right, you're mine…”

Her voice became dangerous. Her hands gripped your face tightly, dragging you into a much messier, deeper, more impatient kiss. Her hands began to get out of control, traveling down your body, clawing at your legs under your dress. The gasps were not long in coming.

“You're mine!” the lady shouted with a furious growl, pushing you roughly against one of the tables in the hall.

You gasped in surprise, but not annoyed, letting the lady hug you from behind, kiss your neck wildly, your breasts were an easy prey for her hands.

“Donna,” you sighed with a smile, letting the heat replace the jealousy, letting the brunette's surprisingly wild attitude continue.

Donna was always affectionate, maybe too much. She was always gentle, always holding you like you were something fragile, kissing you softly, making love to you slowly, romantically. That possessive attitude was totally different, but you didn't know you liked it that much.

“You're not going to abandon me... You're mine...” she whispered nervously, pulling up your dress as your body was covered in kisses, as your back lowered to give her better access to her desires. “And I'm going to prove it to you.”

“Mm, okay,” you said amused, silenced by a hand on your mouth, as your underwear was stripped from your body with a furious tug, letting it slide down your ankles.

“Don't... Talk...” Donna hissed, pressing her hand against your mouth, with a dark, but exciting tone. “Only do it if you're going to say you're mine, I just want to hear you say that, is it clear?”

You nodded, arching your eyebrows at that abruptness, when her fingers went down your wetness, when they ran through your folds, deforming them for what was to come.

“Now you're going to... stay still,” the lady in black whispered, playing with her dress, releasing her throbbing erection and passing it through your wet entrance, causing a moan and a tremor of your hips, which desperately sought more contact.

“Mm, Donna...” you moaned, repressing the pleasure that simple touch caused in your body, the sensation of her hard shaft moving freely through your folds.

Definitely the wild Donna was climbing positions.

“Hey! Tell me,” you protested when she entered you roughly, stretching your body hastily, forcing your walls to accommodate the intruder. “Donna, you know you're big... It-it hurts...”

“Shut up!” she squealed, moving slowly, making her way into your wetness, giving you a strong tug on your hair. “If you love me, you'll have to hold on. I don't want to waste time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said amused, moaning in pleasure at all those sensations, at how exciting it was to see her out of her mind while she was inside of you. “Mm… Honey…”

“Do any of your friends do this to you? Huh?” she said nervously, starting to move when the wetness of your entrance allowed her, sliding effortlessly, with your walls praising, squeezing her erection intensely.

“Not at all,” you joked, following her frenetic rhythm with your hips, getting a spank for your boldness.

“I said, shut up… Just nod, doll,” Donna hissed, scratching the skin of your hips, moving your body to her will, making that table move dangerously.

You obeyed, hiding your face, euphoric with pleasure, moaning discreetly as she took you intensely, quickly, but making you feel the greatest pleasure possible.

“Doll… I like it,” you said among moans, leaning so she could move better, so it would be easier for her to manipulate your hips, to dig her nails into your skin.

“Do you like it? Good…” she said, moaning too, slowing down the rhythm of her thrusts, taking you slower, enjoying the journey her body made inside yours. “Because that's what you are… La mia bambola…”

“Mm, yes… Yours…” you repeated, losing control of your movements, moaning scandalously, hitting the table because of your inability to hold her while she moved inside of you, while she deformed your wet walls.

“Mine, only mine... If, if someone lays a hand on you I will...” she said, fighting against her own pleasure, against the warm, wet embrace of your body in hers, stimulating it with your own movements.

“No one will lay a hand on me… I’m yours, your doll… Only yours… Do whatever you want with me, my love,” you moaned, fighting the impulses that alerted you of your imminent release, one that her rough and wild attitude caused to advance.

“That's it… Good doll…” she whispered, hardening her thrusts, controlling the trembling of your body with a firm hand on your back, moving gracefully as she moaned, while completely dominating you. “Mine…”

“Donna, I'm, I'm close…” you said nervously, with your legs shaking when the lady in black slowed down, torturing you, knowing that you weren't lying.

“Is my little doll close? You're such a good doll…” she said amused, grabbing your neck, leaning it back so she could capture your lips. “Ask me, doll. Ask me to let you venire…”

“Mm, please…” you whispered, leaning forward again along her evil laughter, surely due to the clumsy movements of your hips, which were desperately trying to regain that overwhelming sensation.

“Louder…” Donna hissed, moving painfully slowly, grabbing your hair again.

You, totally sunk in pleasure, were unable to say a word, earning a strong tug followed by a loud spank.

“Louder, doll!” the lady shrieked.

“Please, Donna! I'm a good doll! Let me cum!” you said with your voice broken by pleasure.

“That's the way I like it,” she said, satisfied, fulfilling your wishes, resuming her thrusts, holding your hips, not letting you even think about moving away.

Your orgasm came soon, forcing your body to tense, to arch, held by her arms, overstimulated by the continuous movements of her hips, which seemed not to want to stop.

“Cazzo…” the lady moaned, holding you tighter as she released herself inside of you, unable to resist the involuntary movements of your walls. Her heat filled you in a terribly pleasurable way, like a wet caress, claiming you, letting her seed mix with your arousal with a furious growl.

Then there was a moment of silence, only interrupted by your disordered breathing as your bodies relaxed.

“Donna…” you sighed moving away so she could get out of you, pulling down your dress and turning around. “It was…”

“I'm sorry,” she said, her forehead sweaty, lowering her hands to your waist. “I, I went too far…”

“What? No, I…” you said amused, shifting uncomfortably due to the dampness of your legs, turning her face to look at you. “It, it was great, my love, different…”

“So… do you like being my doll?” Donna asked, with a cautious tone, frowning.

You nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, hugging her affectionately.

“I'm yours, Donna. I'll always be yours…”

[sincerely-sofie]

Do songs that you listen often to ever remind you of characters or events from TPiaG or other stories you've written? It happens to me a lot with stuff from a story with OCs I've been helping my best friend make for years now.

Anyways, I'm asking about it because a song from my playlist reminded me a lot of Twig when I heard it while driving the other day. I had heard the song a million times before, but when I was thinking about the lyrics more they seemed to perfectly fit her internal conflict. The song was Blurt by Mega Mango if you want to take a listen.

The song is definitely just about dealing with mental health issues in general, but my PMD brainrot made it so that this was all I could think about after my epiphany. On that note, I want to offer you a congratulations for writing characters so well that they takes over my brain from time to time. I greatly appreciate it. :D

First up: Thanks so much for your kind words! Second: Oh my goodness. My friend, you are opening up Pandora's Box. 

TPiaG doesn't have as many songs associated with it as my other projects because it hasn't been in development for several years— however, a vital part of my story development process is listening to music and imagining all the animatics of the characters and storyline that I want to make set to them. I do this for every project that sufficiently resonates with the blorbo frequency in my brain, and TPiaG is no exception! 

In terms of songs that embody specific events but aren't connected to a single character, I regularly listen to “Turn the Lights off” by Tally Hall and imagine a sort of extended theme song animation for if TPiaG were an animated series. There's so many lines that mention concepts important to the story!

Another animatic song, this one set in the Dark Future when Twig was human and starting her and Grovyle's quest to save the world, is "Running Out Of Time" by Lin-Manuel Miranda--- specifically the stretch spanning at roughly 1:10 to the end of the song. I have a very vivid image of Twig repeatedly shouting at Grovyle that they need to abscond ASAP as he frantically gathers supplies that spilled out of his bag while they're being pursued by the sableye, and then of Dusknoir being dismissed by a ferryman as he's interrogating him on which way they went.

I also still listen to “Let's Get This Over With” by They Might be Giants and imagine the rest of that one unfinished animatic I posted forever ago. That song isn't as blatantly connected to the events of the game, but there's a few anchor points in the lyrics I really enjoy. 

As for individual characters and songs I associate with them, here’s a selection with links to Spotify for easy listening!

Twig:

"Hey, Doctor Doctor" by Milk in the Microwave

"Monster" by Half Moon Run

"Smile" by Ukuletea

"Feelings Are Fatal" by mxmtoon

... And now, "Blurt" by Mega Mango as well!

Ark:

"Problems" by Mother Mother 

"Rule #21- Momento Mori" by Fish in a Birdcage

"What You Know" by Two Door Cinema Club

Kip:

"I'm Not Fine" by Blixemi

"Don't Throw Out My Legos" by AJR

"Just Take My Wallet" by Jack Stauber’s Micropop

Grovyle:

"The Villain I Appear to Be" covered by Annapantsu

"Surface Pressure" covered by Annapantsu

(I don't know why both of these songs are specifically the versions sung by Annapantsu. Apparently she's Grovyle-coded in my head.)

Celebi:

(Insert any bubblegum pop or kawaii future bass song of your choice here.)

(Celebi has somehow evaded my ability to assign her songs. I’ll get her someday.)

Dusknoir: 

"I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young

"Never Love an Anchor" by The Crane Wives

"I Was Me" by Imagine Dragons

Twig's Aunt:

"Family Jewels" by Marina and the Diamonds

"In Fact (Demo Version)" By Gregory and the Hawk

"Ain't It Fun" by Paramore

Twig's Mother:

"Brother" by Madds Buckley

And for those who'd enjoy some Travailshipping songs...

"You Are The Moon" by The Hush Sound

"Dark Clay" by Levi Weaver

"When the Day Met the Night" by Panic! at the Disco

"Can I Have the Day With You" by Sam Ock

"Tongues & Teeth" by The Crane Wives

[housewarningparty]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @coraniaid and @isagrimorie. thanks!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

45 stories

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

361,583 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively? Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Life is Strange, Mass Effect, Avatar the Last Airbender, Warrior Nun. But i'd be down for other stuff!

Formerly: MTV Scream, She-Ra, Oxenfree

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

You Got Cool (She-Ra, 6,990 kudos)

Everybody Needs a Fence to Lean On (Life is Strange, 2,140 kudos)

Tear You Apart (Life is Strange, 1,918 kudos)

Every Other Freckle (Life is Strange, 1,579 kudos)

Dream Blue Haze (Life is Strange, 1,535 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I've been trying to more recently! But I'm not always great at it. At the very least when someone comments something detailed and thoughtful I try to reply - those comments always mean a lot to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Not fully intentionally but the place @holdsteady and I left our collaborative fic How to Live Here was basically right after a massive fight/breakup between characters that we fully planned to resolve and then just.... never did. Oops. Surprisingly, people are very rarely mean to us about this.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Body Language? Very much intended to have that one wrapped up with a bow.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not in a long time. Last time I really did was on some of my Life is Strange fics (either homophobic hate or bc i was writing a ship people didn't like).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah! Femslash only.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I sometimes joke about/hc elaborate crossovers when I'm watching stuff with my friends, but I don't really have any interest in writing any. Or reading any, really, for that matter.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! Had one of my LiS fics translated to Vietnamese. That was cool.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah! I co-wrote How to Live Here with my best friend @holdsteady! That's the only one that's been published, at least. @nataliving adn @jewishsuperfam and i have worked on some stuff together too and that's been fun :)

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I don't know if I actually can pick one but honest Buffy/Faith are all-timers and absolutely formative. Second to that would be Rachel/Max/Chloe from Life is Strange.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

God, How to Live Here absolutely haunts me. There's a few Mass Effect ones (Shepard/Liara arranged marriage AU and my Jack/Miranda series) that I would love to finish but probably never will. Those are the ones that probably have the most written for them that I just haven't wrapped up.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at a lot of it! I write pretty good smut, I'm good at character voice, I think my writing is pretty readable

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually writing lmao. I struggle with coming up with workable ideas. I intimidate myself out of projects a lot. I fall off stuff kinda easy too tbh. And I'm TERRIBLE at writing alone - for anything bigger than a oneshot I need someone to hype me up and hold my hand through it or else I get bored or lose confidence :?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Generally in favor of skipping the google translate stuff. It's usually pretty whack

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically digimon when i was a little kid and before I even knew what fanfic was. First i posted was Danny Phantom

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I think Body Language is probably my best fic but for sentimental reasons I really love How to Live Here, since i wrote it with my best friend.

tagging @nataliving, @holdsteady, @shittinggold, @earthenterran, @lafgl, @aliceinwondrbra,, @strangesmallbard, @areweunderscoreweare, @jewishsuperfam, @morningsound15

[writebackatya]

Was tagged by @justaboot in a post with a lot of questions, let's do this!

how many fics do you have on ao3?

14

what's your total ao3 word count?

159,641 words. but let's be real, a good chunk of them are song lyrics.

what fandoms do you write for?

DuckTales (2017)

what are your top five fics by kudos?

Indi-Quack!

Rainbow Connections

Home for the Holidays!

Moon with a View!

Let's All Go to the Movies!

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

For the most part, yes. I try my best to get back to people's comments, especially if they have questions. But sometimes I just don't have the energy when I wish I did

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'd say the ending to F.O.W.L. Play! from Indi-Quack! might be the angstiest. Nothing like ending a story where you go through the morning routine of one FOWL employee and finding out she keeps her sanity by getting high with another underpaid employee who works her ass off a minimum wage and is also not happy where she is in life

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

hard to choose since I almost always go for the happy ending route. I think any of the stories for Home for the Holidays! could be the answer to this one cause those stories are nothing but holiday and winter fluff.

do you get hate on your fics?

it happens but not often. the first time I ever got hate was from a Della hater troll and they seem to be the only one who leaves hate on my fics

do you write smut?

no, but I've thought about it before. I don't mind sex in a story, but I don't know if I'm the right person to write that kind of stuff in a story. Honestly, the only reason why I wanna write smut is because I've plenty of jokes that I think are funny that would only work in a smut story

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've ever written?

kinda??? would you consider having characters from various Duck media that never appeared in DuckTales 2017 crossover stuff? Heck I've got a couple of Della Duck stories in the works where she interacts with Mickey and Friends and I don't know if that should be considered a crossover

have you ever had a fic stolen?

no. thanks guys!

have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but that'd be neat!

have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no, but that is something I wouldn't mind doing some day

what's your all time favorite ship?

Of all time!? I don’t know. I love love

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh so many: An Act of Murder!, Back in the Game!, F.O.W.L. Play!, The Iron Duck of Steel: The Gizmoduck Movie, Part I!, The Spear of Selene, and Thanks for the Memories!. I've just been working on these for so long that it feels like I'll never finish any of them

what are your writing strengths?

when I'm in the mood to write I can really write, I like to think my dialogue is interesting, characterization, and I'd say my rapid fire humor

what are your writing weaknesses?

I'm a terrible planner, I don't write stuff down, I keep stuff in my head like it's the best storage place, I underestimate how big some stuff will be, I don't allow myself to just write

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've mainly used Google Translate for other languages such as Jose and Panchito's dialogue in The Three Cabablleros (and Della)!. But for Let's All Go to the Movies! I got my buddy @tokuvivor to translate a conversation between Fenton and Gosalyn. Honestly, one of my favorite parts of that story and I think tokuvivor translating it himself adds to the joke. Both Lin-Manuel Miranda and Stephanie Beatriz both know Spanish, so having someone who can help me translate my dialogue so that it can sound natural and be a bonus to bilingual speakers just makes me happy beyond comprehension

I will say I did use Google Translate for that story, but for English! So for the Fight Fighters game I wanted to get that badly translated English feel for the dialogue so for pretty much every dialogue in the game was translated to Japanese and then back to English. Except the line "Now I will kill you until you die from it!", that comes from the movie Hot Shots! Part Deux

first fandom you wrote for?

...Sonic. it was a phase, i have no strong opinions about that blue hedgehog these days I mean I guess his games are...fine? The cast of characters are...pretty cool, I like Tails I guess.

favorite fic you've ever written?

hard to say, but I think I'd put Indi-Quack!, Rainbow Connections, Let's All go to the Movies! in the top spot

I choose to tag: @tokuvivor, @imjustusingthistolikeartists, if they choose to answer these questions

[angelasscribbles]

Run Away: A Bad Romance One-Shot and a Choices Prompt Story

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

This is a @choicesprompt story, find this prompt here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Rashad

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, mature themes

Word Count:  3,390

A/N: I haven't written a Riley and Rashad chapter in a while and I missed their dynamic so here you are!

The original Bad Romance chapter referenced in here is chapter 20: Full Disclosure. Chronologically this follows the one shot Interview.

subspace is explained here (it is simply mentioned, there is no NSFW scene in this piece)

My other stuff: Master List.

“Grab your coat, leave a note, and run away with me.”

“What?” Riley stopped what she was doing and turned to face the man standing across from her in astonishment, “Did you not hear what I just said about how insane this day has been?”          

“I heard every word you said, ya amar,” Rashad answered, “That’s why you need a break. Come on, grab your coat, and let’s go!”

Riley stared at him in consternation for a long moment as she considered his words.

Riley was having a hell of a week.

The Royal Council was being a royal pain in her ass. They hadn’t approved the budget she’d spent the last two months working on and they were pushing for her to consider marriage alliances for her daughter.

Like hell.

Drake was off on his annual deep-sea fishing trip with Bastien, which usually left Marco in charge but not this week. No, this week Marco had the fucking flu so Bruno was running point on everything and he wasn’t good at it.

The schedule kept getting fucked up. Either she had too many guards or not enough. She’d never even seen the kid that was posted outside her door that morning. He was far too young, far too nervous, and far too fucking excited for her to deal with at six a.m.

Crown Princess Eleanor was being extra and two of the part-time nannies had quit in the last week.

Kiara was back in town. Riley had run into her at a high-profile charity event and had to pretend to be nice to her.

Madeleine had just started her job as royal communications director and was running roughshod over her inherited staff. The HR complaints were stacking up but Riley couldn’t deny the countess was excellent at her job. She wasn’t inclined to fire her, but she was tired of fielding complaints about a hostile work environment. The countess had exacting standards. The queen could not argue with her results. Maybe it was time for some restructuring anyway.

Liam was out of town on business leaving her to deal with everything. Fucking Liam. He was the whole reason she was even queen to begin with. She had never wanted it. Not for herself anyway.

She didn’t even have Max to fall back on because thanks to the nanny issue, he’d had to stay home with Ellie.

She had been about ready to break down when a knock sounded on the door and her new office manager stuck her head in to announce Rashad’s arrival.

Martha was the seventh office manager she’d had in the three years since she’d become queen.

The first hadn’t worked out because he had been extremely hot and Liam had gotten extremely jealous.

The second had turned out to be dumber than a rock and Riley was forced to admit she had hired him for his abs.

The third time she hired a woman, but she had been extremely hot and extremely interested in Drake. She had lasted a day.

“Wow!” Miranda breathed as she watched Drake from across the room, “The captain of the Queen’s Guard is hotter than all nine circles of hell!”

“What?” A hugely pregnant Riley snapped.

“Captain Walker, the head of-“

“I know who the head of my Queen’s Guard is!” Riley slammed the file cabinet shut, “He’s in a relationship!”

“Who cares?” the bombshell brunette with a perfectly flat stomach tittered, “I’ll bet I can get him into bed in less than a week!”

“You’re fired,” Riley thrust the hiring paperwork back into her hands.

“What? Why?” Miranda’s head swiveled around in confusion.

“Come on,” Max gestured toward the door, “I’ll get you over to HR to process your termination paperwork.”    

The fourth one had actually been pretty good at the job, but after a year she had married one of the guardsmen that were always in and out of the office, gotten pregnant, and quit to be a stay at home mom.

Number five turned out to be an aspiring novelist looking for dirt on the royal family.

Number six caused a whole ass scandal by running away with the very married Count of Wickshire.

She’d finally relented and let Max do the advertising, interviewing, and hiring for the position like he’d asked to do in the first place. Max had brought all his organizational skills to the task. He had made flow charts and administered personality tests to candidates.

He’d found Martha who turned out to be a Godsend.

She wasn’t a hot guy for Liam to be jealous of, and she was old enough not to have any interest in Drake. She was also happily married, past childbearing age, and not a reporter. She was smart. And insanely good at the job.

Riley couldn’t have picked anyone better. Clearly, she couldn’t even pick anyone half as good judging by her track record. She had been abysmal at it.

But she had to admit, Max had knocked it out of the park with Martha. In the few short weeks she’d been there she had imposed order. The office now ran like a well-oiled machine.

And most importantly, to Max anyway, she ran things to his exact specifications.

Which was fine with Riley, she could give a crap less about how or where things were filed, who answered the phones, what information was placed in tabbed dividers vs filing cabinets, or which color marker was used to denote in-person meetings vs teleconferences vs conference calls.

She just wanted her agenda placed in front of her every morning, and whatever documents she asked for in her hand as quickly as they could get there.

Max had her agenda waiting for her on the breakfast table every morning and Martha did the rest.

Martha produced whatever she asked for, sometimes before she even asked for it. Her hot chai tea was on her desk every morning when she walked in the door and her messages came to her organized by priority and type.

If she ever threatened to quit Riley was giving her a raise. However much it took. A good office manager was worth their weight in gold.

Martha looked a little uncertain as she told the queen, “I’m sorry to bother you, Your Majesty, your attorney is here requesting a meeting with you, but he doesn’t have an appointment and Lord Beaumont was very specific about-“

“It’s ok, send him in! And Martha?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“He never needs an appointment and I’m always to be alerted immediately when he shows up, especially if it’s unexpected.”

“I’ll add him to the shortlist!”

The one that included the king, the head of her Queen’s Guard, and her personal assistant. Otherwise known as her husband and her two lovers. Lord Faheem was her lawyer. Was he more than that? Martha wondered, but it wasn’t her position to judge.

That was the other thing that made her a good office manager. Her extreme discretion.

“Thank you. Reschedule my next appointment and hold all my calls, unless it’s Liam, Drake, or Max.”

Martha disappeared and shortly thereafter Rashad appeared in her office.

All the stress drained right out of her body at the sight of him. “Ya helo! What are you doing here?” She sprang out of her chair, her face almost hurting from the width of the smile lighting it. She rounded the desk with purpose.

He moved toward her just as quickly, catching her in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, his eyes falling shut as he inhaled deeply. Her scent sent sparks of joy and relief flooding through him.

He was content with the mostly solitary life he led but there was a coiled tension inside him that only released in her presence.

His queen. His lover. His best friend.

If he had a soulmate, she was it.

She relaxed into his arms and before she knew it, poured out the week’s frustration to him.

“I’m sorry,” she pulled away sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to just dump all that on you. Why are you here?”

“Ostensibly? I have those papers drawn up for you to bring a motion to change the succession laws.” Specifically, the part about having to be married to ascend the throne. It was utter bullshit and she and Liam had agreed that Ellie shouldn’t be subjected to it.

Riley raised an eyebrow, “Ostensibly, huh? What’s the real reason then?”

He could have had the papers couriered over and they both knew it.

“Because I haven’t seen you in months! Your voice on the other end of the phone wasn’t cutting it. I needed to touch you,” he confessed.

She had missed him too and now he was standing in front of her asking her to run away with him and it was oh so tempting.

“Just for the rest of the day,” he wheedled, “I’ll have you home in time to tuck Eleanor into bed!”

“I don’t want Max to worry-“

“That’s why I said leave a note. Or text him. Come on,” Rashad walked to the door and pulled her coat off the hook next to it, “let’s go.”

Riley mentally ran through her looming deadlines. There was nothing that couldn’t be done tomorrow, and Ellie was safe and happy at home with Max.

The council wanted to discuss a betrothal for the princess further, but the council could kiss her ass.

She could use a break.

“Okay,” she agreed as she joined him at the door and slipped into the coat he was holding open for her, “but whatever else we do, I need this to end somewhere no one can find us, or disturb us, preferably someplace with a fireplace, a huge bathtub and hot chocolate on tap!”

“I know just the place,” he assured her as he pulled the door open, “I’ll even throw in a foot rub, but first we’re going to get your favorite lunch.”

“Ohhh! The Lune Bleue?” It was her favorite bistro.

“Who else makes the world’s best Monte Cristo?”

“You do know me well,” she gave him her first smile of the day, then to Martha as they passed through the outer office, “Cancel everything for the rest of the day.”

She slipped her arm through his and smiled up at him, the stress from the day already draining from her body as he pulled the door open and ushered her through it, “Thank you for making time for me today. I intend to make sure you don’t regret it.”

Her fingers pressed into his arm, “And I intend to hold you to that.”

Rashad helped her into the back of a nondescript SUV then turned and quickly gave orders to her guards before climbing in behind her. His own vehicle would stay in the palace garages until they returned. The Jaguar XE SV Project 8 was his pride and joy, but it was not equipped with bulletproof glass and Liam had drawn a hard line about the vehicles that his queen rode in. Not that Rashad minded, he found it understandable, though it did rankle a little that she was able to ride in Drake’s Devore GT.

Perhaps he’d look into having bulletproof glass installed.

They both typed into their phones as they drove. Him, to give instructions to the restaurant ahead of their arrival. Her, to let Max and Liam know where she was. Her fingers hovered over Drake’s contact for a moment. There was no need to update him. He was in the middle of the ocean, and she’d be home before he would anyway.

Drake didn’t need to know she was playing hooky with Rashad.

The Lune Bleue Bistro was Riley’s favorite spot for lunch. So much so that the restaurant had added a private dining area reserved exclusively for her use so that they were always ready for a royal visit at a moment’s notice. The expenditure was easily recouped by the hordes of customers that flocked to their doors when they learned it was the queen’s luncheon spot of choice.

The SUV pulled around to the back of the establishment so Riley and Rashad could enter undetected through a private, back door. They waited until her driver got the all-clear from the head of the team that had arrived ahead of them to sweep and secure the area.

They entered the small, but elegant private dining room to find the food already on the table. Rashad pulled her chair out as he told her, “I called ahead and told them to have your usual order ready. I hope that’s satisfactory.”

“It’s more than satisfactory, thank you, this is just what I needed.”

The man and woman that sat across from each other at the table both occupied high-powered, high-stress jobs. They both spent all day, every day making decisions that had far-reaching consequences.

Rashad enjoyed the pressure, he thrived under it. He was excruciatingly detailed oriented, having exacting standards for both himself and others. He enjoyed and needed control over almost every aspect of his life, it energized him, but it could be hard to turn it off and everyone needed downtime once in a while. The one place he could let go of all that and truly relax was the bedroom, but only with her. It was shocking how quickly he always slipped into subspace with her. She was where he found peace, solace, and a quieting of his ever-spinning mind.

In direct opposition to Rashad’s need to micro-manage every aspect of his life, Riley would have been happy to chuck all the responsibilities of ruling and live her life as a vagabond, a free spirit, going wherever and wherever the mood struck her.

She did the job she did for Liam. He had needed a queen and he had insisted it be her and despite all her protestations in the beginning, she did love him.

Max and Martha did the micro-managing for her so she could focus on the big picture. She was great at thinking outside the box, coming up with not always obvious solutions and innovations. But then she liked to hand them off to someone else to implement. She didn’t like to be bothered with the details.

She enjoyed being in control in the bedroom, but outside of it, she got tired of the constant bombardment of decisions and responsibilities so far from being annoyed by what some women might see as heavy-handedness, she quite enjoyed it when Rashad took over the small, mundane choices so she didn’t have to.

Issuing orders to her guards, choosing the restaurant, picking the food…these were small acts of love as far as she was concerned. And he was good at it because he knew her preferences. It was perhaps the one thing he had in common with Drake.

They took their time with lunch, lingering over dessert, and catching up with each other. Riley showed him recent photos and videos of Ellie and he reciprocated with photos of his nieces and nephews.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told her as they prepared to leave, “something I’d like your input on.”

“Color me intrigued! What is it?”

He smiled indulgently, “You’ll have to wait until we get there!”

***

The crown-issued SUV turned off the main highway a few miles outside of the capital and wound its way down several smaller roads before turning onto a private drive. Riley sat up and looked around curiously. It looked very familiar. The driveway was long and windy, but as they pulled around the last curve and the house came into view, Riley drew in a surprised gasp, “Rashad! What is this? Why are we here?”

“Well, it recently came on the market, and I put an offer on it.”

A delighted laugh escaped her as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of the estate. “But why?”

He gave her a hesitant smile as he opened the door and climbed out. Hopping to the ground, he turned back and offered her his hand, “I remembered how much you said you liked it when I rented it for you and Max that time.”

She took his hand and climbed out of the vehicle, “Wait…you bought it for…me?”

“Us,” he felt heat creep up his neck as he explained, “I love our trips abroad, but I’d like to see you more often when we’re both home in Cordonia. This is close enough to Stormholt City to be a quick, easy drive, but secluded enough to give us all the privacy we could want.”

The press watched his penthouse like hawks because of those stupid most eligible bachelor in Cordonia articles and the palace presented its own set of impediments, mainly Drake’s disapproval. They could only be seen together so much in public in the capital outside of business meetings or luncheons.

“Are the peacocks still here?” she asked curiously, glancing around as they made their way to the entryway.

“Yes, but put up in heated pens for the winter,” he pulled the door open for her.

She stepped out of the sharp cold and into the soft warmth of the interior, “And it doesn’t bother you that Max and I used it for a rendezvous?”

“No. Does it bother you?” He closed the door and turned to face her, pulling his coat off then reaching for hers. He hung them both up as he asked, “Do you consider it a special place for the two of you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “We were only here the one time.” She and Max had their own special places, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Okay, good,” he let out a sigh of relief as he followed her down the entryway, “So what do you think?”

“About what, exactly?”

“As I said, I put in an offer, and they accepted it, all I have to do is sign off on it to finalize the sale. I took early possession because I wanted your input first.” The sale could still be voided if she didn’t like it.

He was nervous. He had sent women flowers before, jewelry upon occasion, and he’d never second-guessed his choices for either. What he had never done before was buy an entire estate for a woman. He’d also never cared so much about her response.

She stopped in her tracks as they entered the living room. There was a fire already roaring in the fireplace, “How-“

“I texted ahead and had the caretaker start the fire. I also had him stock the kitchen with all the necessary supplies for hot chocolate. Now, I know I can’t make it like Hana can but-“

She spun around and threw her arms around him, cutting him off with a kiss. He drew her closer in his embrace as he responded to the kiss in kind.

When the kiss finally broke, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them grinning from ear to ear, “So, you like it?”

She traced a finger along his lower lip, “I love it, ya helo, sign the papers.”

“I’ll call the realtor while I make the hot chocolate. Why don’t you go take a bath? You remember where the master bedroom is?”

“Of course but I need-“

“All of your favorite personal hygiene items are already in there. The dresser and closet have been stocked with clothing in your size.”

“Now I know you didn’t get all that accomplished over lunch!”

“No,” he admitted, “Those items were delivered this morning. I had my personal assistant purchase them. I wanted to be prepared just in case.”

“Hm,” she pushed away from him, “Well you did deliver on everything I asked for today, and then some, so what do you say we wait on the hot chocolate, and you join me for that bath?”

“I say I’ll submit to whatever you command, my queen.”

A shiver of desire slid down her spine as she laced her fingers through his, “Come on then, let’s go christen this bitch!”

She led him up the stairs, giddiness swirling through her. She couldn’t and didn’t try to suppress the smile that lit up her face at the turn the afternoon had taken. She was so happy she had decided to run away with him, if only for the day.

[queen-tashie]

Writing Whispers

Tagged by @mrbexwrites, thanks! :D I've saved the greatest old excerpt for last, as a grand finale, which... you'll see why XD

Rules: find a few paragraphs of writing from as long ago as you can. Re-write them how you would now.

Tagging - @merriweather-the-un-merri-writer, @isabellebissonrouthier, and anyone else interested in trying this out! (It was a lot of fun!)

This took a while because most of my old writing was in notebooks. Fortunately, I still have some of them B-)

First, Against the Current, which is a Pokemon Fanfic I started in November 2009 and posted on a Finneon fan club Deviant Art account.

The black sea was still. The wind was calm. All the Pokémon of the area were resting, or so it seemed. Svena was a Totodile with a unique personality. Instead of being impulsive like many usually were, she was much more pensive. She enjoyed making theories about things surrounding her, like why the moon grew and shrunk every month, or why water reflected images when it was still.

How I'd write Against the Current now:

The wind and sea were unusually calm tonight. Svena, a Totodile, was waiting by the water's edge, her feet still dry in the cool sand. The starlight wasn't enough to show her reflection staring back tonight. Too many clouds covered the sky, cloaking the world in darkness. Svena stared out into the watery abyss, her body trembling as she fought against her fear just to be here, to be this close. At least the others couldn't see her. She was alone, so she thought.

Survival of the Fittest is what I call my 'second novel' which I never finished (much like my 'first novel'). This was an original work from November 2008.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Tyler tried to ignore his wireless alarm clock’s constant siren, but it was excessively insufferable. He felt around for the snooze button. His alarm clock seemed like a worthless little device, but getting up before the sun was important. Even in the year 2084, alarm clocks were still used as often as they were a century ago.

How I'd write Survival of the Fittest now:

Tyler slapped his alarm clock more times than he should've, but it wasn't turning off. He rose his sleepy head from the bunched-up sweatshirt, but before he could locate the snooze button on the displaced device, Miranda reached over him and shut it off, squeezing him close against her half-clothed body. They couldn't afford to 'sleep in', but gods was she intoxicating.

And now for quite possibly the single greatest line I've ever written in my life, a paragraph from my untitled Oblivion (TES) Fanfic which also includes a scene of paying a roofer via dead-drop, circa 2009. I wrote it in a notebook, but I've transcribed it word for word. You may thing it's not good until that last sentence dares you to change your mind.

Descending the stairs, he tipped over a glass vase on the shelf next to the railing. It chipped, but did not shatter, so he propped it back up, assuming no one would notice. His grey eyes scanned the room. The innkeeper was dozing off in a chair at a table. His goblet was still half-full of ale. Thorn noticed that someone was watching him, so he decided against cutting the innkeeper's coinpurse. He seated himself in a corner where the whole room could be witnessed, so he could observe the observer. The mysterious figure was leaning against a wall adjacent to the front door. Hidden, yet not hiding, he or she waited as if waiting to react to an action.

How I'd write this untitled Oblivion fanfic now, which is a downgrade imo:

Thorn descended the stairs, his eyes on the sleeping innkeeper's coinpurse. As he unsheathed his dagger, his elbow bumped a glass vase, tipping it over and causing the innkeeper to stir. Thorn decided against the impulsive theft, despite the highwayman price he'd paid for the room that night. When he stepped off the uneven stairs onto the shoddy floor, he sensed something. Someone. He was being watched. Thorn's eyes met their's. Dark and piercing under the hood of their cloak, before they fled from the inn.