#i'm so mad the first draft was perfect

[mewmurdock]

love's perfect ache

Summary: Your husband wants nothing more than to love you breathless.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: smut! Matt is a soft dom (that alone deserves a warning); fingering, multiple orgasms (one somewhat forced but it is not non-con); dirty talk

A/N: Holy shit. So. A lot of things have happened since I last posted. Some of these things include but are not limited to

a) I have been seeing someone romantically for a year and four months

b) I'm graduating with my Bachelor's Degree in Education in May.

c) I've been Student Teaching full time in order to graduate, so I haven't been able to write.

However, these last three days have given me a spark of madness. I first started this draft a little less than a year ago, and only now have I finished it.

This fic is based off of... personal experience. ;) I hope you like it.

The clatter of plates and silverware jumps through the apartment. The smell of shrimp scampi still lingers in the air, though the windows have been opened and the leftovers have been put in the fridge.

Matt leans his arm over the back of the couch as he sits down, relaxing into his seat. A small part of him wants to go back to you, the remarkable woman behind him who had insisted on doing the dishes and taking care of the leftovers yourself. “Go sit and be handsome,” you’d said, kissing his shoulder. “I can manage it.”

Oh, you.

You never like asking for help, or accepting it when it is given. Not that you think you’re above it, but because you don’t want to trouble anyone else with anything.

He doesn’t love that, but he loves you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, toying with the ring on his finger.

“Yeah?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Mm, nothing,” he mutters. “Was just thinking ‘bout you.”

The hum of amusement you give him is a common little sound. One of quiet acknowledgement. It’s almost like you’re numb to what he’s telling you.

Selfless, as always.

The sound reminds him of more intimate times between you two. Sighs, moans, squeaks, breathless laughs and barely audible whines. All from you. And then, he thinks of what you say to him sometimes, when he offers to do certain things.

“It’s alright, baby, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need to finish. It’s okay. I’m too tired.”

“Honey, I’m good. I promise. You don’t have to do anything.”

Matt snaps back to the current moment. His heart hurts.

In the two years that you’ve been married, you’ve had a bit of trouble; not only with accepting help or kind words or generous gifts of affection, but with accepting pleasure too, pleasure that Matt so willingly wants to give to you. He knows about that, how you find it difficult to fathom the love he has for you and the ways he wants to express it.

Yes, you’ve discussed your kinks and your turn-offs with him. You’ve been intimate, and you’ve enjoyed it immensely. But you’ve never quite gotten to where he wants you, to where you should be.

You deserve pleasure, and you don’t see it.

Matt’s jaw clenches.

“Honey?” he asks. “You good?”

“Yup!” you chirp. “Just putting the last pan away."

“Ok.”

Thirty seconds pass. He hears you, in that time, put the last pan into the lazy-susan cabinet and wipe down the counter one last time. Then, you step away from the kitchen and sit next to him on the couch with a sleepy little mumble.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks softly, leaning in to nuzzle into your neck. He leaves a feather-light kiss there.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Everything’s… good.”

“I have an idea,” he mumbles into your skin, his hand trailing up your thigh. “And I need to know what you think about it.”

“What are you thinking?” you ask, a hint of a smile in your voice.

“Well, I was thinking… that we could… have some fun.” Matt grins.

You breathe outward, silently, your breath heavy and shuddered, as his lips trail to the back of your neck and he bites into the flesh.

“I’d like that,” you say.

“I wasn’t finished. We have some fun… but I spend the night just… letting you feel everything. I want to make you come, sweetheart. A lot, if I’m honest.”

He can hear the sharp inhale — quiet but noticeable — and how your heartbeat picks up almost instantly. His grin widens. “I want to spoil you tonight. All I want you to do is lay on the bed and be your beautiful self. I’ll do the rest.”

“I — um — ” you stammer, “you don’t have to do that — ”

“Uh uh.” Matt shakes his head. “None of that now. I want to do this. You don’t see how much you deserve this, honey. What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“ ‘m not afraid… just…”

“Just?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re too damn humble for your own good, you know?”

You shrug.

“Baby, look at me,” Matt says softly. When he knows you have done so, he says, “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I’ve noticed it. I just wanna give my girl what she deserves. Will you let me do that? Even just for tonight?”

It takes a good ten seconds for you to give him the slightest sound of approval. A tiny little “uh huh,” close to a whisper, but he can hear it.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grinning.

Matt carries you to bed bridal-style, shutting the door behind him with the back of his foot, and sits you on the edge of the bed.

He starts by just kissing you; your lips, your cheeks. Softly, gently, with both hands coming up to your jawline and your neck, thumbs swiping your cheeks and temples.

His affection is always, always welcomed. You have never felt safer than when you are in his arms — those same arms that are often covered in bruises and scratches and blood, those same arms that drop snitches from buildings and punch the daylights out of bad guys. You have never felt safer.

His hands fall down to your chest, your waist, lightly applying pressure or squeezing gently. You're in the warm embrace of someone who could break you, and the fact that he chooses to treat you with such delicate care makes your heart swell and your chest ache with such love — and this turns you on even more.

Matt treasures you. Cherishes you.

He sighs into the kisses he gives. “You have no idea how much you turn me on,” he says, his voice low. “You know that?” He moves his head up and kisses your forehead; his lips linger there for a while. “And you don’t even realize it… you don’t realize that I get off by making you feel good.”

What Matt has just said to you doesn’t register fully until he’s already laid you down onto the bed, gently pushing you down with his right hand. He straddles you, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. “You beautiful, wonderful, lovely girl.” He leans down, kissing your clothed chest and your stomach before shuffling your pants off of you.

He gets in between your legs, sitting on the bed sideways but still facing you. You’re wearing black boyshorts, the comfiest pair you own. Matt’s favorite. He likes imagining how the black would look on you, and how the cloth would hug your hips.

His hand gently strokes the crotch of your underwear, the pressure sending sparks up your privates. It’s so much different, you think, to have someone else’s hand there rather than your own.

“You smell so good,” he mutters, in that tone of voice, and you know that he’s not talking about the vanilla eau de parfum you put on every day. No, he’s talking about a different scent you give off.

You flush, embarrassed, crossing your legs and putting your face in your hands. His hand stays where it was, unmoving, between your legs.

A finger moves, right over your clit, and you twitch.

“None of that,” Matt whispers. “No hiding today. I want to see your pretty face.”

“You can’t see,” you whimper through your hands.

“When has that ever stopped me?” he says, and you know he has that shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on,” he coaxes, “take your hands off your face.”

You don’t move. “Matty…”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetie.” A finger moves on your clit again and you gasp. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Even the parts you’re insecure about…”

When you say nothing, he moves his finger again and you twitch at the shock it gives you. “I’m not gonna do anything else until you take your hands off your face,” he says, and you know he’s serious.

Matt’s finger moves for the third time and that’s when you remove your hands. His little chuckle sends shivers down your back.

“There,” he says, “there’s my pretty girl. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

His hand, quick as a bullet, goes into your underwear and cups your pussy, adding pressure again. A strangled sound comes out of you and you cover your mouth. Matt chuckles again, and coos at you, "Aww, what? What's making you so shy? You know I love hearing you."

The teasing is too much now, but you can't seem to get over your shyness. You whimper into your hand, moving your hips to try and get some more friction. It works, but only for a second. Matt immediately notices what you're doing and he draws his hand away again.

"What do you need, baby?"

"Ffffingers."

Matt nods and shuffles you out of your underwear.

Slowly, he puts a finger in you, keeping his eyes lowered and concentrating on your feel, your sounds. The relieved sigh is all he needs, and he stays where he is, knuckle deep inside you. He doesn't move it yet, and instead, he chooses to feel you clench around his finger to no avail.

"So warm," he says, "so warm and wet."

You flush, embarrassed at that. For no reason at all, you've been self-conscious about that part of you, and how it looks, smells, tastes. You turn your head and try to keep yourself away from the praise he's giving you.

Matt tsks. "None of that now. It's beautiful, honey. You're so beautiful."

"M-Matt," you whimper, "no."

"Yes," he says, and starts to move his finger. In and out, slow and steady. The burn and stretch is a welcome one, but you start to feel something else. Almost like a wall, a barrier to your pleasure. You can't come without that wall being torn down.

"Can — can you get the vibrator, please?"

"It's been a while since you've asked for what you want." Matt grins. "That's a good girl, hm? Of course, I can."

He moves, pulling his finger out of you and getting off the bed. He opens the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out a magenta colored vibrator.

Matt gets back on the bed and puts his finger in you again. The wall comes back once he starts moving his finger again, but this time he puts the vibrator in your clit and presses a button. It buzzes to life, only on the lowest setting, but it's enough.

The wall comes down and all you feel is pleasure. You sigh, relieved. The vibrator is a nice distraction from the stretch.

"There you go," Matt says quietly. "Just feel that, honey. I've got you."

I've got you.

The reassurance that Matt gives you is both comforting and sexy. You like being submissive, and you like being taken care of. More than anything, you like being taken care of by the man who made his vows, before God and the world, to be your husband for the rest of your lives.

You melt into the bed as he continues to make love to you. Subspace is setting in and your mind goes fuzzy. You wouldn't normally describe yourself as a pillow princess, but here, right now... you are. And that's what Matt wants.

He smiles, shushes you gently, and this hurls you down into subspace even more. "Such a good girl," he whispers, "always so good to me. Just let me take care of you."

And with that, you're gone. Completely vulnerable, giving yourself over to Matt. And he finds it so lovely. so beautiful, how much you trust him.

"I think what you need is a little more... maybe right here — "

His fingers do something else, they go lower and deeper. Immediately, you feel like you're being punched in the stomach, but the sensation itself is far from painful. You can't stop yourself this time; you moan, a choked sound, and you bury your head to the side and into your pillows. Dear God, if Matt keeps this up, you're not gonna last much longer.

"There," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth, keeping his fingers moving right there, in and out, "that's what you need, hm? I know, honey, I know."

Matt knows you. He knows you, inside and out, body and soul. He knows your laugh, your smile, your voice, your smells. He knows how you moan, how you shiver, twitch and gasp. He knows what makes you tick. He knows how you come, what you need to get there. There's nothing more comforting — or sexy — than that.

You're unbelievably tense - your entire body is stiff, coming close to that edge. Matt can feel it, simply on his fingers, but he can hear it, too: the way your breath hitches and the way your moans increase, both in frequency and in pitch. He can feel your blood flowing, he can hear your heartbeat increase, feel how warm your skin has become. He notices all of these things, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world. A small part of him is still regretful that he cannot see, but only because... oh, what he wouldn't give to see your face.

"Matty," you whimper, "M-Matty, I'm cc-close. I'm so close—"

He loves hearing that desperation in your voice. You're starting to move around, turning and panting, almost in an attempt to get away from the pleasure that's sure to overtake you in a few moments. He can sense how tight your eyes are closed, how dry your mouth has become from all the sounds - oh, the beautiful sounds - that you're making, how tightly your fists are clenched, and where your arms are going. You don't seem to know exactly what to do with your hands. A few times, it looks like you debate whether to hide your face again, but you don't do that.

"M-Matty!"

And he knows, then, that you're peaking, that the orgasm has already begun and you're just on the edge of letting go, letting it completely overtake you. You've given yourself completely to him, and you're at his mercy.

And the Devil of Hell's Kitchen does have mercy, believe it or not.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he whispers, with such gentle fondness and delight that you have no choice but to obey.

You're gone, your body in flames and filled with electric sparks. Fireworks.

The sound that comes from you then is the most beautiful sound Matt has ever heard. He's heard it before, and he will never get tired of it. It's a sound of release, of letting go... a cry of pleasure, almost a guttural scream and a shuddered breath all at once. It's an orgasmic wail or sometimes it is even a period of silence where you are just completely lost in the agonizing ecstasy of it all.

You're coming, and you're coming hard... He always knows what to do or say to make that happen. When he married you, he made a vow to himself to always make you feel like the most satisfied woman in the world. It's always a reward when this happens, when he can hear and feel you like this.

It's a long one, he realizes, because you gasp and shiver and twitch and spasm and cry out in surprise as the waves of pleasure keep rushing over you. He laughs, then, a small amused chuckle that leaves you even more breathless than you already are. Matt delights in making you feel this way. If he could go down on his knees and beg God Almighty to let him do this forever, he would.

"Oh, that's it," he coos, "that's my girl."

His praise, combined with the continued moving of his fingers - shouldn't they be getting sore by now? - only makes your orgasm last longer. Once it begins to fade, your body relaxes and you breathe out a sigh of contentment and warmth. Your eyes remain closed - and it's probably a good thing, because the way Matt is looking at you now would be enough to kill you with how loving it is The aftershocks of your orgasm - little jolts of pleasure - start to course through you.

"That was beautiful," he mutters to himself. "I think I want another from you."

You eyes snap open. "Honey," you mumble.

"What?" he asks gently. "I know you can." His hands are moving now, all across your body in an attempt to soothe you. You look down and see the tent in his pants: he's never been so hard in the years that you've known him.

"You need help with that?" you ask with a smile, sitting up. By the direction that your voice is going, he knows what you're talking about.

"No, no, no," he says, using a hand to push you back onto the bed. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

"Yes," Matt kisses your chest, "you were."

"I can't come again."

"Yes, you can." Matt clicks the vibrator on again and, before you can move away, puts it on your clit.

Your whole body seizes up, your clit goes numb, and all you can feel is good, but too good. Your mind blanks. You shriek out a sound of surprise and pleasure and agony, your body instantly trying to get away. It's too much, you're too sensitive, but he won't let up. He holds you down, shushing you again as you let out little cries and sobs and moans. Your body convulses, twitching in his grasp.

"Shh, shh, baby... I got you. Remember that. You're alright."

"MattMattMatt — I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he says again, firmer this time, but laughs as you try to get away. "Just hang on a little longer, you'll feel good again. Your body is already adapting to it. You're okay."

And of course, it's true. Your body is already getting used to it. Your sobs die down and now, the pleasure is bearable. Extremely good, actually. Your moans are weak, your eyebrows are furrowed, and your eyes are shut again. The convulsions are stopping, and now all you can do is feel it all again.

"That's it, bubba," Matt says, "see? I know you can handle it."

He puts two fingers inside you, slowly, and the burn is less uncomfortable now. A guttural sound leaves you again as you're filled up, and once Matt starts moving again, you tense up immediately. Two fingers and a vibrator are a recipe for an extremely quick orgasm, and you both know it.

"Baby," you whisper.

"What?" he coos. "Is my girl close already?"

"Nnngh," is all you can reply back. "Mm hmm."

"That's what I wanted," Matt says quietly, triumphantly. "You don't have to say anything anymore. Just feel it."

It doesn't take much longer for you to get close to coming again. Especially when Matt begins to drive his fingers into you harder, faster. You can't even speak anymore; all you can do is vocalize; moan, whimper, gasp. And you know that Matt is having the time of his life. One of the first things he ever said to you about things like this was that he'd get off by getting you off, and that has always stuck with you.

Your legs start to quiver.

You peak again, sobbing out a high pitched whine. The feeling is strong now, like an unstoppable force is meeting an immovable object. Your body is tense, unbelievably so, and the pleasure keeps building, but it never crests. It never reaches that point. That's the trouble of having one orgasm after another. It's hard to come. "MMMatt, pplease, please, p —"

"Shh," Matt says again with a grunt, "don't worry. We'll get you there. Relax as much as you can. Remember, I'll take care of you." You try your best to relax your body but it's still a bit difficult. All the while, Matt is practically shoving his fingers into you now, relentlessly, and you start to hear noises down there that send your mind reeling. Your back arches.

"You fuckin' hear that?" Matt's sudden vulgarity is a surprise. He's ravenous. "Oh, you want it, don't you?" He hoists a leg over your own to keep you from moving. "You're so close. Stay here, don't run away from me."

He pauses, but his fingers keep moving. "I'll get some restraints later."

After a few more seconds, it finally hits. You crest, your orgasm starting again, and all you can shriek is a simple, "Oh, oh Jesus — "

"Just come," Matt says quietly. It contrasts heavily with the way he's ramming his fingers into you. "Don't do anything else. Just come. Let go. Let go, let go, let go — "

And, with the encouragement comforting you, what else can you do but do as he says? You're stuck in place and your mind is mush. You come with another wail, this one stronger and more primal than the first, louder too, and you see stars behind your eyelids. Your leg is shaking, and if your other one could move, it would, too. Your clit is warm, almost numb again, and your arms are quivering above his head. The sounds from your privates get more intense, and Matt grunts in exertion. You don't know anything anymore, you can't think or speak. All you can do is feel, and that's exactly what Matt wanted from the start.

You're sure Matt's senses are overloaded. Sound, smell, taste, feel. He can hear how desperate and overtaken you are, he can smell and taste your arousal and sweat in the air, and he can feel your quivers and shakes and your tightness. He's rock hard now, and it probably hurts a little, but he doesn't care. You're all that's on his mind and once again he wishes that he could only see your face in this moment.

"Oh, look at you," Matt praises, slowing his fingers now. You're a mess, a beautiful, satiated mess. There are tears in your eyes and sweat on your brow. Your hair is tangled and unkept, and your knuckles hurt from how hard you've been clenching your fists. It's amazing how this is only from a fingering, but you needed this. You wanted this, as shy as you were to admit it. You pant, weakly, your legs completely unable to move. You're jelly, practically limp, and you twitch and shudder as the last of the aftershocks hit you.

"Can I put it in now?"

You shriek and Matt laughs, falling beside you and immediately wrapping his arms around you. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, baby." He kisses your forehead and cradles your head to him. "Such a good girl," he says, "you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you."

You swallow, and the saliva is a welcome sensation on your dry throat. "I think... I'll call off of work tomorrow," you pant. "Holy hell, Matty."

"Careful," Matt says, "if you do that, I won't be able to stop myself from doing this all over again once you wake up."

"I'm in danger," you say with a breathless laugh. "Just be gentle, okay?"

"Of course," he says, "always. I'm so happy that you allowed me to do that. It's been a while since you've given in that much. You don't know how hot it is to me when you let go like that."

You look down and see the tent in Matt's pants again. "Do you want me to take care of that now?"

"When you're half asleep already? I'm good, honey. That will go away eventually. But it'll be there in the morning, waiting for you. And I may or may not slip out in a few hours and get some restraints from the sex shop later. You may or may not wake up with your arms and legs tied to the bed. Just be warned."

It isn't long before you slip into sleep, completely exhausted but satiated and happy. And while you sleep, you can still feel Matt's lips on your forehead, and you think you can hear a small, "I love you, sweetheart," too.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Ciao, blusy! 😊

I think this idea might be a bit triggering, so you can totally ignore it if you want, but I just thought of it and had to share! What if Mother Miranda kidnaps the Reader because she thinks they know who the perfect vessel for Rose could be, but they really don’t have a clue?

So, after asking a bunch of questions and getting no answers, Miranda gets super mad and hands the Reader over to Donna to lock them in the basement. Miranda drops by every now and then, trying to get the Reader to talk, but when they keep quiet, she loses it and tortures them. After she’s done, she tells Donna to do the same when she's gone.

Donna hesitates at first, but eventually decides to take care of the Reader after Miranda leaves the mansion. This whole cycle keeps happening—Miranda tortures the Reader, they don’t know anything, then Donna comes in to help afterward.

But one time, Miranda totally runs out of patience and goes harder on the Reader than ever before. Donna can’t handle it, so she finally steps in and convinces Miranda that the Reader really doesn’t know anything. After that, she takes extra care of the Reader and all that good stuff!

Yesss!!!! Sorry about the delay and thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Hopeless

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, slightly dark themes, hurt & comfort, fluff...

Word count: 7,514

Summary: You are trapped in a nightmare and no one was going to save you...

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

“She's a stubborn little bird,” the blonde commented with a sinister smile, glancing sideways at the other woman accompanying you, the one dressed entirely in black.

“I don’t...” you murmured.

“Shut up!” the woman dressed as a priestess, the woman who had kidnapped you a few days ago, shrieked. “If you're not going to tell me what I want to know, remain silent.”

The other woman looked at the witch briefly, but you couldn't tell how, since a strange black veil covered her face.

You knew little about where you were at that moment. You remembered the cold, an impressive mansion next to a waterfall, a portrait you could barely make out, and finally the darkness and dampness of a basement.

At least it wasn't the kind of cage that woman Miranda had locked you in for days, but of course, you were aware that your situation hadn't improved at all.

“Ugh...” Miranda sighed, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. “Donna, I guess I can trust you.”

The lady in black nodded slowly, without saying a word. All you could do was watch, instinctively protect yourself, and slide to the floor. Trying to escape wasn't an option; you had marks on your arm to prove it.

The veiled woman didn't move; she stood before you, like a stone statue. You didn't know for sure, but you had the feeling those hidden eyes were watching you.

The priestess moved forward, leaning over you as you shielded yourself with your arms.

“You're lucky I have important things to do than make you talk, little bird,” Miranda whispered to you, tilting her head. “Or rather… You're almost lucky,” she murmured with a terrifying laugh, sitting up and addressing the woman in black again. “Fine, Donna… Keep her alive, will you?”

The lady nodded slightly again, and a cold draft told you that your kidnapper had moved away, causing you to lower your arms. The woman leaned toward the witch, murmuring something you couldn't hear.

“Of course you won't let me down, my dear,” the blonde said. “Well, I have to go, and I'll tell you again: As much as you'd like to play with her... don't kill her, okay? And you, little bird,” she whispered, approaching you again. “Don't force poor Donna to disobey me, will you? She doesn't like rude dolls.”

With a wide smile, the kidnapper turned around, leaving the dark room, leaving you alone with the unknown, silent lady.

The sound of the elevator told you she had left, and your heart calmed slightly, at least until your gaze fell on the strange woman again.

The silence was somehow reassuring, but uncomfortable. That lady in black stood motionless, her eyes probably fixed on you. For a moment, you thought you felt some relief, but the words of that woman, Mother Miranda, echoed in your head.

“Please...” you sighed softly, keeping your gaze on her. “Please help me, that woman has kidnapped me.”

The lady didn't move, but she turned her head towards you, showing she was listening. Of course, there was no response.

“Please, I shouldn't be here, I...” you insisted, standing up, but keeping your distance from that Donna lady. “I haven't done anything to deserve this.”

Once again, silence reigned in the dark basement.

“I've been locked in this place for days. I'm hungry and thirsty. Please, I beg you, set me free,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together.

A sigh escaped the black veil, and her heels clicked as she got closer to you, as if she were studying you, watching you. A pale hand reached out slowly, cautiously, towards your face.

You averted your face from the contact, causing her arm to flinch and a gasp to emerge from the black fabric. Then, without saying a word, she walked toward the door, ready to abandon you there.

“Wait!” you screamed desperately, lunging at her, grabbing her wrist. “Help me, please,” you whispered.

The lady turned slowly, slipping from your grasp with a sharp movement, but not moving away from you.

“Please... Donna, y-your name is Donna, right?” you stammered, breathing heavily, sensing an invisible danger that seemed to be stalking you.

She looked at you, you were sure of it, and grabbed your shoulders with a swift movement, forcing you to walk backward, to the back of the room.

“No, please, no,” you said, closing your eyes, fearing a retaliation, one that never came.

The sound of her heels fading away made you relax, keeping your gaze on the lady in black as she disappeared through the door, merging into the darkness of the basement.

“No...” you sighed, walking back to the exit. “Wait, please wait!”

The door slammed shut in your face, and you began to bang desperately on it.

“Help!” you shrieked, your fists bouncing off the wood. “Please, someone help me!”

“Shut up, you noisy girl!” A disgusting shriek came from the other side of the room, making you flee to the small bed. Could it be that strange woman? That voice certainly didn't suit her at all.

Exhausted, you sank onto the mattress, curling into a ball and letting the tears escape. Your situation hadn't improved, it never would.

Maybe it was your fault for fleeing your country, for seeking refuge on the old continent, for wanting to create a new life.

Almost a year ago, you lost your father, the only person you had left in the world. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could still hear his last words, his distorted voice through the phone, his last call.

“You have to burn those documents, (Y/N), do you understand?”

“Dad, what's going on?” you asked, his voice sounding cold, as if he were hurt.

“Honey, y-you just do what I say, do it, (Y/N), and no matter what happens... Remember, your father loves you more than anything...”

You obeyed his orders without question, unaware that it would be the last time you would speak to him.

The next day, reality hit you. That strange scientific expedition had gone wrong. The ship your father was on, along with his companions, had run aground in the Louisiana swamps; there were no survivors.

You'd never know what really happened, what was in those documents he forced you to destroy, but you barely gave it any thought. You were left alone, your dreams as a young scientist sunk with that ship.

Nothing mattered anymore; nothing was left for you in the United States. You'd have to start from scratch.

You spent months traveling around Europe, looking for the ideal place for someone like you, but there didn't seem to be one. Romania seemed pleasant enough, and spending one more day among those snowy mountains was the worst decision of your life.

Being kind was your downfall. An old woman asked you for help crossing a street, something that wasn't suspicious at all. Then you saw her smile, and everything went black.

You woke up in a cage, next to a blonde woman who called herself Mother Miranda. It didn't take you long to recognize that woman in one of your father's photos. She, along with him, had worked in the scientific group, The Connections, and had been on the Louisiana ship.

It was impossible; that woman was an old woman, and suddenly, she transformed into that horrible witch.

What did she want from you? Information, documents your father had kept secret, documents that apparently contained something very important to her.

And so, you ended up kidnapped in that strange village filled with nighttime roars, with shadows that seemed to lurk around that imposing castle. But Miranda's patience had its limits, and after days of torture, she decided to take you to that mansion, with that lady in black.

You were trapped in that place, and the worst part was... no one would come for you, something Miranda reminded you of again and again. What horrors awaited you with that woman in mourning? It seemed you wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

Your crying was interrupted by the creaking of the door.

That woman named Donna appeared slowly, and you instinctively got out of bed, leaning against the wall farthest from her. She was holding something in her hand, something steaming, which she placed on a small table next to a glass of clear liquid.

“W-What...?” you sighed in confusion, peering over to see what the steaming plate contained. It seemed impossible: Food. “What...?”

She didn't answer; she just stared at you, as if waiting for something. You, of course, didn't move, but tried to confirm that what was on the plate was indeed food, eyeing it suspiciously.

“A-Are you giving me food?” you asked in a low, cautious voice, taking a step forward. “Why?”

You expected nothing but a tense silence in response.

A tired sigh escaped from behind the black veil before the lady approached, roughly tugging at your arm and leading you to the table.

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to defend yourself. You were weak, and that woman seemed stronger; you had nothing to do. “No!”

Her hand rested on your shoulder, pushing you down onto the chair in front of the steaming food.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling, your senses clouded by the alluring smell of that plate of pasta. “What do you want from me?”

She didn't respond. She let your arm go and brought it up to your face with a strange, erratic movement, wiping away with her thumb a tear that was running down your cheek. You remained motionless, petrified with fear as her hand moved down to yours, to the marks left on your skin by the handcuffs you wore in that cage.

Her finger curiously traced the wounds, gently, delicately.

Your instinct forced you to move away, frightened, and she responded with a quick gesture, moving away, but still looking at you.

The lady clasped her hands in front of her, nodding towards her plate of food, turning and disappearing quickly, leaving you alone again.

When you recovered, you looked at the pasta. It might have been poisoned, it might be the last thing you'd ever eat, but your desperate stomach growled loudly, forcing you to pick up the fork.

The flavor was perfect, delicious, and the warmth ran down your throat, comforting you. There was nothing unusual, no sour taste to indicate that the dish had been altered in any way. It was food, real food.

You devoured the pasta quickly, noticing how you regained some strength, how the water calmed the screams in your dry throat. Maybe you'd gotten lucky, or so you thought for a second.

After dinner, you began to feel lucid and looked around the room more closely.

Flour, cans of preserves, boxes... At least you wouldn't go hungry. You sat up in bed, sighing, wondering what you could do to save yourself, and noticed a detail: the bedroom door wasn't completely closed; a black line appeared between the frame and the handle.

“My God...” you sighed, slowly getting up, pushing the door to check that it wasn't, indeed, locked. That could be your chance.

You were afraid, but your desire to escape was much stronger. Carefully, you walked, peeking through the door, looking around. Darkness was all you could see.

After a few minutes, checking that the woman wasn't around, you decided to try your luck, see if you had any luck left. You slowly left the room, wandering through that damp and gloomy place.

The labyrinthine hallways were a bad idea, and you turned to look for the exit, only to find a wood-paneled room, one that seemed to lead to a possible salvation. The creaking walls and the feeling of danger invaded you, forcing you to walk faster.

A smile formed on your face when you saw your salvation: an old-fashioned elevator that seemed to be waiting for you.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you repeated, nervously pressing the button, trying to open the door grille, without success. It was locked. “No, no, no, damn it,” you wailed, grabbing the bars and shaking them. “There has to be something around here I can use to open it,” you muttered, looking around.

“I wouldn't do that, stupid!” A squeaky voice like the one from a moment ago startled you. You'd been caught.

You gasped in shock, turning around as quickly as you could; there was no one, nothing in that place, only the dim light from a lamp, confirming that you were alone.

“Shit,” you whispered, your heart about to jump out of your chest, scanning your surroundings, looking for the lady in black, the source of that unpleasant voice.

Walking, you moved forward, peeking into the rooms you found and tripping over something that had been thrown on the floor. It looked like a doll, an antique ventriloquist's doll made of porcelain and wood.

“What’s this?” you asked quietly, bending down to pick up the puppet and examine it closely. “What the...?”

“Boo!”

“Ahhhh!” you squealed as the doll moved, as that squeaky voice came out of its mouth and its limbs thrashed in your arms. “Oh, God!” you squealed again, dropping the doll and running through the hallways.

“Hey! Be more careful, stupid! I'll tell Donna, I'll tell Donna!” it crooned, its sinister laugh echoing off the basement walls as you desperately tried to flee.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped as you ran, staring into the darkness behind you, clumsily tripping over something that crossed your path, a black figure you knew. “Donna...” you sighed, horrified by the consequences of your attempt to flee, but too scared to even think about it.

“Hey, come back here!” that voice shrieked, forcing you to make a stupid gesture, to take refuge behind the veiled woman, protecting yourself from that terrifying living doll.

The lady in black turned her head towards you, allowing you to see a thin line of pale skin on the sides of her veil. Realizing your mistake, you stepped away from her black clothing, unable to find a valid excuse for your behavior.

“S-Sorry, I was...” you murmured, moving further away from the lady as she followed you with her gaze. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“Bullshit! Donna, she was trying to escape!” the voice spoke, making you retreat behind the lady again, who this time pulled you away, grabbing your arms.

“Please... I won't do it again, I...” you begged as she held you, while, out of the corner of your eye, you saw something impossible: That doll walking on its own, approaching you. “Oh my God... it's impossible...”

“Shut up, silly girl, do you think you could escape? Silly, silly,” the doll mocked, hands on its hips.

The lady abruptly let you go, approaching the puppet, extending its arms to her owner.

“How is this possible?” you asked, delirious at the sight before you, observing every detail of the doll. “No... This isn't happening.”

“Miranda didn't send us the smartest girl in the class, huh?” the puppet mocked, causing its laughter to bounce off the walls. The woman in black remained motionless.

“Are you a ventriloquist?” you asked, slowly moving away from the lady and her doll. “S-Sorry, I…”

“Shut up, silly girl,” the doll—or the woman, you didn’t know—scolded you. “By the way, the bathroom is down the hall on the left, not by the elevator gates.”

“Yes, I…” you said, thinking maybe you were talking to Donna, that it was her way of communicating with people. “I won’t try anything again, I promise, but please, d-don’t hurt me, Donna.”

“Donna? Lady Beneviento to you, stupid,” the doll snapped, making your legs shiver. “I’m The Fabulous Angie, but you can call me Angie for short,” it said afterward, extending a wooden hand towards you. “Come on, don’t be rude!”

Hesitant, but wanting to protect your life, you shook off the doll’s hand, walking away shortly after, your gaze searching the end of the hallway.

“That's it, go to the bathroom and then to bed, silly, don't make us angry,” Angie said, as you walked around, mouth agape.

You had no choice but to do what she said; everything was too strange, and you were too tired to think about anything else or run for your life.

Once in bed, the thoughts and memories of what you had experienced prevented your body from resting; living dolls, women in mourning, dark hallways... Yes, you might not be in a cage anymore, but you were in another prison.

The creaking of the door put you on alert again, deciding it was best to pretend to sleep, hoping the punishment for your disobedience would be swift.

The mattress sank with a new weight, and the scent of lavender that flooded your senses told you it was the lady in black who had sat down. With your back to her, you closed your eyes tightly, suppressing as much as you could the trembling of your body, the involuntary sobs you were emitting.

“Ti prego non piangere...”

You had to make a great effort not to jump when you heard that hoarse voice, so different from the doll's. You felt a warm hand in your hair, a subtle and silent caress. Her hand tangled itself slowly in your hair, and another hand pulled up the sheets to cover your trembling body.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, you didn't move. You let her cover you in a disturbingly maternal way, getting up with a sigh and carefully closing the door again.

You didn't have the desire or the time to think about what had just happened; it would be best to wait until the next day.

Nothing happened when you woke up. There was no punishment for your daring; there was nothing, only silence, only the distinctive smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of heels leaving your room.

“What?” you said drowsily, checking that you had a full breakfast on the table, your eyes searching for the lady in black. “Breakfast?” you asked, your voice cracking with sleep. You looked at the toast and the freshly brewed coffee.

“Good morning, stupid!” a high-pitched squeal almost made you jump.

That horrible doll was on the floor, waving mockingly at you. No matter how hard you searched, you couldn't find its owner, and you couldn't find a rational way to explain that extraordinary ventriloquism.

“Ahhh,” you murmured in fear, shrinking in on yourself as the puppet climbed onto the table.

“Well, I hope you've learned not to try anything stupid, silly girl,” Angie said, in a military tone. “It's your life that's at stake.”

“Miranda said she needed me alive,” you whispered, causing that sinister laugh to hurt your ears again.

“Oh, there are worse things than death, silly girl,” the puppet mocked, leaning too close to you and pretending to clear its throat. “So, Donna asked me to tell you that you can't get out of here, no matter how many times you try.”

“Donna told you to tell me? Aren't you her?” you asked curiously, shaking your head, but letting your hunger take over, reaching for a piece of toast. “I don't understand what's going on here...”

“Me? Donna? Please... I'm much more funny than her, you'll see,” the doll laughed, sitting on the table and swinging its legs, leaving you more and more astonished. “Anyway, you can wander around the basement, but try anything strange and you'll pay dearly for it, stupid...”

With those disturbing words, the doll disappeared, causing the idea of ​​escape to return to your mind, but not as intensely as before. You knew there was real danger in that place.

Two strange days passed. You ate breakfast, lunch, dinner... That strange woman fed you, but never said anything, not a word came from behind that black veil. You only saw her on those rare occasions; the rest of the time, you were alone.

Despite the warnings of that impossible living doll, you tried to escape once more, realizing, to your misfortune, that the place was much more dangerous than it seemed.

It was so real... much more real than a dream. The hallway was on fire, a ship's siren ravaged your ears, and your dead father haunted you, blaming you for everything. You didn't know what that was, how it was possible to hallucinate so lucidly every time you approached the elevator, but you didn't ask.

Donna, that Donna Beneviento, seemed to pay no attention to your escape attempts, probably because she, somehow, was causing those horrible visions. Resigned to staying there, you began to carefully explore that basement.

There was no torture, no contact. If it weren't for the fact that you knew the Angie doll was following you, it would seem you'd been abandoned to your fate in that place, alongside a lady in black who seemed nothing but a ghost.

“Hmm...” you murmured one bored morning, tired of begging for your release, accepting your cruel fate, studying the books in the old office.

In one of them, something was sticking out of the pages. You carefully pulled it off the shelf, frowning as you read a title you didn't understand.

“Italian? Great, I should have paid attention in my classes,” you commented with a wry smile, flipping through the pages until you found the paper sticking out.

It looked like an old black and white photograph, a photograph showing a family with serious expressions: a father, a mother, a teenage girl, and a baby, held in the woman's arms.

Curious, you turned the photograph over to read a small inscription.

Famiglia Beneviento, 1987

“1987?” you asked silently, shaking your head and turning the photo over again.

The teenage girl looked somehow familiar; she was a brunette, with her hair tied back in a messy bun and... with a scar across her right eye. In her arms, there was something even stranger: that sinister doll, Angie, was resting in the arms of the young woman, which meant one thing: That girl was Donna, the lady in the black veil.

“It's not possible,” you said, reading the inscription again. No, it certainly wasn't possible. The lady's hands were young, too young for that date, for all the years that had passed. “What are you?”

“Do you find anything interesting?” A familiar voice made you turn quickly, to discover something terrifying.

That horrible witch, Mother Miranda, was leaning against the doorframe, staring at you with glowing eyes. Fear gripped your body; the relative tranquility you'd experienced disappeared with her presence. You backed away slowly, your throat dry, you were paralyzed.

“You look fine, (Y/N),” the blonde commented, approaching slowly. “But I'm afraid we need to talk.”

Screams, demands, shoving… Your days in that cage resurfaced from your vague memory. Miranda tortured you on a chair, inside a sinister workshop while the lady in black, oblivious to what was happening, seemed to be working on something.

“You can’t remain silent forever!” Miranda shrieked, furious, gripping your cheeks tightly as your tears stained the stone floor. “For the last time…” she snarled, hurting you, digging her metal nails into your skin. “Where are those documents? What was the plan B?”

“I-I…” you stammered, paralyzed with fear, hissing in pain. “I don’t know what plan B you’re talking about, I don’t know anything, I swear…”

“You’re lying!” the witch shrieked, letting you go, almost knocking you off balance. “Your stupid father discovered a way to improve Eveline… I know you know it, speak up!”

“I don't know who Eveline is,” you said, your voice breaking, clumsily shielding yourself with your arms. “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“You useless little girl!" she yelled again, slapping you hard, knocking you to the floor. You felt a painful wetness on your cheek.

Desperate, you curled up on the cold stone floor, pleading desperately.

“Please... I don't know anything, please,” you sobbed, letting your tears soak into the blood running down your cheek due to the cut of her golden nails.

“Ugh,” Miranda protested, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “You're stubborn (Y/N),” she murmured, approaching, bending down and tugging hard at your hair. “Luckily for me, no one's coming after you. You can shut your big mouth as long as you want, I can wait…”

The woman released you, causing your head to bounce against the floor as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Sorry, Donna, looks like you have to hold her in a little longer,” the priestess murmured before disappearing from the doors. “I'll come back tomorrow.”

The silence was only interrupted by your crying, your moans of pain. You remained lying on the floor, being closely watched by the living doll, which moved away, running toward its distracted owner.

“That looks bad,” Angie commented.

The woman stopped sewing, glancing at you before continuing.

No one was going to save you, and that reality made your tears intensify.

“I-I have to get out of here,” you muttered, dragging yourself along the floor towards the exit, clumsily trying to escape, something you knew you couldn't do.

The lady in black abruptly rose from the chair, still watching you, walking slowly towards your torture-battered body. She seemed nervous, playing with her hands in front of her body and seeming to nod and shake her head erratically, turning away from you.

When you heard her walk away, you continued crawling, but exhaustion and despair stopped you, causing you to collapse.

Donna, Lady Beneviento, stood up again, gesticulating strangely, as if she were debating something internally. Finally, her pace quickened, and her arms picked you up from the floor, pulling you to your feet. Panic gripped you.

“No, no! Please, no!” you begged, struggling with the woman, preventing her from holding you, kicking until she had no choice but to lift you into the air with a strength that was unnatural.

The lady in black effortlessly led you to a room adjacent to the dark workshop, dropping you into a chair. You tried to get up again, but a firm hand on your shoulder prevented you from doing so.

Weary, you lowered your head, the cut on your cheek beginning to sting. Donna stepped away when she was sure you wouldn't try to flee, opening a small cabinet on the wall as you watched.

“Please... let me go,” you sobbed, feeling the desperation speak for itself. “Please, Don... Lady Beneviento...”

She didn't respond. She turned around, holding a few jars and bandages, sitting in front of you. Frightened, you sensed a new round of torture.

“Don't do this, you don't have to do this...” you sobbed again, grabbing her wrists before they moved towards your face. “No, please...” you sighed, seeing in the motionless lady an opportunity to fight. “Don't touch me, don't touch me!” you screamed, frantically, moving your hands as hers approached your face again.

In one of your desperate gestures, you grabbed something, a black cloth that had been left in your hand; the black veil. Shocked by what you had done, you looked at the lady, discovering a truly beautiful woman, with a deformity on her face that was far from the small scar in the photograph.

Her single eye widened in surprise, and her expression grew cold, turning dangerous.

“Oh my God... I'm sorry,” you said, lowering your gaze, squeezing your eyes shut to withstand the blow you were sure to receive. Nothing happened.

Donna snatched the black cloth from your hands, glancing at it briefly, then back at you and finally deciding to leave the veil on the table.

“What... What happened to you?” you asked, moved by her appearance, by a beauty that seemed impossible to you.

The woman kept her gaze on you, but said nothing. She quickly brought her hands to your face again, bringing you back to the harsh reality.

“Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!” you begged, shrieking, resisting her advances.

A cool sensation and a slight stinging settled on your wounded cheek. Fearfully, you opened your eyes, discovering that her hand was on your skin, alcohol and a cotton ball were cleaning your wound.

“What...?” you murmured, confused, seeing that this strange lady was healing you, looking intently at your wound while the cotton ball soaked with your blood. “Ouch...” you moaned at the stinging, causing her hand to retreat.

Her mysterious gaze rested on yours briefly before she brought the cotton closer again, her movements gentler.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, sobbing, feeling a strange relief in your wound. “Why are you healing me?”

Donna didn't respond; she continued with her meticulous work, applying disinfectant, studying each of the blows the blonde witch gave you. She spread cream on her hands and carefully rubbed the bruises on your wrists while you, paralyzed, could do nothing but watch.

“Why aren't you talking to me?” you asked, pulling her back from her strange task, making her look at you briefly. “Talk to me!” you squealed demandingly, pulling your wrists away from her touch. “Fucking hell, say something!”

She gave you a dark look, but grabbed your hands again, applying more cream to them, ignoring your words.

“Shit...” you protested, shaking your head, wondering what you could do to get a word out of her mouth, an explanation, a reason for everything that was happening. “Don't you speak my language? You're Italian, aren't you?” you said, knowing you were walking a tightrope.

The woman stopped, but silence was still her answer.

“Fuck... P-Parli l’italiano?” you stammered clumsily, without causing the slightest reaction from the brunette, who seemed to be staring at your hands. “Aiutami, per... per favore...”

The woman looked up, removing one of her hands from your wounds, running a strange caress over your face. For a moment you thought you saw a smile, a change in her expression, but it was fleeting, too short.

“This isn't fair,” you sobbed, unable to get a response. “I shouldn't be here, I... Ah...” you hissed in pain as she placed a small bandage on your cheek, securing it tightly to your skin.

She opened her mouth, even if it was only for a brief moment, but no words came out. She simply rose from the chair with a discreet sigh, picking up her veil and putting it back on, ready to leave you alone.

Without fully understanding what had just happened, you dissolved into tears, in the confusion surrounding that new life, that horrible new life.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last time Miranda went to that house. Like a sinister routine, the torture took place in that old workshop, and then, yes, then that lady in black, that silent, strange woman, treated your wounds.

Torture, affection, care... a spiral of pain and comfort repeated itself for several days. You could think whatever you wanted, but deep down you saw something different in Donna, something different in that woman who, little by little, stopped wearing the black veil, allowing you to study her features.

Your desire to escape was still intense, but doing stupid things wouldn't improve your situation. Somehow, that woman felt a certain... affection for you, a certain pity. Maybe you needed a different strategy.

“Why dolls?” you asked, wandering through the workshop while the lady painted a porcelain face. It was a bad idea, but you had to try.

During your stay in the basement, you had learned a little more about her, a little more about the lady in black. Apparently, she wasn't right in the head, suffering from an illness she inherited from her family. She was a shy girl who only spoke through her doll.

Your investigation came to an abrupt halt a year too far in the past, when, apparently, Mother Miranda took pity on her soul after the death of her family.

Something had happened; something had caused that woman to retain her youth after all those years. She couldn't be that old, she simply couldn't, just as her doll Angie couldn't move on her own. You were convinced; Mother Miranda had a lot to do with it.

“Y-Your father made dolls, didn't he?” you insisted upon hearing her silence again, leaning a closer to the lady, who paused for a moment. “I-It's a strange job. You don't see many porcelain dolls anymore.”

Donna didn't respond, but you were used to it. You sighed, shaking your head and picking up a finished doll, observing every detail, but still glancing sideways at the lady in black.

“It's beautiful,” you said with a natural smile, combing the toy's hair. “You're good”

“Basta,” a hoarse voice made you put the doll back. It wasn't the irreverent Angie speaking, it was that husky voice you heard on your first night in that house. “I know what you're trying to do.”

“Donna?” you asked surprised. She had spoken. “Oh, so you can talk,” you said in a lower voice, pulling away slightly when her eye met yours.

“Mother Miranda warned me,” the lady whispered, putting that porcelain head aside and crossing her arms. “She warned me that you would try to get along with me, that you would try to earn my sympathy.”

“I didn't...” you said, knowing that she understood your attitude, that she wasn't as easy to fool as you thought. “Well, so what if I do? I've been in this house for two weeks, trapped, being tortured.”

“That's because you want to,” Donna murmured, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Because I want to? That's a good one,” you said incredulously, crossing your arms. “You kidnapped me.”

“I didn't kidnap you,” she said, slowly standing up, making you regret your words.

“You're keeping me here,” you challenged, your voice nervous but strangely confident.

“I follow Mother Miranda's orders,” she stated, blinking erratically and sitting back down, sighing.

“Of course, you always follow Mother Miranda's orders,” you whispered, unfortunately loud enough for her to hear. “What the hell do you owe that horrible woman?”

“Don't you dare talk about Mother Miranda like that!” Donna shrieked, furious, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. “She saved me, she saved us all!”

“She did that to you, didn't she?” you said confidently, pointing at the deformity of her face.

“You...” the lady hissed, looking at you darkly. “You don't know anything, stupida,” she snarled, looking away. “Everything changed. I changed for her, for the Gods. It doesn't surprise me that an outsider like you doesn't understand.”

You were about to say something, but decided to keep quiet, decided to suppress the curiosity her words stirred in you.

“Do your siblings also obey her that way?” you asked, certain you were beginning to understand how that village worked, the Four Lords, the Black Gods…

“Mm,” Donna murmured disinterestedly, returning her attention to painting that empty face. “(Y/N)...” she said in a slightly different tone, with a different expression.

“You know my name,” you sighed, confused, trying not to lose your temper.

She didn't respond; of course she didn't.

“Just tell her what she wants to know,” she finally whispered, subtly signaling to you that the conversation was over.

“I'd love to, but it turns out I don't know anything,” you replied, leaning on the table, watching her hands work delicately. “So I guess things will stay this way, huh? Miranda tortures me, and then asks you to heal me so she can break me again.”

“She didn't ask me to heal you,” Donna said in a dark voice, making you freeze for a moment.

“No...?” you stammered, blinking in confusion. “Then... why are you doing it?”

“I hate seeing something so beautiful damaged...” It was a sigh, a terribly low whisper that came from her lips. It was the last thing she said before silence fell in the workshop.

The lady's words entered your ears, lodged in your mind, in your chest. A strange statement that made you begin to feel a certain... relief, the certainty that this woman wouldn't hurt you.

You didn't understand her elusive reasons, her veiled words, but you embraced your new reality. Miranda would hurt you, but Donna would heal you, take care of you. For someone like you, it was much more than you thought you deserved.

But the torture grew worse and worse. Miranda's screams masked Donna's subtle words of affection, her strange whispers in a different language. The blows and the slaps began to make your skin forget the soft touch of the dollmaker's hands, the relief you felt from her caresses.

Even Miranda, tired of her failure, ordered Donna to torture you, to extract the information in any way possible. But Donna... she didn’t do it.

Everything turned dark, sad, and you didn't know how much longer you could endure.

“I can't take it anymore...” you sobbed as Donna treated your scratches, your new wounds now overlapping the old ones. “This is too much...”

“You can stop this, (Y/N),” the brunette murmured, wiping the blood from your arms. “Just tell her what she wants to hear.”

“I don't know anything!” you shrieked, pulling away from the lady's caresses. “I don't know anything... I... I burned the documents, I didn't read them... but she doesn't believe me... she'll never believe me... If there were any way to know what was in them... But there isn't...” you cried desperately as the lady looked at you stoically, without interrupting you.

“I believe you,” Donna said, making you rise your head. “No one is stupid enough to put up with this on purpose.”

“Do you believe me?” you asked hopefully. She nodded slowly, grabbing your hands, which began to caress each other. “Oh my God... you have to, you have to tell her.”

“I can't,” the lady sighed letting your hand go and shaking her head.

“Fuck... well...” you muttered, starting to lose your temper. “Then just kill me! Kill me now, I can't take it anymore! I can't do this, Donna, I can't... I'm suffering...” you sobbed, letting your body lean into hers, letting her arms wrap around it and your head bury itself in her chest.

“Calmati (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear as you clutched her clothes, desperate, crying like you never had before.

“Yesterday she asked you to torture me,” you said, your voice muffled by the fabric. “She asked you to continue and you didn't... Fuck!” you shrieked, abruptly pulling away, standing up from the chair. “I don't even have a reason to want to get out of here! My parents are dead, my girlfriend left me and... Shit, shit, shit!”

You screamed, kicking chairs, everything within reach.

“My life is so miserable that you're the only person who's ever given me any affection! And look at you, you're crazy, you have living dolls and... Fuck!”

“I'm just trying to take care of you,” the brunette defended herself, hurt by your words. “I know what it's like to be alone, you know? I know it better than anyone, but you... you can still save yourself, just... you just have to tell her...”

“I have nothing to tell her,” you said in a passive tone, slumping into the chair. “If you truly believe me, you know there's no solution, I have no escape,” you commented indifferently, playing with the bandages.

 “It's only a matter of time before Miranda realizes. If she doesn't kill me first, then...”

“Then?” the lady asked, with a childish look.

“I'll die,” you declared, shaking your head, noticing how you had accepted your fate. “She'll kill me or, well, she'll set me free, and then... then I'll be alone again.”

“I-It doesn't have to be that way, (Y/N),” Donna intervened, gripping your hands too tightly. “You could... you could stay here, with me. Neither of us would ever be alone again.”

You didn't answer, didn't want to answer. Stay with that woman? It’s crazy...

As time passed, the proposal faded. You didn't speak of it again, nor did she, but somehow, it sounded better and better in your head, even though you refused to think that way.

“I've had enough of you, (Y/N)...” Miranda hissed the next day, in another round of relentless torture, pacing around your semi-conscious body. “I'm getting tired, girl... I'm getting tired of you.”

“T-Then... kill me,” you said, your voice hoarse from crying, from the pain of an excessive beating, from noticing how she'd already lost her patience.

“Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” the witch mocked, putting a foot on your chest. “I'm not going to give you the satisfaction... Speak!” she yelled, stomping hard on your foot, causing your screams to echo around the workshop.

Donna looked away, pretending not to see, not to know what was happening. Your eyes sought her help, that affection she gave you, but it was far away, too far away.

“You impertinent brat,” Miranda murmured, grabbing your arm, forcibly lifting you to your feet. “Very well, I think you can still talk with one less arm,” she threatened, lifting you up and pulling out her golden nails, ready to mutilate you.

“No!” A different scream appeared in the room, and the priestess abruptly stepped back as some arms pushed her away. “Basta! Basta, per favore!”

It was Donna, the lady in black pushing her Goddess away from you. Miranda's face was something that would be difficult to forget.

“Donna,” the witch said, straightening her clothes, approaching the brunette, who bent down to gather you in her arms, cupping your face. “What are you doing? Donna! Cosa fai?”

“D-Don't hurt her anymore, please, don't... don't hurt her,” the brunette sobbed, caressing you softly, letting a tear land on your surprised and weak face.

"Oh, I can't believe it," the blonde laughed, walking toward you, tilting her head. “Don't tell me you've grown fond of her... What were you doing when she asked you to torture her? Cuddles?” she mocked, pouting.

“S-She... (Y/N) doesn't know anything, Mother, she told me,” the Italian woman said, her voice breaking, flustered by her creator's anger. “She doesn't know anything...”

“She doesn't know anything,” she repeated, with a nasty grimace. “Gods, Donna, I can't believe you're stupid enough to...”

“(Y/N), tesoro... please, look at me...” the lady in black whispered, patting your cheeks to keep your eyes from closing. “Perdonami…Perdonami, tesoro…”

“Please, I’m going to throw up,” Miranda sighed, observing the scene and shaking her head, her expression changing. “Have you fallen in love with her, Donna? How predictable…” she murmured afterward, bending down towards you.

Donna pulled you away from her touch, causing the witch to laugh ironically, standing up again.

“Damn… it’s true, isn’t it? That girl doesn’t know anything,” she commented with a nervous gasp. “Then… well, I guess you can have her. But I’m warning you… I don’t want any trouble,” she said in a disgusted tone, fading into a black cloud.

“D-Donna,” you gasped, weakly grasping the pale hand that was caressing you. “Donna…” you sighed, letting your eyes close slowly, succumbing to the darkness.

“No, no! Per favore! (Y/N)!”

You thought you'd never open your eyes again, but you did, slowly, feeling a strange, pleasant comfort.

“Mm...” you murmured, your body aching, discovering an unfamiliar room and a pressure on your hands.

Donna was sitting in a chair across from you, her head buried in the mattress and her hands tightly squeezing you. She was crying, you could feel it. Somehow you remembered how she had saved you, what had happened; you knew Miranda wouldn't come back, thanks to that strange lady in black.

Your hand slipped from hers and traveled to her black hair, stroking it slowly.

“(Y/N),” she gasped, raising her head hurriedly, tightening her grip on your hand. “You're awake.”

“Yes...” you sighed, looking around. “Wow, this bed is much more comfortable than the other one,” you joked, checking your wounds.

She laughed through her tears, sitting on the bed, still looking at you, admiring you.

“It's all over now, (Y/N), she won't hurt you again,” she explained, cupping your face in her hands, making you smile for the first time in a long time.

What happened next surprised you, but it wasn't unpleasant at all. Donna pulled you in, briefly placing her lips on yours in a salty kiss, quick and clumsy, but terribly affectionate.

“You... you saved me, Donna,” you said, ignoring the kiss. “Thank you...”

“I couldn't do anything else,” she replied, signaling to Angie to give you a glass of water. “Drink, you need to hydrate.”

“Yes,” you sighed, looking at her lips, leaning in closer, kissing her again, deepening a kiss of gratitude, with an affection that went far beyond simple affection, although you tried to ignore it.

“I liked that,” Donna said shyly, her cheeks flushed, like a little girl. “S-So that means... you'll stay with me?” she asked impatiently, kissing you quickly again, caressing your free hand as her lips sought to touch yours in a clumsy, inexperienced, but adorable way.

“I can't imagine myself anywhere else but with you, Donna...”

[luvnoirs]

paige bueckers x fem!reader hcs !

warning(s): none ! (sfw)

she's so attentive like you can obviously tell during her interviews so she loves listening to what you have to say. it doesn't even have to be a serious or heavy conversation. you could be talking about the weather and she'd be so tuned in like she's in love fr

date nights are mostly chill and cozy vibes. like you'll have movie nights or go to the beach if it's nice out. sometimes you'll stay in an do karaoke cause paige swears up and down that she can sing like sza. but then again paige loves spending quality time with you so she considers everything you do together a date

she'll point to you and say "this is for you" before she shoots the ball (she makes it of course) and then smooch at you

has a playlist dedicated just for you on her public apple music account with songs that remind her of you. it's mostly rnb vibes and "love" by keysha cole is the first song on there

calls you "princess"

like i said before she's big on physical touch so she likes to give back hugs and shoulder kisses

also clingy as hell... if she's had a busy day with school and/or practice and hasn't seen you in a while, prepare to be suffocated by her the second she she's you

paige always thinks she's right so you two are always arguing (nothing too serious just dumb stuff mostly)

"you did not just say drake's best album is 'thank me later'..."

if the argument is serious and she's mad at you or vice versa, it literally never lasts more than five minutes because she hates not seeing you happy. she'll even admit she's wrong

she'll wrap her long arms around you as you face the opposite direction with your arms crossed and a frown on your face. she bends down to place a kiss on the side of your face before her head falls into the crook of your neck. "i'm sorry..."

damn near forces you to play fortnite with her and hypes you up every time you get a kill. she'll be so proud of you too with a stupid smile on her face as she watches you play

all her tiktok drafts are full of those cheesy ass slideshows about your relationship but she makes sure to post the 'what's up riri/what's up rocky' one publicly for everyone to see how cute yall are

she's definitely not one of those people who controls what their s/o wears so if you want to wear something revealing, she'll be all for it

very protective but not to the point where it's consuming or overwhelming. like if you're walking on the sidewalk she'll always make sure she's on the side closest to the street

when it comes to gifts she loves to do the most. like she already loves spoiling you so if it's christmas or valentines day she'll be stressing about making sure your gift is perfect. she's lowkey a romantic too so she'll get you the traditional red roses and scatter rose petals along the floor in your bedroom, and then gets red faced when you tease her about how 'corny' it is (you love it tho)

on the more sensitive side she lets her guard down around you. if she's upset about anything she'll vent to you or cry it out as you rub her back and wipe her tears

calls you her "wife" especially when referring to you while talking to other people like yall are so locked in

pls lemme know if you want more or send some requests thru my asks lmao

[deezee112]

The worst ending 3 : Shattered Perfection

The worst ending 2 | The worst ending 4

Yandere!Deuce Spade x GN!Reader

A/N : I'm back!! I'm sorry for posting so late, I just got back from camp which was so torturous😭 And I'm writing chapter 5, the draft is almost done. I've been feeling quite inspired to write lately.

My inspiration came just a few weeks ago...

Warning : This story contains themes of emotional dependency , accidental death , intense guilt , and grief , The narrative explores a tragic , It doesn't have any yandere content but it's so sad. I'm sorry, little one 😭😔

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the lifelike doll before you, its glassy eyes a mirror of uncertainty, as if reflecting the internal debate waging within you. Crowley's words echoed in you head " Raise this child, and you may find purpose in your mundane life! "

It wasn't purpose you sought—your always been a driven individual. But something about this child, sitting there so quietly, had tugged at you heartstrings in a way you couldn't explain. You stern, sarcastic nature wavered for just a moment.

Finally, you sighed. “ Alright, fine. I’ll do it. ” you muttered. “ But don’t expect me to be some doting mother figure. ”

As you reached out to the doll , it blinked , startling you. It was alive in every sense of the word. The doll no the boy—looked at your with wide, curious eyes , as though silently asking, What now?

“ I’ll name you...Deuce. ” you said finally. The name felt fitting somehow simple, yet strong.

Raising Deuce wasn’t easy. From the moment he began to walk and talk, it became evident that his emotions often got the better of him. His anger flared like a wildfire over the smallest inconveniences: a misplaced toy, a frustrating lesson, or even you own sarcastic quips.

“ Deuce, I said no! You can’t have ice cream for breakfast. ” You said one morning, you tone sharp but not unkind.

“ But why not?! ” Deuce shouted, stomping his foot. His cheeks flushed red, and his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

“ Because I said so. ” you crossed you arms, you calm demeanor masking you frustration.

Deuce glared at your, his temper simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought he might lash out physically. Instead, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, he returned, his head bowed and his small hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “ I’m sorry, Y/n.. ” he said softly. “ I didn’t mean to get mad. ”

You crouched down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s okay, Deuce. But you need to learn to control that temper of yours. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you. ”

“ I’ll try. ” he promised, his big, earnest eyes filled with determination.

“ Good ” you said, rubbing his head.

Despite the challenges, You and Deuce formed a bond stronger than you ever anticipated. You saw past his outbursts to the kind hearted boy beneath. He tried so hard to be good, often scribbling little apology notes after his tantrums or offering to help with chores.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Deuce came to you holding a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked from the park. “ These are for you. ” he said shy, his cheeks tinged pink.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “ Flowers, huh? Trying to butter me up so I’ll forget you broke my coffee mug this morning? ”

Deuce looked down, fidgeting with the stems. “ I just...wanted to make you happy... ”

You heart softened. “ Thanks, Deuce. They’re beautiful. ”

In moments like these, you forgot he was just a doll a creation meant to mimic life. To you, he was simply Deuce, the boy who wanted so desperately to do right by you.

It was a stormy afternoon when everything went wrong. you had been working from home, typing away on you laptop while Deuce played with his toys in the living room. The thunder rumbled ominously outside, and rain lashed against the windows.

“ Deuce, be careful with that ” You called, noticing him swinging a wooden sword dangerously close to the lamp.

“ I’m a knight! I have to protect the kingdom! ” he declared, oblivious to you warning.

“ Deuce, I mean it— ”

Before you could finish, the lamp toppled over, shattering on the floor.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose. “ Deuce! What did I just say? ”

His face crumpled, anger and guilt warring within him. “ I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault! ”

“ Deuce, calm down— ”

“ I’m not a bad kid!! ” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. He lashed out, kicking at the shards of glass in frustration.

“ Stop! ” You shouted, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

But in his flurry of emotions, Deuce twisted away from you grip, flinging his arm out and that’s when it happened.

The sharp edge of a broken shard sliced through the air, catching you across you neck.

Your eyes widened in shock as you stumbled backward, your hands instinctively flying to you throat. Blood seeped through you fingers, dark and warm.

Deuce froze, his anger evaporating in an instant. “ y/n..? ” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You sank to the floor, you vision blurring. “ It’s...okay, Deuce... ” you managed to choke out, though you voice was barely audible.

“ No! No, no, no! ” He dropped to his knees beside you, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his small hands. “ I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don’t go! ”

The minutes stretched into eternity as Deuce sobbed beside you lifeless body. His hands were stained with you blood, and his mind raced with a thousand regrets.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he kept repeating, rocking back and forth. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you... ”

The house felt unbearably silent without you presence. Deuce wandered from room to room, clutching the wildflowers he’d given you days ago. They were wilted now, their petals falling apart, but he couldn’t bear to let them go.

He replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind. If only he had listened. If only he had controlled his temper. If only...

One evening, Deuce sat at the dining table, staring at a crumpled piece of paper. It was one of the notes he’d written for you, a simple “ I’m sorry... ” scribbled in childish handwriting.

“ I’ll be better. ” he whispered, as though she could still hear him. “ I’ll be good...I promise.. ”

He placed the note on you empty chair, along with the last flower from the bouquet.

“ I’m sorry, y/n.. ” he said softly, tears streaming down his face. “ I’ll never forget you.. ”

[ellesreids]

red amaryllis — s. reid

this is a rewrite of a very old draft, like 2022 old. pls don't fact check me on anything lmao and be nice.

𖡼₊˚⊹

You remember your first date with Spencer, still as clear as day, even after all the years. You had initially met in a library; you had been looking for any sources to use for your assignment (the due date was too close for comfort and you were already on edge as is), and noticing your frantic search through the shelves, he had asked if he could be of some assistance.

You had told him about your assignment and its content, and from there he had given you an in-depth summary of Renaissance Humanism (just off the top of his head!) while you eagerly took as many notes as you could. He even took the extra initiative to compile a list of books you actually could refer from, and to this day you're convinced you would've failed miserably without his help.

You had hit it off after that, meeting in the library a few more times and always falling into quiet, comfortable conversations about anything and everything. After a while, he shyly asked you out on a date, to which you eagerly agreed. The plan was to meet him at a small restaurant, and he had run a little late (twenty-seven minutes and twelve seconds, to be specific) He had approached the table where you sat with bated breath and a very rushed apology, that made him even more out of breath. You quickly brushed it off though, assuring him that you weren't mad at all, and in fact glad that he could make it. He looked like the world had been lifted from his shoulders at your words.

Your eyes had drifted down to the impressively large bouquet he held clasped in his hands and following your eyes, he shyly handed you the beautiful assortment of flowers. It wasn't just plain old roses, but an vast arrangement of diffrent flowers you wouldn't have known the names of even if you tried.

Your eyes were caught by the beautiful blood red flowers scattered across the edge and center of the bouquet — bigger than most of the other flowers and a perfect contrast to all the other soft colored ones.

"They're so beautiful, thank you," you said with a satisfied sigh as he finally sat down across you. "You weren't going for the traditional route, huh," you said with a smile, still admiring the flowers in your grasp. Spencer nodded excitedly before speaking up. "The type of flowers given to someone are believed to carry a message," he said, shifting your attention to the boy infront of you as he continued his passionate rambling.

"The special symbolism of flowers became a popular pass time during the eighteen hundreds — more specifically the Victorian Era — where each flower was given a particular meaning or message. The language of flowers has been recognized for centuries in many countries throughout Asia and Europe. They even play a part in some of Shakespeare's works."

His voice took on an almost hypnotic tone as he conveyed the history of flowers to you, every word leaving you enraptured and in awe of his big, beautiful brain.

"That's so interesting," you said earnestly, eyes once again drifting down to the flowers in your hands. "So, what do these mean?" you asked, pointing to one of the big red flowers that had caught your attention earlier.

"Amaryllis, well the Victorians associated amaryllis with strength and determination because of their height and sturdiness. But the red Amaryllis more specifically are often said to represent splendid beauty and attraction." You couldn't help but smile at his words, the thought he had put behind something so small warming your heart.

"Is that your cool way of saying you think I'm pretty?" you teased, watching the way his cheeks took on a rosier shade, a shy smile stretching across his lips. "I guess, yeah," he said almost bashfully, and the smile on your face mirrored his perfectly, the warm feeling in your cheeks making you feel lightheaded with giddiness.

You remember your first date with Spencer because of how absolutely perfect it was.

[f1smutwriter]

Hi tis me again

I feel awkward with all the request. I'm just obsessed with f1 rn.

Pierre learning to do your acrylic nails so he can spend more time with you during the f1 season.

This guy's love language is acts of service and quality time

Chilling in the hotel in pajamas drinking wine and sushi getting your nails done by pierre gloating about your man on socials like "your bf could never but here's what mine does." Maybe he gets teased about ut by the other drivers but who cares he bagged a bad bitch and he's in love.

Almond shape but otherwise what ever is fine.

| 𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧 (𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎)

★ :: 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

★ : 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: Pierre the perfect boyfriend anyone could ask for. He adores his girlfriend and treats her like the princess she is. So he learned to do nails just for his princess

★ : 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :: nothing just some tea and cursing

★ : 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :: Gosh these Pierre fics you request gosh I love them. Like these are my favorite things to write when the guy just does something to spend time with you. This is my first time doing the Instagram thing on tumblr but I do them all the time on Wattpad so if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll change it for you girl. Hope you love it!

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

“Ma chérie you ready” he called out for me as I come out of the bathroom with a smile. “Hi handsome” I smiled kissing his lips softly as I sit down on the bed so he can paint my toes. “I learned this cool new thing. Best thing ever” he smiled as he rubbed my feet softly making me sigh feeling more relaxed

“Handsome I don’t know why you do this, you don’t have to” I whispered softly making her chuckle softly. “Mon cœur I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to” he smiled softly kissing my leg making me shiver softly. “I get to spend more time with you, plus I want to pamper my girl” He smiled making me blush from his words.

“Why do you have to be so perfect all the time” I mumbled before he snorts causing me to laugh with him. “You know what sounds amazing right now” I whispered softly as he looks up at me. “Why are you whispering” he laughed making me kick him softly. “Sushi and wine” I groaned softly craving both of them. “Want me to order us sushi and wine” he asked softly making me nod frantically. He goes over to the phone and orders room service.

“Coming in about 30 minutes” he said softly making me squeal. “thank you baby” I whispered kissing him feeling him grab my waist to kiss me back softly. “Gosh you have no idea how in love I am with you” he whispered kissing my neck softly. “Let’s get back to your nails before I take you right here right now” he said sitting me down on my chair while he paints my nails

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, and 1,000,000 others

yourusername: get you man who does all this for you, and his excuse to do all this was. “Amour I need to pamper you”

Tagged: pierregasly

view all comments

charles_leclerc: this needed to stay in the drafts

yourusername: someone is mad I took their man

charles_leclerc: mad your always second place 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: really because last time I checked I’m first place babes 😙

pierregasly: my pretty girl I love you ❤️

yourusername: I love you more handsome

User: Charles hate to break it to you but your second

charles_leclerc: I know :(

alexandrasaintmleux: oh for Charles to do this for me

yourusername: you don’t need Charles babe you have me 😉

charles_leclerc: back up bitch or we fight

yourusername: I’m slashing all your tyres

carlossainz55: NO please don’t we need to win

yourusername: oh well bye bye Ferrari

lilymhe: the fact I’ve been stalking your page

yourusername: babe stalk my page all you want

alexalbon: not only are you stealing my girl but Charles girl to

yourusername: I’m after all the wags my master plan

lilymhe: tbh I’d let her take me

alexalbon: 😣

maxverstappen1: he’s lowkey whipped for you

yourusername: yes he is and guess what I love it

pierregasly: I am she gives good head 💁‍♂️

yourusername: 😧

pierregasly: it had to be said Mon amour I’m sorry

User: I want a guy to treat me like this

User: me to they make me feel so single

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

“Mon amour you posted me” Pierre asked shaking his head making me giggle. “Yes I had to baby, had to show everyone who my man was” I smiled before he grabbed me putting me on his lap. He started kissing my neck softly, feeling myself let out a small whimper. “I love you so much you have no idea baby” he whispered softly in my ear making me blush. “I love you more handsome” I smile before he kissed my head softly. “I love you the most princess” He whispered going back to kissing my neck.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

Pierre just got on the paddock now walking towards his garage to look at the car, but he got stopped by one of his best friends. “Bro painting her nails and all of that your whipped mate” Charles snorted before laughing at him. “Why am I whipped because I love my girl” He smiled at Charles before Charles shakes his head.

“I do it because I don’t spend time with her I’m always away, so it gives us some time together” Pierre explained making Charles let out a small smile. “It’s nice to see you like this man, all in love and everything” Charles commented as Pierre feels his cheeks get red. “Me in love what about you and Alex I see how you guys are with each other” Pierre laughed softly now making Charles blush a bit. “Look at us two blushing fools” Charles snorted making them both laugh out.

“Who would have thought” Pierre laughed softly as they both walk down the paddock.

“Who would have thought” Charles smiled softly

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

★ : 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :: I’m sorry this was short but I kinda was running out of things to say. I hope you guys liked it, and please send more requests I beg you.

[diagonal-queen]

hii! can i request hunting dogs with clumsy s/o?

Hunting Dogs with a clumsy S/O

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura, Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: What are the Hunting Dogs like with an S/O who's clumsy?

♡ cw: Swearing, mentions of getting hurt/bumping into things/getting accidental cuts, mention of alcohol

note: It's been a while since I actually posted some proper writing. I genuinely do apologise you guys- there's not really any good excuse for me taking as long as I have. Long work hours and bad home life combined have me absolutely fuckin spent, but I know that's also the case for other writers who still manage to produce work on at least a semi-regular basis. I just wanna try and get on top of some of my reqs that've been gathering dust in my drafts lmao. Thank you guys for your support and I love you all <3 apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

I'm gonna be so real with you right now bro literally doesn't care

Like he gives absolutely no fucks that you're clumsy. Fuck you could trip into one of his many barrels of alcohol and fully destroy it and he just wouldn't even be mad

He'd just help you up and be like 'ah you're so cute when you trip over and faceplant and destroy my stuff <33' (probably not that far from verbatim to be honest)

I genuinely don't know what else to tell you other than 'he doesn't care', because he doesn't. Any mess you make, he'll have it cleaned up. Any precious item you break, he'll just replace it.

His only real concern is you somehow hurting yourself, but even then he's not really that worried because he'll find some insanely talented doctor to fix you right up. It wouldn't be an inconvenience for him at all

(Fukuchi IS a sugar daddy and nobody except me has ever acknowledged it and it's lowkey bothering me like c'mon be so for fucking real guys)

All this being said, he probably wouldn't let you carry something extremely valuable like amenogozen (not like he would let you carry it anyway, but your clumsiness does contribute to his overprotectiveness of that stupid dumbass sword)

As always, he will get pissed if anyone else gives you a hard time for your clumsiness

Your whole dynamic is basically just Ozzie and Fizz lowkey

He really just lets you do your thing honestly, he doesn't care whether it's imperfect or whatever. If you're clumsy, then clumsiness is automatically cute tf

Jouno:

Jouno's like the total opposite of clumsy, literally every particle of his being is perfectly coordinated at all times

So he might be upset at first to learn that your motor skills aren't as up to scratch as his are.

You need to remind him that hey, how does he expect a regular ass person to measure up to a genetically modified super soldier? (which is a totally fair argument that even he doesn't rebut)

And after some consideration he's like 'okay fair' and tries to get used to your clumsiness. Keyword being 'tries'; he's not always perfect at tolerating it, but he's doing his best and that's what counts

If you're the kind of person who curses when you stub your toe (or god forbid that thing where you bump your hipbone on the corner of the table for some reason), he's totally cool with that. He's fully okay with swearing

He just doesn't really like when you randomly yell or cry out in pain really loudly/right near him because of the auditory overload

If you cry he will take the time to calm you down and kiss whatever part of your body you hurt better (pretends to hate it but absolutely doesn't)

Uses your clumsiness as an excuse to hold your hand when you guys go out together <3 he also likes feeling your pulse speed up when he touches you

Will randomly pull you in certain directions while you guys are out walking and when you're like 'why?' he'll be like 'you were about to walk into a pole sweetheart' then you turn back around and yeah he was right

Tecchou:

One of my favourite versions of Tecchou is aloof himbo Tecchou so that's what we're going with. Anyways he would be like '...just stop dropping things tf'

It doesn't take him that long to accept that fact that sometimes you're just clumsy without being able to control it and he probably shouldn't trust you with dangerous or fragile object

It probably secretly annoys him a bit at first but he doesn't wanna make you feel bad about

His attention quickly turns to prioritising your safety, so ultimately he doesn't really care

He's really strong so a lot of the time if you have to carry something heavy he just offers to carry it instead. Not only will he be saving you from back pain but he may also potentially be preventing your toes from being shattered under the weight of whatever you would have been carrying

Tecchou would want to cook for you to keep you away from all the kitchenware and appliances, but you don't let him because you know he'll whip up something absolutely abhorrent. Even if you sometimes get nicked with knives or touch hot pans, it's better than eating his food (sorry Tecchou)

He wouldn't want you to leave your place on your own if the weather is rainy or something because that means the pavement/ground is slippery (if you ask him to carry you the chance of him saying yes is surprisingly high actually)

If you ever bump into him, he'll act nonchalant about it but he would be blushing and sweating and shaking and panicking and screaming crying throwing up hyperventilating fanboying dying

Teruko (platonic):

Like most...general traits that a human could have, Teruko would probably make fun of you for it at first

Eventually her teasing would become more lighthearted and silly instead of genuine, but if anyone else tried to bully for you it it's on SIGHT

Teruko can be clumsy sometimes, but more often than not it's just harmless things like carrying a stack of documents and not making sure to secure it so that sheets of paper don't fly off the top

When it comes to her physical strength and combat everything she does is very intentional and coordinated. If you see her actively being clumsy she probably really does not care about what she's doing lol

She's the kind of person to do dart and knife throwing for fun but if you're even in close range of a blade she freaks out and worries that you're gonna fatally wound yourself somehow

If you do end up getting hurt she'll help fix up your injury, like cleaning wounds or bandaging you up or whatever, but she'll chide you about it the whole time (she's hiding the fact that she's secretly super concerned for you)

Absolutely has a phone recording of you tripping and eating shit and always threatens to send it to people unless you buy her food or something like that lmao

Unlike Jouno or Tecchou she's a little bit of a prick and doesn't warn you when you're about to bump into something and then laughs when you bump into said something

I mean she won't let you get hurt hurt but also seeing people get hurt is funny sometimes lmao

Tachihara:

Let's not pretend that this motherfucker isn't also a clumsy bastard

C'mon the two of you are constantly tripping over your own feet let alone each other's feet. You're an accidental chaotic dual MESS

I mean Tachihara is a little less clumsy than you, being a Hunting Dog and all, but if he's sleep-deprived or drunk or something like that he is a literal safety hazard. He definitely doesn't realise how much of a unit he is

As such, he doesn't really mind that you're also clumsy. If you drop things or whatever he doesn't get upset, just helps you pick/clean them up like the sweetheart he is

Also tries to catch you if you trip over (his success rate is improving steadily) but may also fall over in the process so you never really know

He uses his metal manipulation to keep you from getting hurt. If you're in the kitchen and you're about to drop a pot on the ground he catches it before it lands on your feet. Is he really your man if he doesn't use supernatural abilities to keep you from dropping shit

Pretty much every room in the house is stocked with bandaids just in case. You guys almost always have tons of matching ones, along with bruises and random little sores that you have no memory of attaining

Again, if you're the type of person who swears when you stub your toe, the absolute horrific vulgar language that comes out of Tachihara's mouth when he stubs his toe puts you to SHAME

You're as equally concerned for his wellbeing as he is for yours. You both take good care of each other's physical health where you can

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

[mydearestbeloved]

okay, you said illusion is part of reader's arsenal so i think it would be cool if she has an AOE skill where she creates a fragrant field of flowers that heals and buffs allies but any enemies that step into the field will be teleport back to the other side before they can cross over it, kinda like a never ending loop? samsara? the cycle of life and birth? (i was inspired seeing shu arknights skill set)

?System¿: [Under review. Ideas considered for future versions.]

Interesting idea you got there. 🤩

You might notice by now that I love giving some logics behind what was supposed to be pure magic, if I can. That's one of my ways to make this story concept a bit more distinct than the others, and also a way for me to fit in the original narratives. Because as far as I know, from spoilers of the webnovel/novel and game, and from the webtoon/manhwa and anime, the mechanics of healer class hunter's power is not widely explained and developed. It's like filling in the gaps/plotholes with what-ifs and all that. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. 🙏

So, let me clarify a few things about the current Reader's powers as of now (12/11/2024):

For AOE heals, buffs, and even enemies debuffs, Reader's butterflies already got that covered.

The butterflies' main power is inspired by the very nature of butterflies in real life, pollination. While they might not be as effective as bees in that regard, they still feed on flowers' nectar (enemies' lifeforce). When they do this, their bodies collect pollen (excess energy) and carry it to other plants (allies) to help produce new seeds (in the form of heals and buffs).

The reason I also choose butterflies instead of bees are for their physical appearance. Hear me out first before anyone could get mad.

I'm not saying that I chose butterflies purely because of their aesthetics, over the effectiveness of bees. What I'm trying to say is that bees' have visible stinger, butterflies don't. This fact plays part in the Reader's vibe of being beautiful but deadly. Illusions is one of the reasons we perceive something that were actually dangerous as harmless, it tricked us into thinking that something so pleasing to the eyes couldn't possible hurt us, yet reality says otherwise. As the saying goes, "Don't let the looks fool you."

Now onto the 'field of flowers' concept in what is as of currently the latest drafted chapter of my Trial Player AU.

Plants in general absorb carbondioxide (mana, or other versions of it, like the contaminated ones) and produce oxygen (lifeforce) in exchange.

Additionally, in my story, the concept applied is that living beings continuously produce their own mana while they're alive. If they're freshly dead, there will only be residue mana from being alive just moments prior, limited and will be dispersed into the atmosphere as time goes on.

To simplify: 'Lifeforce' is the essence of mana. Being alive automatically produce mana, hence taking just a small amount of 'lifeforce' sourced from living beings can be converted to an abundant amount of mana. However, while Reader can still take back a mana's essence with the flower field, the field needs to take a larger amount of mana (CO2) just to produce smaller amount of 'lifeforce' (O2) to then be used by the butterflies (conduits) in a cycle and for Reader herself.

Hence the scenes in my Trial Player AU rendition of Solo Leveling's Demon Castle Arc. The land are roaming with demons and the undeads, perfect for the flower field. Though there's a catch that I can't fully explain for now, the 'contaminated' mana of the creatures there. The current Jinwoo in the manhwa can't extract Metus' shadow for exactly that reason, and while Reader was still able to use that mana, the contamination in it will have an effect on her, as shown briefly at the end of the chapter.

Last but not least, your Samsara cycle idea.

Awesome idea actually, one I want to ask for your permission to incorporate this concept in the future since you're the one who brought it up. 🙏

As of you know now, the current Reader's power is limited. To use that idea of yours now would be to imply that Reader could've reversed wounds to heal instead of accelerating cells (or other automatic biological processes) and subsequently trigger <Decay> if too much was sped up.

The current her was already struggling with <Erode>, a spell that supposedly accelerate weathering (not an automatic process) that needs outer factors like water, air, sunlight, or the help of living organisms, in which she managed to substitue them with applying more mana, hence the cost, time, and focus she needs to use the spell.

To simplify, to reverse a wound would be to reverse the cause of that very wound, hence dominion over space is also required, not just time. To make a 'Samsara Cycle' as you described needed the same power of space and time. A limitation for the current Reader...

For now. 🤫😉

---

That's all I can say for now regarding your ask. Hopefully, this was a satisfactory answer.

Thank you, for reading my stories, for your ideas, and for giving me the opportunity to share my own ideas. 💞

[sundrop-writes]

Titans Hogwarts House Headcanons

A/N: I started writing this during the summer and never finished it, and now I need to clean out my drafts, so I figured that I would post it unfinished lmao. I hope you guys enjoy it. It's just a random, fun thing that I was thinking about.

NOTE - this is based on the Titans (2018) specific versions of the characters and their personalities. If you think this conflicts with other versions, don't complain about it to me. Make your own headcanons post lmao. Also I'm sorry if I have forgotten any of the characters.

Gar Logan - Hufflepuff

I was torn between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for him, but I ultimately went with Hufflepuff because I think he has more of those traits. And because he has more of a propensity to run away in the face of danger (which isn't really a bad thing, it's a good protective instinct) - but he's not the kind of boldly (stupidly) brave that a Gryffindor is. When he sees something that is like a 'real life horror movie', he wants to run in the other direction, and he is so smart for that.

And all his other traits are very Hufflepuff - he is intensely loyal, friendly, he has a tendency to make friends very easily (as we see with literally everyone in the show). He always tries to see the best in people, he's positive and bright, and it takes a lot for him to reach anger and actually get mad at people. He's very easy going and calm and just wants to support people.

He is very soft and bright Hufflepuff.

Jason Todd - Slytherin

This is one of the most obvious to me. I know a lot of people think that Slytherin automatically equals 'bad guy', but I am not calling Jason a bad guy with this headcanon. I love his complexity and how his personality fits into this so well. He's clever, he's mouthy, he's sharp - he's sarcastic, defensive. Defensive in a good way - he won't just lay down and let people walk all over him. And he's always very good at speaking his mind.

He's ruthless in his revenge when he feels that he has been wronged, and he is incredibly loyal when he feels that loyalty is earned. (Which unfortunately is something that doesn't get demonstrated much in the show - but he was very loyal to Bruce right up until the point that he felt he got betrayed.)

He has the ultimate hot Slytherin fuckboy personality.

Also him and Gar are the Slytherin/Hufflepuff friendship meme.

Dick Grayson - Gryffindor

At first I was wondering if he was more of a Slytherin, but I realized that him and Jason are straddling opposite ends of the Slytherin/Gryffindor spectrum in such a perfect way. (It's one of the reasons why their characters fight so viscerally and could have also been such an amazing duo.)

He shows a lot of the negative traits of being a Gryffindor - stubbornness, (at times) fierce independence, wanting to be a leader because you don't trust others, being quick to anger because you are upset about injustice, the intense need to save everyone and carrying intense guilt when you can't (especially blaming yourself for not being able to save everyone through impossible conditions).

(He is sooo the Harry Potter of this group.)

And he does have a lot of the positive aspects too - being incredibly loyal, showing intense passion for the ones you love, doing literally anything to save the people you love, letting your love for your family fuel you, not wanting to see injustice/not wanting to see people undeserving of cruelty go through it.

He is the essential flawed Gryffindor and I am obsessed with it.

Kory Anders - Slytherin

Again, a lot of people associate Slytherin with evil, but I love seeing Slytherin traits in the Titans characters for their positive aspects.

Kory has the Slytherin fierceness, the sassyness, the intense loyalty - but she shows this loyalty in the form of defending her loved ones without rules (not caring who she has to kill in order to defend the people she loves), and she has a code of loyalty toward her sister, but she's not afraid to show how unhappy she is about abiding by that code. Which is very Slytherin of her lmao.

I think one of her most Slytherin moments is tricking that mobster woman into shaking her hand and then killing her immediately after she killed her own son, because she couldn't stand to see the injustice, but rather than handling it with a code of correctness and justice, she went straight for the 'eye for an eye' method in order to correct things.

Same with locking Faddei inside her ship - she knew that Rachel needed her more, and so she didn't care about going low and tricking Faddei in order to maintain her loyalty toward Rachel and the Titans.

She is someone who uses her Slytherin traits for good.

Rachel Roth - Hufflepuff

I debated for a few minutes about her as well, but then I realized that she is on the opposite side of the coin that Gar is in terms of Hufflepuffs. Gar is very sociable, very outwardly friendly, tries to be literally everyone's friend, and Rachel is much more shy and reserved, much pickier about who she becomes friends with and who she opens up to - she's more sarcastic, but still generally quiet and not as social.

And her most important Hufflepuff trait - her heart. She is an incredibly empathetic person. She feels intense guilt when she accidentally hurts people, she connects deeply with the people that she loves and would do anything for them, she would rather keep her pain to herself if she thinks that it means avoiding hurting other people. The very high empathy, high emotions, full hearted kind of thing - is very Hufflepuff of her.

Conner Kent - Ravenclaw

Again, this was one that I debated about a bit. He has some Slytherin traits, but I was thinking about that scene where Eve told him "sometimes that anger will be his (Lex Luthor's) and sometimes it will be yours" - when he was new, his emotions and some of his behaviour (like going to Lex's house when he thought it was the Kent farm) was controlled by his epigenetic memories, and later on, even when his more 'Luthor' side is revealed, I still think that he has more Ravenclaw traits than Slytherin traits.

Those traits: he has more measurable knowledge than 'sense' sometimes - and again, this is because he's literally new, but it still makes sense as a Ravenclaw trait; he is incredibly intelligent with that knowledge; he's very studious; and later on in S4 when he has his more Luthor side revealed, he still has a lot of Ravenclaw traits. He is very witty and sarcastic, quick on the tongue, and he displays some of the more negative Ravenclaw traits - speaking without necessarily caring about other people's feelings, being brutally honest, believing that he's superior to others because of his intellect.

I think it fits him very well. I love how the Titans characters display both negative and positive aspects of the house personalities.

Dawn Granger - Ravenclaw

Dawn is at the opposite end of the Ravenclaw spectrum. Rather than being outwardly sarcastic and believing that she's above others because of her knowledge, she is the more quiet, calm, reserved Ravenclaw.

It's clear that she's very intelligent, but more than anything, Dawn displays the extreme emotional intelligence that a lot of Ravenclaws have. She is well in control of her emotions, and she tries hardest to control the emotions of others around her, being an emotional adviser for the people that she loves.

Bonus (aka the ones that I didn't have time to go into detail about)

Hank Hall - Gryffindor (Shows the 'stupidly brave' side of Gryffindor.)

Garth - Gryffindor

Donna Troy - Ravenclaw or Gryffindor

Tim Drake - Ravenclaw (The detective who is a clever observer and figures everything out.)

Barbara Gordon - Ravenclaw

Rose Wilson - Slytherin

Jericho Wilson - Hufflepuff

Jinx - Slytherin (She is a bit selfish, but she is loyal when she needs to be, and she's not afraid to use under-handed tactics to get the job done.)

[webslingingslasher]

i’m seated for some sneak peaks of things you have in the drafts hehe

here's a blurb for munch frat!peter:

'hand this card to the last person to eat pussy.'

tarrent has a gleam in his eye as he proudly pushes it into peter's chest. 'drink up, bro.'

you're not watching, the content of your cup is more interesting. but you're listening to see exactly how peter plays this one off because he hasn't even tried- let alone offered to go down on you.

peter hands the card back. 'nah, i don't do that.' he says it like it's a joke and his friends laugh with him, like he's too humble to accept the crown title of carpet muncher.

---

here's a blurb for hockey!peter fighting for his life over a jersey

'hey, can i have a kiss?' the audacity. you cross your arms again and look to the side, 'no.' peter frowns, you lean away when you feel his lips on your cheek.

'no? not even after i just won?'

'you didn't deserve it.' you grumble it from the side of your mouth, peter catches it and feels offended. 'don't get pouty and tell me i deserved to lose.'

you turn to him, your eyes screamed fire at him. 'don't humilate me and demand a kiss then.'

---

here's a blurb for cherry!peter who's doing the best he can to make cherry's sex dream come to life

'i've been so good, haven't i been so good for you?' peter can sense a little bit of a praise kink in you, it's fitting. 'you're always good for me. you're my good girl, aren't you?'

a whimper, it's so much better when it's real. 'i'm your good girl.' a harsh grind, you clutch peter's forearm while you throw your head back. 'yeah? that feels good?'

'call me your pretty baby.' peter doesn't know where the direction is coming from but he likes it. 'does my pretty baby feel good?' an audible moan, he's fucking perfect at this.

---

here's a blurb for bf!frat!peter with a girlfriend who should always come first

peter is totally saving you for last and you're about to go nuts on him. sure, there might be a line of people and sure, you might be the one in the least danger but you're owed some sort of urgency.

'hello?' you call it out, you sound impatient. 'spider-man?' you are impatient. you call for him again, he holds up a hand and you gasp. 'oh you little- spider-man, you better come help me right now or i swear to god i'll...' you have no real threat. 'just don't tempt me!'

peter doesn't come help you, he's still helping an older woman and you're about to throw yourself into a fire for some attention. 'excuse me? i'm looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?'

---

here's a blurb from that blurb... you know... the one where peter has hooked up with trouble's friend?

if peter was a brat, he'd say that you're not supposed to be talking to him. instead, he extends his hand out and watches heavy footing beat up the staircase. the second his door slams, his best friend is asking what the fuck happened with his eyes.

'she's mad at me.' his door swings open, you shout down to him. 'i'm not mad! we're broken up!' another slam. ethan's expecting a lot more from peter than a shrug. 'no we're not.'

his door hits the wall, another scream, 'yes we are!' a third slam, this time, he's got two friends coming out of their rooms and glancing between his bedroom door and the lower level where peter had crossed arms.

'what's going-' peter flails his arms around, trying to stop the impending question and what he knows is all you need to give him a round two, but worse because now you're no longer in public.

a sheepish grin crosses over a brother's face when his door explodes open, peter thinks there might be a hole behind his door where the handle matches up perfectly.

---

here's a blurb where ethan walks in on sexy time :(

'liar! he saw me from behind!' you know he did, it was all on show. everything's ruined. peter's trying his best to be soothing. 'hey, even if he did, he won't say anything. it's ethan, you know ethan.'

you do. that's why it's so bad. the reminder makes you cry harder, peter connects the dots. 'oh jeez, trouble. here, come give me a hug.' it's a pathetic reach, you want nothing more than to be locked away in his hold, hidden and secret from the outside world.

'he-' you suck in air, curling in even closer to peter as if you weren't on his lap already. 'he saw me having sex.' you pull peter's arms tighter around you, it almost hurts it's so tight. it's what you need.

'i know, baby. i'm so sorry.' at least he's being honest.

'how much did he see?' peter doesn't know either, he was a little busy underneath you. he just knows the second he saw his door open, his instinct was to protect you.

'very little.' you feel kisses over your head, 'please stop crying.'

---

here's a blurb where nerdy!peter has no filter when he's drunk

'hi, honey.' you hold his arm tightly, 'don't lean over.' bending at the waist you reach for the keys, peter groans and shouts an exaggerated 'oh my god!'

you fly up, the metal tucked between your fingers. 'what?' you look around, peter's busy staring down your skirt while his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 'your ass is so nice.'

you suck in a deep breath and ignore the flush of warmth covering your chest. 'thank you, petey.' you ignore the slight shake in your hand when you shove the key in.

peter's door gets stuck a lot and you have to shove your shoulder into it a little. while you're doing your best to raid the door, a hand slides up the back of your thigh and gives you a tight squeeze. you jump and yelp, your hand reaching back to throw his off.

'peter!' he giggles and turns his head like you wouldn't be able to see him anymore. 'i just wanted to touch it a little.' peter's fingertips lightly drag up your thigh, you slap it away again. he giggles harder, the sound bubbles out of him.

'i'm trying to get us inside, leave my butt alone.' you have his promise, and you nudge the door a little, a sharp smack has you wipping around to face him. peter shoots his hands up, 'last one, i promise! that was the last one!'

[maple-the-awesome]

Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do. 

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes. 

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

[mortish-writes]

Hello! I hope you’re well. I discovered your work only a few days ago but I have been playing nonstop with different choices each time to see the different play throughs I can get, so far I’ve really enjoyed it! Your writing is phenomenal, I’ve been looking for something dark, sexy, romantic, and smutty involving vampires and this is absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to buy it when it’s complete! <3 if I may ask, what inspired you to begin writing Bride of Shadows? Did you take inspiration from any other works when beginning this story?

Thanks! So I initially started drafting Bride of Shadows during the pandemic when my job closed and I was suddenly at home at lot. I binge read The Vampire Chronicles at that time so I'm sure that had an effect, but in general I've always loved vampire fiction from the Anita Blake saga to the Sookie Stackhouse series. Probably a series that made me see how vampires could be written differently was the Carpathian series by Christine Feehan. I loved the whole life-mates and being able to reproduce aspect. I'm a big fan of fated mates and pregnancy/family building in romance and those tropes don't generally intersect with vampires.

For fantasy, my favorite author is probably Brandon Sanderson. I rarely read non-romance, but his books are so captivating. I love the twists and turns, the setups and the payoffs, and I find his writing very inspiring. Anyone who hasn't read his work, go read Warbreaker. It has enough romance to suck you in and then you'll be immersed by the epic plot. I can definitely see shades of Vasher in Valdricht and Lightsong in Serax.

My biggest inspiration I haven't written about yet because I don't want to throw shade on other authors, so I won't name it specifically but right before I started drafting Bride of Shadows I read a contemporary fantasy book series with a compelling love triangle, good smut, and a pregnancy subplot that was so promising and then dropped the ball in such a profoundly terrible way in the final two books that it was the first time I ever finished a story and said, "That's it?" I would have been happier if the author had just abandoned the story it was such a God-awful ending. She ruined both the ROs and the MC became intolerable. I think maybe it was one of those cases where the author had one RO she liked better even though the fan-favorite was another so instead of appealing to a plurality of readers or following her heart she just broke everything and lit it on fire then went off to work on her more popular book series. Basically I was so mad about that series it made me want to write a better one and, all ego aside, it won't be difficult.

I mean it must have been good if I'm still mad about the ending half a decade later. Either that or I get too emotionally attached to books with hot fae.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello! after seeing the translation req from the anon in the server and your reply to them, I considered asking for the same here. I'd like if you translated FP's 2nd stage song, 'bunch of roses', although I understand that you're not able to focus on this currently but I considered dropping in the req anyway. Thank you!!!

Sure thing!

I always get tripped up by FP songs because they're so vibes-dependent... Much of what makes them fun is the rhyme and wordplay, and without that, I feel like you're losing half the song. So for this translation, I incorporated simple rhyme and wordplay whenever the song uses either. I also tried to line up rhymes with the source whenever possible--ie, if someone says something weird for rhyming purposes in Japanese, that's where the rhyme would go in English. I did not incorporate rhythm or line length considerations because that way madness lies... (*cough* the beast of Torima sitting in my drafts *cough*) Finally, I made an effort to avoid my usual verbosity/line bloating with...somewhat middling results...and made an effort to stick very close to the source. I'm attempting a style more similar to Hypmic_en/official subs, basically.

Instances where I added ideas or wanted to talk about interesting wordplay are noted in the extensive notes. Casual readers are encouraged to skip them; I have made no egregious additions to the text.

The somewhat twee nature of this TL is the byproduct of me rhyming and not being an especially good writer haha. Similarly, slightly inconsistent character voice are byproducts of my limited abilities. I feel like this would be less obvious in subtitle form, but... Oh well. To the song!

Shibuya's bunch of roses Just a bunch of us blooming however we supposes [1] A bunch [2] of very different guys Who, together, can still harmonize [3] In a city that's hectic, [4] Its culture, eclectic, Each person's story stands the test of time And weaves together into a single rhyme. I know you, and you know me: Rows of different roses [5] in harmony.

Ramuda: Up first is me! Dice: Nuh-uh, I'm ready! Gentarou: If I may intercede... Ramuda: Whatever! Whoever wants to go first, you're free! Dice: This game gives me a rush; watch me throw down a fat stack. Next thing I know, I've got no money. But at least Gen's got my back! Gentarou: That I don't. You shirk your debts as a matter of course. These ideas then spray across Shibuya with a spatter of force. [6] Ramuda: We're the perfect pairing [7], a music-making clique! Our dope rhymes have a vibe that's perfectly unique! Dice: Which is what? I dunno, I'll just keep rolling the dice. Keep looking forward and never think twice! Gentarou: How quaint. Tonight's a party as short-lived and airy-fairy As a bubble, fictions, and truths floating down the Udagawa tributary [8] Ramuda: Anyone can pull the lever and set the reels a-trundle. [9] All: Even when we're doing our own thing, we make an awesome bundle!

Shibuya's bunch of roses Just a bunch of us blooming however we supposes A bunch of very different guys Who, together, can still harmonize In a city that's hectic, Its culture, eclectic, Each person's story stands the test of time And weaves together into a single rhyme. I know you, and you know me: Rows of different roses in harmony.

Dice: I'm the kind of guy who's gotta win it every minute. [10] Nothing to worry 'bout at all, I'll take home the whole haul! Gentarou: Gambling tales are no substance and all style While my stylish crew of friends are substantially worthwhile! [11] Ramuda: C'mon, let's go! All together now, not alone Chasing after freedom, bypassing what's set in stone Dice: Forget all the scolding and naysayers C'mon, Shibuya! We still gotta be the main players. Gentarou: Even if it won't last long, let's all make an accord That a friend is someone not to be hurt, but adored [12] Ramuda: That's the goal! That's the plan! Here in this culture center There's always something happening; everyone's welcome to enter Dice: It's 'cause we blend together that we're friends forever. Gentarou: When we go our separate ways, there's a part of you in me that stays. [13] Ramuda: When we each shout out our love the way it appears in our hearts, All: Each of our colors bleeds together into a whole bigger than the sum of its parts.

Shibuya's bunch of roses Just a bunch of us blooming however we supposes A bunch of very different guys Who, together, can still harmonize In a city that's hectic, Its culture, eclectic, Each person's story stands the test of time And weaves together into a single rhyme. I know you, and you know me: Rows of different roses in harmony.

Ramuda: C'mon, everyone say it with me! (Yeah!) [14] No more boring battles, do we agree? (Yeah!) Dice: Our Posse's ahead of the times! (Yeah!) [15] Dropping all the dopest, chicest rhymes! (Yeah!) Gentarou: Let's use our words and put this place to rights! (Yeah!) Let's do away with all the petty fights! (Yeah!) All: Let's put our heads together Ramuda: And dream up a universe Dice: Where no one, no matter how "unique," Gentarou: Is ever treated any worse. All: Help us make this world not a myth: a place where no one's laughed at, but laughed with! [16]

Shibuya's bunch of roses Just a bunch of us blooming however we supposes A bunch of quite different guys Who, together, can still harmonize In a city that's hectic, Its culture, eclectic, Each person's story stands the test of time And weaves together into a single rhyme. I know you, and you know me: Rows of different roses in harmony.

You're in the bunch too All of us blooming in one single crew Each of us different but sharing the same stance [17] And just foolhardy enough to think we may have a chance [18] To share our stories and look to tomorrow Wrapped tight in a light, a mutual glow R-E-S-P-E-C-T A bunch of roses passed between you and me. [19]

Notes: [1] わがのまま (waganomama, as we please) is evocative of わがまま (wagamama, willful). Wagamama often contains a childish connotation, hence why it's often used around Fling Posse and Ramuda in particular. It also means plentiful, which in this case suggests lots and lots of flowers blooming in many colors. Both the notions of lots of color and possessing a strong individual will, even if it's not as conformist as is maybe socially acceptable, are bylines running through the song.

[2] The chorus makes multiple plays on the similarity between バラ (bara, rose) and バラバラ (barabara, varied). Something that's barabara evokes an image of something scattered, like many flowers growing in different places before being gathered together into a single bouquet. Interestingly, barabara is usually negative connoted, and I think it's fascinating how things like this and wagamama appear so often in the song. There's a sense that FP and the Shibuya residents being sung about are acknowledging some societal expectation they're failing to live up to, but from that failure blooms something beautiful.

[3] "One balance" isn't a common phrase in Japanese either, but I'm working off of the idea that it's a singular, shared sense of 調和 (being "balanced," being in accord, sharing common elements). Like a oneness or a harmonization, essentially.

[4] I added the "hectic" idea for the rhyme, but that appears constantly in FP songs, so I don't feel like it's putting words in the characters' mouths.

[5] Same barabara/bara wordplay.

[6] It's vague enough here that I could see an argument for Gentarou saying ideas in general spray out of and across Shibuya, but this particular word for forceful splatter is most often used when other things are caught in the crossfire. Like "So-and-so was hit by a spray of water/so-and-so was embroiled in the aftermath of the murder case." So I applied it to Dice's idea/habit of reneging his debts, but I'm not married to the concept, and you should expect to see it rendered other ways in other translations.

[7] Pairing as in food-wine pairing, which works well with FP's and Shibuya's urban image, but マリアージュ (mariaaju, marriage) is playfully worded enough for readers to take away shipping meanings if desired. Incidentally, "music-making clique" was added for the rhyme, but it's nothing that isn't suggested from the source line which is, more literally, "a hot lyrics-producing pairing"

[8] 泡沫 (utakata) is both literally a bubble on the surface of a liquid and something as short-lived or easily destroyed as said bubble. Because Gentarou mentioned the Udagawa river, I had the means to tie both concepts together. Whoo! The Udagawa river is a tributary of the Shibuya river, so I borrowed "tributary" for the rhyme.

[9] As on a gambling machine

[10] More like he has to compete vs. win outright, but I needed "win it" for the rhyme... Forgive me... (The "minute" is from the source's "every instant," so I couldn't drop that.)

[11] Gambling tales are 徒花 (adabana, colorful flowers that don't produce fruit; style over substance). My 色鮮やか (iroazayaka, colorful) friends, my 同胞 (harakara, brethren/homies but ~fancy~). Gentarou doesn't outright say the homies are better like I did, but the notion of color is supposed to make the reader compare the two, and it's in-character for Gentarou to love his homies. See the rest of the song for examples.

[12] This stood out to me as one of the most interesting lines in the whole song. "Let's mutually agree to be people that don't hurt one another." The "hurt" concept isn't for rhyme, so it feels very deliberate. I added the "friend" and "adored" bits for rhyme and flow; as ever, I don't think this is that OoC. (Although "adored" is a bit openly mushy for Gentarou. Eh. Fuck it.)

[13] This doesn't sound quite as wistful in the source, but it's close. Gentarou literally says "[When we part at an] intersection, we don't just go our separate ways" wherein the "go separate ways" is also meant figuratively to not see eye-to-eye, to not be of the same mindset. I unfortunately had to drop the "intersection" idea for space, but FP mentions intersections a lot in their songs, usually as a nod to Shibuya's infamously busy Scramble Crossing.

[14] Part of the reason they're yelling "Yeah!" is because it rhymes with the last syllable of each line. I briefly considered doing the same here (probably with "Word!"; "Yeah!" and "Yes!" are abysmal for rhyming) but that would have taken more time than I was willing to commit. I try to spend no more than an hour on song TLs to prevent overthinking and keep it fun haha.

[15] Technically more like "better than all the rest" but I needed the rhyme... The word Dice uses here, 独走 (dokusou), is interesting in that it ties back into the notion of being unique or atypical that pervades the rest of the song. Literally, to be 独走 is to be running far ahead of the pack to the point of outstripping them. Kind of a lonely concept, right? Hypmic often flirts with the notion of being so good that it's isolating, although this is most often used in MTR or Ichirou's songs. Incidentally, I added "dopest" in the next line because I thought "chicest" on its own would be too OoC for Dice, but I wanted that specific word for the Shibuya-ness of it haha. 粋 (iki, chicness, smartness, fashionableness) isn't hoity-toity enough in Japanese that it'd sound weird coming from Dice's mouth.

[16] Another extremely fascinating concept. This is very, very close to being exactly literal except for the addition of "Help us make this world not a myth" for rhyme (again, the text supports this) and swapping Gentarou's "is ever made fun of" to "is ever treated any worse." for rhyme. I would've preserved Gentarou's concept of being made fun of if it wasn't repeated right below as it feels very deliberate.

[17] More literally, "barabara (scattered, varied) people bundled together." Because I didn't preserve the scattering image earlier, instead focusing on its meaning, I once again prioritized meaning over image here.

[18] There's a "because we're friends" here I wasn't able to fit in, but I also think that's so apparent in the rest of the text (esp. with slight additions like the "friends" in Gentarou's line in 12) that I'm not concerned.

[19] The question of where the roses are being passed to is more nebulous in the source. I see a strong argument for suggesting it's being passed to the future (and there's even a ready rhyme via "posterity") but I'm interpreting this notion of "toward the future" like the characters themselves looking toward the future, striving, always pushing forward. I also see a great argument for it being more open-ended, like a bouquet ready to be passed to anyone who wants to come along and pick it up. I went for "between you and me" both for the rhyme and to suggest some of that openendedness, like it's passing around and around among the listeners and singers. We're all in the bunch of roses today, baby... Yeehaw.

[iamsoconfusedallofthetime]

Eternally grateful that I grew up WITHOUT ai so that I could, y'know, actually learn how to do shit.

Like- drawing?

Middle school me was on those Naruto art tutorials like no other. I used my good thin tip Prisma markers that my brother stole for me up on shitty Deidara and Urushihara drawings on the back of my English assignments, and pissed off my teachers cause I never paid attention. And now I can draw pretty fucking decently, both in an anime style and a somewhat realistic one.

Writing? Wattpad fanfiction both traumatized me (Citrus Scale will always stay in the back of my mind no matter how much I try to lock it up) and showed me- not exactly how to write but what kind of writing I enjoyed reading and what styles to copy until I formed my own. Like how to break up scenes and how to write dialogue and how to keep a character in character. I couldn't always do that last one well the first time but I learned to recognize when the characters i was writing would never fucking do that.

And now, other than my lack of self discipline, I'm pretty good at writing. At least I know where I struggle. I still need to remember that I don't always have to perfect the first draft and that sometimes first drafts can just be first drafts, but I'm doing well.

So damn grateful that I can write my own fucking essays and draw my own art and use my damn braincells to actually come up with something on my own instead of relying on a fuckass robot to predict pixels based on probability and smash stolen artwork together.

"Not everyone is privileged-" Art was never something being gatekept from you. The tutorials I used in middle school and a million other new ones are perfectly available to you. Poor artists have always found a way. Disabled artists have always found a way. Busy artists have always found a way. Don't type a prompt into a machine and call it "art" like you put an ounce of effort into it.

My cringe ass middle school sketchbooks and half written fanfiction has more value than something you didn't even bother to make yourself.

"I'm not that creative. I can't come up with a story or characters" dawg I was using fucking GACHA LIFE to make character designs! The first one was basic as shit! It was just a ginger fox woman with a black hoodie and ripped jeans on cause that's what I thought was cool! And that was ok, that was just where I was starting! You will grow! You will learn! Just put in some fucking effort and have some damn patience!

"my fandom is small and I want more fic/art to consume" MAKE IT THEN. No one wants something made by a machine. Most people have writing requests! Wait for them to open and request something! Or learn to write it yourself.

There are writing prompts that you can use to practice. No one is expecting you to become Mary Shelly overnight. Use them.

There are hundreds of "Let's make an OC" videos you can use. No one is expecting you to recreate the Mona Lisa next week. Use them.

Actually - here a quick tutorial on fleshing out ideas:

Throw out any fear if being cringe. Today's cringe is tomorrows skill

Start with something or someone small. Let's take, idk, a jacket?

What does the jacket look like? What does it do. In this step it usually helps if you decide on a genre. Is it fantasy? Sci-fi? Let's go with fantasy.

Fantasy jacket. Cool. Does this jacket do anything? Or does it belong to someone? Let's say the jacket itself does something.

The jacket can be cursed or blessed or have some type of spell on it. Maybe whoever wears it can't be hurt.

If whoever wears the jacket can't be hurt, then what happens when you take it off? Does it just remove protection or does all the damage you were supposed to have obtained while wearing it manifest all at once? AKS YOURSELF QUESTIONS!

Think about how it was made. Who made the jacket? Was it always cursed? What kind of world does it belong to that made it's existence necessary in the first place? Was it made as a gift for a prince or by an old mad wizard? Think.

Make a story. Maybe the jacket was intended as a gift and has been passed down a bloodline as a double edged sword; something that let this family win wars and topple nations, but seals their fates if they take it off. Maybe it was something shared among orphans in a slump and protects them. Maybe your story follows the current wearer of the jacket and the consequences it brings. Maybe your story is from the perspective of the jacket itself.

The world is your oyster. Think about something. Expand on it. Then write it. Draw it. Make a comic and post it or keep it tucked away in your notes app.

Don't give up after your first attempts turn out like shit. You're not gonna learn in a day, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Just create something! Go make a friend to bounce ideas off of if you have to!

Here's some art tutorials I like that you can use:

How to draw poses: https://youtu.be/4SHnOJGRmJw?si=cvjNGVt8Xs-YCSsd

How to draw character interaction

https://youtu.be/_XxjaH2dXR4?si=v17DjAeEKNBGxE_i

Drawing perspective:

https://youtu.be/g9ge4XBNRwA?si=QsC4rDfmARVYNVfx

Urban object sketches:

https://youtu.be/SDQEaJY291A?si=ID6jA_NCSMmkhIJe

Urban sketching (buildings more so)

https://youtu.be/yocInfqlYqw?si=krSQyWU8vLonwYL9

Drawing clothes and folds:

https://youtu.be/a1O1OQglA7w?si=oaqUusLMQPauI6ro

Find your art style:

https://youtu.be/hM_Mme3yvss?si=Tpt-ReJ4HMLFHfdH

Colors theory:

https://youtu.be/pAK0cvVQr_4?si=BI_zjp8RwgfIQhsP

There are hundreds of tutorials online. Find them and use them.

[cementcornfield]

Draft Thoughts

okay, a week (and a day) out from the draft and i feel like rambling about it. this is only my second year paying attention in the offseason so, you know, grain of salt!

so the conventional wisdom is that you should always draft players, not positions. you shouldn't corner yourself into having to reach for a player that isn't as good because you need that position, versus getting an amazing player at a position that would just be a luxury (for example, if somehow jeanty falls to us at 17 and we don't grab him because we want a guard or something).

perhaps someone should tell the bengals that though, or, maybe they have and the katie and duke just rolled their eyes are assured whoever told them that actually they are MUCH smarter than you, we know what we're doing (not spending enough in FA and then having to draft for need thus practically guaranteeing reaching/taking risky picks) and then they wonder why their drafts go so poorly 🙃

but what's fun about this year is we have SO MANY needs that in a way, we /can/ draft best player available because more than likely, we need whatever position that player is (unless they're a QB or WR lol). so maybe it /does/ work out this time?? that's my glass half full take at least!!

here are some scenarios i'd be happy with:

R1 pick 17: i want us to start with a DT. we need interior pass rush because we have NOTHING right now. literally nothing. and some people don't think it's a need because last year we drafted both jenkins and jackson, and paid BJ and TJ this offseason. which is fair, BUT those are all run blockers/stuffers. they stop the run, they're all either bad to terrible at affecting the passer in anyway. (plus, it's not like the new DC drafted jenkins and jackson last year, maybe he wants to get his own guy??) and if we want a true game changer on our defense, i think it starts here. more pass rush means less time for lamar/patrick/josh/jayden to just hang around the pocket for years while our DBs eventually lose their coverage battles (because who can cover for 12 fucking seconds??). and if we want that game changer, i think we need to do it in the first round, second round at the absolute latest. while it IS a deep DT class, there aren't a lot of pass rushing game wreckers that will last that long.

i'd be happy with either walter nolen or derrick harmon here. leaning slightly towards nolen. both aren't perfect (nolen went to a few different high schools/colleges which is a bit of a red flag, but his explanations check out to me. while harmon is big and disruptive but isn't the best tackler).

and honestly that seems to be what all the whisperings from my beat guys indicate?? almost every prediction the last few weeks has been that we'll grab one of them, and these guys all have their ears to the ground at paycor 👀

however, i also wouldn't be at all mad (in fact i'd be thrilled) if we got a premium guard at 17 like kelvin banks. or one of the top safeties - starks or emmanwori just because that's also a position of need, and pretty top heavy (but i feel like we can still get a decent safety later on). i've also heard people wanting edge here but tbh i don't like any of the edge guys projected for R1 and there's good depth here. plus trey IS coming back (i KNOW IT), and while i don't have the most faith in myles, i can allow myself to believe his brother on twitter that Actually he'll be good this year (lol). and joseph ossai is someone i've always thought was better than how lou used him!

R2 pick 49: this is where i want us to get a guard. and i'm so serious if we wait past this round i'm losing my fucking mind on here in front of all of you (not that i haven't done this before!) we've been meeting with a lot of guards that are projected to go in this round, so it seems like the bengals are on the same page. a few guys who could apparently start day 1 that i like: jonah savaiinaea, donovan jackson, and tate rateledge. all of them are strong in pass protection (and decent at least against the run) which, is obviously what we need for a QB like joe. savaiinea and jackson have position versatility in that they could also potentially play tackle for us if needed. rateledge might be able to do that too, but he's only got experience at guard so it wouldn't be as seamless as the other two. but what he DOES have in his favor is that he played right next to amarius at georgia for a few years, so that chemistry is already established which could be huge. (he also has a beautiful mullet). i'd be happy with any of these guys if they fall to us, leaning tate rateledge if only for the vibes, but again, satisfied with any of them.

if however we get a guard like banks in the first round, then this is where i feel like we'd need to grab the best pass rusher available, which, if the board falls our way, could be TJ Sanders. great college production, versatile, but just not quite as polished as the two i like in the first round.

as for R3-R6 (keep in mind that, at this time, unless we somehow wrangle up a decent trade back, we don't have a 7th round pick 🥲) i'm less picky. especially because i can't really know what i want here until we see R1-R2. but i'll be feeling so much better if we nail that interior pass rush and pass protection. then i feel like we honestly could be free to just do best defensive player available. we definitely need safety help. we definitely need linebacker help. those positions are typically drafted in this range. and while they probably wouldn't be instant starters, we should be able to find at least some higher floor rotational guys.

i will say that paul dehner has convinced me i want a runningback in round 5. apparently that's the sweet spot for a loaded RB class this year, so i 'll take one! i haven't done any research on individuals though, but like, RB has one of the highest rookie year success rates. i'm sure we can find someone to be RB2 between chase and samaje (who. bless his heart. i love him. but he's gotta be RB3).

if y'all wanna do some more research in the upcoming week, i HIGHLY recommend this spreadsheet made by joe goodberry and a few other guys. a lot of great data in there and he's got great further analysis on his twitter/youtube channel.

you could also keep an eye on the locked on bengals guys (on youtube and twitter) and paul dehner's youtube channel and his draft series in the athletic. they've got good analysis too AND 100% have sources on the inside because they have gotten very very good at predicting who the bengals are going for (nailed mims last year, and thus /i/ nailed mims last year 🔥)

would love to hear all of your thoughts too if you wanna share!

[hockeygirl101]

The Lake House

Part four:Friday night lights

My body is frozen, I can't move. Ours eyes are locked in each other. He doesn't smile like his brothers did. He doesn't look angry, or mad. His face is null of emotions, I hate it. I hate when he looks at me like that. I feel myself reach for Theos hand, he grabs mine and squeezes. I start to walk over to the seat beside Luke. He puts his hand on my legs gently under the table.

"You okay?" He mumbles in my ear. I nod at him, not saying anything. I can't even breathe, I have so many thoughts darling inside my head. Will he talk to me? I thought I was ready but I'm not-

My eternal freak out gets cut off, "So Bear, how's Yale?" My heart stops, his voice, it sticks in my ears like honey. I feel like it's the first time I'm hearing it, causing a shiver to run down my back. I turn and look, he had spoken. To me, he had said words to me. His tone cuts through me, it's warm. I clear my throat looking him in the eye.

"Oh um good Quinn, how's Vancouver?" I ask quietly, shrinking in my seat slightly.

He raises his eyebrow at me, "Vans good. Nothing I can complain about. How's hockey?" I flinch at the question. I look over at Theo, he nods.

"She's going to be Captain this year actually. She just found out before coming up. Pretty exciting stuff Bug." Theo says to me and the rest of the table. Everyone nods and starts congratulating me. Some of Luke friends ask me some questions, I answer the best I can. Not knowing  whole lot about it yet.

"Yea thanks guys, I'm excited" I say looking down at my plate. I feel Luke lean into my ear again.

"I'm proud of you Bear." He nods at me and winks. I feel myself cheeks flush slightly, I look back to Quinn. His eyebrow s furrowed, a small grimace on his lips.

The kitchen door opens and my parents walk in with the food, Jim and Ellen follow with wine and beer. Ellen places a bottle of wine and leans down to my ear, her lips almost brushing it.

"We thought he was coming tomorrow, sorry hun. We would have told you." she whispers so gently I can barely hear her. But I do, and I know what she's saying. I nod and smile at her quickly.

"So what were we talking about?" My dad says as he sits down, he sighs and smiles at me. "What you got for us this time Bear?"

Mom laughs, "Oh yes you always have such good stuff to tell us about school." She nods and starts eating, as does everyone else.

"Oh well I was just saying that I'm going to be captian next year" I say, looking up at my dad. He knew I didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room. He sends me a quick wink.

"Yea, I'm proud of you Bear" Jack says, breaking the silence from the far end of the table. He smiles at me from his seat, "let me know when they post your announcement on instagram" he laughs, knowing I posted his on mine when he was drafted. I giggle and nod,

"Sounds good Jacky" I giggle looking back across from me at my mom. She smiles at me but doesn't say anything, which is weird for her. Normally she jumps on me, telling me how perfect Jack is for me. But she just sits there and smiles.

"So, Averie, what are you studying at Yale" Nico asks me, taking a sip of his wine. He smiles at me, giving me his full attention.

"Journalism, planning on being a sports journalist, hopefully for the New York Times, or at least some major paper." I say looking at him, he sits on Quinn's immediate left, across from jack who's in his right. Quinn glares at Nico.

"I'm sure you'll be great kid" Quinn says to me, smiling gently. "I know you will be in fact"

My heart squeezes, and for a split second I think I might be having a heart attack. Kid. That stupid nickname, he only ever uses when he's reminding me he's older. Wiser some would say, but not me. He's trying to get under my skin, I shake my head. I know Quinn better than that, he's still a kid too. He's only 25 for crying out loud.

"Of course I will be, by then Luke and Jack will be at the height of their careers, the last name will be a house hold one thanks to Jack and Luke. Plus I'll be able to get the best interviews." I look away from Quinn and up at Luke, I smirk. "Right Lu?" I bat my eyes at him gently.

"Absolutely, anything for our girl" he says nodding then going back to eating. The thing about Luke, as charming as he is, he's my best friend. Although, I'm sure if I asked, he would, but Luke will never cross the line of friendship and something more. He's always been good like that, he knows I don't need that kind of support, I just need my best friend.

"Absolutely" Jack says from beside Luke, giving me a small grin. I grin back at him, sending him a wink. I feel Theo kick me under the table gently, I look across to him, he's got a smirk on his face.

We finish up the dinner with light conversation, I get to know Luke's collage buddies a bit better. Quinn keeps a glare on Nico whenever he talks to me.

Once the dinner is over, I help my mom and Ellen clear the table as my dad takes all the guys outside to start the fire. Every year, once the whole family is together we have a small gathering with other people on the lake. It's a small thing we do to keep the community strong.

"So Averie, are you excited to be at your first lake house bonfire again?" Ellen asks as she starts washing the dishes. My mom behind her putting away the left over food.

"I guess so, I'm not not excited" I look at her, grabbing the plate to start drying it, "Just haven't seen everyone in a while, a little nervous I guess." Shrugging, I place the plate onto the drying rack.

"I understand, it's nerve racking to see so many people who used to know you. You've changed, all for the better of course." Ellen smiles, she keeps washing the dishes.

I think about what Ellen said, had I really changed that much? And for the better? What does that mean? Were people going to notice? What exactly about me had changed? We finish the dishes while talking about classes, my mom tells me to go change into something nicer then sweats. I nod and go through the house to the stairs.

I turn to go up them, Quinn, Jack and Nico are staring at the top talking in hushed tones.

"You guys need something?" I ask as I walk up the stairs, still keeping a distance. I won't look at Quinn, keeping my eyes locked on Jack.

"No bear sorry, your dad told us to grab some blankets from your room that's all." Jack nods his head to my room door.

"Oh yea go ahead, you know where they are" I say slipping between Nico and Quinn. "You didn't have to ask Jack, I trust you." I open the door to my room, the guys follow.

"In the closet up top" I point to the closet as I go over to my dresser, I pull out shorts and a pink lace top. I feel Quinn behind me.

"Need something Quinn?" I turn to face him, shit, he's closer then I though.

"Nah, just looking kid." He says looking down at me, a small smirk covers his lips. My heart jumps a little, I move past him, walking over to my bathroom. I look I see Nico looking at my pictures.

"This you guys at Yale?" He asks, looking at the very bottom picture.

"Oh um yea, Ellen made them help move me in freshmen year." I say looking down at my shoes, not wanting Quinn to hear.

"I remember that day, you looked good" Quinn says from across the room, before I can respond, jack comes out holding 8 blankets.

"Got em lets go, thanks Bear" jack says leading Nico out of the room, back down stairs.

Quinn stands at the door looking at me, leaving on the frame. "You know, Luke always said you weren't gonna be the same after you started at Yale." He says moving closer to me, I stand frozen in place. "Guess he was wrong uh Bear?" He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I don't flinch, I don't react, I stand completely still.

"No, Luke's never wrong about me Quinn. Even your mom knows I've changed, you just can't let go of the past." I finally say, moving back and walking through the bathroom door, slamming it and locking it. I slide down the back of it, my head falling into my hands. I hate him. I hate the way he gets to me, he always has the upper hand.

"Averie! Sweetie let's go!" I hear my mom yell through the open window that looks onto the main patio. I sigh and stand, I guess it's now or never. I get changed and walk down the stairs, Luke's standing at the bottom.

"Was waiting on you, you okay?" He says when looks up from his phone. Giving me a concerned look.

"Mhm, yea just, just Quinn was bugging me earlier" I say now standing beside him, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, steering me to the kitchen. I can hear people outside already. "You'll be fine Bear. No one hates you like you think they do. And ignore Quinn, he's been pissy the past month, nothing to do with you, or anything." Luke leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Ok" I say opening the back door, me and Luke step through. Jack and Quinn are immediately beside us.

"Hey bear, want a drink?" Jack asks, holding his own beer. Quinn moves to stand in-front of me, looking down at me slightly.

"I'll go get it for you" Luke says leaving me with Jack and Quinn. Quinn is just staring at me, he looks me up and down. He moves closer to me.

"A little short don't you think?" He motions to my shorts.

I let out a chuckle, "That's not really your problem is it?" I say moving away from him, closer to Jack. "Come on, I think I see my parents" I take Jacks hand, leading him towards my dad.

"What about Luke?" Quinn shouts behind me.

"He'll find me, he always does" I throw back at him over my shoulder. Jack lets out a small laugh before covering it with a cough.