#and I couldn't make out which one is true

[demi-god77]

BYLER GATES: A GUIDE

(Explaining all the different theories, for anyone who is also lost with how many there are)

THE BIG 4

Flickergate: This theory involves a lot of time shenanigans and is connected to the Will having powers in s5 one (possibly manipulation of time or electricity). Theory claims Will and Mike will kiss in the UD, specifically outside Mike's garage, paralleling 1x01. Will is going to tell the truth at the same time his s1 self is ("it was a seven"), causing the garage light to flicker on Nov. 6th 1983.

Birthdaygate: This theory suggests that the Duffers didn't actually forget Will's birthday is March 22nd (the day of the rink-o-mania incident). It claims that Vecna is actually manipulating the characters' memories (possibly even Will's), making them forget his birthday in the process, maybe in an attempt to make him feel excluded/lonely and making him vulnerable. (Similar to the beginning of Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets, which happened to be on the inspo board for S4)

But also the Creel murders themselves happened on March 22nd.

Churchgate: More UD kiss related theories! This one claims Will is going to get Vecna'd or possessed in the Upside Down church (and that he's going to hurt/choke Mike in the process). With a crazy amount of religious symbolism, Mike would be the one breaking him out of his trance, through a kiss or a confession.

(More thorough explanation here.)

Lettergate: This gate's truthers believe that Mike did actually write to Will in the time period between s3 and s4, but never sent the letters. Said letters (signed "Love, Mike") are going to make an appearance in s5, revealing his true feelings. (Great post that has to do with this gate here)

Also related to:

OTHER GATES

Pocketgate: Very connected to Lettergate™️, this theory has to do with Mike's infamous triangle shaped pocket in S4. It suggests that the letter signed Love, Mike is hidden in said pocket throughout s4, since it very closely resembles an envelope. Triangles have also been used in ST as a queer symbol (with Robin) and Mike's pocket consistently points to Will like an arrow.

Phonegate: Kinda similar to the previous two, this gate claims Mike did actually call the Byers in Lenora. For some reason, the calls didn't go through, either because of Joyce's telemarketer job OR because of Vecna manipulating things again (cough, birthdaygate, cough).

This is backed up by one of Dustin's lines, saying that the Byers' phone line is always busy and Mike won't stop complaining about it. We know he must have been calling WILL, since the whole reason he was communicating with El using letters is that they couldn't talk on the phone.

Loverslakegate: Related to Lovers' lake (obviously). The lake is shaped like a heart, tying into its name, but it was split in two after the gates opened, now resembling a broken one (and Mike is ofc referred to as "the heart" so it could be a reference to him).

According to this theory, Mike and Will are going to kiss/become lovers near said lake/Reefer Rick's house.

Heartgate: To put it simply: Heart reflections EVERYWHERE. This one is better explained through pictures:

Also: Different heartgate but really interesting

Colorgate: I don't think I have to explain this one tbh but anyway

Blue meets yellow in the west.

Mike and Will have been HEAVILY associated with blue and yellow respectively since the beginning of the show (even wearing eachother's colours in both of their arguments). There's an insane amount of evidence that backs this one up.

It's speculated that the Russian code in s3 was foreshadowing for s4 ("The silver cat feeds when Blue meets Yellow in the west") Silver cat: Vecna who started killing when Mike (Blue) met Will (Yellow) in the west (California, literally west of Indiana)

Curtaingate: "They don't spent their lives trying to get a look at what's behind the curtain [...] They like the curtain. It provides them comfort, stability, definition" -Murray 2x05

Mike and El are pretty consistently framed in front of CLOSED (and more often than not, yellow) curtains, or ones that have closed blinds. According to this theory, closed curtains represent not being honest with one's true feeling. So, the truth about Mike's feelings is beyond the curtain and in s5 he will open it (and come out)

Motelgate: This one has to do with the dreaded two day time skip at the end of S4. Theory claims the Cali crew stayed at a motel during that time skip and the scenes were cut for time, but we'll flash back to them in s5. It's based on a photo a production assistant posted from the New Mexico filming, as well as some bts pics of the Cali Crew playing board games in a motel.

Shoegate: In S4, we see a pair of Will's shoes in his bedroom. In s5, Mike seems to be wearing that exact pair. This, in addition to the fact that they wear the same shoe size (a 10 according to their rollerskates from 4x02), lead people to theorize they will share clothes/shoes in s5. More importantly though, this theory suggests Mike is figuratively being put into Will's shoes (maybe pining?). Also, both of them wear the same shoes they wore in s2. Interestingly enough though, even though the design is the same, the colors are reversed (so their roles will be reversed too).

Possessiongate: This one runs DEEP so I'm going to link a bunch of posts

To put it VERY simply: this theory claims Vecna somehow attached himself to Mike (maybe when the vine grabbed him by the leg in the S2 tunnels- right before he started acting weird in s3 and s4) and he has been influenced/possessed for some time now.

He's not the dungeon master anymore, he's not in control. Both in s3 and s4 someone ELSE is the DM when they play D&D (Will and Eddie respectively)

More here and here

Victimgate: Very closely related to the previous one, this one suggests that MIKE was originally supposed to be Vecna's 4th victim instead of Patrick. Since Max escaped the first time, SHE ended up being the last victim but the original plan was for it to be Patrick. However, Patrick's curse doesn't fit the theme of all of the previous ones. We only see one of his visions, he gets cursed for ONE DAY, as opposed to the other 3 that are cursed for almost a week and we also know very little about him, even though we gradually knew more about the previous victims. Chrissy (no relation to main characters) -> Fred (friends w/ Nancy) -> Max (main character who we've known since s2)

More thorough explanation here

Twelvegate: This one is not really Byler related but i wanted to include it anyway

Theory claims Will was one of the lab kids (specifically 012) and him and El are actual twins. There are mentions of Will and El looking similar since s1, and a lot of twin imagery.

This theory obviously ties in with the Will having powers one and some people believe he wasn't 012, but him and El have a deeper connection/may be actually related. It could theoretically explain Henry's connection to Will, as well as things like El seemingly recognizing him in s1.(Alternatively called rainbowshipgate, because of the rainbow ship drawing Joyce mentions in s2 and the rainbow room)

Eightfifteengate: Again, not explicitly Byler but it's quite crazy.

TL;DR: The time 8:15 seems to have great significance in the show and it's mentioned all the time, if not by the characters themselves, (Eg. "It's 8:15, you're late"- El s2) then by small details in the background. There's even a whole track named after it.

Will left the Wheelers' house at 8:15 and it's the EXACT timestamp of his disappearance in 1x01. It's also the time in which most of the UD related weirdness happens and so it's very likely the UD is stuck on 8:15. (Also you know, 15-8=7)

Radiationgate: Related to the previous one! Clocks in Chernobyl are stuck on 8:15 and Hiroshima has been described figuratively as being frozen in time. Henry has burns identical to Chernobyl victims and almost all of his + his victims' symptoms can be explained through radiation exposure. As this post explains, for radiation levels between 8.3-11 Gy (SI unit for absorbed radiation), symptoms start with headaches and disorientation, move on to unconsciousness and bleeding (the exact symptoms of his victims) and finally, death happens at around 7 days (which is about how long Vecna's curse lasts AND how long Will was in the UD for)

Whiterabbitgate: The song "White Rabbit" is the first song in the show and it plays when we first get a sense of El's powers. Theory suggests it will also be the last song in the show (coming full circle) with either Will using his powers, or Willel using their powers together.

In general though, ST has a lot of similarities/parallels to Alice in Wonderland. The white rabbit constantly being late (Mike is late to something at the start of every season), great significance to clocks/ticking/time, a lot of hallucinations/visions, the overall similarities between the Upside Down and Wonderland. Henry's sister was literally named Alice Creel and there is SO much rabbit imagery throughout the show. There are also direct references to AIW with set pieces and paintings.

Soundtrackgate: This one has to do with the Stranger Things OST and the overall insane musical symbolism throughout the show. A lot of different theories talk about the show's soundtrack, but this one talks about 3 tracks in particular: Being Different, The First Lie, The First I love You

To put it briefly: "The First I love You" plays in both Robin's coming out scene and El's kiss with Mike at the end of s3 (Already a weird parallel). The three tracks not only share the same melody, but they also sync up perfectly. "Being Different" (s4 van scene) and "The First Lie" (Nancy and Jonathan's kiss in s2) especially, match up together to create an entirely new track, completing eachother. The scenes featuring those three tracks also share very similar themes at their core. (This post goes into a lot of detail!)

Playlistgate: Character playlists! At a certain point, every character's official playlist on Spotify was deleted, except for three: Mike's, Will's and Billy's. Songs were seemingly being added/deleted for no reason to the Mike and Will ones and people were struggling to make sense of it all.

Also, Mike's character playlist in particular is VERY interesting (so many byler coded songs, as well as "Smalltown Boy" a gay anthem, about a young gay boy forced to leave his home town to escape from their disapproval and homophobia.) There are three playlists on Finn's spotify that are very incriminating. "Love songs" (That has "BOYS DON'T CRY" on it, a song that Will literally has a poster of in his room), "drive" and the most recent one "STurn". These playlists feature songs like "Let her go", "Angst in my pants", "Me and Michael", "Gay thoughts" just to name a few. Basically a lot of the songs on all four playlists seem very relevant to some complicated feelings about Mike's relationship with El/Will but also with himself and his sexuality.

Scriptgate: Oh boy. Here we go.

On August 5th 2022, the byler fandom got #bylerscript trending worldwide on Twitter while waiting for the 8flix account (run by Nick Runyeard) to release some supposed s4 scripts (that people PAID for, mind you). These scripts dropped on August 8th, featuring lines like: "I hate who I am" from Will in the van scene, "His mouth dry, like a California summer" from the bedroom apology scene and also, Will seemingly recognizing Brenner at NINA, despite never meeting him in canon.

These turned out to be fake and the community was in shambles. Nick started calling people psychos, the Stranger Writers tweeted that everyone got scammed, Nick privated his account and the authenticity of some released s2-s3 scripts was questioned. This post explains the entire situation in detail.

Breathgate: This one is also script related and specifically about a Mike/Max parallel.

In the official van scene script, when Mike sees Will's painting "his breath catches." Then, when Lucas asks Max to the Friday movie date, "(her) breath catches" as well. People caught on that parallel very fast and since the latter is obviously a romantic moment, it boosted their confidence for both Byler and Lumax endgame.

Piggybackgate: This one refers to two different situations/theories.

One, the seemingly deliberate framing of Mike and Will inside the little bubble in El's piggyback drawing (and it referening to Byler). The framing is especially suspicious, because the bubble drawing was drawn two separate times (it's different from one shot to the other). In the second shot, they're framed directly inside of it.

Two, Mike in his monologue essentially piggybacking off of Will's van confession. His monologue was going off of El's feelings, but since they weren't actually El's, the speech was based on Will's feelings. It also ties in with the parallel/foreshadowing between the monologue and Suzie's house, with Will being paralleled to the "director" kid, directing a "choking" Tabitha and their dad (more thorough explanation here).

THE SILLIES

(aka the joke-theories/memes)

Miniongate: Mike and Will are secretly minions. (Because you know, minions are primarily blue and yellow)

This information will be revealed to us in s5 and they will have a magical girl-esque transformation where we see their true minion form. (Original post here)

Localvillagegate: Related to the leaked Mike and El rooftop scene.

Basically, a mlvn used AI to lip read the scene and try to figure out what Mike is saying (and then posted the video on Twitter).

According to them, Mike was telling El they were going to leave the local village (AKA Hawkins) together and travel to a beautiful faraway land with "like, three waterfalls or something" (and also that she has to "improve her motivation", whatever that means).

People thought it was hilarious and started making a ton of memes based on it.

Parrotgate: This is directly connected to localvillagegate™️ and it was created by @cloudycleric in one of his streams.

Basically, the parrots are gay and represent Will and Mike, who in s5 will kiss under the three waterfalls depicted on the image.

Backgroundguygate: People making headcanons and creating backstories for random extras. The star of this gate is Barrett, an extra from the Lenora high school, who wears a barrette, bright red pants and a shirt that says "Hell".

According to this gate, he's actually gay and in love with Will. He has a goth best friend named Claire who is a lesbian and in love with El.

Chancegate: The theme of shipping Will with random extras continues on strong

Chance is one of Jason's friends and part of the basketball team. People thought he was attractive and somewhere along the line started making headcanons for him and shipping him with Will (Bychance). Basically, they're gonna date and Mike will be jealous.

Mikhailgate: More shipping Will with randoms! (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)

Originally created by @paladin-n-cleric

Enzo in S4 mentions his son, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail is the Russian name for Micheal.

People started making jokes that Mikhail would arrive to Hawkins from Russia in s5 and shipped him with Will (Willhail), since he's like Mike but Russian and cooler. They made fanart, edits and posted pictures of Finn as Boris in "The Goldfinch" claiming it's Mikhail.

@will80sbyers then begun to ship Mikhail with El and thus the ship "Jail" was born.

Baldmikegate: Did you know Mike is actually bald and is bullied for it? Well, now you do.

In 2022, a cult was born and the byler tag was filled with edited pictures of Bald!Mike. Terrifying honestly.

Some people made posts about how the rest of the party feels about Mike's secret baldness and some even wrote FANFICS.

Gridgate/whiteboardgate/pixelgate: The Stranger Writers posted a picture of a pixelated/blurred whiteboard that had the entirety of s5 mapped out. People were desperately trying to decode it and figure out what was written on it.

On the space for episode 7, there was a "big black hole" that people went crazy trying to make sense of, only for it to be revealed as a pen holder.

Babygirlgate: The babygirlification of Mike Wheeler. That's it. That's the gate.

I think pretty much every line Will has ever said to Mike has been posted with the word "babygirl" replacing his name (it's hilarious and I love it)

Some examples here and here

Mattduffersbasementgate: Finn and Joe made up a third Duffer brother named Pete, who has no hair for some reason and is the actual writer of Stranger Things, while Matt and Ross are just the faces of it. Pete lives in a shed/Matt's basement and that's where he writes all of the scripts.

Finn and Noah are both also being held in Matt's basement however, and they're not allowed to leave so that they don't spoil byler endgame.

I definitely missed some gates, but omg this took SO LONG

(this post is for you @felix-fathoms @bibylers)

[cloudzoro]

Kink Discovery 3 | One Piece ♡

This is part three, part one is here and part two is here

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on kink discovery with op characters!

one piece masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: mihawk, perona, reiju, shanks, smoker

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, all other warning are kinks which are outlined in the post already

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mihawk - Cockwarming

It was your idea. A stupid idea. You didn't think Mihawk would take you seriously when you issued him a challenge. You had asked him to a competition of resolve. You're sat on his cock, and whoever gives in first loses. You may have underestimated your husband's competitiveness and self-restraint.

Your husband takes the opportunity to admire you perched on his lap, completely undressed. He's more than aware of the way your pussy is pulsing around his cock, you're desperate for him to move, but he won't. He won't give in; he's having far too much fun observing your reactions. You're practically shaking above him, your lip caught between your teeth as you try your best to stop your face from expressing your true feelings.

“You can't hide from me, Darling,” he says, reaching up to pull your lip from your teeth before you bite it off. His stare is intense, as always, as he gazes into your eyes. “I quite like this game you've come up with. I get to watch your beautiful eyes fill with desperation.”

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Perona - Bondage

Perona has always been a little bit of a freak and has always encouraged you to explore your kinks with her.

When you hand her a rope and a book on shibari and other types of bondage, she's not sure what to think. When she next gets you alone, she delicately ties your wrists to your ankles and turns you over onto our back. She holds a vibrator to your clit as she kisses up and down your legs, outlining the rope with lipstick. Your restraints block every twitch of pleasure, and there's nothing to hold onto as the vibrations get more intense.

Perona watches, intrigued and impossibly wet, as you're forced to feel the full intensity of the pleasure without anything to ground you. Your arms twitch and move, your moans fill the castle walls, and your legs attempt to clamp shut around her hand. She is mesmerised by your body. She never expected to enjoy seeing you helpless like this, but there's something about the way you writhe in pleasure that has her feeling like a monster leaning in to catch its prey.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Reiju - Face Sitting

Reiju loves eating pussy; it's her favourite meal of the day. She's always wanted to try face-sitting, but you've been too nervous. You're always fretting about hurting her or just not making her feel good. Though she's been very clear that eating out is not a selfless act on her part, she derives almost as much pleasure from it as you do.

It takes a lot of sweet talk and irresistible touches, but she finally reassures you that it's going to be fine, and you agree. As soon as your pussy makes contact with her face and she gets a taste of you on her tongue, it's over for her. She is addicted, and she doesn't want to give oral any other way. Her firm grip makes it so you don't even have the option to hover. She's not satisfied until she has the steady weight of your body on top of her.

Her tongue laps at your walls as your clit bumps her nose. adding to the stimulation. You couldn't get any closer to her if you tried. She can't get enough of your taste. She is more than happy to let your thighs squish her as she gets her fill.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Shanks - Breeding

Shanks already had a kid before dating you. He never really thought much about having another one. It had never crossed his mind that he could have one with you. Your relationship was perfect as it was. He never thought about any possible changes.

That is until one day when you bring up the idea of a mini-you running around. It's like a switch flips in his brain, and it's all he can focus on. He pushes your legs up to your chest, holding you in place as he bullies his cock into you. He's dead set on filling you up as much as possible. You already have one fat load inside you and dribbling from your hole.

“You can take another load, can't you, baby?” he says, adjusting himself above you so he can hit a better angle. “gotta make sure it sticks”, He growls, burying his head in your neck as he cums for a second time. He whispers absolute filth in your ear as he empties himself inside you.

Shanks leaves zero possibility that his cum hasn't taken. He can practically smell that it's going to work and it makes him feel feral. He needs to fuck you raw as much as possible until you get a positive result from a doctor.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Smoker - Marking

You're such a pretty girl. Smoker insists that every guy who so much as glances at you is thinking about railing you six ways to Sunday, and it disgusts him. His irrational jealousy is calling, screaming, for him to do something that lets all these low lives know you're taken. Let them know he's wrapped around your finger and there's no room for anyone else.

After a long, hard day at work, Smoker likes to unwind by fucking your brains out. He pins you down, kisses every inch of skin he can possibly kiss while he stretches you out on his cock. His scent is all over you; trails of saliva glisten on your skin, but it's not enough. He needs something that won't wash away in the shower, something more permanent. That's when he feels the urge clawing at his teeth.

He leans forward, clamping his teeth over your shoulder. His cock twitches at the way you moan for him. He sucks your skin into his mouth, leaving a mark on your skin as a warning to anyone who may see it. He continues, leaving hickies and indents of his teeth in a pattern that makes it clear you are seen to. Seeing you bearing his marks makes him cum embarrassingly fast. Though when he's done, he stays sheathed inside you so he can admire his work before he shows it off to the rest of the world.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

i hope you enjoyed reading! so sorry for my inactivity recently :(

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

[lizzy019]

Guys I zoned out in class and had the FILTHIEST daydream of giving Nikto the best blowjob ever..

What were you doing?

It was deformed too.

But gladly, you gagged and choked yourself while trying oh so hard to take his length into your mouth. Tears bubbled in your eyes, blurring your vision and making his mask become a blob of pure black. Somehow he was still so handsome.

The stupid piercing that practically scraped your throat, hurting you every time you took it too deep. But oh, those harmonic sounds he was making just led you on. Opened a path for you to walk on, to walk alongside him.

Nikto's ungloved hand grasped at your hair, tugging it involuntarily as you made his thighs shudder. Why were you sucking him off so mercilessly? Did you not realize that he was practically on the verge of cumming?

"Моя драгоценная (my precious), please... I'm begging, I'm begging you, wait!" Moaning, whining, begging. Like the true bitch he is, but he was yours and you loved every sound that tumbled from his cracked and misshapen lips.

Nikto was starting to get antsy. He was shifting more, gripping at the mattress sheets and bucking his hips away from you before going right back to stuffing himself down your throat. So tight, so pliant, malleable in your desire to rain pleasure upon him.

He was getting close.

But you were still so focused. You were doing this so greedily, this was all you craved to do. Every fibre in your body was being magnetically pulled to his, and somehow that managed to get you between his thighs. Could you really complain though?

The mix of saliva and his own precum made everything easier despite its tangy taste. But still, you found yourself soaking your own undergarments just from how Nikto was acting. Restless, pitiful, pathetic. Just what you liked.

Maybe it was wrong of you to find such pleasure in his overstimulation, but you couldn't find the capacity to take mercy on him. No, he was going to finish in your mouth for a third time like the good boy he was.

And he did. His head was thrown back, his hips jolted sporadically and his fingers spasmed while holding on for dear life. All while his cock was mercilessly drained and sucked empty into your greedy mouth. How could you not? You were quite content in doing so anyway.

But once you took some of the best care of him afterwards, Nikto was swooning. Eyes wide in admiration as you hurried off to clean him up and offer him two different sets of pyjamas.

"Which one would be more comfortable for you?" The benevolence you held out for him to grab was simply something he couldn't get enough of.

He pointed to the dark blue sweatpants and tank top, sliding everything on before you both crawled under the blankets together for some much deserved rest. A soldier needs a break now and then, even from things such as their every day life.

Nikto was speechless, but he allowed everything you did. Then again, all you ever did was kiss his scars and worship him.

He could definitely get used to this.

[sensorydephrivation]

Amatonormative assumptions and the language of a hard launch: a rambly DnP essay thing

I have a lot of Discourse Thoughts about hard launching and all that, but there’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said. This fandom is one that generally has significant representation on both sides of any major issue; any take you look for you can find someone genuinely believing. What I am interested in analyzing is how some people are insistent, whether or not they want it to happen or believe it will happen, that they haven’t Hard Launched, and others are equally insistent that they have. Because on the surface those should be completely contradictory takes, but a large amount of people believe each to be true.

I’ve seen posts making comparisons to PJ and Sophie, and I definitely think that’s a useful tool because it brings up the real question here: how do we speak about romantic and platonic relationships, and what underlying assumptions are at play when we use or don't use certain words?

Firstly, this issue is obviously mostly to entirely due to homophobia. Why do people assume PJ and Sophie are a couple just because they live together, even though they've never used the words? Because they're a man and a woman. Why couldn't DnP be publicly open about their relationship back in the day? Because they're gay. I'm not going to spend too much time on this point because it's obvious, but I feel like it's important to remember that Dan and Phil's relationship wasn't some Great Secret for no reason. They weren't no-homo-ing because of privacy or whatever, but because they weren't yet ready to face the immense challenges being publicly out sticks you with, especially in the early 2010s. If homophobia wasn't a thing, everything else I'm going to say in this post would still be true, but it would all be significantly less charged. Just remember that gay marriage wasn't legal in the UK when DnP met each other, and that 2000s pop culture overall was routinely, openly, virulently homophobic. Just keep that in mind. (Also, everything I talk about in this post refers to 2019 onwards, after they came out. I wasn't around for the no-homo era and can't speak on it. I'm also not going to be talking about the speculation around their relationship, because that's been talked about so much. It definitely is a factor in all of this, but you know that already)

Onto the main point of this post. The reason DnP haven't "hard launched" (that term itself is incredibly vague, but its popular meaning in this fandom seems to be explicit confirmation of a romantic relationship, which is how I'm using it here) while also having clearly done so is because their use of language does not line up with conventional expectations of how language around romantic and platonic relationships should be used.

The concept of "dating" as we think of it today is relatively recent, and language around it is even newer. The terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" only became prominent in the mid- to late- 20th century, and it took a while for them to gain the connotation (of almost always meaning a romantic relationship) that they have today. And yet people have still had romantic relationships for forever! How these things were described would depend on the society's norms around marriage and sex and often on the exact social dynamic of the couple. Today, we think we're better than all that and can find words for anything.

I'm no expert on what makes a relationship romantic vs platonic or even how to define those terms. I find it hard to define the concept of romance in a way that doesn't bring with it centuries of heteronormative amatonormative assumptions. And boy are there assumptions. (No, people who live together for life do not have to be romantically involved, that's a silly thing to believe.) When people see a relationship that lines up or does not line up with those assumptions, they expect it to have a clean, simple label. But the words we used for romantic relationships outside of marriage, due to how new they are, are completely not simple!

While these days they seem to be the most "unambiguous" terms to describe a romantic relationship, "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" are essentially euphemisms that can seem infantilizing and demeaning of the seriousness of a relationship. It's easy to see how they aren't for everyone, even if many people are fine using them for serious committed relationships. "Partner" is kind of ambiguous on purpose, thought like bf and gf, I think it's on its way to becoming a word with mainly romantic connotations. The term "significant other" is out of fashion these days, but just like bf, gf, and "partner," it's basically a euphemism that doesn't mean much in and of itself. We have no words to describe an unmarried romantic couple that aren't on some level unclear or unindicative of the actual nature of the relationship.

Dan and Phil have acknowledged that they were once in a romantic relationship, have made many many jokes about having sex with each other, and are committed life partners. On some level, you can take the combination of these things as a very clear confirmation of a current romantic relationship, which many do. Yes, this requires making a few assumptions, but they aren't the craziest assumptions in the world. In fact, as one can see from the PJ and Sophie example, they are assumptions that are often normal and expected to be made in social situations. So why do so many others not see it this way?

Well for one, we are a mostly queer community that understands the complexity of queer relationships and how these assumptions do not get applied equally. We see how these assumptions are often used against queer people to devalue their identities, especially those on the ace-aro spectrum and/or in queerplatonic relationships. We also are an extremely online community, familiar with the complicated layers of discourse around RPF and shipping, and hesitant to make assumptions in a way that could potentially damage relationships or invade someone's privacy.

But honestly? It's because DnP don't call themselves boyfriends. They don't explicitly frame their activities in romantic ways (e.g. call things dates). The terms they use and jokes they make, even in 2024, are not the sort of things we expect from the set of assumptions that go with a committed romantic relationship. (This is also where the discourse about whether or not they're open/poly comes from, but that's a topic for another day.)

The Date Night video stretches this to its absolute max. The game is full of cards about kissing and other things that fit cleanly into the set of romantic relationship assumptions, but they didn't use any of those cards. They only used things that were ambiguous, and tried to downplay the romantic implications as much as possible aside from the lampshading of it at the start of the video ("this is a great game to play with your best buddy as well" "phil says no homo" as well as the entire "ugh i can't believe they send us this" tone of the intro). The use of "partner" in this video is the clearest example of this. The game uses this word exclusively- after all, it's a standard, accepted, gender-neutral word for people in a romantic relationship. Phil confidently reads it off the card, with the "I don't care which set of assumptions this assigns us" attitude that's been prevalent over the past year and past few months especially. Dan avoids it half the time, and at the end of the video, seems to clearly mock the term, saying it in a silly voice and then comparing it to how stereotypical cowboys use the word. This stuck out to me; it made it very noticeable that they don't use that word at least in videos, and made me think about the connation of the word they do use-- "friend." That term, unlike any of the words I've mentioned so far, implies literally nothing. "Friends" can be people with a barely positive relationship or people with an incredibly meaningful relationship they center their life around. With no other qualifiers, it also implies that the people in question don't have a romantic relationship (are "just friends"), or even (because of amatonormativity) that their relationship is not especially deep or meaningful.

Dan and Phil have defined their relationship in quite a few ways-- or rather, Dan has, in BIG and in his interviews for WAD. These quotes circulate on here constantly as people discuss the meaning of them. I'm not really interested in talking about those as they've already been talked to death. I do think it's worth noting that we only get these things from Dan-- the one time Phil has ever spoken on his "current dating life" it was just to say "I don't want to talk about that, the door is closed." Obviously some of this is because the interviewers were pushy, but also I'm sure Dan enjoys his elaborate poetic metaphors enough to not be able to shut up about them haha. (Very unrelated but I wonder if this will come up if they end up doing interviews for TIT?) The thing is, these definitions show a deep, meaningful, complex, committed relationship. They include directly romantic terms like "husbands," "soul mates," and "normal gay relationship." You would think being willing to call someone your husband, even with a million other words around it, would mean you wouldn't have a problem calling them your partner, right? Yet these words do not reflect the language they use when speaking about each other in videos!

There are times when they say "friend" "buddy" or "mate" in a clearly humorous, ironic way, and seem aware that it isn't a term that makes people think of a committed, long term relationship. Other times, they use the word as if it is a fully accurate descriptor of their relationship-- in the glue story, Dan jokes about being ashamed to be seen as "the friend of the glue guy," and in How Phil Nearly Died, he quotes himself telling the hospital staff he is looking for "my friend." I use the hospital stories as examples because they are high-stakes (or seemingly high-stakes in the case of the glue story) situations and examples of how other people in their real lives perceive them. The way they choose to tell these stories to the internet is one in which the fact that a random hospital worker would likely interact differently with Dan if he was Phil's friendly roommate as opposed to his life partner doesn't matter. In other words: if they actually do call each other "friends" irl around strangers, those strangers probably have a very different impression of their relationship than we do. Their consistency in describing themselves doing so just means that they want to consistently use the term "friends" in their videos, not that they actually do that in real life. But to a viewer who is unsure about their relationship status, the fact that they are clearly life partners, no matter platonic or romantic, but in all situations opt for a word that does not imply that seems to be confirmation that their relationship is not clearly romantic, or at least that they don't want to refer to it as such.

If I have to draw a conclusion from all this, it's that DnP consider their relationship very complex and unusual (ymmv on if it is, lol) and have had to deal with a ridiculous level of scrutiny about it nonetheless. Again, Phil has almost never spoken on this, but Dan clearly dislikes any descriptor that carries with it a sense of assumptions about the nature of the relationship, hence why he uses like fifty contradicting ones or strange metaphors instead. "Friend" carries with it no assumptions. You can be "friends" and be in a romantic relationship-- plenty of people say "I married my best friend." But our society considers romantic relationships to be more meaningful and important than platonic ones. People assume that if you are in a romantic relationship, you would want to describe your relationship exclusively using terms that carry that set of assumptions, because that is the most important part about it. I honestly think Dan is being quite subversive in refusing to do so.

I have no idea if or when this will ever change, but I hope I've given enough context for those who are convinced they've already hard launched to understand why others are still waiting, and for those who don't think they have to understand why the issue is more complicated than it seems. This topic has fascinated me ever since I first started watching them, and I hope this post can help people reach a bit more of a understanding, rather than inciting more discourse.

[fictionadventurer]

Everything I learn about Rose Wilder Lane makes me more and more aware that she was a hilariously outrageous person who needs a movie made about her immediately.

After leaving Missouri, she moves to California and marries a real-estate guy who once tried to get her to help him con the railroad.

She gets hired at a San Francisco newspaper known for its yellow journalism, where she does things like writing a series of columns featuring the "real-life stories of a police detective" who, in real life, was a high-end jewel thief.

Her first book is a first-person "autobiography" of Charlie Chaplin that she (after a few interviews with Chaplin) completely made up, and that Charlie Chaplin immediately threatened to sue her publisher for.

Her second book is a biography of Jack London, which his wife only reluctantly allowed her to write because Rose presented herself as "someone who had never written for the newspapers before and needs a chance to break into the magazines." This book was also almost entirely fictional, and her publisher also almost got sued over it.

Third biography is the first-ever biography of Herbert Hoover, also a heavily-fictionalized account. (Doesn't seem to have been sued for this one. Steps in the right direction!)

Traveled as a reporter through Europe (to places like Albania and Poland) post-WWI. (If we want to talk about legal things that she did).

Wrote a book based on Laura's late-childhood pioneer experiences while Laura was writing the early books of the Little House series, and did not tell Laura about it. (Laura was ticked off).

Kept trying to insert a story into Laura's memoirs (and Little House on the Prairie) casting Pa as a member of a posse that hunted down the infamous (and never-caught) serial-killing Bender family (despite the fact that this was historically impossible). (It got to the point that Laura herself told this story to the public as an example of "a true story I couldn't out in my children's book." Despite the fact, I say again, that this was historically impossible).

During WWII, endured a minor incident (it involved one cop coming to her house) where the FBI investigated her as a potential communist based on a postcard she sent that was critical of the government. Turned this into a short story that presented herself as the righteously-outraged American citizen fighting against an oppressive government, and used this to whip up a nationwide media campaign against J. Edgar Hoover for spying on American citizens.

Flew to Vietnam as a war reporter when she was in her seventies.

[pressplay-if]

I saw that the single mum route is the less angsty when it comes to family stuff. Which is lovely. However, it reminded me of something I was thinking the other day. I was trying to figure out what kind of depressive thoughts my MC may have (as I'm still deciding if he'll have depression or social anxiety). And since I always pick the single mother route (I love the idea of MC being the poor friend of the band), I got some ideas.

Basically, I guess my MC would feel a lot of guilt. He knows that his mother is busy with so much work not out of being a workaholic, but by need. Need that is significantly exacerbated by MC's existence. I do imagine a young MC especially feeling guilty and as a burden to their mum, since the poor woman has to raise them and work full time.

This is further increased as the years come by and MC decides to dedicate their lives to a band. A high reward but high risk kind of job. My MC could easily fail to achieve any major success. And then what? It's very easy to feel guilt. Maybe he should have tried to find a more stable job? Something to help his mother so she can lower her workload significantly?

Then again, I am sure my MC's mother would prefer MC to go after his dreams. So, I imagine, MC is also in a weird position where he also would feel guilt if he didn't pursue the music life. Because he is sure his mother would know, and she would feel bad. His mother could easily blame herself that her child is leaving their dream behind. And my MC couldn't bear such idea. So, he is stuck in a weird limbo.

Of course this may be just me overthinking. But it could be some kind of ideas that my MC could fester on his mind as he grows up. Since it's very easy to go from guilt to be burden, to guilt about existing, and then to decide to remove himself from life as that would, in a way, "fix the problem" (which is not true, of course, since suicide doesn't fix things).

Well, I'll stop rambling. This is perhaps a bit of a downer, so I understand if you prefer to ignore it. In any case this basically comes from me thinking a lot about my MC and this IF.

Why would I ignore it I love long asks. Although it does make me think that perhaps (given the current state of the hospitalization interlude) MC may need more options to describe their depressive thoughts. Bc in the interlude, it's all mostly symptom-based, and there's more screentime to MC getting better than MC experiencing the depression. This is partly for the sake of brevity (I'm worried about the interlude getting to long, given it's just another flashback basically, albeit a really important one). But the MC CAN in fact say they felt like a burden to their single mother in a later decision (not chapter 2, it's when they move out).

[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…”

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Daughter

The man who was not a man held the girl's limp head, kneeling on the fine marble floor. All the riches in the world meant nothing compared to that small, lean body splayed out on the floor. He would have given up everything he owned, everything he knew, everything he was, if only he could see her lopsided smile again.

“Andrea,” he murmured, begging, pleading, praying. “Andrea, Andrea, Andrea.”

She did not respond. He knew she would not. Knowing, with absolute certainty, was one of those things that came of being a not-man. From the second he had set his eyes on that fierce face, on those calloused hands, he had known this would end horribly.

He took a deep breath, ready to give a eulogy, ready to say goodbye, ready to close this chapter of his book. But the only thing he managed to close was his mouth.

No, he couldn't think of it, say it, do it. He wouldn't. It hurt, the way only foolishness could hurt. It hurt like bloody hell I dropped the cup again, like say what is that flower, like oi watch your tongue old bastard. It hurt beyond all the pretty words he so often used, in the lands where incoherent screams and broken silence lay.

He should never have taken her in, never have patched up that infected eye, never taught her letters and painting and all the beautiful things a runaway-child warrior had never known. It was a mistake. A horrible mistake that had fortunately rectified itself. A mistake that was over now, so he could return to his daily life and never acknowledge her existence again.

And yet- And yet- And yet- He could hear her gasps of wonder at his little knick-knacks, taste that awful pie she would make with her assorted gatherings, smell the wildflowers she left at his table every morning. He felt her fingers tugging at his robes, arms thrown about his neck in thanks, feet treading on his hooves. 

That eidetic memory of his had betrayed him, for once; not in weakness, but in its perfection, in that detailed reel of her malnourished stick-thin body shooting up and filling out, of that scraggly hair growing lush as the tallgrass, of their time together played over. And over. And. Over.

She named him, with the simplicity of a child's imagination. 'N', for the way his arms bent thrice, at the wrist, elbow, and that third joint he had no name for. She wove crowns of the freshest daisies every year to grace his head, and mad, and promised to defend him with her life, and made good on it too. She had given him so many gifts, and he had but one to give her.

Deep in the crevices of his mind, he remembered a word. He had no use for it, there being only one of his kind, but her used it anyway, then. 

“Daughter,” he named her, a fair exchange for that which she had given him. “My daughter, Andrea. I love you so much. I promised you a safe home, one where none would ever harm you again. I-”

Words failed him again. N cradled her body against him, keening as he did so, a long, agonised noise like a wolf's howl. He pulled her fingers to his chest and wept into them.

Alas, his duty extended beyond merely mourning. She deserved a proper farewell, like the little warrior she was.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I apologise. I apologise a thousand times over. I have failed you, my daughter.” He knew she would die, as all mortals did. He knew it would hurt. But how could a bloodless wound hurt so very much?

He would have wrenched open his chest to dig out his heart if he had one. He would have slit his throat if he could die from it. He would have done anything if it would undo his mistake.

No, that was a lie. He could undo his mistake. He knew how to bring her back. Knowledge, especially the forbidden sort, was his specialty. It would be so, so very simple. A city razed, blood pricked from an infant's heart, and a sacrifice of true love. That he could do in an instant, just to have his daughter back.

But for all his love and heartache, he was no man. He did not have man's selfishness, man's free will, man's ability to give up a thousand lives for just the one. He could not do it, not without giving up a part of his soul. So he did not.

The man who was not a man laid his daughter back down. He was not quite sure what to do with a corpse. He had never had one before, after all. 

Then again, he had never had a daughter before.

(in honour of my dad's birthday <3)

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat .3

Dc masterlist

Batfam x reader x Jason Todd eventually

Summary: the batfam's approach to Y/n self harming. She makes a run for it, doens't get far of course

Warnings: self harm, self hate, innuendos, 18+ talk, Jason making passes at Y/n

A/n: I do not own dc wah

"I'll be out in a second." At least she'd cleaned up quick. Her eyes were bloodshot from puking but that was easy to pass off for just tears, she's already brushed her teeth and the bathroom was free of evidence. With a deep breath she opened the door to Jason leaning against the frame.

"I punched him for ya, Dick wouldn't let me get in more than one but I'll try again later," he tried to joke but she knew from the blood on his knuckles it was true.

"You didn't have to, I'm sorry I put a back slide in your healing-"

"You didn't do shit, pretty, it was all him, sure we'd been slowly makin' amends but I don't need him. I need you happy and safe, and he can't do either."

"I'm fine, or I'll be fine, or whatever it is you wanna hear, thank you for sticking up for me-"

"I can't let ya hurt yourself, sweets. Dick and I have decided on a plan," he said grabbing one of her hands to pull her over to her bed. She sat on the edge ready to bolt if she needed.

"You two making plans is never a good sign..."

"We're gonna move in here-"

"Oh hell no, we'll all kill each other!"

"We'll manage, for you. We'll take out old rooms, I promise not to smother Bruce with a pillow in his sleep and we can take turns sitting with you-"

"I'm not a child-" He stopped her with a pointed look, his eyes dropping just for a second to her chest.

"I know that-"

"Don't look at my boobs when you say that you weirdo."

"Stop interrupting. When should I look at your boobs then," he said then cringed at himself.

"Uh, um, I don't know? Not -I mean, this isn't a porno bro, so unless you wanna help me get unstuck from the dryer-"

"Ha, you saw that one too," he cut her off with a panicked laugh. His hand working through his hair.

"Just the memes, I don't watch-you know what never mind. Don't look at my tits-"

"Why is he looking at your...um," Dick accused in that 'I'm her older brother I will kill you with a spoon voice'.

"Can we just back to my self harm," she begged burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

"Yes please," Jason said with relief. Dick was glaring at him, then used a finger to slash across his throat in the universal I'll kill you gesture.

"Anyway, Tim is laying out the ground rules for Bruce. Which is he's not allowed to be in any room alone with you, he doesn't get any shifts as your emotional support buddy-"

"Babysitter."

"-and he's grounded from the cave until we track down the joker and cut him into tiny pieces," Dick continued like she said nothing.

"Damian agreed to drug him if we had to, to avoid the no kill rule," Jason clarified.

"You guys are the best, none-legal, half-step-adopted-but-not-really-sibling-friends a girl could ask for. But you don't need to hunt for him, I know just where he is. I was gonna deliver his head to Jason for his birthday."

"You were gonna give me head-shit I mean a head for my birthday," Jason stuttered. The others blinked at him then Dick smacked him upside the head and Y/n started laughing.

"What is it with you? Do you need to get laid that badly? I'm nothing to look at you dork," she said with disturbing ease, shaking her head like she was scolding a puppy.

"Don't say that," Dick chided sitting on the bed and pulling her sideways into his lap. She flopped over onto him awkwardly with her arms pinned to her sides by him so she couldn't wiggle free.

"I think you're gorgeous, sweets." She snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah, right my family says I'm not ugly and I'm just supposed to take their word for it, nice try. The only person in this house that doesn't lie is Damian."

"I'd prove it to you if buzz kill wasn't here."

"Dude!"

"Oh my God, enough with the sex talk! Tim might hear-"

"Hear what?"

"Ok, seriously does the robin training include popping up at bad times did I miss that lesson?"

"Why are you just now getting the sex talk," Tim asked with a shit eating grin, little fucker knew something. She narrowed her eyes at him but his grin stayed.

"No, Jason keeps making passes like a damn player," Dick explained.

"Bout time," Tim said flopping himself down on her bed on his stomach.

"hardly a time for jokes, Tim-"

"No really, he loves you, you love him just kiss already-"

"You are so dead," Dick shouted rolling her off to the side to make a grab for Jason, who's instincts kicked in and had him out the door in a blink. Their footsteps could be heard pounding down the hall followed by a few crashes.

"Alfred's gonna be pissed," Tim said like he didn't just start it.

"Dude what the hell, why would you lie about something like that," she whispered shouted at him.

"I know you love him-"

"But he doesn't love me you little shit, it's horrible for you to start trouble."

"Speaking of trouble just how much damage did you cause before Jason got up here?"

"A little."

"Let me see."

"No."

"Then I'll just have the others hold you down-"

"Fine fine, when did you get so mean. I swear just last week you weren't saying more than two words to me," she grumbled rolling her shorts up to show him the bandages. They were shallow so no blood had soaked through but he pulled a knife from his pocket to cut them away and check any how.

"I'm sorry I've-we've all been distant with you, but you just seemed so...okay. I mean before Dick pissed you off your voice echoed down the halls as you sang. Every time I passed you you were dancing. You baked cookies with Alfred every other day- I just... I'm sorry I couldn't read between the lines," he said wadding up the gauze and letting her wounds get some air.

"Tim, the singing and dancing and the fake smiles were meant to throw you off, there was no between the lines," she explained softly.

He didn't respond just continues to look at her cuts, the burn scars and what he was really hoping wasn't words carved into her skin, they were so faded they blended with the stretch mark but he was sure he could make out a few letters. Dick came back into the room alone, looking smug but his smile dropped when he saw her.

"Tim! You were supposed to watch her," he whisper shouted crossing the room and dropping to his knees on the bed.

"I did this before any of you got in here, one last hurrah," she laughed. Dick wasn't laughing, he'd found the letters too.

"What did these say?"

"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb, you have letters scared, what did they say?"

She yanked her shorts down and became invested in her cuticles turning her body away and getting ready to run. Dick sat down on the bed about a foot from her trying to give her a bit of space but all he did was give her an opening. She was up and out of reach with a quickness only a past robin could have but she'd underestimated them Dick was in her path and Tim was to her side blocking the bathroom door just as quick. With little to no deliberation she bolted for her balcony. Slamming the doors behind herself she all but leapt from the guard rail and scaled the vine covered lattice with ease. They were close behind and she had to really kick it into gear to run, zigzagging to avoid them.

"Hey, what the hell guys," Jason voice said from only a few feet from her.

"Shit," she said to herself, her shorter legs going as fast as they could, just a little further and she'd be off the property. Of course she was in slippers and her feet were getting soaked from the damp grass, she was just thankful she hadn't-shit she jinxed it, she fucking slipped, right before the damn gate too. Three annoyed vigilantes were dog piled on her before she could even begin to stand back up and fell flat on her stomach in defeat.

"Thanks for the workout," Jason groaned at her his body draped over her legs.

"I forgot how fast you were itty bitty bat," Dick said from his position on his knees next to her, one hand on her back to hold her down.

"Just where did you think you were gonna go," Tim asked, he was just straight up sitting on her like an annoying little brother showing off that he'd grown taller.

"Can I get up now?" They all eased up but before she could get her to her feet Jason tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman carry. His ass looked great in his sweatpants damnit.

"Hey," she shouted smacking his hip, he smacked the back of her thigh in response and she was disturbed to find she'd liked it.

"So what did we learn," Dick asked bending down to be eye level with her.

"That I need to spend more time on the treadmill."

(this entire time I keep picturing Tim off to the side sipping an iced coffee like he's watching a 3d movie)

The walk back to the manner took a little while and Jason was sure to give her a bumpy ride. Unfortunately he'd discovered after he'd tossed her on his shoulder she was in fact not wearing a bra. He could feet her nipples, which had hardened from the cold, against his back as she tried to cling to him for a less rough ride. if Dick was going to kill him before, he was going to make him dig his own grave now. Of course, he felt disgusted for the thoughts he had about his technically adopted sister, even more so with what he'd said to her. If Tim was right, and she loved him back he would die happy. Now though, he had to focus on making her happy.

9-26-24

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@stormz369

[slaaverin]

I miss the show, I can’t even rewatch at the moment because I know it ends, it’s been the most comforting and loveliest thing to have to look forward to every week. your edit was so wonderful too, thank you for doing them 💜

I guess one question I’m left with is why they did the show? Not the part about spending time together but why? We may never know but it’s all I keep thinking about. It’s left such an impression on me and us as supporters, such a beautiful thing to be able to see their bond. I will treasure it forever, or as long as I can keep paying my Disney subscription 😭

Ohhh anon, I am delighted by your message 💜 thank you

I will miss the show dearly too 😭

Thankfully there are the behinds coming out soon.

I may only offer my 2 cents about why they decided to do the show, and I may be full delulu, but I think it was a combination of many factors.

Firstly, as you said, they did it for themselves, because they wanted, needed, to spend time together at that time.

They seemed to be having a hard time being separated this much, and they needed the comfort before going into such an uncertain time in their lives.

But there was also that stupid rule before MS, do you remember? They couldn't really leave the country unless it was work related, or something? I don't know if that rule was made up by people or what, but if it was indeed the case then they kinda had no choice but to make a show out of it?

I think that's why Jimin said "This will not air at all" in the first episode.

Because the show was only an excuse at first to be able to travel together. Which was the main thing they wanted, making the show was second.

But I think they didn't dislike the idea of the show either.

With the passing of each year, jikook have become more and more kind to us, not hiding at all anymore the status of their relationship, simply being themselves and not being so afraid of what people might say. They have revealed A LOT.

They know there are haters, of course, and this is where I'm going delulu, but I think they know they have deep supporters too. They are on social media. They are in a relationship. They are not going to watch stuff like stupid tkkers content. It's logical they would watch content and opinions of people that support their bond, not haters. I think they are aware that even if we are not many, there are at least SOME people that see them as they are and enjoy their interactions a lot.

So to me, their show is also like a gift to us, the true supporters. Because really, jikook are simply generous people.

In a way, with this show, they showed a deep level of trust to their fans.

Many words have already been twisted, and they knew it would happen, yet they counted on their true supporters to read between the lines, to get what they were showing.

They know we are not stupid.

Maybe they had a mindset of "whoever will get it will get it, and about the others...who cares, let them imagine whatever they want"

Delulu again but I think they had also enough of all the hiding ("hiding" bcs they never really hid). Honestly if Jimin gave Jungkook permission that man would blurt out in 2 seconds that Jimin is the love of his life. He is always 🤏🏻 this close to outing himself.

You can live your love in the shadows, I mean it's a choice and it's fine, some people can deal with it, but sometimes you see that Jungkook is really dying to scream it over the roofs. I don't think it's really *that* fine for him. It's the same about Jimin, but Jimin is so responsible and careful, not necessarily for his own sake, but for Jungkook's, that he would put his own feelings aside to keep the both of them safe.

And yet, he did the show.

Really un-Jimin of him lol or maybe the most Jimin? This is perhaps his true colors really shining?

So in a way I think this show was also a way for them to say "Fuck it, let's put everything on the table."

Thanfully people are still willfully blind, and jikook have very specific circumstances where everything they do that are really questionable could always be mistaken for something else. They could always dismiss it if asked.

They're walking a very fine line between what's acceptable and outright too much.

I think it's a talent? And luck, because of their societal situation, because of the group's dynamic, because they don't really explain stuff to us anyway, we see things, and make our own conclusions. So anything goes.

In a way I think it was some sort of liberation for them. They liberated themselves from the constraints of a heavy schedule that prevented them so see each other, they freed themselves from the burden of dread about military, they showed everything they'd got about their relationship in a "Fuck everything" moment, and they also set a first stone for the future.

More AYS? Other trips together, reaffirming their commitment to each other (as if spending 18 month in military wasn't enough already lmao).

It was their way to say "This is it. This is who we are. This is what we are to each other. This is how we are happy. We want to be with each other, now and later, and until we are 50 btw, you know everything now. I will go and come back, and my mind will not change, expect more of this, more of us, because it's our reality. Now you know. Do you get it? If you don't, it's ok. If you do, we love you."

That's my feeling anon. And I could be waaay off, but that's what I felt watching this show.

I'm tremendously grateful for all of it.

Like all of us, I deeply care about those two men, I love them unconditionally, I only want to see them happy. It is my greatest joy.

But to think they made a gift such as this show to us, honestly, it touches my heart in deep ways.

Usually I feel it's our job to love them, but this time, more than other times, I truly felt their love for us.

And I think it's quite beautiful.

Ahhh the way I don't regret being a jikooker.

We always get the best piece of the cake! Isn't it lovely? :D

This show will remain the standard for me now. Imagine going back to like 2019, only seeing jikook in a 20 second clip from concerts? Hell no.

They truly opened a door with this show that I feel they won't be closing anymore (bcs they won't want to), and I'm here for it.

Those next month until 2025 might feel long. I will maybe keep making edits if I have inspiration and now I'm dabbling a little into writing, so I hope time goes by fast.

Thankfully we have 8 episodes to re-watch in the winter whenever we feel sad 💔 I will treasure it too 🥺

To many more happy moments to come 🥂

Let's be patient 😌

Thank you anon and take good care 💜 sending you hugs 🫂

[zaldritzosrose]

Pretty Little Thing (Gwayne x Handmaiden!Reader)

Hello! This is fic number two in my Milestone Celebration! Thank you to the lovely anon for requesting this and for giving me the chance to write Gwayne for the first time!

Summary: You were the object of Gwayne's curiosity, a thought he couldn't seem to shake. As his sister's handmaiden, there was rarely a time when you weren't in his presence. Your innocence and gentleness had captured his senses and he was prepared to do whatever he needed to have you as his.

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, reader with Hightower coded physical description, loss of innocence, obsessive love/desire, innuendo, profanity, Gwayne being a gentleman, reader is described as innocent and a little naive, dry humping, oral (f receiving).

Words: 4963

The handmaidens she surrounded herself with were one of Alicent’s only true sources of comfort in the Red Keep. Aside from her father, Lord Otto, and her brother, Ser Gwayne, there were few other escapes from House Targaryen.

So almost all of her ladies were closer to her own Hightower physicality than Targaryen. Ladies with darker or auburn hair, or rounder features that were common within The Reach. Some were younger and others were close to her own age. The younger ladies made her feel like she was regaining the youth that marriage had stolen from her.

Her favourite was you.

You were young, in your early twenties, Gwayne would wager. Though you were not the youngest of Alicent’s handmaidens, you were the one that fascinated him the most. On every visit Gwayne took to King’s Landing, he would find himself looking at you, and only you, whenever you were in his presence.

Alicent would keep you close, finding your calm, sweet nature a welcome reprieve from her tumultuous life as a Queen. So, wherever your Queen would go, so would you. Which meant you were regularly in Gwayne’s presence when he paid visits to his sister.

And word had come that he was to make another of those visits.

This visit was one Gwayne had been looking forward to. There was no political pretext or command from his father. He was simply here to see his family and, he hoped, to relax.

You had been within his sister’s service for a good few months now. A mainstay in her life. His curiosity about you had only grown in that time. How had you managed to stay so untainted by the venomous life at court? Was this sweet and innocent personality you displayed a façade, or was that your true nature?

That morning, you were called to help your Queen ready herself for the breakfast she had planned with her brother. It wasn’t unusual for you to be chosen for such tasks, Alicent did prefer your company in general.

As you stood at her back, taking the soft bristled brush through her curls, you dared yourself to ask a question that had lingered in your mind since you had first met Gwayne. You knew little of him, save for that he was a knight and the Queen’s brother.

“May I ask you something, my Queen?” you said softly, setting down the brush and taking the small bottle of hair oil from the Queen’s vanity.

Alicent glanced at you in the mirror and simply smiled.

“You may ask me anything, sweet one.”

You took a small breath, calming yourself as you smoothed a few drops of oil into her hair before beginning her braids.

“It is about your brother, your Grace. I only wonder, out of curiosity, what he is like?”

If you had not been concentrating on the first braid in Alicent’s hair, you would have seen the surprised twitch in her eyebrow. But she answered your question, nonetheless. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her, in the few times Gwayne had already been around you, that his gaze would always find you – though you had never spoken to him.

“Gwayne? He is much as most would expect him to be, intelligent and honest but not without a quick-witted comment or two.”

You supressed a smile, you knew exactly what Alicent was getting at. Your experiences of the Hightower family were only her and her father, Otto. And it seemed Gwayne took a lot of his personality from his father, in both of your opinions.

“Much like our Lord Hand then, your Grace?” you said with a small laugh, which was answered with a warm smile from Alicent.

It was her way of saying she agreed, without saying it aloud. In truth, you appreciated that she allowed you to be almost informal in your conversations. It made your relationship with her far easier to manage, considering the time spent at her side.

The rest of the morning passed with little more on the topic, until you walked with your Queen to the breakfast room – where you would leave her for other duties.

Gwayne was already there, a small plate of fruit already in front of him as a servant poured tea.

“Sister, good morning!” he called out, standing to pull out a chair.

Alicent gave him a kiss to the cheek as greeting before giving you permission to leave her side. But Gwayne was not going to let you leave in silence.

“My lady, a good morning to you as well,” he said with a smile, taking your hand gently and giving a pause for your consent before he pressed a gentle kiss to the skin.

You couldn’t see Alicent’s expression, but there was a knowing glint in her eye. She knew Gwayne well enough to know his thinking when it came to you. And the blush that was growing on your cheeks was enough to tell her about your feelings on the matter.

“Good morning, ser, I will leave you to eat in peace.”

Your hand slid from his grasp, your skin almost tingling from where he had touched. You gave a soft curtsy to both siblings, before leaving the room.

Gwayne simply stood, watching your retreating figure. The soft fabric of your gown, in a beautiful pale green, that hugged your gentle curves. The light, auburn toned curls that reached just above your waist and were tied half up with a matching green silk bow.

Though most ladies would embrace their femininity, you seemed to do it with almost a girlish innocence. From the bows that tied back your hair to the softer, more flowing fabrics of your dresses. It was as though you lived to define what a woman should be.

As for you, the second those doors closed, your hands flew to your cheeks. The heat that came off them only had you more embarrassed. You had never been on the receiving end of such attention before, especially from a man such as Gwayne. He was a knight, of all things. The Queen’s brother.

Your heart hammered as you hurried to begin your daily tasks. But your thoughts remained with Gwayne.

You didn’t see him again until the next day. Or more to say, you weren’t in his presence until the next day.

Alicent was at the royal council, so you and the other handmaidens were in her solar with tea and embroideries. But not one of you were concentrating on the threads in your hands.

Gwayne hadn’t received word that Alicent would not be in her rooms, but he stopped dead at the door when he heard the girlish giggles from within – realising quickly his sister was likely not present.

“You are so lucky!” a voice giggled, from who he assumed was another handmaiden.

But his ears only pricked up when he heard his name.

“Ser Gwayne was simply being polite; the Queen had been greeted so I imagine he felt it was only right to greet me as well.”

That was a voice he recognised. It was a voice that he had kept in his memory since the first time he’d heard it – all be it only yesterday. A sweet song he wished to hear again and again.

Part of him wanted to interrupt, assure you that he greeted you out of his own volition, not for politeness. But Gwayne knew if he was caught eavesdropping, you would likely think badly of him.

But what was said next caught his attention yet again. Not the compliment paid to his looks, but your agreement to it.

“He is quite handsome, though, is he not? And dare I say more handsome up close?” Another handmaiden asked, clearly directing her question to you, he realised.

There was a pause, and Gwayne waited in bated breath for what you would say.

“More so, far more handsome up close. I could scarcely look him in the eye.”

It was almost Gwayne’s turn to blush, if he had been inclined to. Did you truly find him so handsome you had to avert your gaze? Or were you so inexperienced, his mere presence had you nervous?

He decided then, he had every intention of finding out.

Gwayne knew getting you alone was not going to be easy, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable. So, he chose a longer game. He would woo you, secretly if he must. Enamour you with him, as he was with you.

First, he needed to learn what you liked. He had seen your preference for your silk hair bows every time he’d visited. A different one every day, almost. Your hair styled intricately and held together with the soft fabrics, always matching your gowns.

It was the one thing he could picture immediately if he tried to imagine you.

So, he wagered then, you must have an eye for pretty things. He had no plans to leave King’s Landing anytime soon, so he had more than enough time to put his plan to action. The first step, having the perfect bow made for you.

He found a dressmaker, a sweet lady who was more than happy to help him.

Gwayne had a picture in his mind. Something that would have enough clues to tell you the gift came from him, but he didn’t want you to figure it out too easily.

The first choice of clue would be the colour green. In all the times he had seen you, you worn some shade of it. Though it was likely Alicent’s influence, it was a colour that suited you perfectly. So, he had the dressmaker choose a soft green fabric, intricately embroidered with dainty flowers.

There was something about you that seemed to call out for everything sweet, soft and innocent. And Gwayne wanted the gift to be tailored entirely to you.

It wasn’t long before it was done and the whole situation sworn to secrecy with a few extra coins in the dressmaker’s hand. Gwayne was almost giddy with excitement as he took the box back to the Keep. It had been a long enough time since he had felt the need to woo a lady.

With a few questions, he soon found your rooms, leaving the box on your vanity with a note that simply stated,

A pretty little gift, for a pretty little thing.

He now only had to wait for you to find it.

That evening, you returned to your rooms exhausted. It wasn’t until you sat at your vanity to untie your hair that you saw it. A velvet box with a note attached. The words written had you blushing almost immediately.

But when you opened the box, your breath caught in your throat. The soft, green fabric embroidered with the prettiest of flowers. The bow was perfect, your hands stroking the fabric in awe.

Who could possibly have sent you such a thing?

There was no clue on the note, but the compliment had your heart hammering and a heat simmering deeper than you had ever experienced before.

A pretty little thing…

Those words played in your mind long into your sleep.

Gwayne felt nervous. Alicent had let him know that one of her ladies would be joining her that morning and he found himself hoping it was you.

Had you liked his gift? Would you be wearing it, even?

His questions were all answered the moment you walked through the doors. He could see your eyes widen at his presence, the faintest of pinks in your cheeks as he stood and pulled out a chair for you to sit.

“I hope you do not mind Gwayne joining us this morning, sweet one?” Alicent asked as you sat.

“Of course not, your Grace, more company is always welcome.”

Gwayne lingered behind you for a moment, his eyes falling on your bow. The bow he had gifted. He could barely hide his smile as he spoke softly.

“That is quite the accessory you have there, my lady. Very pretty indeed.”

Your heart could have stopped. The emphasis on pretty was surely purposeful? But the sender couldn’t possibly haven Gwayne…could it? Mentally you shook your head, that was impossible and ridiculous, you thought.

But the coincidence was surely too great?

The thoughts circled your mind for the entirety of breakfast. Gwayne’s eyes catching yours whenever they could. And there was something behind them you couldn’t quite decipher. It made that heat rise in your belly again, simmering low and making your skin prickle. He looked at you as if you were the most important on in the room – but surely you were just imagining those things?

Breakfast ended and Alicent gave you leave to spend a few hours as you pleased. You appreciated the gesture but were curious as to the reason behind it. But you knew better than to question your Queen.

Alicent however, had seen how Gwayne looked at you. The twinkle of desire in his eyes that she had seen when he had courted ladies before. But you were precious to her.

“Brother, a word?” Alicent asked, just as your form disappeared around the door.

Gwayne knew that look. Whatever Alicent wished to say, it was likely not going to be enjoyable. She remained stood, her hands holding on to the back of the chair you hadn’t long vacated.

“Is something the matter, sister?” Gwayne asked, finishing his tea and doing his best to appear calmer than he felt.

Alicent raised a brow, a look that sent a shiver down the spines of most.

“Be careful with her, that’s all I ask.”

Nothing more needed saying. Your place in Alicent’s affection was clear, and Gwayne wanted nothing less than to hurt you. He stood, rounding the table and taking one of Alicent’s hands in his.

“I would never dream of it. She is far too precious.”

His words held two meanings, and Alicent was free to take them as she wished. You were precious to your Queen, yes. But Gwayne had all the hopes that you would become just as precious to him.

Gwayne spent most of his visit training, spending time with the Queen and his other family, or seeking your presence. Whether it be when you would tend to his sister, or when you would be sat in the gardens drinking tea and embroidering with the other ladies.

He would observe you from afar during the latter. Learning about you from simply watching you exist. Everything about you was gentle and innocent, like a doe that needed to be protected.

There was nothing about you that he didn’t find beautiful. You truly were a pretty little thing. He understood entirely why Alicent kept you in her service. You were like sunshine personified. Gwayne couldn’t picture a time he hadn’t seen you with a smile on your face or a laugh leaving your lips.

It was truly a refreshing sight to see.

It was as though, wherever you went, Gwayne was there. Whether it was intentional or not, you didn’t know. And you also now wondered just how long he planned to stay in King’s Landing. But you could never quite work up the courage to ask.

Every time he would speak to you, he would render your mind blank. Cheeks always flushed pink. It was as though he knew every little way to get you flustered.

But at the same time, you didn’t really understand why it flustered you so. You had been around handsome men before, a side effect of being at royal court. Gwayne, however, was different.

He was handsome. No…beautiful was a better word for him. There was a softness about him despite the sharpness to his features. And his smile would always have your heart pounding. But the word to describe the feelings you had, seemed to escape you.

Gwayne decided to up his game a little. The bow had been a sweet surprise, but you still remained blissfully unaware of his affections, it seemed. So, he needed to do more. He needed you to see him as he saw you. To want him as he wanted you.

But you were not going to be an easy catch.

He needed to make his affections more obvious. To leave you with absolutely no doubt that it was him who pursued you.

Gifts inspired by things that he could only associate with you.

Your favourite flowers? Left in your rooms every morning.

The poems you adored? Handwritten notes slipped under your chamber doors in the evenings.

And yet, you said nothing to him. Your demeanour around him barely seemed to change, that was noticeable anyway. But fate seemed to drop an opportunity at his feet.

It was a warm night, not even the light nightdress and open drapes seemed to cool you. What you wanted was a walk and some sweet cakes. Not that the cakes would cool you down, but a trip to the kitchens was a walk enough.

You donned your robe and slippers, making sure there was no one in the corridors as you slipped through the door. Your steps were quick, the path to the kitchens was well ingrained into your mind.

Thankfully, your journey was quiet. Or so you thought.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain knight seemed to have had the same idea. He was several paces behind you, his bare feet keeping his presence hidden from you. But Gwayne hadn’t even seen you, until he heard noises in the kitchens as he passed.

He recognised you immediately. The now signature hair bow loosely holding your curls in place in a messy braid. Not wanting to disturb you or startle you in the middle of the night, he simply observed.

How you hurried around searching for what he imagined was something very specific. And he could barely contain his smile when he saw what it was. A tray of honeyed cakes. The way your face lit up as you filled a plate with as many as you could made his heart swell. Your innocence was intoxicating, and it was sending more than just heat to his heart.

It made him almost obsessive. Desperate to know everything about you. To know the inner workings of your mind. To know whether his touch could fluster you as much as his words.

He kept himself hidden as he saw you hurry away with your treasures. Smiling at your retreating figure before continuing his walk, a final step to his plan to claim you now in his mind.

Morning came, just as warm as the night before. Your dress choice was lighter to accommodate the constant layer of sweat on your skin. Your hair braided up and away from your neck with a few curls loose around your face. And of course, your hair bow holding it all together.

Gwayne had gifted you a few more. Some left anonymously on your vanity like the first time. Others given to you through others. And today, you wore one of those very bows.

It was a soft white, like the underdress of your gown, small flowers embroidered around the edges. It had become a favourite of yours, the plainer colour matching many of your dresses.

You were almost finished getting ready, the last job left was to roll on your stockings and slip on your shoes, when a knock sounded at your door. When no voice called out to you, you simply called out to the visitor.

“Come in?”

The door clicked open, and a young servant stood holding a tray of honeyed cakes with a note. Your brows furrowed in confusion, motioning for the young girl to bring them inside while you finished rolling on your stockings.

Outside of your chambers, the door having been left ajar, Gwayne waited. His eyes dropping to the soft blue of your stockings as you rolled them high up your legs. It was a sight that felt almost sinful to see. Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He wondered what they felt like. Would they be soft? Would your skin be as soft beneath it? Would you even let him touch?

Your movement brought his attention back to his actual purpose here. The cakes. He wanted to see your reaction, though to his note not the treats themselves.

I hope you like my little gift, my pretty little thing. I hope you have liked all of my gifts; they look ever so beautiful on you. And I will read those poems to you, whenever you should wish it. GH.

Your hands held the note tight, almost crumpling the paper beneath your fingers. GH, those initials spoke of only one person in your mind.

Gwayne.

Everything seemed to fall into place. The bows, the poetry slipped beneath your door, the flowers in your chambers. It had all been him…

“My lady.”

His voice pulled you from your reverie. The note falling to the table in front of you.

“Ser…” your voice was barely a breath, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Gwayne entered slowly, giving you the chance to send him away. But you didn’t.

“It was you.”

You said it so simply, he could only smile. There was almost a hint of surprise in your voice.

“Is that such a surprise, my sweet lady?” Gwayne asked, closing the door gently behind him.

You were still in such shock that you hadn’t even registered you were now alone in your chambers with him. But everything about him had you calm, made you feel safe.

He had never done anything to make you feel differently. If anything, you felt happier within his presence. Maybe even sought it out.

“All these gifts, you have spoiled me.”

Gwayne was next to you now, his hands coming to rest on your arms. His chest barely pressed against your back. He wanted nothing more than to pull you tight against him, to feel your skin on his. But he knew he needed to ease you into it.

“You are worth spoiling. You are deserving of more than I could ever give…”

He smiled as he felt you lean into him, letting your body relax. Heat pooled in your belly. A heat you only felt around him.

His fingers trailed up and down your arms, making you shiver. Your cheeks slowly reddening as your supressed a sigh. Gwayne leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You truly are a pretty little thing…”

His lips pressed to the skin just beneath your ear as he finished speaking, and you gasped. Surprised both at the touch and at just how good the tingle that went through your body felt.

You turned in his arms, meeting his gaze and seeing nothing but want behind his eyes.

“I do not understand, why me?”

Gwayne chuckled. Not to mock you, but out of sheer adoration for your naivety.

“Because you are beautiful, because you are like sunshine in human form, because you have entranced my very soul…”

His voice was low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl. His body caging yours against the table behind you. And yet you didn’t want to push him away.

“I desire you, my lady. I crave you.”

Desire. That was the word for it. The right explanation for the fire that was beginning to flicker in your stomach. No, lower, somewhere deeper that had your whole body crying out for his touch.

Your hands had a mind of their own, trailing up his chest almost in fascination. Gwayne tried to suppress his own sigh of satisfaction. The heat and left him free of his usual heavier tunic, so he could almost feel the softness of your skin.

His face was so close to yours; one movement would have your lips locked. Your hands slowly reached his shoulders, as if you were mapping him out. When his eyes finally met yours again, he found his own desire mirrored back at him.

“Kiss me?”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. His lips were gentle but demanding. His hand coming up to cup your jaw as he finally tasted your lips. Your hands gripped at his shirt, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue traced your lower lip. And you were quick to grant him access.

You had read romance novels; you had pictured yourself in such entanglements. But you had never thought they would become reality.

His hand moved to tangle in your hair, your curls soft under his palm. His chest was now pressed firmly against yours, and the thin fabric of your gown did nothing to cushion the growing hardness that now pressed against your stomach.

Gwayne groaned into your mouth as his tongue finally tangled with yours, head tilted as he deepened the kiss. His free hand travelling down to grip your waist, your gown bunching in his hand.

“Will you let me have you, my lady? Let me sate the desire we both feel?”

He needed your words, to know you wanted him as he wanted you.

“Yes, but I am still…”

Gwayne caught your words with a kiss. He knew you were a maiden, but that was further than he was willing to push you.

“I would not taint you like that, my sweet lady…I simply wish to satisfy you.”

His lips trailed down your jaw, to your neck. Marking the skin with his kiss. Your head fell back, a sigh of his name leaving your lips. The hand that gripped your gown moved to your hip, urging you back towards the table behind you.

And you sat back gladly. Your knowledge of such carnality was purely fictional, but from the way Gwayne now dropped to his knees before you, you could gather what he wanted.

“Will you let me, my darling?” he asked, his hands gripping the hem of your gown.

“Yes…please…”

Your voice was a mere whisper, and it fell to silence as he lifted your gown. You let your eyes follow him. The way his hands now lingered on your stockings, tracing the embroidery with his fingers.

“So pretty, every inch of you…”

Gwayne moved his hands higher, his lips following after as he kissed a path up towards your core. This was his reward. He had pictured what it would be like to finally have you in his grasp. But the reality was far sweeter.

Your head dropped back the second his lips kissed at the apex of your thighs. One hand gripping your gown as the other found purchase in his hair. His hands made quick work of your undergarments, tugging them down and throwing them behind him.

His lips grazed the soft flesh of your core, teasing with gentle kisses. Your hand tightening in his hair every time he came close to your folds.

“Gwayne, please…”

Your voice was so sweet, tentatively begging him for more while saying so little. And there was only so much teasing he could endure himself.

His tongue gave a gentle swipe over your folds, relishing the breath moan that spilled from your lips. You tasted sweeter than he could have ever imagined. Like those honeyed cakes you loved so much. It was addicting.

With hands hooked under your thighs, he delved deeper. No longer teasing. He wanted to taste every inch he could. To feel you come apart on his tongue.

Your fingers scratched at his scalp as his lips attached to your pearl, the knot in your stomach already tightening. Gwayne could feel your walls quivering, quickening his movements as he felt you falling closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh, I feel…oh!” you panted and Gwayne persevered.

His tongue lapping as your back arched from the table, thighs tightening around his head as you peaked. His fingers replaced his tongue as you came down.

“Oh, my sweet girl…did that feel good?”

His fingers massaged over your shaking thighs as you relaxed, heavy pants making your chest heave. But he was surprised when your hands tugged him back to standing. He had promised to sate you both after all.

“So good, I have never...”

Gwayne smiled, slipping between your thighs as your hands rested on his chest. He wanted to watch you fall apart this time. And the throbbing between his thighs was quick to remind him of his own needs.

“Do you wish to again; I will make you feel that way whenever you wish…”

You nodded, pulling him in for a kiss as Gwayne let his hips roll against yours. Instinct drove him now, his hands on your waist as he rutted softly against your body. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him tighter against you.

It had been a long time since he had satisfied himself like this. There was still an innocence to the whole thing that had his heart warming. You were his now, he knew that.

“Oh, my pretty little thing…mine…” he grunted into your neck, your hands flat against his back.

Your fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders, as you felt his rhythm become erratic. He was close, and your name fell from his lips like a prayer. You were his, you knew it.

Gwayne’s movements slowed, soft kisses pressed to your throat as he spilled into his breeches. Your name a final sigh as he relaxed. Your hands stroked his back as he pulled back to look at you.

Where there was once want in his eyes, there was only affection. An affection that you could feel swelling in your chest. Gwayne’s head rested against your chest.

“Yes, all yours.”

Your words hung in the air, a promise. A promise of a future. Of a pretty little thing and her knight.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added/deleted):

@blissfulphilospher @multyfangirl @thenameswinter99

@elaratyrell @tumblin-theworldaway @legitalicat @sylasthegrim

[wolfnight2012]

Place your bets now, do we have 1 last Polites reference to look forward to, or 2?

So far, we've had some sort of Polites reference in Each saga

Ocean Saga:

"Open Arms" chords heard in "Luck Runs Out" (confirmed by Jorge in this video here)

Odysseus: "I still believe we can be kind. Lead from the heart and see what starts"

Polites: "We'll be fine if we're leading from the heart"

"Everything's changed since Polites" in "Keep Your Friends Close

Circe Saga:

Circe: "You've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust"

Polites: "You can show a person that you trust them, when you stop & lower your guard"

Odysseus: *lowers his guard by telling Circe his true motivations & gains her sympathy/help in the process*

Circe: "Maybe showing one act of kindness, leads to kinder souls down the road"

Polites: "Kindness is brave"

Underworld Saga:

We actually get Polites back/Open Arms refrain

"I lost my best friend" from "Monster"

Thunder Saga:

The siren uses Polites' instrument while trying to lure Odysseus into the water in "Suffering" (Jorge talks about that in this video here)

Wisdom Saga:

We get Polites back again/another Open Arms refrain in "Love in Paradise"

(Also, check out my post talking about how the Wisdom Saga argues for Polites' open arms philosophy to see just How Much it is referenced/paralleled/called back to in that saga)

Telemachus: "Maybe, it's all gonna turn out great. I know we'll be fine"

Polites: "Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart"

Telemachus: "Boy I wish I could, so I could bring the world some light"

Polites: "No matter the place, we can light up the world"

Now, it could ABSOLUTELY be a coincidence that Jorge referenced Polites/Open Arms in every saga & maybe the Wisdom Saga will be the last we hear of him

OR, it could be a pattern, in which case, Polites will show up again in SOME way in both the Vengeance Saga & the Ithaca Saga (be it his instrument (like with the sirens) the "Open Arms" chord progression (like in "Luck Runs Out") or the "Open Arms" chorus (like in "Underworld" or "Love in Paradise")

Now, I've already mentioned a few times how I could see Telemachus being used to call back to Polites (such as at the very bottom of my response here) ESPECIALLY after the Wisdom Saga & how much Telemachus parallels Polites both personality-wise & in his beliefs.

So I'm thinking IF we have one last Polites reference it might be when Telemachus & Odysseus finally meet/speak.

Perhaps a semi-reprised lyric (such as another lyric about "bringing the world light" or Polites-like optimism) combined either with Polites' instrument or chords from "Open Arms"

Which could both remind Odysseus of Polites & show that the values of "Open Arms" still live in Telemachus, even if Odysseus couldn't manage to uphold them himself.

(I also like the thought of making it more explicit, with Odysseus acknowledging he sees Polites in Telemachus with lyrics such as "I look into your eyes & I think back that friend of mine. You're as old as he was, when we left for war."[which I got from @midnight-drip art here] BUT, I don't think this is likely)

A Polites' callback could come from Athena of all places, given that in the Wisdom Saga she realizes she was wrong to demand Odysseus turn off his heart.

However

Personally, I like the idea of one last "Open Arms" reprise in the Ithaca Saga, BUT not the chorus.

If you check out my break down of "Open Arms" you'll know my interpretation of "Open Arms" is Polites' noticing Odysseus' stress/trauma & trying to help him heal.

What if after Odysseus takes care of the suitors he's left unsure of how to approach his family? The wife he hasnt seen in 20 years. The son he's never known?

What if they're standing across the stage from each other, both parties unsure of how to proceed, then we hear a soft

"This life is amazing, when you greet it with open arms"

BUT, we don't get the chorus. After the pause, Polites' voice continues:

"I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart"

Odysseus shudders, staring longingly at his family but still not daring to approach them after everything he's done.

"So why not replace it? And light up the world here's how to start..."

Telemachus takes the initiative. He takes a tentative step forward, then another, and another, until he's standing in front of his father.

"Greet the world with open arms, "

Telemachus reaches slowly for his father, willing to breach the gap but unsure if his touch is welcome.

"Greet the world with open arms..."

Odysseus opens his arms & yanks Telemachus into a crushing hug. He starts to sob. Telemachus hugs him back just as tightly. Penelope starts to make her way over, though she gives them their space for now.

Odysseus & Telemachus pull apart just enough for Odysseus & Penelope to face each other. Odysseus extends his hand to her & she slips her hand into his.

Then we get the final line, fading/echoing, as if it were making its exit:

"You can relax, my friend"

Signaling Odysseus can let go now. Its over. He's allowed to let go of "the war and bloodshed" and of the screams.

Then song 39 starts (which like, in my defense, if "Love in Paradise can have both an introduction by Athena AND midway commentary from her, then song 39 could open up with one last Polites reprise)

Not that I think this WILL happen, but it wouldn't be unprecedented for this musical.

Something like this would tie up that Polites/Open Arms narrative thread + it would fit in with the canonical fact of Polites' being Odysseus' emotional/mental support

(Also, check out my analysis/break down of Odysseus & Polites' relationship as depicted in EPIC for more on how Polites is canonically Odysseus' emotional support & his death moves the entire plot)

AND something like this would give the audience closure/reassurance that Odysseus' journey HAS indeed ended. He will relax now, he will put away the sword/warrior, something he wanted to do since the Troy Saga but couldn't (both as an explicit command from Athena & because of the whole Polyphemus/Poseidon business)

Don't read past here if you dont want spoilers for song titles!

[AND, just for funies, if you wanna read a Really long post breaking down the song "Open Arms" lyric by lyric, you can see my analysis of it (and of Polites' character) right here!]

[writerthatcannotwrite]

RINGS OF POWER S2 EP7 SPOILERS (And rant)

OH MY GOSH. NEW RINGS OF POWER EPISODE. I AM DYING. I HAVE PERISHED.

So it starts with this lovely scene of Celebrimbor hanging out in his forge, vibin, making some tea and making some rings. Hew put a spoon in the mithril powder and I thought it was cereal for a second, but that thought has been banished now.

But then, he starts to see things. His face in the mirror is covered in blood; the mouse keeps appearing in the same place and has the same movements; the candles never burn. He knows that something is wrong, but he can't place it.

And meanwhile, the city, Ost-in-Edhil, is under siege. Celebrimbor's people are dying, and he has no knowledge of it. The people of Eregion think that their lord has gone mad, just like his grandfather. They think that their lord is so consumed by his creation, that he doesn't care for their safety, and actively makes decisions that will get them killed.

But we, the viewers, know that this isn't true. We know that Celebrimbor has no knowledge of what's going on outside; he thinks that people are singing songs for their lovers and children are playing with kites outside. He doesn't know.

And then, we go to Adar, who is not living up to his name. "Adar" means father in Sindarin; he repeatedly calls the orcs---or the Uruk---his children, what he always wanted, even before the First Age. But then, we see him toss them into battle like he cares nothing for them. He is a hypocrite, and the worst kind; one delusioned by revenge. He wants so badly to kill Sauron for hurting him, and his "children", that he is blind to the Uruks' pleas. The orcs know that they will die in battle. Hell, one of them (I didn't catch his name) basically said, "But... you said that you loved us. Why are we going to battle?"

And Adar basically said, "I do. I love you will that my heart has left."

Which begs the question, how much of a heart does this person have? It looks like he faced the same torment as Maedhros---hung from a cliff, tortured. But Adar was shown mercy by Sauron, likely the same person who orchestrated his torment and pain.

After all of his pain and grief, being taken from Cuivienen, tortured, and likely forced to do horrible things under Morgoth's order, how much of a heart does Adar have left? Is he so blinded by his hatred and lust for revenge that he has grown apathetic to the deaths of his children? He claims that he cares for them, but does he? We see from Sauron that emotional manipulation can work on even the strongest of minds; I'm not saying that orcs were strong of mind, or weak, but if you had been mutilated beyond recognition, tortured and burned and scarred for too many years to count, wouldn't you want somebody to say, "My child, I am here for you. I will care for you."? You would be so desperate for a kind word, that you would believe whatever this person said. You would call him Father, because you couldn't remember yours. You call him father, because in this cruel world that Morgoth and Sauron have wrought, you are made to fight and to die. You call him Father because he says he cares.

But does he? Adar knows that if people like you, or if they care for you, they are more inclined do to as you say. Do children who love their parents not obey their wishes? Adar knows this. He could be manipulating these orcs into doing horrible deeds that will get them killed---just like his forebears.

And meanwhile, Sauron continues to spread hatred of Celebrimbor in Eregion; he says that their lord has gone mad, he cares not for the people, only for the rings. Mirdania believes him.

It's terrible to watch as Mirdania, someone who worked closely with Celebrimbor, was manipulated into believing Sauron. To be one of Celebrimbor's apprentices must have been a great accomplishment; to work with the grandson of Feanor had to be a marvel. To see such a prominent figure in history sweat and tire over the same anvil and the same fire as you. It must have been amazing.

But then Sauron, this conniving little cunt, wasn't done. He was not content with Celebrimbor's mind being his, he wanted another. Sauron wanted a fucking rebound. "Oh, you look so much like Galadriel", "You're such a good smith", "We just need to keep this secret from Lord Celebrimbor". MOTHERFUCKER. GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER.

But by the time the city is under siege, Mirdania has fallen for it. She makes a move, grabs him with kindness and hope.

But then, Celebrimbor finally escapes the forge and his people restrain him. He tells Mirdania about the mouse and the candle, and he sounds mad. He sounds crazy, even to us, who know what has happened.

Mirdania tried to get him back to the forge, pretty much, "Alright, grandpa its time to get you to bed", and Celebrimbor shoves her. Not a lot, not all that aggressive. But Sauron, the slimy cunt that he is, lets Mirdania fall to the battlefield over the wall of the city. She falls in the bloody mud, shocked, and she is killed. Mirdania, who had given Sauron a kind word, was killed by his hand, and didn't even know it. The soldiers around Celebrimbor thought that their lord had killed one of their people in a fit of rage.

Only after does Celebrimbor agree to make Sauron's nine rings., Because he now knows that if he doesn't, he will condemn all of his people to death. He will doom the city that he built for the people of the First Age.

Next, we go to the dwarves. Disa and Durin are still at the mines, preventing the miners and Narvi from getting through. In the end, Narvi agrees with them. He is tired of the king's taxes and insanity. He knew from the beginning that the king had gone cuckoo for coco-puffs. He stands with the prince and princess.

Elrond appears then, asking for Durin's ax. Durin will not abandon his friend. He will march with him to war, come hell or high water; not because of any promise, but because he cares (And because that means his kingdom is next, but still. The power of besties prevails!!!)

And Durin's speech of loyalty to the elves rallied the forces of Khazad-dum and the dwarves, who had been feuding with the elves since Doriath fell, wanted to help their fellows. They wanted to honor their promises with the elves and stand with them against the forces of Sauron.

But then. There's always a but in the Second Age. The King goes mad. He starts killing his own people who oppose him and follow his son. Narvi himself tell Durin.

This is obviously a red flag.

The dwarves obviously value their families and people; they are loyal and hold great love for their kin. And the king just mucked EVERYTHING UP! First, he did the whole taxing thing, and if you know the American school system, you'll know the phrase, "No taxation without representation". I don't think the king had any citizen representatives to tell him that taxing the people was stupid. He only had his son, whom he ignored.

Then, he told the miners to keep digging, even though he knew that there was a monster---the water creature that Disa saw, but not yet the balrog---in the caves. He placed his greed over his people. It seems that the Line of Durin is fraught with Gold Sickness.

So now, Durin has two choices: obey his father, who will kill his people if he doesn't get his way, or go and help his best friend win a battle that he is needed in. But he doesn't go. He can't Durin cannot abandon his people when their king has descended into madness. He cannot let his people be slaughtered.

Then, the elves. They charge through the forest, and Elrond is thrown from his horse. He kills two orcs while still on the ground (Such a slay of him), get right back up, only in time for an orc to kill his horse and lick the freaking sword after.

First off, gross. Second off, DID YOU SEE HIS FACE??? ELROND'S FACE???? He was raised by Maglor Feanorion, Lord of Maglor's Gap; the Gap was an open plain just east of Himring, and was essentially an open plain. Maglor had to have had horses and been close with them. Elrond and Elros had to have been close with Maglor's horses, amazing creatures who still lived in the desolate east of Beleriand. Maglor had likely taught Elrond and Elros that you respect the creatures that help you, that carry you to battle.

(We can also make parallels to Elros's line with this. Isildur and Berek, Aragorn and Brego, so forth and so on. Elros definitely was a horse girl, and gave this trait to his descendants.)

But wait. He kills that orc, but another appears. Elrond is thrown to the ground, and the orc says he's gonna kill him.

And what does Elrond do?

Does he... lick his sword?? What did I just see???? Is the Feanorian batshit insane trait coming through? Because I am all for Elrond going a little crazy. With all the bull-crap he's had to deal with in his life (Sirion, Feanorions, his brother's death, and other assorted things), I think he deserves to go a little crazy. As a treat. One who has gone through so much and is "kind as summer" gets to go a bit batshit on occasion.

But then, he spares a moment to stay with his horse as it dies, in the middle of battle. If that isn't elven, then I don't know what is.

The orcs have laid siege to Eregion and are hounding its walls. We see an amazing, empowering scene of the elven forces riding to aid the people of Eregion, but you know that something is wrong. The orcs aren't charging, and Adar is at the front of the legion. There is a covered cart in front, and something is in there. The elves keep charging, we see Gil-Galad (MY BOY MY BOY MOY BOY MY LITTLE GUY) and Elrond (AAAAAAHHHHHHHH LET THAT BABY GO TO WARRRRR) charging at the front.

But the curtain falls. There is Galadriel caged in the enemy's ranks, a sword to her throat, already leaking blood. Elrond sees this. He keeps charging until the last minute (Rude), and Adar calls forth a meeting.

The first thing I noticed: Adar did not have a lovely feast prepared for Elrond, which was very rude of him. He had one for Galadriel, but not Elrond. I'm guessing his chef had been in the first wave heading for Eregion, so he couldn't get any feast.

And during the entire scene, Elrond is seething. He looks very dashing in his armor, ready for war, prepared for everything, but seething with rage. He is angry. One of his best friends is right behind him, imprisoned, and can only be let free if he does an impossible task: give Adar Nenya, the ring. But he can't. Not only can he betray Galadriel like that, he has to keep the ring safe. He can't let it fall into the Enemy's hands.

He refuses to deal. And Adar gives a NAME DROPPP!!!!!!

He mentions Melian (MY QUEEN, ICON, AMAZING) and her wisdom, Elrond's ancestor. Now, it's likely that Elrond is pretty sensitive about his family; as a person who values the kidnap fam idea, I think that just means that his family is even more complicated. All of these people, mentioning family members that he never knew---or didn't know well---must be painful for him. After so many years of hearing, "Oh, I bet your father is so proud", "You honor your mother", "You look so much like Luthien!", and other ways to compare him to these noble figures of history, don't you think he's tired of it? Don't you think he's tired of being the Herald, the Scion of Kings, the last of Luthien's line? If all anybody said about me was that, "Oh, that's ______ daughter", and I was a pretty important person with my own titles, then I would be angry about it too! He was Gil-Galad's herald, his right hand, and his cousin, no matter who you think Gil's father is (Just about everybody is related here, I tend to ignore it; it only makes things messier). While I am happy for the name drop, I think Elrond is getting tired of being the "scion of kings". In the Second Age, he is related, by blood, to the first three elven kings---Elwe (Thingol) by Luthien, Finwe by Turgon, and then Ingwe through Turgon as well (Indis).

And I bet this mention of Melian only makes him angrier. In the scene, you see that his jaw is clenched, he is on guard. And while he sounds relatively calm, you know that his words hold a bite to them.

After his final refusal of Adar's deal and cementing Galadriel's death, he asks for a moment with her.

Alright, legit, bestie saying a final farewell to a bestie (And probably doing something to help her escape).

Elrond does the hand-to-face-in-a-loving-way many times in the series to many people; he's done it to Galadriel, too. But this time.

THIS TIME HE KISSES HER.

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST.

WHAT THE FUCK.

THAT IS YOUR FUTURE MOTHER-IN-LAW.

However.

This is a distraction.

If you get so distraught about Elrond kissing his best friend and future mother-in-law, you won't notice that he took off the pin from his cloak and slipped it to Galadriel during the unfortunate circumstance that he had to put them through.

As he and his fellow soldier? Friend? Some Dude? I dunno, but as he's leaving, he explains to the guy that the dwarves are coming, and the orcs don't know. This sets the scene for for something ominous; with so much pressure put on the dwarves to fight with the elves, so many people saying they will, it's like they jinxed it.

Back my baby Brimby.

Celebrimbor knows something's up. Never let it be said that the House of Feanor were not wise. They were stupid, but not wise. Celebrimbor sees what has happened to his city, and he weeps.

How many ruined cities has he fled in the First Age? How many people has he had to leave behind in the rubble, still calling for help that he couldn't give? How often did he fight for peace, only to be met with overwhelming violence and darkness?

And this is no difference. The futility of Celebrimbor is heartbreaking. He knows that he cannot do anything to help. He cannot free his city from Sauron's grasp. His people think he is mad. He is lost. Celebrimbor weeps.

And then, he knows that he has been deceived. He knows that his mind has been twisted with a fork like angel hair pasta at Olive Garden for Sauron's Saturday Night Out. He is angry. He is so angry, he throws Feanor's hammer out of the window---probably his last physical connection to his family.

But Sauron has him make the rings, because Celebrimbor has no choice.

Celebrimbor is chained to his desk in his smithy, watched over by Sauron. And Sauron still seeks to manipulate him.

He says that Celebrimbor's tortured is his own fault; Sauron's hand was forced by Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor brought this upon himself. He brought this upon his people. And Celebrimbor. Poor Telperinquar. His mind is already destroyed by guilt and self-loathing, that he looks close to believing Sauron.

But then, he tries to destroy the rings, in one final act of defiance. But he can't. Sauron's blood has been forged into them, and they cannot be destroyed. So he needs to escape.

He is only chained with one hand, and he tries his hardest to get his hand freed, but he can't.

Now let's list the family connections, shall we?

Connection to Feanor: he made three items of power, the items of power related to an evil being, he burned bridges while he made the items of power, those items of power led to his doom, shunned the people who wanted to help him in his madness.

Connection Maedhros: OH MY GOSH THE HAND HOLY FUCK THE HAND!!!!!!

Celebrimbor is chained to the desk by one hand. One thing tying him down. There is a close-up on Celebrimbor's struggles as he tries to free himself, but the shackles are too tight. But this time, instead of a loving cousin coming to free him like his uncle, Celebrimbor has no loving hand to help. He is alone. He has to do this himself.

But what prevented his hand from going through the shackles? He needed to drop something.

Celebrimbor, who had been told by Sauron that he had no power, he had no might, his fight was futile, had taken things into his own hands. He will make his own decisions. He will not be controlled. He cuts off his thumb to escape.

Sauron doesn't think that Celebrimbor would try to escape his clutches; he is so arrogant in his victory that he can't even conceive of the idea. But Celebrimbor knows sacrifice. He left his family in Aman, he left his father in Nargothrond. He might has well leave his craft. Cutting off his thumb is basically dooming him to no longer being able to work in the forge.

But this is his choice.

He decides that he will risk this. He will be a pawn no longer. He will help his people. In these last moments in Eregion, he will do good.

"Whose will is the mightier?"

Who will do good? Who will take power over their abuser? Who will fight to do the right thing?

Sauron had just been ranting about how Morgoth had forced him to do all those things, had tortured him. But still, Sauron chose to follow his master's footsteps. He knew the agony of torture, and the pain of mental abuse. But he still did it. He still inflicted that pain on others.

And I had to wonder why. Celebrimbor wonders why.

But Celebrimbor's will is mightier. It might seem insane, but this scene makes me so happy. Because Celebrimbor is rising from the ashes; he is winning against someone who wants him not to. He is winning with this small thing that seems so insignificant. He is cutting all connection from him and Sauron away from himself.

Galadriel finds him, and Celebrimbor gives her the rings after a very moving speech about darkness and light. Strength will help to win the fight, but you need light to keep the win.

Adar has strength, but he is not motivated by goodness. He is motivated by revenge.

Sauron has strength, but he is motivated by greed.

The elves have strength (Somewhat), and they are motivated by light. They want to help their own. They want to save Middle Earth. That is why, two Ages later, they have won.

But then, Back to Celebrimbor, and Sauron has killed his guards. Celebrimbor is alone.

We go to Elrond, on the battlefield, and he is SLAYYINGGGGGGG!!!!! Iconic!!!!! But that troll arrives, and he and Gil-Galad kill it. Gil-Galad is slaying in his armor, with the lance---"his lance was keen", love the reference.

And then, the light of dawn spills over the bloodied battlefield, and the orcs have retreated. There are only a handful of elves to be seen; Gil-Galad, Elrond, and a few soldiers, probably not even fifty.

On a hill, Elrond sees a rider. The dwarves have come. The soldiers are filled with hope, Elrond knows that his friend has come to his aid.

But the rider is alone. There is no army behind him, no battle-axes, and no fierce loyalty. Durin has not come.

The messenger, shot with an arrow, finds them and tells them that the west gate has been closed. The dwarves will not come to their aid. Elrond holds the elf while he dies, staring into the distance. More orcs are charging; Adar has rallied his forces once more.

"Durin will come," Elrond says. He cannot believe that his friend has abandoned him.

Gil-Galad looks down at him; he knows that no other force will come. He knows that they go to their doom. The Noldor elven kings have all died in gruesome ways, and I bet he has accepted his time has come. He orders his remaining men into ranks, and they charge the orcs.

Arondir falls by the hands of Adar; Arondir, whose beloved had died by orc hands, who wanted a family so badly, who wanted to have peace. Who is going to tell Theo that his semi-father figure has died in battle? Will he think that Arondir simply never thought to go back?

And Elrond. "Durin will come."

How many times had he said this?

"Father will come." Earendil never came back.

"Mother will come." Elwing never went back for her sons; she couldn't, by the will of the Valar.

"They'll come back." Maedhros and Maglor both went their own ways; Maedhros committed suicide and Maglor wandered the shores of Middle Earth forever.

How many times had Elrond said this? How many people had never come back?

Adar found him, in the end, and took the ring. It was for nothing. All of the lives lost, the cities taken, were for nothing.

They had failed.

If you know anything about the Second Age, you know that most of it is for naught. Sauron still comes back, Celebrimbor still dies, Lindon, Eregion, and Khazad-dum still fall. I know that this series will be nothing but heartbreak and sorrow, but boy, do I enjoy seeing it.

[wastemee]

she walks over me .

abusive!fem user + leon k.

CONTENT WARNING ! abuse , fem reader , reader is terrible (surprise) , re2 Leon k. , dub con

Leon is a goddamn idiot for still being with you. You're terrible , just in general. He wishes all of his friends and family could see past your white teeth and big smile when you're both together, to pull back the layers of your skin and see that you're the spawn of Satan himself. Sometimes he prays to whatever God is up there , and hopes you'll fuck up and he'll be saved. But God never answers his desperate pleas and broken cries. His family has always had a bad feeling about you , from the moment you stepped into their home for the first time to introduce yourself.

"She's too nice," his foster mother would say when she pulled him to the side as you put away dishes. "I have a bad feeling about her." his foster daddy would whisper to his mother under his hot breath. And God, they couldn't have been more right. Whatever they said about women's intuition , was 100% true. Maybe 105%.

Leon has always been way too naive for his own good , thats why you came along! He swears that you came straight out of heaven , wings and halo as you sweep him up into your clutches. Until everything went downhill. You never really know someone until they get into hot water. They jump out.

He doesn't even remember what he did or said , all he can remember is that familiar sting of both failure and actual pain on his cheek. You hit him. Like , actually just used your hand to hurt him. He blinks at you with his big , wide blue eyes , lips parted in horror. He wish he could've been a bigger man and stepped up to you , but he shrunk under your judgemental gaze. He was in this whole funky mood until you finally apologized to him , which took a whole lot of begging and crying.

He hated when you were upset with him , and he hated your cold shoulder even more. It made him feel like he was getting hit by a semi truck. Except the semi truck would probably hurt less. What he did love though , was seeing your expression soften and your hand fall. "Aww , babe," you would coo to him , slowly holding out your arms to hug him in a sickenly sweet way. He would flinch , even if you were being 'nice' to him. But you being nice was really just you barely tolerating him. And just like a moth to a bright light on a porch , he fell straight into your arms like a limp body , straight into what is slowly killing him.

He gripped you like you were going to dissolve into thin air if he let you go , shaking his head and crying to you all over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he would sob , voice cracking and his doe eyes red with ugly tears. Just like clockwork , you would make up some bullshit excuse in some way to excuse your horrible behavior. "You know I had a bad day," was a frequent one. Or , "I just didn't get enough sleep." Holy shit , that was a doozy. "It's not you , baby , it's me." Now that , was a low blow. He believed it every time.

He's become numb now , almost. Numb to the painful sting of your backhand , or the painful kick to his stomach when he's already down , and the way his heart rate spikes when you send a pan flying towards his head because he slipped up.

He doesn't know why he's so attracted to you. Is it because his actual mom was killed and he desperately needs some affection from a woman before he withers out and dies?

You're both attending a small little party his parents are hosting , and just like you've beat him into , he's all smiles and laughs.

"So," his mother starts off , smiling at you over the rim of her wine. "How's your job?" She asks you , raising a thin eyebrow at you and wiping her smeared lipstick off of her cup with a napkin. You smile with all of your teeth , squeezing Leon's hand behind his back. "Amazing , Laura. I just got a promotion , more money coming in." You respond with an equally enthusiastic tone. Laura nods in acknowledgement , swirling around the wine in her cup.

What a damn diva , your inner voice mutters.

Leon is just staring at both of his 'parents' , his smile faltering as he spaces out of the conversation. It's a talent , really. The way he can remove himself , whether it be when you're screaming at him, or the more calm moments like this one.

He's brought back down to earth by your harsh squeeze on his hand , your smile falling for a second as you tug harshly on his arm. "Leon." His name doesn't even sound like his own whenever you say it. Sometimes he feels like he's watching his life go on in third person , like you killed the old him and stuffed a part of you inside of his body , creating some new fucked up Leon Scott Kennedy. He blinks in shock , he's still here. Here with you. "Huh?" He mutters , inhaling sharply at the squeeze of his hand.

"Your mother's talking to you , don't be rude." You scold lightly. There it goes , that little mother in you. Once again , he feels small. Like a little boy being scolded by mommy for breaking a vase. He winces at your tone and he notices how his mother furrows her neat brows , thin lips parted in some confusion.

"He hasn't been feeling well , lately.." You sigh , lips jutted out into a slight pout as you press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your lips burn on his skin , like a punch. He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah , life's been.. y'know , life." He chuckles awkwardly , gulping down the water in his cheap cup. Damn geek.

"Ah.." Laura nods her head skeptically , humming to herself and abruptly standing up. "Well , I'm off to get more wine." She quickly dismisses herself and walks away in her expensive heels , clicking against the concrete on the porch. It's just you , Leon , and his father who isn't paying you much mind , more focused on his pride and joy. "So , when will I get some grandkids , Leon?" He asks in his gruff voice , laughing and patting him on the shoulder. God , Leon hates that topic.

He can't imagine having kids with you out of all woman. He'd stick his dick into a homeless lady and have kids with her , before he created life with you. Whenever someone brings it up, he starts thinking. How would they look? Would they have your sharp features and same anger issues? Would they be just like you? Would they be worse? He stays up at night and spirals about it.

But , he doesn't show that. He just laughs it off and shakes his head. "Ah , I don't know about that.." He says , glancing over to see your reaction. You don't seem too annoyed by his response. Plus , you could say the same. You don't want little brats that look like Leon whining all the time. That'll be twice the yelling , you'll lose your voice eventually.

He seems bummed by Leon's dejected response, shaking his head and chugging his beer down. Pig.

"Come on. You've got to give me something. It can't end with you , as much as I love ya." He sighs , leaning back in his lawn chair.

You chuckle in response , sighing softly. "You're funny. Maybe soon , just not now," you butt in quickly before Leon can get a word in.

And once again, he feels like his mouth is instantly glued shut the moment you butt in for him. He can never seem to win. He just keeps glancing at his watch , counting down until you leave.

It's dead silent in your shared apartment as you unlock the front door, fumbling with your keys. Leon's standing behind you like a lost puppy , watching as you fumble with the keys.

Once you both get inside, he sighs and drops his shoes and jacket onto the ground , rubbing at his temples. "You made me look stupid." You suddenly chime , all that fake bullshit now gone. He blinks. What did he do? He didn't think he did anything wrong. "What?" He responds after gulping down the lump in his tight throat.

"Don't what me. You made me look fucking stupid."

He winces at your harsh tone and looks down at his hands , fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly. "That zoning out , you think it's cute? You looked like a weirdo. And don't get my started on the whole spill thing." He frowns at the reminder. He had accidentally startled you , made you spill your juice all over his mom. Yikes! That look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"And you didn't bother to clean it up," you add on after a moment of silence. An irritated chuckle leaves your lips , shaking your head. "What even is that? Seriously. Be a gentleman instead of being a damn pussy all the time , it's pathetic." Honestly , sometimes he forgets he's a guy. He just feels like a girl when you talk down on him , be so assertive. Maybe it's that masculinity deep down. Whatever it is , he better flush it.

He doesn't know what comes next besides that signature smack to his once soft skin , stinging red. He stumbles back a little , a small 'oof' leaving his bruised lips. "Do you think this is funny , think you're better than me?" It's a rhetorical question , obviously. But he can't help but scramble to defend himself. "N-No , I-" Another slap , this time to the other cheek. "Shut up , it didn't need an answer." You scoff , rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest.

His lip quivers and he blinks back his tears. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Yeah, whatever. Except he isn't a little boy. He's a man , at least he thinks so.

Everything else is a blur. A blur full of yelling, kicking , punches , and cursing. Hjs mouth tastes of his own blood and he swears you've knocked some teeth loose , bruises already forming on his porcelain skin. Like a little doll.

Here you go with the fake apology , pout on your face and an even faker script already typed up in your head like an automated message. "You know I didn't mean it." You mutter to him in bed , staring him in his half-lidded now blacked eyes. Hey , at least you gave him a bandaid. Makes him less ugly to look at. All he can mumble is, "I know."

You smile at him , tooth rotting smile. "I only do it because I love you. You'd be a mess without me , huh?" Once again , rhetorical. But you're right. He would be a mess , a nobody. But at the same time , maybe he would actually be able to fulfill his dreams without you chaining him down.

You rest your chin on his bare chest , and he winces. His ribs still hurt and ache from all the kicks to his torso , beat red , black , and blue.

Your touch starts out innocent , and he slowly starts to drift off to sleep in hopes he'll wake up from this nightmare he's living. Until he feels your hand creeping down into his pajama pants, fingernails ghosting over him. His eyes flutter open in surprise , blinking in shock. He's way too tired for this , but he would never tell you that.

You can tell he doesn't want to do this with you , based off of his pitiful expression and frown. A light scoff leaves your lips. "Whats your problem?" You asks , raising an eyebrow at him. "Nothing." He quickly answers , shaking his head.

"You don't want to do this with me."

He furrows his brow and sits up a bit , only to be shoved down again by your hand. "Dont you like me? Aren't you my boyfriend, you're always too tired." You guilt trip him , and just like always , its effective. He bites his lip in thought , before sighing and nodding slowly. A defeated , "Okay."

Leon lies there, motionless, as you pull down his pants. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the cracks in the paint rather than what's happening to his body. He feels disconnected, like he's floating above the bed watching this scene play out. Your touches, which once brought him pleasure, now feel invasive and wrong. But he knows better than to resist or voice his discomfort , after all, all that training wasn't for nothing.

He feels your hand slowly wrap around his semi , whispering to him in his ear and coming out of the other. His muscles tighten and a soft groan leaves past his lips at the sudden touch. God , he hasn't done this with you in forever. Mostly because he's always tired and beaten.

He feels dirty for letting himself fall for you all over again , despite his lack of interest in this whole thing. His half lidded eyes squeeze shut. He likes to pretend that its not you touching him like this. Likes to pretend that it's somebody else , anybody else. Hell, even his mom would do. Is that sick?

He curses at himself for letting his pretty top leak pre-cum , leaking down his leg and onto your hand. "Wow , look at that," you chuckle , hand stroking his cock as you scrutinize his facial expression and body language. "Its been so long.. I'm surprised it works still." You teases. He doesn't laugh or respond. He just cringes at it.

He doesn't know what he wants. He wants you to stop , push you away and run for the hills. He wants you to keep going , tell him he's only yours and that nobody could make him cum as hard as you do. He's split.

All that's on his mind is getting this over with so you can both roll over and forget about each other until morning. All he wants.

His cock twitches at the feeling of your hand pleasuring him , thumb running over the tip and squeezing him. He gasps , a mix between a whine and a moan slipping out of his mouth. God. Nothing gets you off more than knowing he has no control. Its a power trip , really..

He glances over at your face , cooing to him. And he almost forgets about the way you treat him. Almost. It all comes flooding back , and he groans. His stomach churns and he feels like he's about to vomit.

Is he starting to like it , like you? Is he starting to get used to the way you beat him like a punching bag and use him like a toy? He's sure he's slowly developing Stockholm for you , because whenever he looks into your eyes , suddenly he doesn't want to leave anymore. He wants to stay dumb. Stay stupid and let you abuse him.

He doesn't give much a warning when his back arches and he grips onto the sheets , choked moan echoing throughout your shared bedroom. He feels disgusting. Cumming at the thought of you hurting him, he feels like a whore. Maybe that's all he is.

You don't do much aftercare, ever. He knows that. But a part of him can't help but wonder if its ever gonna be different. It won't be.

And that's the part he loves the most. He loves not having to worry about change , change makes him anxious sometimes.

And as long as he stays with you , he'll never feel that way again.

[glitchychara]

Amnesia

Tyler One Shot, 3,384 words

I really hate puzzles. It's weird, because I'm more of a problem solving girl, but puzzles just piss me off for some reason. I hate TVs too. I don't know what it is about them, but they just bug me. Mario's always watching some stupid thing on the TV, which kinda makes me wanna smash it to pieces with a hammer. Again, it makes no sense to me since I don't mind playing video games with them, even when I keep losing to everyone because I've never played before. It's just the TV in general, I guess. Although I recently learned my biggest trigger is TV static. I don't know why, but I get weird flashbacks everytime I hear it. Even though it was only once since I've been here. I started seeing images and they filled up my head and I didn't know what was going on and then someone reached out and I couldn't see who it was so I swung but it turned out to be Meggy so she blocked me and she asked me if I was okay and then-

And then I got up. And I left. And I came back a few hours later. And they never brought it up. Nor have I heard any TV static since. 

But anyways, Meggy and Smg4 took me to the doctor yesterday, which I don't know why a centaur would wanna be in the medical field, nor did I trust the guy, but at least he was gonna tell me exactly what was wrong with me….until he gave me my doctors note and it was literally a scribble. Like, excuse me sir, what the HELL is this supposed to be? Chicken scratch?? Anyways I gave it to the axolotl looking guy who was working at the pharmacy and somehow HE KNEW WHAT IT SAID?? I swear I'll NEVER understand doctors. Anyways, he gave me this bottle of pills and sent me on my merry way. Guess who STILL doesn't know what's wrong with her? Me :). So I figured I'd Google what the pills were for and guess what? Apparently I have something called “Amnesia” which, according to Google, means “permanent or temporary memory loss.” 

Huh??

add “doctors” and “pharmacists” to the list of things I hate.

I talked to Three recently, and he asked me if I was going to get my own house. I told him I didn't plan too. “Why not?” he asked, stacking cups next to the coffee machine. I shrugged and continued my task-cleaning out the new pastry display. “Smg4 lets me live in his guest room for free. Why would I wanna pay for a house?” He laughed and asked if I wanted to live with him forever. “Well, not forever, obviously. Just until I go home.” I replied, now adding pastries to the display case. “Tyler. About that…” I turned and looked at him, confused. It was the first time I've ever seen him look sad. “Tyler, you don't even know where you're from. How do you plan on getting home if you can't remember how you got here? Might as well get used to living in the Mushroom Kingdom, you know.” I rolled my eyes and ignored him. What would he know? I'm completely fine living in the castle. It's not like Smg4 does much anyways, other than making videos. Which he should make better, by the way. I mean, he lacks creativity, and a story in general. The whole point of making something is to entertain your audience. How is he going to do that if he's so focused on his “it doesn't have to be perfect” bs? I swear, some people don't deserve their fame, or money, or power or reviews or stars. 

5. stars.

What am I saying? I don't know anything about true art. I've never even made anything myself. Maybe those doctors were right.

Damn Amnesia…

(tagging @its-a-me-mango and @psychologistlemon bc I thought you guys being the doctor/pharmacist was funny)

[nczennie]

A drabble in which Yunho finally convinces you to try something new in bed.

Featuring: Reader x Ateez's Yunho Warnings: Suggestive, sexual themes, language

[23:42] with Yunho

You've known about Yunho's particular interest since the beginning of your relationship but you've never acted on it until now.

Not that you were totally against it, you both were usually eager to test out each other's desires. But this one in particular made you nervous.

It wasn't even anything crazy, in fact on the spectrum of kinks, including what you've both dabbled in, this is probably the most tame one yet.

If it wasn't for the fact that you were ticklish.

On one of your first dates all those months ago you remember jokingly commenting about sending him a picture of your feet. But instead of laughing like you thought he would you watched in amusement as his face turned beet red and he became flustered.

You did in fact send him a picture when you returned home and the video he sent back in return made you realise it was worth it.

However, that's as far as it's gone. Some pictures and some comments here and there but you were hesitant to let him actually touch your feet because you just knew you would jerk.

Today, however, Yunho was paying particularly close attention to your feet. So after he had laid you on his bed and ate you out until you were seeing stars, you couldn't bring yourself to deny him as sits up and kissed up your leg to your ankle.

He stares hungrily at you, kneeling between your legs, and you can only stare at him still feeling dazed from your prior orgasm. But when his lips press gently against the sole of your foot, accompanied by his fingers swiping over your heel, what you fear most comes true.

In your ticklish manner, you can't stop your leg from jerking, sending your foot kicking straight into Yunho's nose.

"Fuck!" He proclaims loudly, dropping his grip on your leg to hold his nose.

You sit up abruptly with a gasp, covering your mouth with shock, any prior brain fog cleared from how worried and embarrassed you were. "Oh my- Yunho, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" You scoot towards him and he removes his hand from his nose, checking for blood.

Thankfully, there is none, but he still raises his hands to poke around the area, obviously still in pain. "I'm sorry," you whisper out again, not wanting to reach out and touch him in case of making it worse.

"S'fine," He mumbles, attempting to scrunch his nose.

You flush, feeling horrible, "Maybe...maybe we can do a footjob instead." Maybe it was his mouth that made you react that way and want to make it up to him.

He scoffs, "And have you kick me in the balls next? Yeah, no thanks." He sighs, moving to grab his underwear from the floor, obviously in no mood to mess around anymore.

Frowning as you watch him move to grab his shirt to bring to you to cover up, you speak again, "I'm really sorry, Yunho."

He sighs, helping you put the shirt on gently, "It's fine, I didn't know you were so ticklish."

"I can't even get pedicures." You admit with a frown.

Yunho lets out a soft laugh as he sits beside you on the bed, "Well, now I know to leave your feet alone." This makes you pout, not wanting to deprive Yunho of something he could enjoy, "Maybe we can try with just your hands at first."

He reaches to push some hair out of your face and places a kiss on your forehead, "It's fine, really. We'll think about it another time."

You don't object as he pulls you against his chest, but you are determined to figure out a way to let Yunho touch your feet how he wants one day.

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.