#i took a break from commission work to play with this today and i had a lot of fun :3

[quarklynx]

Wip Wsaturday!

I wanted to try my hand at designing Hanfu for one of my favorite Genshin Blorbos! I’ve never seen a design that looked enough like his original outfit for my liking, so I thought i’d take matters into my own hands.

[prael]

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

-

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

-

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

-

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

-

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

-

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

-

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

[annisassintchaska]

The Little Things: Lewis Hamilton x Black!Reader

Today had been a very stressful day for Lewis as he went through all the meetings and read over all the files that needed to be analysed, not only for formula 1 but also for The Hamilton Commission. He had been off in the office typing and signing away, not even breaking to get some food into his system and his wife Y/n knew that as she had been at home all day resting.

Y/n had recently given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Solay Hamilton who is now one week old. Lewis had brought home his new family just two days ago so everyone was still adjusting to the new addition. Y/n noticed that Lewis had been in the office for over five hours and that he obviously was hungry, so she left her sleeping infant and her four legged brother Roscoe in the nursery and went to make something in the kitchen. Once the food was ready she took it across to the door that had been shut since morning and knocked before entering.

Lewis looked up as he spotted his wife entering with a steaming plate of food and a beverage. “Hey sweetheart, are you and ‘lay alright?” He asked as she rested the plate in the desk before him. “Yeah we’re great, I just noticed you haven’t had anything since breakfast and so I made you some food. Please take a break from all this and get some nutrients and strength back into body. You can’t continue like this Lew” Y/n sighed as she knew how hard it is to convince her highly dedicated, driven and hardworking husband to take a break from anything he’s focused on. Sensing her worries, Lewis saved the work on his laptop before closing it and packing up the papers back into the folder before he drew the plate closer and started eating. He hummed in appreciation as the food did wonders on his taste buds and he thanked her politely.

After his meal, Lewis decided that he had done enough work for the day and so he locked up his office and made his way down the hall, coming to a stop right outside his daughter’s door. He quietly opened the door, finding his wife asleep on the low rock-able loveseat and his daughter asleep in her crib. He went over and lightly kissed his daughter’s forehead before he sat next to his wife, hugging her as he played with her curls.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Y/n asked silently as she woke up to find her husband next to her unexpectedly. “I had done enough work for today so I wanted to hang out with you both. You can go to the bedroom and sleep, I’ll stay here and watch over her” Lewis replied as he gave her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before she left the room, bringing back complete silence.

Sitting down in front of the crib Lewis stretched his pinky finger rubbing along his baby’s hand who obviously, unconsciously took ahold of it making him smile. “Hey Solay, I don’t know if you’re hearing me or not, but either way I want you to know that I love you and your mummy very much. You both mean the world to me as you make me feel safe and secure. You are the biggest blessing and gift that I’ve ever received and I vow to cherish you as long as I live. You and your mummy encourage, inspire and motivate me to keep going so much to the point that I don’t even know what I was doing with my life before y’all. I want you to know that you are worth everything that this world has to offer and that I would never let anyone take away the light that reflects from you my shiny little star. I love you with all that I have within me and nothing will ever change.” He conversed with his sleeping infant, smiling at the fact that he had someone who appreciated him for who he was and no matter what life threw at him, he always had his two brightest stars to help him to keep going.

[missis-maple394]

We didn't saw that coming... (hollow knight doodle)

DO NOT REPOST / EDIT / TRACE / MONETIZE MY ART FROM OTHER SITES.

Author’s comment:

"I miss Maple, I wonder where she went on her indefinite hiatus?" -my friends

Well... about that. I played Hollow Knight again after 6 years of hiatus (while waiting for silksong, lol.lmao.). Today's quick doodle on slightly burned out life & creatives, the Knight itself from Hollow Knight! Why do they have that on their head stuck in the buzzsaw? Well... for a quick recap:

- I completed the 4 Pantheons and its seal of bindings, I'm saving the last pantheon later after I took an actual break.

- Pure completion on 112% using Sealed Siblings ending for this steam's achievement.

- All Attuned/Ascended/Radiant clear, two bosses remain empty, as I assumed it's from last pantheon's exclusives.

- Completed Path of Pain under 6 hours before my dinner's ready. 

Was it worth? Oh hell, you had no idea how I'm so happy to complete it! However; it's okay that your experienced with this game were good enough. I can't blame you for struggling one of the hardest, optional post-game content they provided, and it's all FREE in base price. By the way, did I mentioned that game is in sale? Go get it, don't feel guilty for small price to play this game. Play blind and don't look up, explore and enjoy the combat!

Hakita, the ULTRAKILL dev, said his tweet saying "If you pirate a game, then enjoy it, spread word about it and get someone else to buy it, that's at worst an equal trade, at best an additional sale that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pirated it." (source: PCGAMER Article - Ultrakill dev says it's fine to pirate his game if you don't have money to spare). So what he meant that, don't feel guilty and get it full game for pirating/sale for this.

Now if you excuse me, I'll be working on slowly with art again after I had vacation on flight since weeks back. It was so cozy but cold!

Author’s note:

DO NOT start a roleplay using direct messages/comments & replies with my artworks.

DO NOT add your playful or direct rudeness to my posts such as replies, comments, hidden tags and private messages.

DO NOT tag and marked as a kin/me/morally questionable content etc. Aesthetic or Inspiration tag is good enough.

DO NOT claim my artworks belong to you, and removing / cropping my watermarks away.

DO NOT sell my art for monetary profit.

DO NOT SUBMIT ANY CRYPTOCURRENCY/NFT ART AND A.I. IMAGE GENERATOR WITH MY COMMISSIONED / PERSONAL ARTWORK.

DO NOT dub my artwork / comics, especially A.I. voicework.

Please DM me for inquiries such as commissioned work or reporting my artwork has been reposted or edited.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Daniel & the Talamasca (SPOILERS)

I can see what the reviewers meant when they complained about the Talamasca & Daniel.

We start off with Daniel nervous AF, tryna keep tabs on all the mindscrewy shenanigans (at the sushi restaurant on his lunchbreak or whatever).

Today's... etcetc Cell phones, google -- Daniel, your handwriting effing sucks. San Francisco. Polynesian Mary's Playboy magazines as a doorstop? doorstep? |CLAUDIA| Mary's cab. Coke...etcetc. Alice. They'll come for me and Kate next--you bet your arse they will! XD THIS TIME I WON'T SAVE YOUR LIFE

He draws an arrow from Save Your Life up to Playboy--I assume cuz those are two incidents with Armand that took place in SanFran?

I really like the Omakase bit--

About how many risks Daniel's subjecting himself to under the whims of these vampires--but also about Daniel's hubris/arrogance breaking the rules of engagement by thinking he has any say over what they do and what he gets out of it, by stepping onto their turf. If you can't take the heat, GTFO their kitchen.

I'm only just now noticing the foreshadowed titles of Dan's books. 🤦 Burning & Blood--AMC swears they're hilarious.

OK, Raglan's been stalking Daniel's career just like Louis did. So my early suspicion about Daniel breaking the NDA was right.

Which is SO EFFING STUPID OF HIM. They're gonna find out! Loumand's literally drawing out this giant tragedy about what happens when vampires--Armand, specifically--are LIED to, and you're gonna pull this mess on them!? You're not even being SUBTLE!

AGREEMENT.pdf--Daniel, you in danger girl.

Raglan, stop tryna gas Dan up b4 they put him off commission permanently. He's no body-snatching psychic CROOK like you.

Get this nosey bish offa my dang screen.

Oof, right in the Devil's Minion feels. U_U

O__O WOAH!? OK, so aside from Dan (played by EB, a white Jew, along with JK) throwing shade at Caucasian European Israelis (which we been knew), he's implying that Armand & Louis might be persons of interest in the UAE by the Israeli gov't & assassins, esp. cuz of their ties to powerful people. But it's funny cuz that's the exact same thing Lou asked about him.

So Dan's telling the sushi patrons there's Israeli spies/assassins crawling around Dubai--STOP, b4 you get that place John Wick'd! XD

Not MI6. 😭 I said JOHN WICK, not JAMES BOND. XD

Raglan's gone full rogue then--if he was still working for the Talamasca he'd have darn near unlimited funds--they got that dirty TEMPLAR money. 💰💰💰

Yeah, and they don't actually call the Talamasca by name in the ep itself--only in the Insider interviews the producers give.

Daniel, why TF are you talking SO EFFING LOUD, when Raglan's whispering, tryna act like he's on the phone NOT talking to you in case y'all ARE being bugged. 🤦 SUBTLETY, my guy. What kinda investigative journalist are you?

I'm starting to suspect they're not gonna do the rockstar!Lestat, and instead this stupid Great Conversion's gonna be what wakes up Akasha/Amel, when their blood/consciousness gets stretched way too thin with all these new vamps being made.

To attempt an interview...? I believe that. We already know Marius & Lestat stalked Talamasca members for decades upon decades. Ain't no way NO vampire ever tried getting close to humans & talk about their lives to someone out of loneliness or something. Esp. the ones not attached to the European covens & all their stupid Great Laws.

Rest in Preternaturalism, Raymond Gallant.

BLENDERS! XD But this is THE most Anne Ricean answer imaginable, cuz everyone lost their ish when she had her vamps flying around with GPS-trackable cellphones in their pockets as they KILLED people. Rookie mistake. 😂

Armand was on a cellphone in S01E07, and he is LITERALLY married to his iPad, so PLEASE, sir. 🙄

There's Santiago's COMPLICIT speech coming back. Ain't no moral high-ground here!

And I figured Armand/AMC was gonna pin it on AMC!Lestat, and his jaded version the Savage Garden.

Armand says technology distracts humans from vampire crimes, but what's distracting vampires from psychic/Talamasca crimes, huh?

ISTG these are the laziest vamps I've ever seen; they care so much about their privacy & security, but aren't reading Dan's mind at all? I hope one of them just casually name-drops Raglan or catches Daniel in the act or something.

Raglan said Daniel's laptop was "comically vulnerable," and uploads a bunch of data files on it from the Bibliotheca Talamasca bestiary/archives--WHY? To help show Daniel he's helpful & trustworthy?

RJ: Omakase? Louis: The conversation was easy and flirtatious.... Armand: And combative. Louis: And combative, yes. Daniel: Arguing as foreplay. RJ: Peruse at your leisure.

I hate this effing show. 🙇🙇🙇

[thevanillerose]

REMAIN | YANDERE!KUROO x READER | HAIKYUU!!

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

CONTENT WARNING: Unhealthy Relationships / Violence

He could be such a demon.

You lingered at the side of the lounge, eyes welling up with fresh tears. Kuroo came waltzing into your apartment like he owned the place, and he might as well have. He'd already forced you to give him a spare key, and it wasn't as if you could impose a curfew on the guy. Heaven forbid...

“Hey sweetheart. Where were you today?” he sauntered up to you after making sure the front door was locked, one muscular arm looping around your back and pulling your frame right up against his. He stood lengthy, so your nose barely graced farther than the middle of his torso. His shirt smelled like fresh deodorant.  

“...I was at home.”

Hiding. From you.

“Yeah I noticed...” Kuroo pulled back enough to where you could see him looking down at you. Sharp, beady hazel pupils set in a handsome face. Those sly features he had were only a small part of what made him intimidating.

 What followed was the other reason. His hand abruptly grabbed your jaw, and you let out a yelp as he jerked your head to the side, grasping your hair with his other grip. He leaned down and in closely just so he could examine the skin around your collarbone, before inhaling deeply and sighing with relief.

“Good. Doesn't look like anyone was with you...doesn't smell like a stranger either. Or maybe it could be someone I know, I wouldn't put it past you.”

 He let go of your hair and your face, but only grabbed you by the elbow instead, forcing you to follow him through the admittedly comfy loft-style space.

“Screw me for caring about being cheated on, right?”

“But I never would cheat on you Kuroo!”

 Every time. Every day, every night, he did this. It was his nastiest habit, the fact that he would take one look at you and then things would turn into an interrogation. You knew why he did it though.

 He was trying to make it so you'd never leave him. These subtle little jabs of his were only steps he took towards making you more and more afraid. He disguised them as him just wanting to make sure you weren't cheating, but in reality, these were only steps towards one goal.

 Kuroo sought to hammer a simple fact into your head.  

“I'm stronger, faster and smarter than you. Don't try to mess with me. Don't ever leave me. Or else...”

 Or else...what, exactly? Well, he'd already made it clear. The Sword of Damocles that hung perpetually over your head, beyond what he might do to you, was the thought that he might hurt somebody you cared about. He knew that, and he used it to his advantage so that you might never leave his side.

 It worked. Kuroo had done so much to break you, that now his efforts lingered on in the form of your once confident self, reduced to a trembling figure, your once bubbly social life now nothing but the occasional text. You stayed home most of the time, too afraid to even go to school in case he caught you looking the wrong way at the wrong guy, and you knew he didn't mind that. He'd always come home and accuse you of being with someone while he was out anyway, but you knew he didn't believe that.

 The 'spare key' wasn't really a 'spare' after all. If he didn't want you coming out, then you had to stay. Locked up inside this gilded cage...

“Ahh...I know, I know.” Running a hand through his messy black hair, he glanced back at you again and smirked. He had already been busying himself with putting some rice in the cooker, and yet you were still standing there with sheer concern. He was just a mastermind at playing this game with you.

“Don't worry [Y/N]. I know you'd never try to leave me, I know you wouldn't. Isn't that right?”

 He came over again while dinner progressed by itself in the background, pulling you to him again and wrapping both arms tightly around you.

“You're so sweet...”

 All this because he wanted you to stay. Stick by him like you were superglued to the spot, stuck as a captive princess for this devilish guy.  

 It was easier to just obey.

 BZZT!

 Your phone went, and instinctively you looked around at where it sat upon the coffee table. Kuroo looked too though, and took you by the elbow again, hauling you over as he went to pick it up. You realized then just how bad this could be, and started to panic.

 What if one of my friends texted me accidentally!? I told them not to message me, but they might do it anyway! What'll he do if he sees that!? I should have hidden my phone somewhere--

 Palms sweating, you watched him read the screen with wide eyes. Of course he knew your password.

“...Heh.”

 A wry chuckle burst that bubble of taut tension.

“Cute. Your mom is just checking in on you.”

“Oh...” you started to smile, reaching up for the phone. That smile dropped as soon as he jerked it higher, grinning down at you malevolently.

“But...you don't have to answer, do you [Y/N]? Your mother should already know that you're completely fine as long as you're with me.”

 You watched with horror as he slid your only real source of communication with the outside world into his hoodie pocket, patting it a few times before leaning down and giving you a kiss on the forehead. It soon turned into something proper, as both hands clasped your cheeks and he thrust it upon your lips instead.

 Closing your eyes, you willed your tears back. There was no point in crying. No point in protesting. He held all of the cards here.   All you could do was remain.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS! LIMITED TIME: Get 20% OFF any commission until the end of August!

[blakefate1356]

Hime Azami

okay as promised we're back at it with the mew mew power..... sort of XD here's Hime Azami Hime technically isnt a mew mew... but hime was the original mew mew all at the same time. basically hime was originally the main character and the manga was actually meant to be more adult and less cat girl magic. then it became a bit softer more magical girl and then ichigo was added and then 4 other girls and then eventually i guess hime was scrapped and instead emerged mew mew power. interestingly enough a lot of Hime's design is alike or the same as ichigo's which i find really nice... like hime got to live on in another way even if here story never really came out into the world. there's actually also a small section dedicated to hime in the manga's with a snippit of what her story was gonna be and then in another book a small piece about how she came to be along side a picture of a certain mystery mouse girl who as far as i know was never named. anyway thanks for checking in today. the post was a little later than intended as i decided to take a break at one point and went for a walk with my dog. then i came back and decided to play ball with her for a bit and actually ended up throwing her ball on the roof XD (it's happened before ^^') well anyway i was meant to clean up the drains some weeks ago but never got around to it and figured since i had to get on the roof for the doggo toys anyway i may as well and so i did. after that we ended up sweeping the outdoor staircase (cleaning off the muck from the drains) and i thought i still had plenty time when i was finally back at my desk but then i was done with the flat colours and the time was nearing in on post time ^^' i debated posting it with just the flats but was like "no i wanna finish it" so i took some extra time to finish it. i played around with it a little trying something out with the shading. on the original 6 i was following this rule of colouring and shading them the way the manga/anime did and while it was fun i felt like it lacked some depth which was fine for the anime but needs more for these sort of uhhh stand alone things? idk anyway i felt that it wasnt enough so i tried some stuff out with theshading and i think it worked out really nicely. thanks to those of you who read through my little ramblings here XD sorry about the late post happy timezones people Commissions are Open links https://www.deviantart.com/blakefate https://www.tumblr.com/blakefate1356 https://www.patreon.com/BlakeFate https://ko-fi.com/steph90314 https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/31935735

Posted using PostyBirb

[fitrahgolden]

To React: Chapter One

This was actually my first attempt at a multi chapter story. I posted it in December of ‘22 and deleted that chapter last summer. I'm giving it another go. Huge shout out to @lookingfts for helping me flesh out this story and for continuing to give me feedback on my ideas.

To React

—

Kathani Kaveri Sharma, 26

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - props and set design

Manager of Palette Arts and Crafts Supply

Watercolour artist by commission

Anthony Bridgerton, 29

Solicitor at Bridgerton, Danbury, and Frederick Solicitors law firm

Benedict Bridgerton, 27

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - writing, directing, acting

Published writer - poems, plays

Oil and watercolour artist by commission

Siena Rosso, 25

Member of Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society - acting and singing

Social media influencer

—

CHAPTER ONE

“I can’t keep doing this. I deserve more. So do you, though I know you won’t let yourself believe that. You need to figure out what you want. We both know it isn’t whatever the fuck this is. Anthony, you need to let me go.”

They were standing in the tiny foyer of Siena’s flat. She hadn’t even let him get all the way inside before she told him they needed to talk. They had gone back and forth for about fifteen minutes before Anthony realised he didn’t know what he was fighting for. Everything she’d been saying was true.

Maybe it was just because he was the one that was usually doing the breaking up. And that’s what this was. A real breakup. Not some lover’s quarrel that would inevitably end with them making up, fucking in some ridiculous place like his mum's garden during a dinner party or her dressing room at Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society.

“Right.” He looked down, around, anywhere but at her, feeling like a twat, holding the roses he’d brought to her place, the bouquet she ignored as she wasted no time getting into what had obviously been weighing on her for some time. “Um, so, I’ll go.”

Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. His eyes weren’t, which probably said something. Siena put a hand up to his cheek, which was thick with stubble that one could almost call a proper beard.

“I really wish you all the best, Anthony.” She sounded… tired. So damn tired.

“Thanks, um…” He took half a step back away from her touch, telling himself he didn’t need any comfort. “You, as well.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Would it–You’ll probably still see me at shows. You know, for Ben.”

Siena nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll keep my distance, though. At wrap parties and things like that.”

“I’m not worried about it, Anthony.”

“Right.” He stepped out over the threshold. “OK. Bye. Um–Yeah, bye.”

“Bye.”

Anthony had made it halfway down the hallway before realising he was still holding the damned roses. He tossed them in the bin at the top of the stairs without a backwards glance on his way out to the street.

—

The next morning, Siena sat up in bed and turned to her bedside table, where she kept her "I Woke Up Like This" kit: A brush, floss, bottle of water, mascara, and lip stain. Once she was armed for the internet, she posted a quick video to her feed.

"Good morning, guys! I'm gonna level with you. I'm going through some personal stuff right now but I just wanted to hop on here to let anyone who needs to hear this know: You are worth it. No matter how hard it may seem, stand up for yourself. You are your biggest advocate. Love you guys! I'm off to SSDS for rehearsals. Make sure to buy tickets for our upcoming show! It's a revue of Shakespearean comedies! It's gonna be so much fun. Link in my bio! Check in with you later today. Mwuah!"

—

"OK, guys, I think we can call it a day! Thanks for everyone's hard work! Now, let's go drink!"

Benedict's dismissal was met with cheers and applause by the cast and crew, scattered onstage, in the audience, and backstage at the Smythe-Smith Dramatic Society. As everyone gathered their things, most preparing to walk down the street to the pub, Benedict caught up with Siena, who was moving slowly, putting her bag strap over her shoulder.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey, Ben."

"You were great today, as usual, but I just wanted to check in because you seem a bit down. I don't know, low energy? Anything I can help with? Are you unhappy with the show or–"

Siena scoffed and shook her head. "You haven't spoken with your brother?"

Anthony. Of course. Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, no. What did he do this time?"

Siena paused thoughtfully. "Nothing, really. It was just time to finally… I don't know, free ourselves, you know?"

Benedict didn't know. He narrowed his eyes. "So… You guys broke up."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, an indication that this didn't seem like news. They fell out all the time. But Benedict knew better than to point that out.

Siena sighed. "Yes, we broke up. But this time is different.”

Benedict smiled a little at the cliche.

“No, Ben, really. I sort of had an epiphany a few weeks ago. How can I claim to be all about self love and respect while being in a relationship with a guy who has made self-loathing his entire personality? If he doesn't think he deserves anything good, what does our relationship say about how he feels about me?"

Benedict's face sobered. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing seemed right.

"Sorry, I know he's your brother–" Siena waved a hand and made to turn away but Benedict stopped her.

"No, no, it's fine. I do understand what you're saying. I just… I’m sorry he made you feel that way."

Siena shrugged, “I appreciate it.” A small smile formed on her face. “It’s weird. When I woke up this morning, in some ways, I already felt better than I have in a year and a half. I hope it's the same for him. I think it will be. I'll always care about him, you know?”

Benedict nodded slowly. “Come here, babe.” He pulled Siena into a bear hug that made her chuckle. She backed up and put her hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“But, really, we don’t have to talk about your brother. We're meant to be drinking, right?”

Benedict relaxed and took Siena’s bag off her shoulders to carry for her.

“Right. And yours are on me tonight.”

—

Three weeks later, on a Sunday evening, the members of SSDS were celebrating a successful run of “The Comedy of Errors, and Then Some” backstage at the theatre. As always, Benedict made sure the wrap party was catered well and had an open bar. Such was one of the benefits of having a trust fund baby as the most active member of your drama club.

Once Siena had changed, she cautiously entered the gathering, scanning the room for who else may be here in addition to the players and crew.

“He’s not here,” came a voice from behind her.

“Jesus, Ben! Do you need to start wearing a bell?”

“Sorry, honestly didn’t mean to startle you. You just looked… worried?” Benedict raised his eyebrows

Siena nodded reluctantly. “Thanks.. I… Yeah, I was wondering if he was here,” she admitted. How has he been? I haven’t really seen much from him online or anything.”

“To quote the man himself,” Benedict dramatically pulled out his phone, took a deep breath, and uttered, “‘I’m fine.’” 

“Ugh, fuck off.” Siena gently pushed his shoulder as they shared a laugh. “He’s always fucking fine,” she lamented, rolling her eyes.

Benedict shrugged. “Yep. Haven’t seen him much. He came to a show, of course. Left a donation. Same as ever. Mum was complaining that he hasn’t been at the house, citing work every time any of us even hints at a family get-together.”

“Same old shit.” Siena ruefully shook her head.

“Same old shit, indeed. Anyway, we don’t have to talk about him, remember? Can I get you a drink? Some food? You have to eat something. This place I ordered from is fucking excellent.”

Benedict offered Siena his arm, and after she took it, he led her to the buffet table.

“Every place you pick is always excellent, Ben.”

—

Kathani sat on one of the folding chairs at the edge of the party, thinking it was probably time to say her goodbyes and head out. She was opening the art supply shop she managed in the morning, and had already had too much to drink, if she was being honest. She needed to pack for Bridgwater so she could catch the train right after work. Mary and Edwina always insisted she didn’t have to visit every week, yet every time she made the trip, there was a laundry list of things with which they needed help. And lately there was the ongoing conversation of where Edwina wanted to go to university. Ultimately, Kathani wanted her sister to pick anywhere she wanted. But if Edwina stayed in Somerset, she could live at home with Mum, which would be great not only for Mary but also for their family finances. Edwina had spoken excitedly about the aspect of coming to London. Kathani had been careful not to discourage her–not yet, at least. However she always found herself in a spiral about everything that would need to change to make that happen–without contacting Mary’s parents. Mary can’t stay three hours away from her daughters by herself. How would they pay for Edwina’s tuition? If Edwina lived with her, that would help, but her flat is tiny. Could she afford a bigger place? She could leave SSDS and have time for a proper second job. Maybe put more effort into marketing her paintings?

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

Kathani’s thoughts were interrupted by Siena Rosso, gesturing towards the empty chair next to her.

“Not at all. Brilliant job tonight. The whole run, actually, as always.”

Siena settled into the chair and smiled as she took a sip of her drink. “Thanks. It’s Kate, right? Beautiful work on the sets. Likewise, no surprise there.”

“It’s Kathani, actually, and thank you.”

“Oh. Sorry, I could have sworn–”

Kathani waved her off. “It’s fine, I went by Kate for a while. Decided to go back to my given name. I realised I actually couldn't be arsed to care too much about making white people more comfortable with me.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“On behalf of all white people?” Kathani teased.

Siena held up her hands. “Just me, I’m afraid.”

“Well, apology accepted.” The two women shook hands in mock seriousness, laughing. “I’ll just have to collect my reparations one at a time, then.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Kathani spoke again.

“Isn’t Benedict’s brother usually following you around at these things?” Kathani’s voice was a little tight as she asked the question, falling short of her goal to sound only mildly interested.

“Ah.” Siena shook her head, resigned. “Nope. Not anymore.”

Kathani's eyebrows shot up, something like longing awakening within her and making her heart stutter. She schooled her features before tentatively offering, “Sorry?”

“No, it’s good. I mean, thanks, but… I ended it. It was the right thing to do. Um–” Siena suddenly looked away, sheepish.

Kathani narrowed her mirthful eyes. “But…?”

“What?” she responded innocently.

Kathani held her hands up. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me, I can just tell there was more you were going to say. And I’m a neutral-ish party.”

“Ish?”

“Well, Anthony isn’t here to defend himself, is he? So, I’ll gladly ‘yes and’ any shit you want to say about him.” Hearing how terrible a partner Anthony is sounded like exactly what Kathani needed.

Siena laughed, “Ha, no. Actually, it’s nothing to do with him. Not directly, anyway.”

Oh, well. “No?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I don’t know…” Siena struggled to articulate her thoughts, gesturing vaguely at her own body.

Kathani smiled as realisation hit her. “Lonely? Missing a warm body in your bed? Getting tired of your vibrator?”

“Jeez, yeah. Yes, OK?” Siena looked around as if anyone might be paying attention to them. No one was, of course.

“Hey, no judgement coming from this direction,” Kathani said. “Actually… I think I may be able to help with that.”

Siena raised an eyebrow, amused, but perhaps also intrigued. “You think so, eh?”

Kathani shrugged, biting her lip. “I, um… I was actually about to head out.” She looked over at the exit before meeting Siena’s gaze, holding it.

“OK,” Siena said softly before swallowing.

Slowly, giving Siena time to stop her, Kathani raised her hand and pushed a lock of Siena’s hair behind her ear and smiled at her, her eyes dropping to Siena’s mouth.

“Smooth,” Siena whispered, her eyes similarly trained on Kathani's lips.

“Thank you,” Kathani replied under her breath before leaning in and kissing her.

Siena was still for a few moments, but right before Kathani took the hint and pulled away, she felt Siena’s lips move against hers. Kathani cupped the back of Siena’s head and deepened the kiss once Siena opened her mouth to allow Kathani’s tongue to mingle with hers. Once they pulled back for breath, Kathani stood and held out her hand. After Siena took it and stood as well, she said, “Let me get this out of the way now. I actually do have work in the morning, and I’m going to visit my family afterwards.”

“Two tried and true excuses? Impressive.” Siena's eyes twinkled.

“I know. But if tonight goes well, maybe we can catch up next week?” She ran a thumb over Siena's knuckles

They shared a grin before Siena nodded. “Yeah, take me home and let’s see how we fare.”

—

The following week, SSDS met up to discuss their next show. Benedict noted that Kathani and Siena were sitting together and tried to remember if he’d ever seen them looking so friendly. Of course, all the members knew each other to some degree. But it was a pretty big group, and Kathani tended to stick with her fellow props and set design crew. But the twosome were certainly friendly tonight, smiling and whispering throughout the meeting and then finally, once everyone was dismissed, leaving together, hand-in-hand.

—

Anthony was leaving a date’s townhouse when he received a video call from Benedict.

“What?” he huffed as he jogged down the front steps.

Benedict looked to be trying to make out Anthony's surroundings. “Well, well, well. It’s only 9 o’clock. Couldn’t even stay for tea?”

“Right. Hanging up.”

“Wait, wait! I have news,” Benedict announced in a singsong voice.

"Sure, you do. Go on, then."

"Seriously, though. I'm only telling you this because I work with them and if something comes up on Siena's Instagram or something, I know you're gonna feel betrayed or some shit."

"Siena can do whatever she wants," Anthony said, defensive.

"I know that. But does that mean you don't want to know if she's hooking up with someone I know?"

Anthony slowed his steps. After rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face, he relented.

"Fine. Who is it?"

"You remember Kathani Sharma, right? She does the sets."

Kathani Sharma. Kate. Of course Anthony remembered Kate. Last year, Benedict dragged him to SSDS bowling. Well, more like his brother casually mentioned he was going bowling, and Anthony grabbed his bowling bag and declared, "Fuck, yeah, I'll come show you theatre kids how it's done!"

A couple of hours later and he was as frustrated as he was mesmerised by the woman he ended up on the same lane with. Anthony would never say she was better than him. Never. But facts are facts, and she blew him out of the water on that particular night. And with such unabashed glee, as well. "That's not even my highest score!" she had crowed, a grin gracing her striking face. As far as Anthony was concerned, he was playing against Kate and Kate alone. And she seemed to be on the same wavelength. That night had been shaping up to be the most fun he'd had in a long time before it was suddenly cut short when Siena, who had been playing several lanes away, sauntered up to him and started whispering in his ear about how much she missed him. Before he knew it, he was in the back of a car with Siena, a thought circling in the back of his mind about not giving Kate a proper goodbye–and a quieter yet more persistent thought that he shouldn't have left at all.

"Ant?"

Benedict's smug smile greeted Anthony as he was pulled back to the present, a stranger jostling passed him where he'd stopped on the sidewalk.

"Yes, I remember her. Like I said, Siena can do whatever she wants. No need to keep me updated. I've gotta go."

"I'm sure you do. The night is young and all that."

—

Back at his penthouse, Anthony felt like the worst cliche, and a bit of a creep, if he was being honest. What bothered him most was that he didn’t know why he was behaving this way. In the history of his on and off relationship with Siena, he’d never been particularly interested in who Siena spent her time with when they were “off.” Sure, he got a little jealous when he happened to see a social media post featuring her and someone else looking cosy, but it passed quickly. He had his own company to keep him plenty occupied. And, anyway, he always took comfort in the assumption that they would eventually resume the exclusive fuckery that they called a relationship. But that door was finally firmly closed, and here he was, googling “Kathani Sharma London” and sorting through the results.

[ghoulangerlee]

you just need your rest ; Swiss/Aether ; E

i've been working on this for a bit, but @obsidianghoul commissioned me with this wonderful snippet of an Aether/Swiss prompt involving Aether and Swiss having a scene and Aether having to safe word. I'm absolutely honored that you trusted me enough to write this for you <3

I hope I did it justice! Throwing this up here before I go to bed, but I'll cross post it to AO3 tomorrow :) title is from pine barrens yea lets not talk about how much i listened to it while writing this

warnings: overstimulation, dropping, safe wording. content: restraints, Aether has two dicks, aftercare and a lot of fluff

-

Aether is, essentially, the foundation that holds the pack together—even before they were as full a pack as they are now. Strong and steady, comforting and quiet when someone needs a shoulder to lean on, a firm hand to guide—he’d done a lot, taking over for Omega after Omega’s final departure from the church; guiding the new summons and making sure they were acclimated to life on the surface.  

All of it had fallen on his shoulders then—much like things still do now, even though Dew and Cumulus had taken on most of the inter-pack hardships since Aether had gone to Copia one night shortly after the first Imperatour to let him know that he was considering retirement.  

Touring was a lot of fun, playing off the energy of his pack, an extreme blessing from the Eternal Father himself, and Aether was grateful for his tenure as a band ghoul. 

He was just tired.  

These days, his load is much lighter. He spends a lot of the time dealing with paperwork while Copia’s away, becoming an extension of Papa himself, standing in for meetings with the Clergy, much to their own chagrin about a ghoul of all things, taking the place of their esteemed leader.  

But they hadn’t fought as hard as they did in the early days of it all, restructuring the church from the inside out, for a few whispered words from some old stuffy suits to really affect him all that much.  

He helps in the infirmary, lending a hand and his magic to the staff there, tending to children and the terminal patients, hoping to make them as comfortable as possible. 

It’s something he’s grateful for, the experience he’d had before with seeing the world and working closely with his pack, and the experience now, of helping Copia run the church in the manner intended. Having a part in bringing everyone together in His name was the reason that he was who he is today—blood, sweat and his own tears.  

Loyal, faithful in his own way, willing to step in where needed no matter what—these were all the reasons that he still had a place, the love of his pack rushing strongly through his veins; their support on the nights that things were the hardest.  

He was the foundation of it all, the one that people still came to, his pack still came to when things weren’t going the way they should—he took the brunt of Sister Imperator’s ire whenever something came up and Copia wasn’t present, funneling all his energy into making things right.  

His physical load of work was much lighter than touring most of the year, but the mental toll of it all has him dropping harder than he can handle most days, collapsing tiredly into his bed, on the couch, anywhere he can lie horizontally after a long day of working through crisis after crisis—lending his shoulder to struggling siblings, to struggling ghouls who’d been summoned for mundane tasks, the ever overbearing presence of the Clergy asking him to break down what Copia’s next plan was for whatever new issue they had churned up.  

It’s shortly after everyone returns from the last Imperatour that Aether finally allows himself a moment to just be.  

He seeks out Swiss almost immediately—he could go to anyone, really, but Swiss knows how to handle him, knows what he needs without him having to actually say anything.  

His room is still in a slight disarray, his suitcases are lined neatly along the wall by the door, but one of them is opened and clothes are spilling out onto the floor while Swiss carefully sorts through another pile he’d overturned onto his bed.  

Aether stands there by the opened door, feels something heavy in his heart and chest unclench, finally able to see, to tangibly feel him after being apart for so long, their bond buzzing happily as Aether opens himself up to the questioning probe of Swiss’s everything.  

“How long are you gonna stand there, handsome?” Swiss asks, his back’s still turned and he’s mostly unglamoured now; his tail swaying slowly behind him to some sort of tune that Swiss had been humming softly before he’d spoken.  

Accepting the invitation for what it was, Aether steps into the room, words caught in his throat as he closes the door quietly behind him, watching the way Swiss’s head turns, his profile beautiful and strong, the soft lavender downy feathers along his jawline a stark contrast to his darker skin.  

The words still stick thickly in Aether’s throat as he crosses the space, closing the distance between them with careful yet large steps until he’s able to wrap his arms around Swiss’s waist from the side, pressing his face into his shoulder and just existing.  

He feels more than hears Swiss laugh, the vibration against his own chest from where they’re pressed together, and then Swiss is turning in his arms, wrapping his own over Aether’s shoulders and holding him close, resting his chin on the top of Aether’s hair, right between where his horns curl outward and away from his head.  

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Swiss says after a moment, his voice low and comforting, he’s not chastising or chiding him, and Aether knows he isn’t, but he can’t help the way he tries to bury himself deeper into Swiss’s arms at the words.  

He doesn’t want to talk about it.  

That’s why he came to Swiss.  

“I know what you need baby, but there’s a few things we need to establish first,” Swiss continues, as if he can read Aether’s mind—and well, to an extent he can, the two of them so in tune with each other now.   He finally makes a noise, a sigh that’s a little bit put upon, but he nods carefully—mindful of his horns and Swiss’s place so close to them. Still, words leave him, rendering him unable to speak.  

“We’ll take our time,” Swiss murmurs then and presses a kiss between Aether’s horns before he pulls away, just long enough to shuffle the clothes from the bed to the floor, before he’s maneuvering the two of them down into the blankets.  

Aether hasn’t been in Swiss’s bed since he left for tour in the spring, his scent almost fading from the pillows and blankets on the bed—being refreshed by their combined scents sends a spark of something through him as a low, rumbling purr looses itself from his chest—its involuntary and Swiss immediately bullies his way between Aether’s legs so he can rest between them, settling atop his chest like some sort of person shaped weighted blanket. 

He purrs louder, feeling grounded in a way he hasn’t in so many months, his eyes fluttering closed as he sinks back into the pillows behind him, as he feels Swiss draw a blanket up over the two of them, cocooning them in with softness and warmth.  

He falls asleep at some point, with Swiss’s head on his chest, only vaguely aware of the somewhat rusty answering purr that comes from the multi-ghoul on top of him.  

- 

When Aether awakens, Swiss is holding him now, their positions much different than they had been before—his face pressed into Swiss’s collarbone and Swiss’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Swiss is, of course, awake, his hand rubbing slow circles along his lower back almost like he’s kneading there, and Aether can’t help the content sigh that leaves his mouth as he closes his eyes again and sinks back into Swiss’s embrace.  

“Feeling better?” Swiss asks after some time, his fingers had slowly worked their way under Aether’s shirt, untucking it from the back of his pants so he could draw shapes along his lower back, callus roughened fingertips oh so gentle against his skin.  

He can talk now, and Aether knows he should, but there’s part of him that wants to keep the quiet for a bit longer, let Swiss touch him oh so gently before he asks for something firmer, before he discusses everything and lets Swiss take control.  

In the end, he sighs and rubs his cheek against Swiss’s shirt, a warm and worn thing he’d had on for a lazy day in that smells strongly of him, “Marginally.” he finally manages to make himself say. “There’s a lot going on.”  

Swiss hums softly, tracing a little heart along Aether’s spine, “I heard,” he says, keeping his voice low, speaking mostly into Aether’s hair, not complaining about the uncomfortable press of Aether’s horn against his collarbone. “Things always get hectic at the end of a tour, yeah?” he murmurs, drawing another heart along Aether’s spine, “But you do so well, you handle it all with the grace of a leader,” he smiles a little, “I know you came to me for a reason, big boy.” he adds on after a moment, his fingertip dipping lower to drag along the waist of his slacks. “But we’ve got to talk about it first.”  

Aether exhales loudly, he’s not trying to be difficult about this—a brat, Swiss would call him if he were privy to his thoughts, but the thought of talking about it makes his skin feel too tight, makes him want to hide.  

“I guess, yeah. I did come to you for...this. You’re the only one who can really get me to...” he trails off, the word’s on the tip of his tongue, he wants to say it, he really does, but it sticks there, against the roof of his mouth.   

Swiss makes a pleased sort of sound, “Drop?” he supplies the word, rewarding him with a kiss to his hair, a sweeping across his lower back with two of his fingers; the touch light and barely there but it still lights every nerve ending of Aether’s on fire.  

“Uh huh,” Aether mumbles in agreement, presses his face into Swiss’s shirt again, moving his lips around the word, mouthing drop against his shirt until he feels like he’s able to say it, “I want to not be in control for a little while.” he continues, “I feel like I’m going to claw my own skin off because everything’s just too much right now.” he admits quietly, bunching his fingers into the soft material of Swiss’s shirt.  

Swiss is quiet for a moment, long enough to let Aether’s words sit between them, before he shifts on the bed, maneuvering the two of them around until he’s sitting back against the headboard and Aether’s leaned properly against his chest; his palm now spread across Aether’s back as a point of skin-to-skin contact.  

“Thank you for trusting me enough to come to me with this,” Swiss murmurs, “And I’d be honored to be the one to take you out of your mind for a bit,” he adds, ducking down to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips, “We need to go over a few things, and then we’ll go get something to eat and maybe once we’ve finished eating, we’ll scene tonight, if you’re up to it. Or we can table it for tonight and look into it sometime tomorrow. I’ve got a clear schedule and I’m sure Copia’ll be glad to take back his paperwork duties to get out of post tour concert meetings. Gotta give his right hand a proper rest now that he’s back at the church and can take over his duties again.”  

Aether snorts softly, though he doesn’t deny it—Copia does hate speaking with the Clergy most of the time. “Once we eat, I’ll have an answer then,” he says with a little sigh. He feels tired, limbs heavy and he knows that it’s mostly from the way he’s been ignoring his own needs these past few days leading up to this. His mental capacity to take care of everyone slowly fills until it’s nearly overfull.  

Swiss hums and slides his hand further up Aether’s shirt, smoothing his palm across his back in a slow, comforting motion, “What exactly do you want from this? Beyond me taking the control?” he asks, “Specifics, if you can. Penetration or none, do you want to be restrained. Things like that.”  

He thinks on it then, contemplates what he wants, his brain trying to overthink and wonder if something he wants is too much for Swiss to want to do so soon after tour.  

“No penetration,” Aether finally settles on, “I’m okay with restraints, the ones you know I like, with the padded cuffs that don’t hurt.” He stops then, pressing his lips together as another thought comes to the forefront of his mind, “I don’t want to hurt.” he says, “I don’t want to be hit, or in pain.”  

Swiss presses a kiss to his temple, keeping his palm flat against Aether’s back, “No pain, no hitting, no penetration.” He lists back, his voice low and warm. “Do you have an idea of what you want?” he asks, “Something to take you out of your mind, yeah?”  

After a moment, Aether huffs, “Honestly I think if you make me come a few times, that might be enough for me.” he says, feeling only a slight bit of embarrassment as he speaks. “It’s been a while for me. I feel like a few orgasms could really reset everything.”  

A laugh, soft and fond falls from Swiss’s lips, “A few orgasms,” he says with a smile. “I can do that. I have an idea, let’s get some food in you and I’ll run it by you afterwards. You tell me what you think, and we can go from there. Sound good?”  

It’s only then, does Aether lift his head, looking up at Swiss who’s watching him with the fondest, softest look he’s ever seen, “Yeah, okay,” he says, and then he pushes himself up, fits his lips against Swiss’s and gives into the slide of their mouths together for a bit until Swiss is nudging him away, grinning wide.  

“Food first, big guy,” Swiss says with a little laugh, pressing one last firm kiss to Aether’s mouth before pulling away properly. “Let’s get you right and we’ll head down to see the pack. Dinner time and all that. I’m sure the others will want to regale you all the tales from our time on the road.”  

As much as Aether wants to pout, to demand they eat up here in the quiet of Swiss’s room, he knows himself well enough to know that’d be a terrible idea—so he smiles, nods at him and pulls himself out of Swiss’s embrace, as much as he craves the closeness, now that Swiss has mentioned pack, he feels a strong pull in his chest as he thinks of them, wanting to see them all together again after so long apart.  

“Let’s go, baby,” Swiss is saying, in the time that Aether had pulled away, he’d already moved off the bed and was standing by it, holding his hand out.  

In a moment of weakness, Aether takes his hand and lets Swiss pull him from the bed.  

- 

After dinner, they talk more, discuss Swiss’s idea and he falls asleep safely in Swiss’s arms, murmuring that they can start tomorrow—that he’ll take the day off and he’ll be Swiss’s for the foreseeable future, until he feels less like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin in agony.  

- 

The next morning, he wakes up in Swiss’s arms, rested but weary still, limbs heavy with sleep, but Swiss allows him to rest there for a little while longer before pulling him into a kiss—something firm yet soft, something that easily warms him up, makes him feel flush and hot with need.  

He feels himself plump up a bit at the sensation, making a soft, pleased noise into the kiss, reaching his hand up to tangle in Swiss’s curly hair, fingers gentle against his scalp until Swiss lets the kiss come to an end, naturally.  

“Go shower for me, gorgeous,” Swiss murmurs, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “And then come back in here, naked. We’ll get you restrained just like you want to be.”  

There’s a simmer of heat in Aether’s belly, low and slow deep down as he allows himself to lay close to Swiss for only a few moments more before tearing himself away from him—he knows himself, knows that if he stays around, if he loiters in bed for too long then he’ll forgo their carefully crafted plan, their scene before it even happens.  

Aether allows himself time to stand under the warm water—it's almost hot enough to burn his skin but it’s relaxing, bearing down on the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the world on him heavy and uncomfortably. He doesn’t quite know how long he stays there, standing under the water, but he doesn’t snap out of his heat induced trance until there’s a soft knock on the door, an even softer call of his name. 

That snaps him out of it, makes him shuffle back out of the water so he can quickly clean himself up—unscented soap and the nice shampoos that Swiss keeps in his bathroom before he’s turning the water off and wrapping himself up in a big, fluffy and warm towel—enchanted to keep a low level of heat for warmth after a shower.  

A cloud of steam follows him out of the bathroom, back into Swiss’s room where the other ghoul is waiting—there's a set of chains with padded wrist cuffs affixed to one of the sturdy beams in the ceiling—they hang down just enough that Aether knows when he’s restrained, it’ll be a stretch on his shoulders, he’ll be on his tiptoes.  

He feels himself fatten up even more, each of his cocks unfurled and thickening as he takes it all in. It’s a simple scene, he’ll be restrained, and Swiss will wring several orgasms out of him until he’s happy with how much Aether has come, until Aether drops into that space where he’s warm and floaty.  

Swiss easily crosses the room—now dressed in another soft t-shirt, but wearing a pair of jeans, barefoot; he’s got the button on the jeans undone, the zip barely up over where his own cock is half-hard. They share a kiss, something simple and sweet and full of love, while Swiss’s hands rub over Aether’s shoulders, fingertips catching on the soft towel with each pass.  

“Ready?” Swiss murmurs against his mouth, feels Aether’s responding yes more than he hears it; the taste of the word, the shape of it shared in the kiss and he pulls away with a grin before guiding Aether back into place. 

With gentle fingers, Swiss carefully unwraps the towel from around him, lets it drop to the floor, “There we go,” he says, now able to smooth his fingers along Aether’s shower warmed skin; he smiles and leans forward to press a kiss to his sternum, murmuring something as a warm gust of air leaves his mouth.  

An enchantment, warmth encasing Aether, keeping him from catching a chill from the room—he appreciates it, always a little on the colder side, being quintessence, his nature and when Swiss laces their fingers together on one hand and guides his arm upwards, he lets him.  

Confident that Swiss will take care of him now, he relaxes the second the padded cuff slips over his first wrist, already warmed by Swiss’s magic—he's guided up onto his toes as Swiss closes the second one over his other wrist and already, he can feel a sort of haziness in his brain.  

“Good?” Swiss asks, checking how tight they are, making sure they’re not going to cut any sort of circulation off. 

Aether nods, blinking slowly, “Perfect,” he says with a sigh, almost making the mistake of sinking down onto the flat of his feet but at the last second correcting himself and settling on the balls of his feet instead.  

Swiss smiles, pleased and he steps around behind Aether briefly, allowing himself to take in the planes of his back, his arms above his head, the slight arch as he balances himself.  

There’s a noise, the whir of a vibrating wand coming to life behind him and then Swiss steps in close to him, pressing it against the small of his back in a tease—Aether gasps with it and rocks forward a bit more, the sensation so strange all of a sudden.  

That makes Swiss laugh and press harder, letting it run along the knobs of his spine—it's different than what he expected, it’s on one of the lower settings but Aether can’t help the way he tries to move away from it, wiggling around on his toes, he doesn’t laugh but it’s close enough, the choked sound leaving his throat, his lips has Swiss’s laughter grow louder, fonder.  

“Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going, big guy?” Swiss asks, stepping in closer until Aether can feel him, the softness of his t-shirt a stark contrast against his own bare skin. “Not trying to run away from me already, are you?” 

Aether makes another noise, something like a whine, thick and reedy in the back of his throat as he inhales deeply through his nose and leans back into Swiss, into the vibrations—they’re so low and barely there, but he can feel it rattling him to his very core, already so keyed up from the barest of touches. 

(“I don’t want to talk much,” Aether had whispered into his shoulder the night before. “Feels like I can barely string together words now.”  

Swiss had hummed softly, combing his fingers through Aether’s hair, “Understandable. No talking required unless you need to get out of the cuffs, baby.”)  

“Good boy,” Swiss murmurs with a smile, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the base of Aether’s neck, “You know that I’ll take good care of you. S’why you come to me..” He draws the wand downwards, letting the vibrations settle into his lower back again, just above the curve of his ass, “You’re such a good leader, strong and steady to lean on, but sometimes you need to lean on someone, baby.” 

Aether’s shivering, shaking, feeling like he’s going to come apart at the seams already, Swiss has barely even touched him, much less touched him where he’s craving it—his cocks curved up against his belly, leaking steadily at the tip.  

It's been a while, since he’s been able to focus on himself, on his own pleasure, he just wants to— 

“Do you want to come, sweet boy?” Swiss asks, nudging a knee between Aether’s spread legs, right up against where his balls hang heavily, the barest graze of denim over sensitive skin.  

There’s no cruelness in his tone, gentle and careful as he reaches around with his empty hand, cupping over Aether’s belly, “If you need it, take it, this is about you, baby boy. You don’t need my permission.”  

Aether makes a noise, a garbled mess of something not quite human as he bows back against Swiss, a gaspy sob leaving his lips as his cocks twitch and with barely any warning at all, he comes—it feels like a release, the way he sort of bows over with it, the padded cuffs pulling at his wrists, at his shoulders, overwhelming and good.  

Swiss lets him catch his breath then, removes the wand from his lower back, the low and steady buzz stopping and leaving the room silent except for Aether’s own gasping and harsh breaths.  

“Good boy,” Swiss murmurs, pressing himself along Aether’s back once more, clothes to skin, using both arms to cradle him gently, “You’re doing so well, that’s one down, huh? Do you think we can squeeze a couple more out of you? Two? Three? Could we get up to five before it’s too much?”  

Aether shudders in Swiss’s arms, “Uh huh,” he manages to mumble out, tilting his head back against Swiss’s shoulder as he shifts on his feet, settling more comfortably as he turns his head, brushing a kiss across Swiss’s jaw. “Please.” 

Swiss makes a soft, happy noise and carefully turns Aether’s head more so they can share a kiss—it's not their first of the day, and it won’t be the last, but it makes Aether’s head spin in the best of ways; all-encompassing, like he’s being devoured.  

The buzzing starts again, but this time Aether is ready for it, the vibrations nudged right against his hip, letting him get used to it; it’s still so low compared to how high he knows the wand goes and he can’t figure out if he’s frustrated that Swiss is going so easy or if he’s thankful for it.  

“I can feel that you’re not content with what I’m giving you,” Swiss murmurs, amusement tugging at their bond as he carefully slides the wand further across Aether’s stomach, “Can feel you getting impatient with me, baby boy.” he’s grinning against his cheek, “You know I’m going to take care of you, right?”  

The answer is on the tip of his tongue, but in the next moment, the wand is right there against the head of one of his cocks and all he can do is rock into it and make a choked noise—the metallic sound of the chains echo loud in the room, a cacophony of noise that drowns out everything but the tortured groan that rips itself from Aether’s chest.  

“Beautiful,” Swiss coos against his cheek, pressing a firm kiss there, “You’re doing so well, taking what I give you,” he continues as he slowly drags the wand further down his shaft, nestling it at the root of both his cocks.  

It catches him by surprise this time—the vibrations shouldn’t be enough to make his toes curl, shouldn’t take his breath so suddenly as he rocks up into it and comes again, nearly hoarse and raw as both of his cocks leak steadily.  

He’s been essentially untouched this whole time, pent up but soft around the edges—Swiss's hard body against his back, grounding him there, keeping him from swaying too much on his toes.  

“Good, good,” Swiss murmurs, the wand is off again and put away as Swiss comes around to stand in front of him, pressing against his front so wholly uncaring of the mess that paints Aether’s belly and leaks down onto his thighs—it gets on Swiss’s clothes but the other ghoul doesn’t look like he cares too much as he cups Aether’s face in his hands and draws him into a proper kiss.  

Tears leak from the corners of Aether’s eyes as he closes them tightly, leaning into the soft and sweet thing, letting Swiss coax his mouth open with gentle nips and presses of his tongue until Aether’s going fuzzy with it all, feeling as if Swiss is stealing the air right from his lungs.  

When they part, Aether’s sure his face is flush, that his skin is a mess of mottled gray and constellation like silver across the apples of his cheek, across his chest—he feels Swiss’s lips press against his cheek, tongue flicking out to catch the sweat and tears there, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs with a rusty sort of purr, grinding forward against where Aether’s starting to harden again. 

The sensation of cloth against his oversensitive cocks makes Aether whine, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he tries to rock forward into the sensation, even though part of his brain wants him to move away from it.  

Swiss draws him into another kiss, slower and deeper than the last, one hand cupping his cheek as the other works its way between their bodies to wrap around Aether’s cocks—the sudden touch of skin against skin has Aether crying out into Swiss’s mouth, nearly losing his balance.  

The next orgasm comes a little slower than the last one—Swiss's touch is so firm, steady and careful, his large palm encompassing the entirety of one of his shafts while his knuckles brush over the second one, stimulating them both in a way that makes him want to fuck into Swiss’s hand.  

He can’t, tied as he is, his body pressed against Swiss’s front so tightly—he has no leverage, he feels helpless as he pulls at the chains and feels the way the ache in his shoulders grows, part of him wishes he could touch, could pull Swiss’s cock out and feel it against his, get their hands around all three of them together.  

“Let me,” Swiss murmurs, as if he can tell that Aether’s mind is starting to drift somewhere, somewhere far away from where he currently has him, tied up in his bedroom and at his mercy. He tightens his fist around Aether’s cock, the slickness of his come giving just enough friction for it to not hurt.  

He feels it building deep inside his belly, warmth spreading from his groin—outwards until all his limbs feel fuzzy and limp as both of his cocks kick, one in Swiss’s fist and the other one just barely stimulated enough for anything.  

Swiss’s shirt is a mess when he finally stops touching Aether and steps back, a mess of sweat and come but he doesn’t seem to mind it, just wipes his hand off on the bottom of it, grinning lasciviously at Aether before he goes to pick the wand up again.  

“Three, yeah?” Swiss asks, innocently as he turns the wand on, the vibrations loud in the quietness of the room. He draws the vibrating head across Aether’s belly, teasing, and Aether hisses, clenches his fists and wobbles on his toes. “I think five is looking like a good number for us, baby,” he teases and then Aether shouts when the wand comes into contact with his still soft cocks once again.  

It continues on like this for so long that Aether forgets the time, forgets how many times Swiss has made him come, forgets the mess he’s making on himself, on the floor, on Swiss’s clothes—the only thing he can focus on is the feeling of the vibrations in his cocks, in the soft praises that are bestowed upon him as he goes somewhere far off and floaty.  

It’s so good that it almost doesn’t register when it suddenly tips over into not good—he's not sure how many times this makes, Swiss’s voice is low and syrupy against his ear, the vibrations against his cocks suddenly becoming too much and all he wants to do is get away from it.  

He gasps out, the sound coming out more pained than pleasured, his lips working over and over and over as if they’re trying to form something, form a word and—and—and— 

“Pomegranate.” He manages to get out, the word sounding foreign and choked in his own ears, like he’s underwater and only tipping further into the abyss, hurtling towards an end that’s so unpleasant now that his mind is focused on it, he can’t do anything else.  

The vibrations stop immediately, there’s a thunk of something hitting the floor and then there’s hands, gentle and quick, undoing the cuffs around his wrists—he still feels like he’s underwater, moving sluggish, he wants to curl up and in on himself, his entire body feeling like a livewire, like one touch will surely end him.  

He doesn’t know, from one moment to the next, how he makes it to a seated position, but he feels Swiss hovering around him, hands fluttering over his shoulders—he thinks the other is talking, but he’s too focused on controlling his breathing, his rapid, almost convulsive heaving breaths that draw all thought away from him when he tries to form one.  

A warm and slightly heavy blanket settles over his shoulders as the bed behind him dips and he’s shifted back into Swiss’s chest, there’s layers of cloth between the two of them, but somehow that’s what he’s able to focus on, to feel himself come back slowly, the rushing in his ears dying down until he can hear Swiss behind him, he’s humming something, a song that Aether can’t quite place, hands resting firm on his shoulders as a rush of heat travels through the blanket.  

The crash is always the hardest on Aether, even when he drops peacefully, his body temperature hurtling dangerously low, but Swiss is doing his best to keep him comfortable, warm—the tears come to Aether’s eyes again, unbidden as he hunches over on himself.  

There’s a kiss pressed into his hair, barely there as Swiss waits it out, keeping the touch and the heat close, the blanket doing its job in grounding him properly until Aether feels less like he’s going to fall through the cracks of existence.  

“Aeth?” Swiss murmurs after a long period of silence, after he feels the way Aether’s body seems to drop as if it were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “When you’re ready I’ve got some water and a few snacks for you, but we won’t move until you give the signal.”  

When Aether finally lifts his head enough to turn it, to look back at him, his eyes are red rimmed and his face splotchy with silvery gray and Swiss is watching him with wide, worried eyes.  

It takes him a moment, but he manages to get his limbs to move enough that he’s reaching out to Swiss, trying to turn around so he can bury himself into his embrace—not that he needs to fret about it much, because Swiss always knows what he needs, gets him turned around on the bed and wrapped tightly in the blanket, tightly in his arms.  

He takes a bit there, nose pressed into the downy feathers against the side of Swiss’s throat, inhaling his scent, listening to the raspy, rusty purr that looses itself from Swiss’s chest—he does eventually lift his head, peering up at Swiss with a curious look, taking in the pinched look on his face.  

“Think you’re ready for some water now?” Swiss asks, his voice low and gentle, almost hypnotizing in a way and Aether nods slowly, only jostled a bit as Swiss leans back to grab a cup with a straw in it—ever thoughtful and prepared.  

He takes a few sips from it, the liquid cool on his tongue, parching his dry throat, he’s going to need something more than that soon, but for now, the water is enough for him, so he goes back in and takes a few more careful pulls from the straw until he’s drank his fill, pulling back with a little sigh before resting back in the crook of Swiss’s neck.  

Swiss is quiet for a bit, but he starts carding his fingers through Aether’s hair, keeping his touch light and careful around his horns as he does so, it’s relaxing and Aether feels himself start to fall asleep from it—though he knows that he still needs to get cleaned up, they still need to talk about it, there’s so much to do still— 

“Hey, baby, baby,” Swiss murmurs, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I’ve got you; do you want to lay down now? I’ve got some wipes, and we can clean up a little bit before we finish getting you to come down proper, alright?”  

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, lets Swiss maneuver him around on the bed until he’s lying on his back—the weighted blanket had been removed from his shoulders and Swiss warms the wipes up before he carefully wipes away most of the come that had been slowly drying on his skin.  

Overall, it takes a lot less time than a bath would have, but Aether feels exhausted as all is said and done, easily goes when Swiss, who’s stripped and is now as naked as he, wiggles into the bed beside him and draws him into his arms, pulling the blanket up over their bodies to fight off the chill of the room now that Swiss isn’t focusing on keeping everything warm.  

“Do you think you can eat a little bit of this for me?” Swiss murmurs, shaking a small container; its chocolate covered almonds and Aether licks his lips, nods and lets Swiss feed him a small handful of almonds—the chocolate sweet and just enough to draw him further back into his own body.  

Swiss is back to drawing little shapes across his back, fingertips gentle as he writes and draws his love across Aether’s skin, letting him come back to his own on his own time, not rushing him—and Aether feels floaty and sleepy in a completely different direction than before.  

He’s happy and content in this, pressing his face into Swiss’s collarbone, and when he finally finds his words, he doesn’t pull away much, speaking directly into Swiss’s skin.  

“It became too much all of a sudden,” Aether mumbles, sluggish and slow, “I don’t know what happened, but I was enjoying it and all of a sudden, I felt like I was going to come apart.”  

Swiss’s other hand finds his hair again, nails gentle over his scalp as he listens, allows Aether to talk about it, the helplessness at being chained there and suddenly not wanting it anymore.  

“Thank you for stopping when you did,” Aether mumbles, knowing he doesn’t have to thank Swiss for it, but feeling indebted to his kindness and the constant vigilance that Swiss shows when they scene together. “For making me comfortable enough to know that I can stop whenever it’s too much.”  

A kiss pressed to his temple again, “Anytime baby,” Swiss murmurs, “Your comfort is the most important thing. The scene was about you. If you’re uncomfortable, then we stop.” He draws a heart over Aether’s shoulder blade. “You know I’ll always take care of you.”  

Aether makes a soft noise in contentment, “I know,” he mumbles, the words starting to feel heavy on his tongue. “I had a great time, before things got to be too much. I didn’t realize how much I needed something like that until you’d gotten me to come twice with very little stimulation.”  

“That’s what I’m here for,” Swiss says, carding his fingers through Aether’s hair, “Did you want to take a nap now? And once we wake up, we can settle in the bathtub for a bit? Unless you’d like to bathe now.”  

He’s comfortable and warm, wrapped in the blanket and Swiss’s arms so he shakes his head, “Nap first,” he says, a yawn catching him as he speaks, “Bath and then maybe some food. In that order.”  

Swiss hums, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, smiling softly when Aether lifts his head so they can kiss, slow and soft and light, a barely there brush of lips that has Aether purring happily before burying back into Swiss’s embrace.  

He’s the backbone of the pack, the one everyone comes to when something goes wrong, even though these days Dew and Cumulus are more suited for the interworking issues of pack management—but when he’s in Swiss’s bed, all that melts away and he’s not longer the backbone no longer the one offering support.  

He’s.   

Safe.  

[fe-fictions]

I can't believe I have to post about this a second time in a year, but I have another sick kitty...

We lost our senior cat Henry in February, it was just time for him to go. He was a handsome and wonderful 14 years old, and had been with us since we were children.

And not long after we lost him, my sibling and I (we live together) decided the apartment was just too empty without him...we were missing the warmth and the joy that a sweet kitty cat brought with him.

So we each adopted our very own cats; a handsome long-haired 3 month old boy named Gojo, and a beautiful short-haired 5 month old girl named Luisa.

Luisa is my baby girl. She was born in September, the same month as me, and she's my whole world. But the last few days, she's been eating less, playing less, and getting more and more docile and lethargic.

I took her to the emergency vet today because she wasn't eating at all and was hiding since yesterday morning. He told me that she had an auto immune disorder, and was extremely anemic.

He gave me three options; try steroids and antibiotics, see if she responds to them, or they could hospitalize her and give her a blood transfusion, which was way, way too expensive...if I had the money I would've done it in a heartbeat, and it breaks my heart to think that I could've done more for her if I had a better job and could provide for my baby more. And the third option was to put her to sleep there, because her odds were slim.

I chose the option to get her medication, which was a quarter the cost of a hospitalization, and he assured me typically saw really good results, but that sometimes it would take a few days or a week or two before seeing improvement.

I gave her the first dose as soon as we got home, got her set up in my room, but she's still not eating, won't go to the bathroom, and I'm just really, really worried that I'm gonna have to say goodbye to her, before she's even a year old.

I'm just not ready to say goodbye again. Twice in the same year, two of my sweet babies. I am not ready to do that again. It happened so fast. The shelter I got her at likely had no idea she was sick; she showed no signs of it until just a few days ago. I hate that she's so fragile, and that I can't do enough for her. It's just crushing.

I want to try and focus on the positive, and hope that she's gonna pull through in the next few days. I'm just so sad, because it wasn't that long ago I saw this behavior in a dying cat. I know what it looks like, I felt it, I could see it. And I'm not ready to do that again.

I was supposed to have at least ten years with this slinky little baby. I don't want to believe that I'm gonna have to say goodbye to her. I won't know for at least a few days; but if she stops eating and she can't go to the bathroom, I don't know where to go from there.

I just wanted to vent, I wanted to let you all know that's what I'm dealing with right now. I hope you'll continue to have patience with me, and to those who commissioned art from me, I'm gonna work hard to get it done ASAP since it's already been a while, and I just need to do something to keep my mind off of what's going on right now.

But yeah. That's what's going on at this moment, and so if I sort of disappear for a little while or my posts go a while without anything, that's why.

Thanks for being so sweet, you guys are such a wonderful group of fellow FE enthusiasts and I love writing for you all. It's without a doubt the group of the friendliest and sweetest people I've ever run into; whenever awful things were going on, IRL or online, I would always come here because the drama or the stressful mess would never reach it; this place is my little safe haven haha

So thank you for being here, and thank you for listening and for your patience! I'll do everything I can to keep up.

- chiyo

[siriannatan]

Flowers 1/2

In order to lessen the amount of ongoing projects I went through ones I planned to be shorter and finished this one.

Hope ya'll like it :}

And yes, I did get inspired by Miley Cyrus… It's a good damn song.

Scott needed no stinking boyfriend. Jimmy could have all the engineers he wanted. Scott didn't need him at all. He did exceeding well on his own before Jimmy and will now without him.

He can buy flowers for himself. He had Louise to talk to, even if the cat couldn't talk back. No, talking back was actually better. He could even hold her little paws.

Who needs a boyfriend anyway?

Not Scott. So on his first day off since the mess, full of yelling and throwing things break up, he went to his favourite flower shop. They seemed to get a new neighbour in the form of a tattoo and piercing parlour.

"Scott! How can I help you," Pearl greeted him with a wide, warm smile.

"Prettiest flowers you have, I'm treating myself today," Scott grinned back. She already knew about the breakup and did not comment on it. "You got new neighbours," he hummed as she picked out what she knew were his favourites. Maybe he should get a new piercing. Mark the occasion properly.

"Oh, them, nice siblings, good artist I'm thinking of commissioning something for myself," Pearl chatted as if she was being paid to promote the other business.

Scott just hummed and nodded. He had been thinking of that new piercing for a long time. His clients often associated tattoos and piercings with creativity. He was in the middle of a contract when he got his first one. The client instantly was more on board with his ideas with that present. 

And he simply liked piercings. Even if he only had one for the time being. "I just might pop in and check it out. I've been thinking of getting another for some time," he mused, playing with his so far only one.

"I can keep your flowers here while you do," Pearl very kindly offered. 

Scott thanked her but took his flowers with him. "Maybe another day," he said and left.

"Suit yourself, one of the guys there is really cute~," she waved as Scott left. 

Cute guys were the last thing he needed at the moment. He was more than fine alone. Louise was all he needed.

He came by the place just a week later. The idea of getting a second piercing was constantly on his mind. And his latest  customer constantly complained they he was not creative enough.

Inside the place was dark, with moody music and closed displays of piercings and some other jewellery. On a small purple couch sat a kid so enamoured with the tablet he was holding he totally ignored Scott.

And behind the front desk, taping angrily at his phone was possibly the cutest man ever. Messy copper hair that a thin, dark wire headband failed to keep contained. Pretty blue eyes. Many dark metal piercings. A dark T-Shirt with an almost faded, red logo of some sort was slightly too big on him. Short sleeves exposing a dark rose sleeve tattoo on his arm. More black in the form of bracelets and rings. And he painted his nails. Black, plain matte black, but Scott still could appreciate it.

"Welcome, how can I help you?" The man asked as his phone hit the desk. 

Oh no, his voice was cute too even if he sounded bored and tired. At ten in the morning... "Hi... Umm do I need an appointment for a piercing and if I do when is the best time for it?" Scott instantly sauntered up to the desk. The kid was probably either a customer's or a relative of someone from the staff.

"Not really, I think Gem's free at the moment," the man shrugged and checked a bound in dark, likely fake, leather calendar. "Yep, she free. Is now okay?" 

"Yes," Scott nodded. He was not going to ask if Cutie could do it. That'd be weird. He was probably staring a weird amount already. Just appreciating the art on his arm, would be what he'd defend himself with.

"Great. Gem! You got a customer," he yelled to the back. Scott was definitely coming back just to see him. Which was probably a bad reason but he was damn cute.

Out the back came a girl that looked a lot like the cutie. The same shade of copper hair. Green eyes tho. She had the same annoyed expression as Cutie made at his phone. Twins? "No need to yell," she scolded. "Sorry about him, how can I help you today? I'm Gem by the way," she extended her arm, no longer annoyed but all friendly, professional and nice.

Scott somehow managed to focus on picking a spot he wanted and a starter stud. He'd think what he'd put there more permanently later. For today he picked a helix from the diagram he was presented if only just because Cutie had one of those among many others.

"He's single, fWhip, my brother," she smiled as she prepared for the job. Away from cutie ears.

"Is that a normal topic for a conversation with a customer?" Scott asked but did not mind getting the man's name.

"It's good for a sister who wants her brother to leave the house for something other than just work and pizza," Gem chuckled as she put all she needed in its place. "He only does tattoos if you want him alone for a little bit," she grinned and removed her hoodie. She had a very pretty, stained glass-like dragon on her arm. "This one was all fWhip. He's really good, especially if it's your first one," she said and got to work as Scott tried to process what he was supposed to do with that.

He could get a tattoo but that was quite a commitment to make just to stare at a cute guy. And have his hands on him... It was too tempting to not at least think about it...

There was no harm in just talking about it? Right? And he's been thinking about getting one before coming here today. So he asked Gem if he could maybe first consult a tattoo with someone. He didn't name anyone but she instantly offered to let him have 'five minutes with fWhip'. Scott just nodded. 

"fWhip, we have a customer who wants to talk about possible tattoos," Gem announced once she was done. Scott followed her and gave fWhip' a sheepish smile. "He liked my dragon so I offered to let him talk directly with the designer," she grinned. Scott was pretty sure he caught a tiny bit of blush on fWhip's face.

"Sure thing, the lady from the other side brought the flowers I ordered earlier," fWhip' shrugged and pointed to a fresh bouquet of flowers. "I had no idea what you meant so I just listed what I know you like," he shrugged and motioned Scott to follow him.

Scott was painfully aware he was alone with fWhip' when the door to his office clicked closed and a chair was pointed to him. His stare switched between fWhip, all the equipment for tattooing, a mix of colourful and monochromatic designs on the walls and a leather jacket hanging at the back of the spinning chair fWhip sat in.

"Please tell me Gem didn't force this into you?" fWhip started with a sigh. Leaning back in his chair. Unfairly attractive for the current circumstances.

"Not really, more like convinced me to finally take a first step," Scott smiled. He did not want this to end so quickly. And was now genuinely interested. "I simply have no ideas. But I've been thinking about getting one for a long time," he admitted, forcing himself to relax. He was not talking to a potential boyfriend but a professional in their place of work.

fWhip hummed. Got up and brought over a not-too-thick binder full of what turned out to be some designs he just had lying about... And they were all pretty good. But what got Scott's attention was a pair of golden stag horns. Very geometric, sketched out in pretty gold ink. "This one looks cool," he pointed out before he could bite himself.

"Mhm, could work as a back tattoo or clavicle but the second would hurt a lot more. This," he pulled his shirt's neckline down slightly, exposing some flowers. There were more peeking from under the short sleeve on his right arm. Same tattoo? "Hurt quite a bit and I'm used to it," he hummed, as Scott tried to focus words, not the sudden desire to know what and where exactly fWhip had tattooed on his body.

Scott hummed, shifting in his seat. Damn. Why must this man be so attractive? "I'll think about it and call if I make up my mind?" Was the best he could offer at the moment.

"Sure, you can also come up with any modifications you want. Would you want a photo or copy of this?" fWhip offered what Scott did not know how to ask for.

He accepted of course. Ideas about what to add, not change, already swirling in his head. Right next to all the indecent thoughts of fWhip his brain refused to let go of. He should not be thinking these thoughts yet here he was.

He felt weird when he left after paying for everything. He was happy with his new piercing but the sheet of paper with the scan of fWhip's sketch felt heavy in his bag. And it wasn't even the proper thing. Just a copy.

With a sigh, Scott almost dragged himself to his favourite coffee shop. He had some designs to work on. 

He could barely focus. The way fWhip swayed in his chair as he spoke was stuck in his mind. The way his fingers toyed with a pen all the time as well. Scott could not think about anything but the golden antlers' sketch.

His mind was mostly stuck on an image of fWhip, for unknown reasons shirtless with a rather blurry imagining of more flower tattoos based on what Scott had seen so far. Sketching it while looking very aesthetic and handsome... Damn. Scott wanted that man to break him in half...

He sighed as he pulled out a sheet of special foil he used to speculate modifications on printed-out designs and lined it over the print of fWhip's sketch. Not like he could focus on anything else...

[a-driftamongopenstars]

I’ve been really sick lately, how about an solar hunter exo who is suffering with a virus (maybe overheating or glitching) trying to play it off with shaxx and crow?

hey anon :) apologies for a late prompt fill, I hope that you are feeling better ❤ and I hope this ficlet makes you smile, it took a somewhat silly direction :D

For a few days now it has truly been a struggle to keep an eye out on the Guardian. Crow is not sure what happened to them, but if they are not well, they are trying their best to hide it - and failing terribly. Strange glitches in their movements, their voice, their behaviour. If Crow knew any better, he would say they caught a virus.

Well, maybe he does know better.

It all comes to a standstill when the Guardian insists on joining an upcoming match in the Crucible arena.

"Lord Shaxx!" Crow says with exasparation, holding the Guardian by the arm. They flinch and twitch even as he holds onto them, which only works in favour of Crow's plea.

"What is it, Hunters?" Shaxx replies, turning to face the pair away from a wall of screens that showcase different Crucible locations and timetables.

"Would you tell my friend here that they are in no state to play the Crucible?"

Lord Shaxx considers the Guardian for a moment. His face is unreadable under the helmet, but Crow imagines in his mind that his eyes narrow and his mouth is narrow thin as he studies the Exo.

"What happened to them?"

"I can hear you, you know," the Guardian replies, their voice not quite their own. Hoarse and strange, it sounds nothing like Crow is used to. "And I'm perfectly capable of playing the Crucible. Right away!"

They do a finger guns gesture, to which Crow emits another desperate sigh.

"No, you are really not. Half an hour ago you were changing all your LED-colours. Two hours ago you had sparkles flying from your ear."

"Party mood?"

Crow's gaze is daggers.

Shaxx' heavy hand suddenly presses against the Exo's forehead. If the situation weren't so odd and frightening, Crow would have laughed.

"No Crucible for you, Hunter. You have a fever!"

His voice booms through the room like a final judgement, and Crow feels a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn't in his head after all nor was it in his imagination that the Guardian was not quite themselves. And with some knowledge in hand, they could at least find a way to treat the illness.

"Not a fever!" the Guardian shakes their head, which proceeds to twitch slightly to the right. "My Solar abilities! Here!"

Before Crow can say anything, before Shaxx has a moment to react, the Guardian's arm stretches outwards and a fan of burning knives flies from between their fingers into the nearby wall, taking one of the screens out of commission.

A pause lingers between the three before Shaxx's booming voice breaks it.

"It seems that no Crucible will be played at Bannerfall today. Take him to bed, Hunter, and make sure to get someone to check on his workings before the Guardian overheats entirely."

Crow smiles a little and nods. His arm slides around the Guardian's again, pulling him out of the room and away from the arena. As they leave the premises, the Guardian leans to whisper to Crow.

"Is Lord Shaxx saying I'm hot?"

Crow is lost for words.

[muses-of-kira]

10 - 9 - 23

Let's be real here it's a personal update but it's also a blog update so we're going to do a little bit of both.

Personally wise - I'm back to work because the PCP I was seeing cleared me to do so but that does not mean we're out of the woods yet.

I have two MRIs on Weds - one of my head and one of my spine. Then on the 19th I see the Neurologist about this and everything else. So we're hoping I finally get some kind of answers as to why I've been in so much pain and why I have so many new pains since I hit my head in August.

*Fingers Crossed* Here's hoping.

Because of this - work is manageable but also extremely painful some days and bearable others. It comes and goes and depends on how much sleep I get and what activities I've been doing. So speaking of sleep - I am absolutely exhausted after work ends and it's hard to form words into sentences.

Basically - writing is difficult right now.

I can do it, but I have about 1 long post in me and that's about it before my brain maxes out and I can't really think to write anymore. The last novel I posted on Kumo's blog took me 3 days to write on my breaks at work if that gives you some kind of perspective.

AKA I'm not ignoring you.

My head and neck still hurt and trying to write most of the time causes me physical pain. (It is my day off today for context to this post.) I've been quiet on discord too because I can only handle doing so much. Drawing is engaging but in a less painful way for me - so that is why I have been drawing so much.

On the drawing subject: https://artistree.io/kiraelric

You can find my Commission Request form at the link above. They are still open despite me working again.

I need to cover the costs I'm going to get hit with from the MRIs and the CT scans / blood work I've already had.

So if you would like me to draw your muse, favorite character or OCs please feel free to send me a message and come talk to me about it. You can ask for my disco if you don't have it and I'd be happy to talk about one.

So when it comes to threads, please know that I will get to them all in time, and I just need people to be patient with me. I am not ignoring you. I don't suddenly hate you. I promise I am not playing games with anyone. Whatever awful thing your brain is telling you, it's lying. My brain just hurts right now and I still have doctors to go see to find out what we need to do to make it stop.

If you read this far, thank you. I will get things rolling as quickly as I am able.

The patience applies for Kumo, Edward AND Ventus. I will get to ALL of them in due time. The head just hurts.

[ausetkmt]

A statue of Emmett Till is unveiled in Mississippi : NPR

Emmett Till's statue reflects the afternoon sun, during its unveiling on Friday in Greenwood, Miss.

Rogelio V. Solis/AP

GREENWOOD, Miss. — Hundreds of people applauded — and some wiped away tears — as a Mississippi community unveiled a larger-than-life statue of Emmett Till on Friday, not far from where white men kidnapped and killed the Black teenager over accusations he had flirted with a white woman in a country store.

"Change has come, and it will continue to happen," Madison Harper, a senior at Leflore County High School, told a racially diverse audience at the statue's dedication. "Decades ago, our parents and grandparents could not envision that a moment like today would transpire."

The 1955 lynching became a catalyst for the civil rights movement. Till's mother, Mamie Till-Mobley, insisted on an open-casket funeral in Chicago so the world could see the horrors inflicted on her 14-year-old son. Jet magazine published photos of his mutilated body, which was pulled from the Tallahatchie River in Mississippi.

The 9-foot (2.7-meter) tall bronze statue in Greenwood's Rail Spike Park is a jaunty depiction of the living Till in slacks, dress shirt and tie with one hand on the brim of a hat.

The rhythm and blues song, "Wake Up, Everybody" played as workers pulled a tarp off the figure. Dozens of people surged forward, shooting photos and video on cellphones.

Anna-Maria Webster of Rochester, New York, had tears running down her face.

"It's beautiful to be here," said Webster, attending the ceremony on a sunny afternoon during a visit with Mississippi relatives. Speaking of Till's mother she said: "Just to imagine the torment she went through — all over a lie."

This undated portrait shows Emmett Louis Till, who was kidnapped, tortured and killed in the Mississippi Delta in August 1955 after witnesses said he whistled at a white woman working in a store. AP Photo/AP hide caption

"But you, know, change has a way of becoming slower and slower," said Thompson, the only Black member of Mississippi's current congressional delegation. "What we have to do in dedicating this monument to Emmett Till is recommit ourselves to the spirit of making a difference in our community."

The statue is a short drive from an elaborate Confederate monument outside the Leflore County Courthouse and about 10 miles (16 kilometers) from the crumbling remains of the store, Bryant's Grocery & Meat Market, in Money.

The statue's unveiling coincided with the release this month of "Till," a movie exploring Till-Mobley's private trauma over her son's death and her transformation into a civil rights activist.

The Rev. Wheeler Parker Jr., the last living witness to his cousin's kidnapping, wasn't able to travel from Illinois for Friday's dedication. But he told The Associated Press on Wednesday: "We just thank God someone is keeping his name out there."

He said some wrongly thought Till got what he deserved for breaking the taboo of flirting with a white woman, adding many people didn't want to talk about the case for decades.

"Now there's interest in it, and that's a godsend," Parker said. "You know what his mother said: 'I hope he didn't die in vain.'"

Greenwood and Leflore County are both more than 70% Black and officials have worked for years to bring the Till statue to reality. Democratic state Sen. David Jordan of Greenwood secured $150,000 in state funding and a Utah artist, Matt Glenn, was commissioned to create the statue.

Jordan said he hopes it will draw tourists to learn more about the area's history. "Hopefully, it will bring all of us together," he said.

Till and Parker had traveled from Chicago to spend the summer of 1955 with relatives in the deeply segregated Mississippi Delta. On Aug. 24, the two teens took a short trip with other young people to the store in Money. Parker said he heard Till whistle at shopkeeper Carolyn Bryant.

Four days later, Till was abducted in the middle of the night from his uncle's home. The kidnappers tortured and shot him, weighted his body down with a cotton gin fan and dumped him into the river.

Jordan, who is Black, was a college student in 1955 when he drove to the Tallahatchie County Courthouse in Sumner to watch the murder trial of two white men charged with killing Till — Carolyn's husband Roy Bryant and his half brother, J.W. Milam.

An all-white, all-male jury acquitted the two men, who later confessed to Look magazine that they killed Till.

Nobody has ever been convicted in the lynching. The U.S. Justice Department has opened multiple investigations starting in 2004 after receiving inquiries about whether charges could be brought against anyone still living.

In 2007, a Mississippi prosecutor presented evidence to a grand jury of Black and white Leflore County residents after investigators spent three years re-examining the killing. The grand jury declined to issue indictments.

The Justice Department reopened an investigation in 2018 after a 2017 book quoted Carolyn Bryant — now remarried and named Carolyn Bryant Donham — saying she lied when she claimed Till grabbed her, whistled and made sexual advances. Relatives have publicly denied Donham, who is in her 80s, recanted her allegations. The department closed that investigation in late 2021 without bringing charges.

This year, a group searching the Leflore County Courthouse basement found an unserved 1955 arrest warrant for "Mrs. Roy Bryant." In August, another Mississippi grand jury found insufficient evidence to indict Donham, causing consternation for Till relatives and activists.

Although Mississippi has dozens of Confederate monuments, some have been moved in recent years, including one relocated in 2020 from the University of Mississippi campus to a cemetery where Confederate soldiers are buried.

The state has a few monuments to Black historical figures, including one honoring civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer in Ruleville.

A historical marker outside Bryant's Grocery has been knocked down and vandalized. Another marker near where Till's body was pulled from the Tallahatchie River has been vandalized and shot. The Till statue in Greenwood will be watched by security cameras.

Jordan won applause when he said Friday: "If some idiot tears it down, we're going to put it right back up."

[chthonicavalon]

Meeting

“Thank you for the invitation today,” Savaeja said brightly.  “It is a pity S’fisa couldn’t come, as well, but she can be a bit difficult to pin down.”

Kumiko unlatched the door hidden in the bookcase – so obvious from behind now that they were passing through it again – and pushed it open.  Sunlight swept through the cracks, nearly blinding the pair as they stepped onto clean tatami, if worn, tatami.  “My pleasure,” she said, grinning brightly.  Her hands were held behind her.  “It’s nice to find someone who’s actually good at Triple Triad.”

They’d spent the day together in the Uesugi household.  The invitation was made quite suddenly during a linkpearl conversation after finding out her new viera acquaintance enjoyed the game as well, coming out in a rush.  Suns later, Sava made her way to the Black Shroud from La Noscea (not an insignificant distance, but not great for those who could utilize aetherytes) and knocked on the door.  Playing round after round, they each tried different decks, then tried other games.  They talked about everything, from the night they met while dancing at the bar in the Mist, to how Savaeja – who preferred Kumiko to call her Sava – knew their friend S’fisa, to matters of love and adventuring and a host of other things.  Kumiko said she had been quite busy of late, helping handle business in Eorzea while Haruka and Reenah took care of matters back at home.  She’d mentioned to Sava that taking such a break for an afternoon was a luxury and one she didn’t take for granted.

From this, Sava had gathered that her new friend’s mothers were somewhat important figures at home.  Despite how she couldn’t discern exactly how and her own growing her curiosity, however, she didn’t pry.  They both had secrets; there was no reason to coax them out of one another.  And besides, she liked the young woman.  Perhaps more than she would admit to anyone.  Thankfully, Kumiko seemed ignorant in that regard.  The rava was accustomed to hiding herself.

“Yes, well,” Sava started, her eyes glimmering, “I’ve had some time here in Eorzea to become acquainted with the game.  Some time at the Gold Saucer certainly helped.”  She shrugged.  She’d admitted to working there for a time after her arrival, just enough to make ends meet.  She didn’t even have to wear those awful headbands that mimicked her ears.  However, she got tired of the leering gazes and eventually left.  This time without violence, at least, as that was frowned upon in the Western territories.

“It shows.  The competition was fierce.”  Kumiko spun on her heel to face Sava halfway through the room.  “Still, maybe we can play some Go next time.  Having more people to play is always fun.”  Those golden flecks in the young Doman’s irises seemed to shimmer, almost like glowing.  Idly, Sava wondered what caused that that fractured ring to form in her eyes.  There was no aetheric disturbance in the air that she could sense.  Whatever it was, however, it was likely of no concern.  Perhaps it was alchemically induced, like Sava’s own hair.  Or it might be a natural feature.  Who could really say.

“I would like to learn to play Go.  And perhaps I might eventually teach you to play Tafl.”  Not that Sava had a Tafl board.  She’d need to have one commissioned.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be an unpleasant reminder of home.

Kumiko beamed and nodded.  As she turned, however, the door slid open.  A woman just taller than her stepped in.  Her hair was darker than Kumiko’s, nearly jet black except for several locks of nearly pure-white marring her appearance.  Though, perhaps marring wasn’t correct, in Sava’s estimation.  It wasn’t an unattractive look on the woman, who was perhaps ten or twelve cycles older than Kumiko.  She wore an outfit that was distinctly Doman, if brought to modern standards, and two swords were carried at her side.  Sava felt power emanating from at least one of them, and there were other entities nearby, even if she couldn’t see them. 

Sava wondered what they were that they kept from sight.  Some sort of elemental, perhaps?  But inside the bounds of the Lavender Beds?  That would be strange indeed.

“You’re back early,” Kumiko said brightly.  Though surprised, there was no wariness or suspicion in the young woman’s voice.

“Yes, matters arose that required my attention here,” the woman said.  Were they in public, her voice, lower than Kumiko’s by half an octave, would fade into the background so unremarkable it was.  The effect was magnified by an accent that was devoid of any remnants of the East.  Despite this, a smile barely curled those lips, subtle and figmentary, almost as if Sava were seeing an illusion or mirage.  Pride and affection revealed themselves in such simple expressions on a woman who had such restraint that few would likely notice it for what it was.  Stepping forward, the woman approached Kumiko and stood before her, just within what would be a polite distance for Doman and Hingan societies.

“Well, I’m glad to have you back.”  Kumiko turned slightly, and gestured toward Sava.  “This is Savaeja, the new friend I told you about.  Sava, this is my mother Haruka.”

Haruka’s appraising eyes went to Sava, and the viera knew those eyes took in more than they seemed.  This was no idle look of appreciation – she felt naked, like all her weaknesses and history were being revealed in that quiet heartbeat.  Everything Sava was, she was certain this Doman woman knew now – even those moments in the past she didn’t want anyone to know.  Like why she was so short, or why her hair was pink, or…

A smile, polite and understanding, split the woman’s face.  Restrained indeed.  “A pleasure, Savaeja,” Haruka said with a distinctly Doman bow.  “Finally, I am able to put a face to a name.”

The viera returned the bow, some of her time from back in Kugane coming back to her as her awkwardness became something less so.  “Likewise, Miss Uesugi,” she said.  “Please, call me Sava.  Your daughter has told me a little of you and your wife.  Will she be joining us?”

“I fear not,” Haruka said.  Despite the evenness of her voice, there were hints of genuine remorse in so few words.  “She is handling matters as we speak.”

“Another storm?” Kumiko jumped in.

Haruka shook her head.  “No – rather, a heatwave that threatens to wilt the crops.”  Her eyes flicked to Sava, then back to her daughter.  “I cannot stay long.  Can you retrieve my journal from my and Reenah’s room, please?  I can entertain Sava for a moment.”

“Oh, I can take my leave,” Sava said with hints of growing nerves.  “There is no need to put yourself out like that.”

“No, I insist, even if it is for but a moment.”  Haruka’s voice was insistent, and while there might be compromise there, Sava was certain there would be no victory in arguing.

“Alright,” Kumiko said, glancing between the two before heading toward the bookcase-door.

In moments, they were alone, and Sava looked to Haruka.  She was taller than this samurai, even if only by a few ilm (not counting ears), but there was something in those blue eyes that threatened to make Sava cower.

“You are tied to others,” Haruka said quietly.  There was no threat, but Sava had a feeling that threats weren’t the woman’s style.

“I didn’t think those from Doma were so blunt.”  The viera’s Golmore accent became more pronounced, as it always seemed to when under stress.

“I am only half Doman, and you do not deny it.”

“I could say the same to you.  I feel them nearby.”

Haruka went quiet for a pair of heartbeats.  “Perhaps.  But I sense something different about your ties.  Not the Void but something familiar.”

Sava bristled, though she kept her overt calm.  “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“I am always concerned for my daughter.”

Sava had nothing to say to that – she wouldn’t question a mother’s doting, even if the bond were through adoption.  Those ties were battle-tested in their own way and no doubt as strong as any familiar tie.

“Kumiko will sense them soon, if she has not already,” Haruka continued.  “I request you tell her the truth when she questions you, even if you will not tell me.  I trust her judgment, but I am,” a pause, pregnant and intentional, “a protective mother.”

The threat was implied but there.  Sava had no doubt Haruka would make good on it.  “Of course,” she said with a smile to hide the potential for violence.  “Lies do not bode well in friendship, and your daughter has proven quite the enjoyable companion.”

The half-Doman’s shoulders relaxed.  “Of course,” she repeated.  Eyes flicking to the bookcase-door, Sava heard what drew her attention: footsteps mounting the stairs.  Sava’s ear twitched.  How had Haruka heard the sound before her?

Kumiko returned a moment later, a small book in hand.  She offered it to Haruka, who took it.  “Thank you, Kumiko.” Haruka said.  All semblance of their conversation had vanished, as if the implied threat and suspicion had never existed at all.  “I will be off and will return tonight.  I’ll make your favorite dish tonight.”  Turning to Sava, the half-Doman made a half-bow.  “Again, a pleasure, Sava.  I hope to see you again soon.”  Haruka turned and slipped out the door, shutting it behind her.

A couple heartbeats passed.  “Did you and Haruka have a good conversation?” Kumiko asked.  There was a hint of hesitance.  Was she worried?

“Oh, yes, certainly,” Sava said, looking down at her friend.  “Quite pleasant. She is a curious person and had a few questions for me.”  It was only half a lie.  No reason to let Kumiko in on what had been said.  That might lead to questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

[darkmoonkestrel]

daily kestrel 33:

Peyton and I woke up around 8:30 this morning to go look at a yard sale for a neighborhood that I pass on my way to work - on the way to get breakfast, we passed one near us and stopped there, we got an old video camera for Paige and a maglite for Peyton

at the donut shop, one of the kids who was in my room at the daycare over the summer was there with her dad, and she recognized me after I waved to her. she pointed to the Halloween decorations in the shop and kept pointing to me and her donuts, we pantomimed back and forth while her dad was paying for their things and she waved bye to me when they left

Peyton and I grabbed breakfast (their new maple bacon donuts are so good) and then headed out to other neighborhood yard sales we spotted. we stopped at probably over a dozen places - Peyton was looking mainly for bulk Yu-Gi-Oh or Magic cards and didn't find any, but we ended up picking up a yarn storage container for Paige, a few tshirts for me, a paper towel holder, a little wrench... just small cheap miscellaneous things. we got good lemonade from some kids at one of the yard sales

at another Peyton asked about Yu-Gi-Oh cards and someone else from the neighborhood overheard and said he had some he could sell to him, they didn't have a yard sale set up but they invited us over to look at them. the woman of the couple had a lot of craft things in the front room, so we got to talking about craft stuff. she has an embroidery machine and takes commissions, I asked her about doing the embroidery for Viper's baby quilt and got her contact info so I can come back over when I'm done with my work on it and she can do the embroidery!

we read chapter 3 of the Alanna book between yard sales, and ended up finishing the rest of it today. after a few chapters Peyton napped while I played more of The Spirit and the Mouse, and then I woke him up to read more. we took a reading break to scrounge up some dinner and watch the first two episodes of Delico's Nursery, which I'm loving so far. Peyton demanded that I finish the book tonight, and I happily obliged. Paige took my copy of In The Hands of the Goddess with her, but I do have the ebooks, so I may start reading him the second book tomorrow before she gets home. it's now time for bed, I think we're definitely going to sleep in tomorrow