#places to see in darjeeling

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 7

2.3k | angst, drinking irresponsibly If Simon could do it all again (part 1) (part 8/end)

“You don’t look good, sir.” The sergeant stood at attention, looking straight into his lieutenant’s eyes.

Simon had to commend the balls of Kevlar required to walk right up to him to point the fact out unprompted, but that was why he liked Sgt. Eric Jefferies the most. You had no time to waste when you raced with death on the regular - he would tell anyone they didn’t look good.

He knew he didn’t - it was the same bland face he had the pleasure to look at in the mirror each day. Annoyed, but not surprised by the darkening circles under his eyes, stark against his pale complexion. It didn’t help that he nicked himself in the jaw shaving that morning.

“Dining hall, sergeant,” he grunted.

“You’re barely eating, Riley,” Lt. Ramsay said, the same bloke who’d catch him sneaking back to his room. “You know you’re contributing to the food waste when you don’t ask for seconds, yeah?”

It was true, and the table chuckled, but Simon continued to shove whatever was on his plate into his mouth. It was enough to not starve.

“He never leaves his room anymore, not even on the weekends,” another lieutenant quipped, but was promptly elbowed by the officer next to him.

That, too, was true.

Simon had nowhere else to be, like how it always was before his mum came to Hereford. These days his flat was too empty and cold with the hole in his chest. He never came back after that night.

It wasn’t like he was thriving in his quarters either, but it was still a little better – at least it was untouched by you. Though his nights were dreamless at first, he kept waking, and waking until the dreams started.

It was a glitch in the universe, wasn’t it? That the memory that played in his mind to insanity was the last time he saw you, about crawling back to your door with limbs that didn’t feel like his, vision swaying with the lights, coming on and off, his heartbeat ringing in his head.

It’s not supposed to end this way… I want to try…

He sighed at another disturbed night. Tea would slow his mind. Instead, he found the box of Darjeeling you gifted him to take back to base. ‘So we can have the same tea over the phone,’ you’d said.

Was there a way to escape you, make you stop haunting? He needed an exorcism.

He put it back in his drawer. One day, it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

And the nightmares came back. It was once, then twice, and thrice a week of waking up in cold sweat in the dark.

Simon’s performance slipped. There was a reason sleep deprivation was a popular torture method. He requested sleeping medications - his career was the last thing he had and he wasn’t about to let it go. Any unrestful sleep interrupted by the vivid images his sickly mind conjured up was still better than no sleep at all.

Quitting you was impossible when the thoughts still followed. If pushing you away didn’t work, maybe basking in the memories would, even if it hurt more. Aching for your warmth, the scraps of it, he’d go anywhere you’d been to see your ghost. The pain was better than the void.

“You lads are volunteering at the soup kitchen this Saturday,” he announced to Sgt. Jefferies after hours.

“Saturday, sir?”

“It’s good for you. Reminds you why you’re doing all this.”

“Can’t tell me what to do,” he teased. “You’re not my L.T. on the weekends.”

Simon’s stare didn’t waver and the other bloke’s smile dropped.

“Copy, sir. I’ll tell the others.”

When the four burly SAS soldiers entered the kitchen, chatter and clanks stalled as all eyes turned to them.

“May… May I help you young lads?” one of the middle-aged ladies said.

Simon recognised her from his last visit, but he quickly realised this was a silly idea. He was out of place, knowing no one there.

He flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to give a hand. Got any lifting to do?”

The lieutenant and his sergeants hauled the food items to the kitchen, including the bread which he taught his sergeants to half and butter. They were offered to peel potatoes, but Simon decided it was wise to leave it to the pros instead.

People still avoided his gaze while his boys exchanged pleasantries with the other volunteers; Eric even got called handsome by the group of older ladies he impressed with his strength as he hefted the sack of potatoes. While the night was as pleasant, it wasn’t the same if you weren’t there to hold his hand and laugh at his jokes.

When the boys invited Simon to the pub at the end of the night, he said no. He thought he was ready, but even after weeks, coming back to his flat was just as sickening.

The silence pierced. Despite all the lights flicked on, the place made his skin crawl, the space too vast and empty. But he didn’t become a lieutenant from succumbing to his emotions.

As he lay in bed, he recalled that you too slept there once. That the mattress once dipped with the gentle weight of you, but unlike the bed that bounced back, you’d left a lasting imprint that disfigured his soul.

Simon wondered what you were up to, if you knew he was there drowning, miserable in his cold room. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your door to be closer or further: closer so he could catch a glimpse of you without meaning to, or further so he wouldn’t be so tempted to go over and get on his knees.

You said begging only reduced you to nothing, but for you, he’d beg and beg. There wasn’t much to lose when he wasn’t much to begin with. He was a stray for a reason.

He tossed and turned, and was granted a wink of sleep before the same bloody dream flashed in his mind.

I don’t care how hard it gets…

He sat up, feet thudding on the floor as he rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. It was always that one moment, like a broken record. Why couldn’t it be you on a night out, or kissing you on the kitchen counter, or simply, you smiling? It was a curse. If only the heart could follow where one’s feet went.

With no plans on coming here, his sleeping pills lay on his desk at base. He looked through the cabinets to distract himself, finding various bottles of dusty, unopened spirits he was gifted. They weren’t his cup of tea.

So he packed, to get his mind off you, from spiralling and digging a deeper grave for itself.

It was time for a change. With the accommodation he was provided, he never needed to rent, but he did anyway in case his mum ever needed the place. It was a good call he did, but with the divorce on the way, keeping it was pointless. He’d rather spend the extra money on his mum and nephew.

Yes, he came to remember- not to forget, but you wouldn’t leave, would you? In the dead of night, when he pulled the hoodie he’d forgotten about out of his wardrobe, he decided he’d had enough of his bloody flat and drove back to base.

He still had another weekend to before his next deployment, a two-month mission. He’d finish packing then.

“You’re right, sir, it feels good volunteering.” Eric grinned at his lieutenant. “We’re going again tomorrow. Also one of the ladies is introducing her daughter to Sam. See you there then?”

Never again. “Dining hall, sergeant.”

Simon was a fool for not finishing his lunch sooner and bolting, instead lingering for the announcement. With how atrocious he did on his tests, he must have been beyond high to still hope for a miracle, that despite everything, he still had a chance at a promotion.

He didn’t make to the top 3.

Amidst the wishes from the table, Lt. Ramsay’s turned to him. His grateful smile faltered.

Simon’s fists clenched. It was supposed to be him, his. But who was he to be mad. It was the fruit of his incompetence. He knew this was coming. Things were going to shit. The unforgiving truth was staring right at him mercilessly: he had nothing else.

He left for his office.

“Sir, sir!” Sgt. Jefferies called. “We’re heading to the pub tonight. Come with us.”

He gritted his teeth. Word travelled too fast.

“Let’s get out of the base for a bit,” he continued when he caught up to his long strides. “It’s the last weekend before we ship out.”

Simon eyed the display of vibrant bottles behind the bar as he listened to his sergeants’ orders, the names foreign to him. Above, the telly showed a rugby match rerun no one paid attention to.

“Jefferies, how much you reckon it takes me to get pissed?”

He chuckled. “You, sir? At least 10,” he said before taking a swig of his beer.

“Nah, 15 sounds more like it.” Richie, the designated driver for the evening piped up.

Sam downed his first two shots, hissing as he slammed the glasses on the bar. “Agreed. Do you know how much he lifts?” He nodded at Simon’s biceps, bulging under his loose black shirt.

It was a genuine question. Simon didn’t want to get pissed, he only wanted to forget. He didn’t mean to go over his limit he had no idea was at seven.

Drunk Simon was a weeping, blabbering mess. It didn’t help that he was massive, because his sergeants had trouble getting him to the car before Richie drove him to the address of his flat he barely managed to gurgle out before passing out.

“Sir, you’re paying for the bloody cleaning if you get sick in my car!”

Why did he think this was a good idea? He was never a drinker, barely even touched alcohol socially. It was the poison that turned his dad into a demon, and it too became his downfall. The only thing he thought he would always have – his resolve, let him down too. He’d lost you, his mum whom he was supposed to protect, his future, and now his dignity.

Desperation was a lethal sentiment.

And that dream came again, that he stumbled to your door. Legs wobbly, his vision in and out as the world spun in slow motion.

“Luv… Luv, it’s not supposed to end like this,” he slurred, the same line he always opened with.

A marionette, a prisoner in his own head, it was a loop he couldn’t escape. The awful show had to commence to end the same way each time.

“I’m sick of losing and I wouldn’t know what to do when you leave, after how much you’ve given. Instead, I left when you needed me. I should have been there for you, gone through all this with you, no matter how hard it got.

“If you would give me a chance, I’ll quit the SAS. I’d start all over again. I’ll butcher the carrots and apples with the bloody peeler, I’ll let the steakhouse mess up our reservation and eat a dozen soapy tacos… If you ever show up at my door with your pie again, I swear I’d kiss you, not scare you. And I’ll never let go. If it has to hurt, I want it to be you.”

The door clicked open, and like how it always went, it meant the dream was coming to an end.

“You make it worth it,” he muttered as his vision faded.

…

Simon gasped for air, this time staring up at blinding lights. He shielded his wet eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m sick on the inside.”

“Only your past, but you are not your past.” Your voice echoed in the distance.

His body was too heavy to move. “Could you forgive me, for all of this?”

“Could you? You need to forgive more than you need to be forgiven.”

He laughed as another tear slipped.

Simon woke on his couch, still in his clothes from the night before. Dreaming of you always drained him, leaving him hollow and out of touch with his body.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his face as the dizziness settled. He didn’t remember much after getting dragged to Richie’s car. Judging by the gnarly bruise on his arm, he probably fell last night, but he was glad he found his way back to his flat in one piece.

Stumbling to the shower, he hissed when his toe stubbed one of the boxes on the floor. It was a horrendous decision to drink so much, still having to pack the rest of his stuff. He leaned over the sink, staring at his bloodshot eyes.

His sergeant was right. He didn’t look good. He never did. What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Riley?

With his hair damp, he made his way to the kitchen. As he realised he’d packed all his tea stash in one of the bloody boxes, a series of knocks echoed in his flat.

He grumbled. It better be important for someone to disturb his peace, especially with the pounding of his head. He couldn’t be bothered putting a shirt on before he swung the door open.

It was you, a pie in hand like the first time he met you all those months ago.

“Hi, is Simon in?”

His heart lurched as he crushed you in a hug.

“Thought you said you were going to kiss me.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @alright-i-guesss @maresoleil @mehjustalasshere @rrtxcmt

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 55

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: me very tired.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As Frigga steers through Loki’s gate, you feel a wave roll over you. Something close to deja vu, edging on dread. It's nice to get out, if only for a few hours, and even if the reason was not entirely enjoyable. You're run ragged after a day of looking through swatches, samples, and the like. 

You can’t explain what it is. This place was once just a check on a list; you worked there. Then it became your prison. Now... now the rest of your life is within those walls. Strange. The girl who walked through that back door would not have ever expected all this. 

“You alright, dear?” Frigga frightens you as she touches your hand. 

The engine is off as the car is parked neatly alongside Loki’s. You blink and nod, “tired.” 

“Ah, yes, these last few weeks, this day alone,” she trills as she pats your hand, “you deserve rest, darling. I will be sure my son allows you some.” 

She smiles and you do your best to return the gesture. You unbuckle the seat belt and get out. Frigga catches you before you can head for the front door. She reminds you of the paper bag of goodies she insisted upon. A dress for the engagement party, shoes, and handbag she was particularly fond of. 

You peer up at the house as she locks the car with a beep. You see the curtain upstairs stirring and a tremor plucks in your chest. As you approach the front door, letting Frigga take the lead, you are unsurprised by Loki’s appearance. Has he been so impatient for your return? 

“Mother,” he stops himself before he can elbow past her, “you’re back.” 

He kisses her cheek as she touches his chest sweetly, “Loki, please, we’ve only just returned.” 

“Yes, yes, I was only... I heard the motor and I thought I might come out to see you in.” 

“I’m sure you are only being the gentleman I raised,” she mocks, “but by god, you must give the woman some space. Let her breathe before you smother her once more. You will be married soon and have all your entire life to do so.” 

“Mother,” he girds abashedly. “I did have something pertinent to speak of with my fiancee. I don’t appreciate the insinuation. Darling,” he faces you as you linger behind Frigga, just at the bottom of the steps, “when you are ready, I would speak to you in my office. Of course, I will allow you to settle in,” he sends his mother a trite look, “I can wait, never you mind me. I am not... not mad.” 

Frigga chuckles, “oh, Loki, you are silly. Dear, come along. We will have some tea. I’d like to try these macarons and I think they’d pair well with some darjeeling,” she trills, “you are welcome to sample some as well.” 

Her son steps back and crosses his arms, “no, mother, I’m not of the mood,” he drops his arms and turns, pulling open the door, “please.” 

You trail after Frigga, coming up the steps as Loki offers his free hand. You take it as your heel knocks off the stair. He squeezes and clings before finally letting you go. 

“I might take your bag,” he offers as he follows you within. 

“You will not,” Frigga insists without looking back as she struts forward, “you won’t spoil the surprise. Go and wait in your office then, or find your father and trouble him.” 

Loki sighs but does not argue. As you flit after the confident matriarch, his soles scuff towards the stairs. It might be amusing to see him so pressed but you worry it will fall back on you. His frustration is palpable and leaves a gloom in his wake. 

Frigga puts on the kettle and fleetly moves around the kitchen. You set the bag on the marble counter top and offer help. She declines as she sets out a pot and two teacups with saucers. She sifts around in her own bag and pulls out the box of macarons. 

“Do you see it, dear? My son is like a hummingbird. He cannot stay still,” she snickers, “all for you. You see? I am never wrong about my sons...” her words hang in the air and her face falls, “well, mostly.” She frowns and thins her lips. “Pardon, I... I...” her lip trembles and she watches her hands as she counts out tea bags for the pot. You’ve never seen her falter but in that moment, she looks almost terrified. 

You know why. It is the elephant in the room. The large man looming over you all, just like he did on Walpurgisnacht. You come up to the other side of the island and watch her. 

“It isn’t your fault what he did,” you say quietly, voice cracking as the memory flickers in your mind. 

“Dear, please, I don’t want to upset you--” 

“I...” you begin and weigh your words with the rush of emotions swirling in your stomach, “please. He won’t speak of it. At all.” Her green eyes flick up and meet yours, the lines in her forehead deepening as her cheeks pinch, “but if... if it upsets you then you don’t need to either.” 

Her lips purse then slacken and she exhales, “it isn’t about me. I am... trying to understand what happened. I... they are both my sons but I didn't... how could I know?” 

“He did it, not you,” you reach up to touch your nose, still set and tender, “I’m... getting better.” 

Her eyes glisten and she looks down, hands shaking as the lid of the pot clinks loudly against the body. She swallows and shoves aside the pot and balances the lid on it. She brings her hands together, weaving her long fingers through each other. 

“What did he do?” She asks in a whisper. 

“Frigga, I don’t want to say it all." 

“I need to know. Dear. All I saw was Loki, angry, he was yelling and he... both my boys, bloodied and about to do worse to each other, and then you both were gone. I don’t know everything but I know it is bad and I am so sorry,” she looks at you and dabs the brims of her eyes with her knuckles, “I see he’s hurt you. It is all over you.” 

You cross your arms and look down at yourself. The cuts on your arms and legs are scabbed still and the bruises are no longer swollen but still noticeable in some lights. You push your shoulders up. 

“If Loki cannot listen, I will,” she says and the kettle clicks, “and what better way to do so than over tea.” 

You’re quiet as she turns to take the kettle. She pours the steaming water into the teapot. You go to the fridge and take out the milk. You find a small milk pot and fill it. You put it on a tray wit the sugar dish and small spoons. Frigga adds the pot and cups. 

She stops you as you come close, her hand on your arm, “you can tell me. I should know. Truly, it wouldn’t be fair for me to live in ignorance as you suffer.” 

You look down and your eyes sting. Your cheeks tighten and your throat aches. You raise your head again, “Loki saved me. That’s what happened. Thor hurt me but not that bad. Not as bad as he meant to because Loki was there.” You tear your eyes away and stare at the wall, “I’m not afraid of Thor but Loki is and that scares me.” 

She hums and rubs your shoulder, “you are brave, dear.” She kisses your forehead and draws you into a hug, “should my other son ever hurt you so bad, well, I will string him up myself.” 

✨

Frigga goes off to find Odin, leaving you to a rare moment of solace. Funny. Before, you spent so much time alone and now you can hardly get a second to yourself. You linger in the kitchen, reluctant to break the serenity. You know you must. It is best to go to Loki before he comes to find you. 

You make the long descent up the stairs and shuffle down to his office door. Another reminder of how much changed so quickly. Everything has been cast in a new light since Walpurgisnacht, though it isn’t the renewal promised by so many. 

You knock and wait for an answer. You have that little time to prepare yourself for Loki. The door opens before you’re ready. You don’t know that you ever can be. 

“Ah, there you are,” he sounds relieved, “I thought my father was back to berate me once more.” 

“Berate you?” You wonder. 

“Ah, he always has some gripe for me. Second son, second best,” he shrugs, “come, come, I’ve been waiting. Very long, mind you, so don’t forget...” 

He leans in and it takes you a moment to catch his meaning. You kiss him as his fingers flutter down your arm and he takes your hand. He draws you into the study and shuts the door. You let him guide you across to the desk, too worn out to resist.  

Your conversation with Frigga needles in the back of your mind. You feel lighter for saying it all aloud and yet it is Loki you wish to hear it. You resign yourself to disappointment. You suppose marriage entails a lot of that. 

He stops you before his desk and lets go of you, raising his hands to frame you, “stay there.” 

You obey easily. You don’t have the energy to do more than go along. He rounds to the other side and sits in the leather chair. He opens the top drawer and grumbles at himself. He is almost jittering as he pulls open the next. 

You look at him. The faded bruises, his discoloured knuckles, and the small scab at the corner of his lip. He is not healed either. Both of you are still so battered but neither of you can admit it.

“Ah, forgive me, my mind has been all over,” he declares as he reaches inside, “and yet I could think of nothing else.” He hesitates to reveal the contents, “pet, I’ve sat here for hours trying to decide. I’ve thought of you only and tried to make up my mind and I cannot. Then I saw what should be so plain. It isn’t my decision to make.” 

He pulls a shallow wooden case from with the drawer. The lid has a glass window that peers in on the sparkling contents. He turns it towards you, setting it down on the leather desk pad delicately.

You stare down as he undoes the clasp and opens it, baring completely the rows of bands and gems set upon velvet cushion. There are at least thirty rings firmly placed into the slots, glinting in the light; silver and gold, ruby, sapphire, and diamond. You blink then look at him. 

“I must apologise once more. I should never have gotten on my knee without a ring,” his fingers twiddle along the sides of the case, “so you may have your pick.” 

You glance down again, awestruck at the array of jewels and metals. You shake your head and clutch your hands in front of your chest, “I don’t... I can’t...” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. “I’ve acquired these through my work. All antique, all one of a kind. They sit in this box and for what? So go and choose.” 

You stand and stare. You’re silent. It’s all so much. They are all so beautiful and you don’t deserve any of them. They are too much for just you. 

“Pet,” he breathes and sits back, retracting his hands from the case, “I’ve... what’ve I done wrong?” 

“What?” You bat your lashes, “nothing. Nothing, I’m only... surprised. I never expected... to have a ring. From anyone.” 

“Not least of all me, I know,” he utters, forlorn, “I know I've made many mistakes. Many. Now I am trying to do something right.” 

“It’s very sweet,” you gulp as you resists a hot haze of tears. It’s overwhelming. “Can I think?” 

“Yes, please, take your time,” he flutters his fingers and crosses one arm over his middle, “look as you will.” 

“Right, er...” you step closer and hug yourself.  

You lean over the desk. It takes a few minutes to focus and actually look at the rings. To delineate between this one and that. They are all beautiful but to you, one stands out especially. You bring a hand up then close your fingers. 

“May I?” You peer up at Loki. 

“Yes, do,” he sits forward slightly, curious as your eyes fall back to the case. 

It’s much simpler than the rest. The band is slim with fine patterning along the gold. The little metal claws hold in place a single pearl; shining white. You wiggle it free carefully and squint at it as you take in every detail. 

“Try it,” he goads. 

You turn it and line your finger up. You hold your breath as you slip it on. It fits snug at the base of your finger. You keep your grasp around it for a second before you finally reveal it. You examine it as you sense Loki lean further forward. 

“Might I see?” He asks. 

You extend your hand to show him. 

“It fits?” He wonders. 

“I think,” you answer. 

He nods, “would you like to try any others?” 

“No, I like it,” you say and tilt your hand to get a better look. 

“Pearl, simple, classic,” he intones, “that one I believe is from the Georgian Era. Some earl’s wife was gifted it by King George IV. So it is said. The age of the pearl is confirmed, however, one can never verify hearsay.” 

“Wow, that’s... old?” You remark, feeling a bit dumb. 

“More than two centuries,” he closes the lid and stands, “you will let me know if it requires a proper fitting. I should hate for it to slip off.” 

“I... It is expensive, should I--” You go to take it off. 

“It is yours, pet. I wouldn’t ask it back. Ever.” You watch him clasp the box shut and he stands straight, watching you across the desk, “that is for the engagement. For the wedding, we will have matching bands.” 

“Thank you, it’s...” you look at the ring again, “it’s beautiful.” 

“Mm, beautiful enough that I might have a kiss?” He wonders as he slithers around the desk, “I have been patient for you, darling.” 

You lower your hand as he approaches and face him. You nod and as he grasps your shoulders tight, his long fingers curling into you. He’s so intent, you don’t think you could stop him regardless. His leans in and crushes his lips to yours, purring as his tongue flicks across your mouth. You let him in. You feel as if you owe it to him after all that. 

[desi-girll]

মেয়েরা রাত দখল করো: THE NIGHT IS OURS

WOMEN RECLAIM THE NIGHT, JUSTICE FOR RG KAR VICTIM

let's do our part in protesting against the brutal rape and murder of RG Kar PGT doctor who was on a 36 hour shift on Friday, 9th August when she was resting alone in a room. please read the entire post even though it's long.

if you don't know what happened, the 31 year old woman had been gang raped (both before and after murder), and tortured to such an extent which cannot be explained. afterwards, the authorities and police first tried to cover it up by telling her parents it's a suicide but later it was revealed not to be so. it is a case of rape and homicide.

(i) speculations are that the girl had possibly become privy to some unlawful work going on at the hospital during night shifts, and hence to silence her, all this was done.

(ii) parents were refused to be allowed to see their daughter's body until after 3 hours of their arrival. they had to beg and plead for their basic rights.

(iii) what's more is that her body was burned by the police without taking the consent of her parents, possibly to erase evidences in case a second post mortem was to be done.

(iv) the girl's father has also reported to the high court, the fact that the DGP called him up and asked him not to take matters forward and just settle it amongst themselves.

(v) the person who has been arrested for this incident is speculatively just a scapegoat who has been paid to take the blame for something done by a larger group of people, probably under the protection of the syndicate ran in West Bengal by the government.

Post Mortem report of the victim (which again, was conducted by RG Kar doctors themselves, and we don't know if some details are intentionally being hidden or not

The postmortem report of the trainee doctor raped and murdered at Kolkata's RG Kar Medical College and Hospital revealed that she was throttled to death. Her thyroid cartilage was broken due to strangling and a deep wound was found in her private parts, the four-page report said. Sources said the murder and rape likely took place between 3 am and 5 am on August 9.

Injuries were found on her belly, lips, fingers, and left leg. Sources said the victim's nose and mouth were clamped, and her head was pushed against a wall to prevent her from screaming.

The scratch marks on the woman's face are believed to have been caused by the accused's fingernails, indicating that the victim desperately tried to fight back.

"The mouth and throat were constantly pressed to prevent screaming. The throat was strangled to suffocate. The thyroid cartilage broke due to strangling," the postmortem report said.

The report also mentioned that the woman was bleeding from both eyes, mouth and private parts. The report said the wounds in her private parts were caused by "perverted sexuality" and "genital torture". However, the reason for her eye wound has not been determined yet.

Source of the post mortem

so today (14th August, 2024) at 11:55 PM IST, there is going to be a midnight protest held across Kolkata. women protestors have planned to hold night long agitation across multiple spots in the city. the campaign titled 'Women, Reclaim The Night: The Night Is Ours' is aimed at seeking justice for the sexual assault and murder of the woman doctor. Men have also decided to join the protest in large numbers to show their solidarity with the cause.

The protest will take place simultaneously at the Jadavpur 8B Stand, Academy of Fine Arts, College Street, Sinthee More, Dunlop, Maldah English Bazaar, Siliguri (Darjeeling More).

i know it isn't possible for many of us to attend the protest but let's do our part virtually if not physically. share posts about the incident on your social media, with your friends, relatives. take part in the online campaign going on in social media. at 11:55 PM IST (14th August, 2024) tag your posts with #womenreclaimthenight and #thenightisours.

make this tag trending on all your socials. share this post to raise awareness. share all other posts related to this incident. with the tags i wrote above.

spread the word to your friends and relatives, do your part this way. indians and non indians, both alike. male, female, non binary, all genders, all alike. raise your voice before it's too late.

because the next victim could be you or any of your loved ones.

[kurishiri]

02 . . . the past records ˗ˏˋ🍎🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: near death experience (drowning).

Alfons: Well, you see, one of the teacups was a completely ordinary cup of darjeeling tea.

A: But the other cup of tea had a poison that could send you straight to the afterworld with naught but a single sip!

Liam: Eehh!?

Alfons: You never fail to exceed my expectations with your priceless reactions, Liam.

Roger: How’d you even get your hands on that poison in the first place?

Alfons: By staining said hands with sins that a well-to-do doctor’s son such as yourself wouldn’t even dream of thinking about.

Liam: So, since you left whether you ran away or not up to fate, Lord Elbie would have made the correct choice if he chose the tea that didn’t have the poison in it.

L: And so you couldn’t leave Lord Elbie’s side… is that it?

Alfons: No, quite the opposite, in fact.

A: Had Elbie chosen the tea which did not contain any poison, I would have drank the one with it.

A: I would say my farewells and depart from this world with grace.

A: Well, what do you think? It’s truly a game befitting of the name Dead or Alive, no?

Liam: …That is a lie, right? There’s no way that can be true.

Alfons: Maybe, or maybe not, who knows? Are you going to bring in Harry to confirm your suspicions?

A: Anyhow, were Elbie to choose correctly, I would die an honorable and graceful death. And if he made the wrong choice, I would admit my defeat and rescue him.

A: And with that, I would stay by his side, just a little longer. It’s a rule of mine, you see.

Roger: So, the fact that you are with Elbie still must mean…

Alfons: Ever since we met, up to now, we would play this game every now and then when the mood struck…

A: …but, it’s truly a wonder where Elbie’s luck — or rather, lack thereof — comes from, as every single time, he has made the wrong choice.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Anyway, back to the tea.

A: Which one do you want?

Elbert: Umm… this one.

Alfons: …Are you sure?

Elbert: …? …Mn.

Alfons: …Well, then.

Elbert: Then, I’ll drink thi—

Alfons: I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, seeing that tea’s got poison inside.

Elbert: …eh-?

Alfons: Here, drink this one, Elbert. I’ll throw out the poisoned tea.

Elbert: …? …?? …Mn, okay.

—— End flashback ——

Liam: Lord Elbie really is too pure.

Alfons: And I wholeheartedly agree. Why, once in a mission several years back, the two of us were on a boat that looked like it would sink down any minute—

Liam: Wait, you were about to sink!?

Alfons: Indeed, we were. It happened before you and Roger had joined Crown.

Roger: I’m starting to question your validity now.

Liam: Should I actually bring in Harry?

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: It seems there are two lifeboats here… well, which boat do you choose? I will take the other.

Elbert: …I feel like we could just ride one together.

Alfons: The boats are small and narrow, so how about we don’t. Besides, this would be a prime opportunity to try what I’ve dreamed of doing — a boat race.

Elbert: I see… then, maybe this one?

Alfons: …Sometimes, I do find myself wondering why you are like this.

Elbert: …?

—— Time skip ——

Elbert: Al…

Alfons: Yes, what is it?

Elbert: …There’s water flooding into the boat.

Alfons: I can’t say I’m surprised, considering your boat has a hole in it.

Elbert: …You’re right. …A lot of the boat is underwater now…

Alfons: You can swim here then. Oh, and I do recommend taking your clothes off, as they will feel heavy underwater.

Elbert: Ah…

Alfons: ? Is something the matter?

Elbert: That fin… could it be a shark…?

Alfons: …I will come over to you, then, so try your best to stay on the surface with that bloody useless boat.

—— End flashback ——

Alfons: And so, we washed up on a beach with our lives hanging by a thin thread, taking a break while collapsed on the sand with the fallen coconuts.

A: Eventually, Victor and William [1] came around with a steamboat, and we returned to London. The end.

Liam: For some reason, I have more questions than answers...

Roger: So, if Elbie made the right decision and chose the safe boat, you would’ve sunk down with that bloody useless boat while saying ‘adieu’?

Alfons: To die by becoming shark food... putting a dramatic end to my life so early on like a cannon fodder villain does indeed have a nice ring to it, I must admit.

Liam: Wait, about that thing you suddenly asked about earlier!

L: The one where you asked me to think of ‘a game that is thrilling, the type where you’d die if you lose’…

Alfons: Ahh, yes.

A: The chicken race where we’d choose between carriages driven by either a drunk person or a sober one, and ride in it to the cliff. It was a great game.

Liam: Wait, are you telling me… you played that game with Lord Elbie…? I thought this was for a mission or something…

Alfons: You can rest assured, as Lord Elbie had, once again and admirably so, made the wrong choice and chose the carriage with the drunk driver.

A: Oh, and not to worry, I saved them before the carriage dove down the cliff.

A: All that said, even if this was all a game of luck, I couldn’t help but feel it was very like Elbie to only make choices that end up hurting himself, and for some years I was genuinely concerned…

A: But as of late, I seem to have grown out of feeling both concern and amazement for him. So emotionally, I have nothing left in me. Nothing.

A: And so, that was how I came to stay by his side, even now.

A: Well, how about it? Quite the comedic tragedy, no? Go on now, I implore you to burst out laughing now.

Elbert: …Al, there you are.

Alfons: Oh, and if you speak of the devil. …Ahh, it’s already time.

A: Well then, I have a mission I need to do, so I’ll excuse myself here.

A: Oh, and you can just stick the photos of Lord Elbie somewhere in that mountain of documents Roger has.

As if to provoke him, Alfons snatched Roger’s liquor before leaving the room with Elbert.

Liam: ……

Roger: You got something you wanna say?

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full masterlist 🍎🪞

NOTES:

[1] wasn’t sure how to translate this, or if there’s some reference in the EN game, so I just… omitted it, but I’d like to give a bit of an explanation. Here, Alfons says [ヴィクトル様とウィリアムさん] (vikutoru-sama to wiriamu-san), where he refers to Victor with —sama and William with —san. These are honorifics in Japanese, and they have no direct English translation. Alfons usually refers to most people with the —san honorific (he had always referred to Roger and Liam with —san), which is like an average “polite” honorific, but he refers to Victor with —sama, which is commonly used to denote a social status higher than yourself or it can be used to show respect or reverence. I think he just refers to Victor with —sama because he is the Queen’s Aide and basically like his boss. And, while we’re on the topic of honorifics, Alfons seems to switch on a whim (maybe?) between using and not using —sama (‘Lord,’ in this case, as Elbert is a count) with him.

[starkraivennemad]

Facing the Storm

Mycroft looked at his phone as it buzzed with a number not heard from in nearly two years.

“Hello Inspector, I…”

"Fuck you and that inspector shit!!! I'll be home in thirty. Get over there now, you bastard!" Greg spat, then immediately rang out.

Mycroft stared at his phone and knew there was only ONE reason for the call now.

The day he has looked forward to -and anxiously dreaded was now upon him.

He sighed as he looked out of the sedan window at the dark stormy night of London on his way home. He could barely see out the windscreen, its wipers barely able to hold the tide against the torrential rain that lashed violently against the windows.

"Change of plans, Edgar." Mycroft gave his driver an address on the opposite side of London. "Inspector Lestrade's flat."

"Sir?"

"He's met with my resurrected brother."

“Ah...” Edgar made the U-turn.

This was a different storm for Mycroft to face.

----    ----

Mycroft recalled Gregory's flat faced the front of the building and realized his approach had been noted and was not surprised to find Gregory’s door slightly ajar when he reached it. He was surprised to open it and find a towel that waited on at the table by the door, but not the owner of the flat.

Gregory stood by the wide windows, his back to Mycroft as he watched the raging storm outside.

Mycroft entered, placed his umbrella in the stand and hung his coat next Gregory's on the rack before he faced the room.

In moments of weakness, Mycroft has watched Gregory via cameras. But he had not seen the man in person in nearly two years.

And Gregory… looked good.

The stress of clearing his name at work, and life in general, has made his hair more silver, but he remained a rugged, casually gorgeous man.

There were many things Mycroft Holmes wanted to say to Gregory Lestrade. What came out of his mouth instead was not it.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Gregory flinched; his reflected face glared at Mycroft in disbelief. Mycroft could not blame him; he was appalled with himself at the inappropriate jest. Mycroft suspected the D.I. was purposely keeping his distance, lest he give into the temptation to lay hands on him -and not in a good way.

“Your brother made the same bad joke. He told you he’s seen me…” It was an accusation.

“No, he has not. I know you have by… your level of anger.”

“My level of…” Gregory practically snarled as he spun from the window. “You lied to me, Mycroft. For two fucking years.”

“I never lied to you, Gregory. I couldn’t…”

Gregory started for his kitchen.  "It's shit out there, have a seat. The water's hot and I have the Darjeeling you like."

“I… I think this conversation requires something… stronger.”

Gregory paused, then came back with two glasses and a gift-wrapped box. He threw the paper at Mycroft as he revealed a very expensive bottle of scotch. Scotch that had come up in a conversation during dinner some time ago. Without looking Mycroft knew it was supposed to be a Christmas present from Gregory to  him. Christmas from the previous year as the crumpled-up paper and gift tag in his hands confirmed with a gut punch.

"Thank you.” Mycroft accepted the glass. “Before you speak Gregory, or give to the ardent desire to punch me, will you please hear me out?"

Greg threw him a look, that barely hid the smirk of veracity to the threat. "Whatever."

Mycroft took a fortifying sip of his scotch; not tasting it in his nervousness, as he took a deep breath and began.

“My brother and I. Our relationship… is complicated as you well know. We obfuscate, and omit truths at times, but we never lie when it is of importance and we never break a vow with each other. I told you my brother did what he did to save John, Mrs. Hudson, and you." 

Greg made an impatient get on with it gesture...

"Sherlock made me vow, not promise vow, I would tell no one he was alive – no exceptions.” Mycroft looked at Greg, then lowered his head at the coldness found there. “On St. Bart’s roof, Sherlock found a loophole in Moriarty’s reasoning. One in which Moriarty committed suicide to close it shut… And thus, Sherlock…jumped.”

There was no time to arrange visual, but Sherlock had been wired, so Mycroft had heard everything between Sherlock and Moriarty. Still, Mycroft shuddered in the memory of those harrowing seconds after the gunshot, when he had no idea whether one or both on the roof were dead. Mycroft’s overwhelmingly relief in receiving Sherlock’s text��LAZARUS was immediately overshadowed in the enormity of then carrying out LAZARUS IS GO.

Even now nearly two years later, Mycroft shuddered in the memory.

“Gregory, I made that vow in the planning stages never believing it would be needed.” Mycroft forced himself to continue. “I made that vow before I realized keeping that vow meant I had to lie to the man I was then only realizing I had fallen in love with.” Mycroft looked up and held Gregory’s eyes. He watched as Gregory took the words and processed them; saw the moment the impact of them registered and continued, “Yes, I said he jumped, but I never said that he died. No exceptions, unfortunately included you, Gregory. I could not bear to ask him to let me tell the man I loved whom I could see whenever I wanted, when he risked everything for John and could not.” Mycroft drained his glass and put it down. “And I absolutely could not continue to face you with that hanging over my head. I could not. So, I… I kept my vow… And withdrew from you.”

“I know.” Gregory said quietly after a moment.

“You know?”

“Well, I do now…” Gregory admitted. “Sherlock snuck his resurrection on me in NSY carpark. Once I got over the shock, he told me the much the same as you about your vow. And…” Gregory ran rough hand through his hair, setting it awry. “…He begged me to forgive you - but still did not really know why I should… until now.”

Mycroft understood it meant Sherlock had not broken his vow to Mycroft to not tell Gregory of his love.

The silence stretched long and uncomfortable as both men watched the storm outside until Mycroft’s phone buzzed.

Text>> I tried to explain, but he was livid upon realizing you’ve known all this time. I did not realize it was reciprocal until I saw his face. It is the same fury and hurt I saw with John. If you see him, know that I did not tell what is yours to say to him. – SH Text>> In retrospect, I see now I have broken four hearts with this vow I forced upon you. I do not know if John can ever forgive me in this – or if Greg will with you. – SH Text>> I am sorry. – SH

Mycroft sighed and showed Gregory the texts.

“John will forgive him… eventually...”  Gregory stood, poured himself a fresh drink and walked away to stare out the window again.

Mycroft understood the silent dismissal for what it was. He went to the door and took his things before he opened it.

“Is my brother right, Gregory?”

“Yes, it is reciprocated. And yes, I am furious and hurt…” Gregory answered after a moment.

Mycroft stepped out and with his back to Greg and his hand on the door, he forced himself to ask one last question. “And will you forgive me?”

“Eventually…but not tonight.”

Mycroft left. Outside, he looked at the continuing deluge, undecided on which storm was worse.

----------------------------------------

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[helaelaemond]

Billy Washington idea: Soft-ish Billy being upset after getting himself into trouble again. Like, he just can't stop being a flop even when he tries to. Reader comforts him in the best and smuttiest way she can. Maybe he shows up unexpectedly at her place because he needs someone, even though he won't admit it? Idk, delinquent flop men get me going sometimes.

Title: Only worth living if somebody is loving you - part of the It's All For You series but can be read as standalone

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: Billy has been fired and feels worthless. But you love him; he's everything to you. So you show him how much worth he has. Established relationship, handjob, fingering, pet names, mild daddy kink, mild dirty talk.

Word count: 3.1k

Rating: E

Notes: thank you so much for the prompt! This was a lot of fun to write when I am supposed to be working!

You're not meant to have your phone on at work, but you get away with it where you can. You're in the basement kitchen today, anyway, so no customers will see. Behind the shoddy table set up as a makeshift barista bar, you fill tray after tray of tea and coffee - Blue Lady, Darjeeling, Sumatran, Colombian, jasmine, they all roll into one in the end. So feeling your phone vibrate in your apron pocket is a delightful distraction.

You ignore the tickets coming through behind you, and get one of the dish boys to cover you. "What? I need a fag," you reply over your shoulder when he protests. You smile giddily at your phone and swipe to answer. "Hey, Billy."

He doesn't sound happy on the other end. "Hey."

You slink into the alley and crouch close to the floor, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "What's up?"

"You got a sec?"

There's something in his voice that worries you. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Tell me."

He sighs. You hear him blare his horn as he drives, followed by a string of profanities. "Fucking wanker! Twat!"

You take a long drag. "You on a run?" He's been a delivery driver for a delivery service for a few months now. It's shitty money and shitty conditions, but it's all he could get after being fired from his last job. Hitting a customer. The customer swung for him first, but it was Billy who landed the first successful punch.

"No. Driving home."

"Oh?"

"Don't fucking start."

You force yourself to smile against your phone. Your voice is soft. "Hey. I'm not starting anything. You called me."

He sighs again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't... I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"They sacked me."

"Why?" you ask, closing your eyes and wincing.

Billy's voice is clipped. "Didn't meet their targets."

"Those targets are bullshit," you snap defensively. Everything he's told you about his job has you seeing red - they take advantage and bleed him dry. "You don't need that place."

"I need the pay check."

"We'll figure it out. Where you going now?"

He pauses. You hear his indicator, and the rev of his ancient car engine as he moves between gears. "Your parent still away?"

You watch as the smoke you blow out rises up the alley and into the sky. "Yeah. Key's in the plant pot. I finish in an hour. Make yourself at home."

Billy's car is parked lazily on your street, and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It's been a few years since you got together, but adrenaline still runs through you at the mere thought of being near him. He's got you addicted, flaws and all. It made you want to run all the way home after your shift ended, but you don't think you quite have the stamina for a three-mile sprint.

"Hey, Billy," you call as you let yourself into the home you still share with your parents. London prices are impossible - you'll probably live with them until they die

He grunts in response, and you follow the noise into the living room. He's sat on the sofa facing away from you, head bent, and you go to him. You drop your bag and kick off your shoes and wrap your arms around him from behind. "Hey, daddy."

He winces. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" you whisper against his ear. "You usually like it."

Billy pulls out of your arms and shifts on the sofa. "Yeah, well, I don't right now."

"Sorry." You go to the kitchen and make two cups of tea - milk and sugar for you, no sugar for him. None of the loose-leaf shit you serve at work, just proper Yorkshire bags. He follows you quietly, and thanks you when you hand him his. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, still avoiding your gaze.

"Billy." Your voice is soft. The hard pain in his face hurts to see.

He licks his lips and takes a sip. It's scalding, and he hisses quietly. You put your cup down to cool, and go to him. Your hands find their place on his narrow hips, and you look up at him. He's so tall; it makes you feel so safe. His hair is getting long, and it falls over his eyes.

After a long moment, he finally meets your gaze. "I really tried with this one."

You nod. "I know."

"I promise."

"I know."

"Why are you with me?" he asks softly. When he tries to pull away, you hold him close. "I'm not... God, you deserve better than this."

"No, Billy, no." One hand runs to the small of his back and the other finds his cheek to guide his gaze back to you. "You're worth so much more than a shitty job."

"I'm a failure."

"No, you're not," you soothe. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Don't let some stupid job define you."

"You deserve so much more than me."

You reach up on your toes and kiss his lips firmly. He meets your kiss with a quiet sigh. "You're all I've ever wanted and needed. Don't worry about the job."

"I'm not worthy of you."

Taking his hand, you lead him back to the living room. You both bring your cups with you and set them on the coffee table. You push him to sit on the sofa, and when you straddle him, it's satisfying how naturally his grasp finds your backside. But still, he drops his head to your shoulder in defeat. You stroke his hair and gently massage his scalp, just as he likes.

"You want me to tell you how much I love you?" you murmur.

He swallows thickly. He shakes his head.

"You want me to show you? You want me to help you forget everything else?"

He doesn't react, except to pull you tighter. You smile slightly, and kiss his hair. Sex is something that brings you closer than anything else. It's the place where Billy feels most in control, where he can take care of you and call the shots and do everything to make you feel good. You accidentally called him daddy once when he was fucking you, and that was the day your dynamic changed. He leaned into the nickname proudly, and he wears it like a secret badge of honour. He does everything to earn it, too. He takes care of you, dominates you like you need. It's the only time when he feels like a real man. He loves you so much, he forgets what hating himself feels like.

The world is cruel to him, but you never are. You're just obsessed with him.

"You want me to take care of you?" you whisper against his ear. Billy buries his face against your chest, and gently bites through your shirt. It smells of coffee and tea and kitchen grease. He nods again.

"Alright. I can do that." You tilt up his chin and kiss him. This time, it's deeper. When you part your lips, he mirrors you and welcomes your tongue into his mouth. Pulling back for a moment, you look into his piercing blue eyes. "Can you do something for me?"

He nods.

You smile softly. "Can you undo my shirt for me, please?"

Billy's eyes are wide, and he nods again. Long fingers complete the task, and your white work shirt falls open. Underneath is a practical bra, white and cotton and far from sexy. Still, just the sensation of him opening your shirt makes your nipples hard, and that's enough for him. "Thank you," you say, affection in your voice. "Can you touch me?"

He's putty in your hands for once. This is new territory for you, being so in control. Usually, he's the one gently telling you what to do, his voice sugar and honey as his requests and commands turn from this kind of sweetness into depravity. You're trying to emulate him now, to give him what he might need.

He runs his knuckles over your breasts through the fabric, up and down he goes, catching your hard nipples each time. Half the time you're with him, it feels like the first time. Not in a bad way, just the excitement and anticipation, and how much you fucking need him. Just this touch has you feeling your heartbeat in your cunt.

"Lean back, baby," you tell him. You haven't called him that before. It's the pet name he calls you when he's fucking you to the point of tears, and so you're unsure. He shakes his head slightly. "Lean back, Billy." That, he obeys, and that makes you smile. "Good. Can you take off your shirt for me, too?"

Keeping his eyes on you, he takes off his black tshirt and tosses it aside. You grab it, though, and press it against your nose to catch his scent. "Mmph. I love your smell."

"Yeah?" His expression is softening slowly over time. The tension in his eyebrows is smoothing out.

"Yeah, I do." You shrug out of your open shirt. As you unclasp your bra, you shift to straddle one of his thighs instead of both, and grind slightly. The friction feels so good. When you're good for him, daddy sometimes lets you ride his leg until you come. The thought makes you shiver. "I love everything about you."

"I..." As you throw aside your bra, Billy runs his hands up your sides and back down to your hips. His eyes dart between your face and your breasts. "I don't deserve you."

In his grey joggers, you see his familiar swell. It's impossible to resist reaching for it and pressing the flat of your hand to him. "You deserve me every single day, Billy. You make me feel... oh, God. You make me feel divine."

His hands go back to your breasts, and elegant fingers gently tease your nipples in perfect tandem. Under your hand, you feel his cock twitch. He loves your breasts. Then, he mirrors your action, except his hand tugs down your zipper and he presses his fingers against you over your underwear. A slight lift of your hips, and his hand is trapped between you and his thigh.

"No," you murmur with a smile. "I want to focus on taking care of you."

"You are," he replies. "It makes me feel good to take care of you, too."

He's rewarded with a kiss to his pretty lips, and this time his tongue finds yours first. The pressure of it makes you shiver again. You grind harder against his hand, whilst your own hand palms him through the soft material.

"God." He drops against the back of the sofa again and looks up at you. "Promise you love me."

You take the hand between your legs to your mouth. As you suck his fingers, you look into his eyes. You swirl your tongue between them, over them, and your other hand reaches into his trousers. You fumble with the band of his boxers, and trap his cock under it. You touch the red tip and moan around his digits.

"I fucking love your cock," you moan as you pull his fingers from your mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't get enough of it, not ever."

"What do you do when we're apart?" he asks, encouraging you. Suddenly, he grabs you and pulls you to sit next to him on the sofa. His confidence is returning.

"I... I watch that video you made for me a few months ago."

Billy watches your face and bites his lip. "Take off your clothes," he murmurs softly. You obey. "What video?"

With his gentle dominance coming back, your heart is racing. He lifts his hips to help you push down his trousers and underwear, and you begin a steady rhythm with your hand on his cock. "The one where you're alone on your bed."

"Spread your legs for me, baby."

Your breath catches in your throat. Again, you obey. He runs his palm up and down the inside of your thigh, and he pulls it over his leg. The intimacy of feeling your legs rest together makes your chest flush. Billy's hand slides up the soft skin of your inner thigh, and he watches your face. He has more control over his expression as you stroke him than you do when his fingers run up and down the outside of your pussy.

"What was I doing in the video?" he asks softly.

Moaning. Writhing. Begging. "Touching yourself."

"You never sent me a video back."

You laugh quietly. It turns swiftly to a moan when Billy's middle and ring fingers glide between your folds lazily. "I... I tried."

"Did you?"

As two digits press at your entrance, your hand on his cock stills. The pressure is delicious, a little demanding, a little possessive. He touches you like he owns you. He does own you. "Yeah. But... oh, shit, that's nice. But when I watched it back, I... mmph, Billy- it wasn't quite right."

"Impossible," he whispers. He leans over to kiss your neck just as his fingers slip inside. "Everything about you is perfect."

"You're blind."

He bites your ear and then blows into it. "I'm a man in love, that's all."

"Love," you breathe. Finally, you find the strength to stroke him again, although his fingers moving inside of you are driving you to distraction. "There aren't enough words to tell you how I feel about you."

"Mmm?"

"I'm fucking obsessed." He rewards you with his thumb pressing against the side of your clit. He gently rubs up and down, careful not to overstimulate you. "Shit, just like that, please-"

"I don't deserve you." But he's smiling this time. "My pretty girl."

When he says things like that, you utterly melt. And then, it's you who's putty again, and Billy who's in control. "Kiss me?"

"Come here, baby."

You whimper needily when he pulls out his hand. But he grabs your hand, and you climb back into his lap. His trousers and underwear are still on his thighs. Perhaps if he fucks you good enough, you'll leave your smell on them.

"You want me inside you?"

You nod and clutch his shoulders. "Please."

"Please, what?"

It's not even a question. It's am automatic response now. "Please, daddy."

"Oh, that's my good girl."

As you cling onto him, Billy runs his cock through your folds, pressing the head against your clit. When you feel his bluntness against your entrance, you whine softly. "Please. I need you so bad. Please."

"You love me?"

You nod, and press a feverish kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much."

As he presses inside you, your mouth drops open in a silent moan. He's perfect for you, not big enough to hurt, not small enough to frustrate. He doesn't stretch, he fills. He's everything to you. You grind against him and feel the delicious slip of him inside and out. When you rock against his hard pubic bone, he praises you. "Good girl, taking what you need. I'm so proud of you."

It makes you bite your lip. You rock in a familiar rhythm that suits you both. His kisses are on your chest and your shoulders, hot and wet. Over the pulse in your neck, he sucks gently. He'd never leave a mark on you that would embarrass you for other people to see. But when his lips find your breasts again, he gives you flowers of purple and red.

"Fuck!" you whine. "You're perfect, you're so perfect."

He crushes his mouth against yours. Strong arms wrap around your back and then all of a sudden he flips you onto the sofa and shoves your legs up. They press together and you feel the ache down the back of them, but it's nothing compared to the ache in your cunt now he's left you empty. It's only for a moment, though. He slams back inside you, and the change in angle threatens to overwhelm you. Like this, his every pound has the tension between your legs stimulated.

"Daddy!" you moan. "Please, let me see you, please, please-!"

The hand that grips your ankles loosens enough to let one leg drop down. Now you can see him, his slight grin, the fire in his eyes. He looks at you like a man obsessed, like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"That's it, baby," he pants. His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. His tight balls slap against you with every thust, making you whimper. "You're taking me so beautifully. Well done, my sweet girl."

"I'm so close!"

"Tell me what you need." He holds your elevated leg up by his shoulder, and turns his head to kiss your ankle. But his eyes never leave yours.

"Your h- Jesus! Hand! Please! Please!"

"Well done," he says again between laboured breaths. "You're so good at telling me what you need. Like this?"

While his hand presses firmly against your pelvis, his thumb finds its way back to your clit. The circles he runs are harder and faster now.

"Can I come?" you beg.

"Of course, baby. Whenever you need."

'Thank you, daddy!"

He's so good to you. He makes sure you orgasm first. Billy pounds you through your explosive completion that makes your whole body jerk, and only when your guttural screams have subsided does he let himself go. You got the coil so he can have you properly. He clings to the thigh against his chest as he comes, spending deep inside you. The cry of your name is deep and ragged. It sends aftershocks rushing through you.

He collapses on you, and you both pant. Only when his cock begins to soften does he pull out of you, but beyond that, neither of you move much. His face is buried in your neck, and your hand is buried in his hair.

After a while, you feel lips press softly against your throat.

"You okay?" you whisper.

"Mmm."

"I wanted to be the one to take care of you." You laugh softly.

He kisses your skin again. "You always take care of me." His voice is nothing more than a mumble.

The laughter fades on your lips. "I always will. I love you so much."

"You make life worth living."

Your arms tighten around him. "Your life is so precious, Billy. We'll find a way to make it better. I promise."

"I love you."

[gigai-translations]

Mahoutsukai no Hako ft. Mahoyo Characters ENG Translation

Illustrated by CHANxCO, this is a gag script from the Mahoutsukai no Hako TYPE-MOON official mobile site. I liked this segment particularly because it features Mahoyo characters and I love Mahoyo.

Images and transcript under the cut.

PAGE 1

Aoko: Hmm, this cafe ain't bad, huh? 

Alice: Right. When you said you'd be entering, I was concerned about what we'd get ourselves into.  

Aoko: With a place like this, wouldn't you look forward to the tea here? 

Alice: Hm, how so? It's not like you can assess the quality of tea based on the interior of the place. 

Aoko: You just don't trust my intuition. Anyways, excuse me, waitress! 

Chikage: uuu… Decided on an order? What's it gonna be? 

Alice: That doesn't sound hospitable.

Aoko: Ugh–

Chikage: Huh? I didn't say anything rude. 

Keitai: No matter how you look at it, you were being rude!!! At this point, the foliage would be more reliable for taking orders! 

Aoko: Eh??

Chikage: Waa—!? Don't just come out willy-nilly!! 

Alice: …….

PAGE 2

*Alice steps on Keitai* 

Keitai: bururbuur *makes pain noises* 

Aoko: Hey, hey!! Alice, what are you doing?! 

Alice: Nothing, just felt a strong sense of *familiarity* with this one. 

Hibiki: Chika-chan! Chika-chan! It sounds kinda loud here, did something happen? I wanna join in! 

Chikage: Don't worry about it. Just the usual business. 

Hibiki: Oh, Keitai's being stepped on. 

Aoko: Is this y'all's toy? Here, sorry about the violent assault we've inflicted on it. 

Hibiki: Ahahaha! Thanks! 

Keitai: Oi!! Why would you call me a toy?! You see a smartphone, call it a smartphone–burhusnunw 

Chikage: All your chatter is pointless. Just shut up. 

Alice: It sounded like that small, blue object spoke. 

Hibiki: There's nothing odd about it! After all, it's just a regular smartphone! See see, it can take photos! 

Keitai: *Ching!!*

Aoko: A smart….phone? 

Hibiki: Yup yup! A smartphone!! 

Aoko: No way, this is different from anything I know. Also, photos?! Where does the film go?!? On top of that, why would you need to use a phone to take photos?!

Alice: To begin with, isn't the notion of a portable phone pure nonsense? 

Chikage: wha- what's with those reactions? Did you two just come out of the mountains today? 

Aoko: Guh—!

Aoko: Alice, I can't believe it. Was I just stooped to Soujurou's level right now?

Alice: Stay strong, Aoko. I, too, just felt the same way. 

Hibiki: Huh? They seem to be really shocked. 

Keitai: uhyo!! Uhyohyohyo!! Miss Blue is from an era virtually similar to prehistoric times, ei? Are you realizing now how great it must be to witness the signs of the 21st century's height of technology?!

Aoko: I don't get it but are you trying to pick a fight?! You're picking a fight with me aren't you?! I got nothing on you now but cuz of that, I'm gonna go to the 30th century and swipe the latest K-TAI!! 

Chikage: Don't you start a fight!! And you! Stop getting so heated about it!! 

Soujurou: That's right. Fighting isn't good, Aozaki.

Aoko: …wha–

Hibiki: Oh, Soujurou-san! 

PAGE 3 

Chikage: Eh? You guys know each other? 

Alice: Shizuku-kun, what are you doing here? 

Soujurou: You ask but it's what it looks like, this is my part-time job. 

Aoko: You've increased your number of jobs again. Why you–! 

Soujurou: I was told my way of brewing black tea was poor and that really struck me. And so, I was allowed to work here to study more about tea brewing. 

Alice: This tea… it's Darjeeling. Is this Shizuki's brew? 

Soujurou: Drinking this is meant to relax you. You're coming into a cafe with a nice atmosphere so it's fruitless to be on edge all the time. 

**

Keitai: Ah, this young monk! What will he come up with afte—burbdjbd

Chikage: That's enough. You should shut up. 

**

Aoko: Well, if you say so, then I'll leave it at that. Alice seems to like it. How is it? 

Alice: I'm not partial to it but I don't feel anything terrible from the tea either. 

Aoko: Hehe, sounds great! In that case, I'll dig in! 

Alice: …

Aoko: Soujurou…

Soujurou: Yes, what is it? I'd like to hear any impressions you have. 

*Aoko slaps Soujurou* 

Aoko: It's like you haven't improved at all!! 

Soujurou: Guaaa!! 

Aoko: It's tepid!! It's bitter!! On top of that, it  fucking smells!! Drop that shit-eating self-satisfied smile off your face!! 

Alice: So, what does he do in this cafe? 

Hibiki: He washes the dishes! 

Soujurou: Yeah! That's the errand boy from the front gate! 

Aoko: Apologize!! Apologize to the kid! Until you can be a top-notch tea-server, you're training your ass off here 'til the very end!! I'll even rent out the cafe's kitchen!! 

Hibiki: eeehhh… we might have a bit of trouble with that… 

Alice: May I order the high class wagyu beef stew? He'll pay for it. 

Hibiki: You're just gonna heartlessly take advantage of him while he's getting beaten??

Keitai: Haa, I just knew when those people came, it was gonna be nothing but chaos, ei!

Chikage: This is mainly your fault!! 

----END----

If you'd like to view the transcript along with my TL notes, you can do so here:

[onecantsimply]

He Has Only Ever Loved But Twice

Another angst let's go lol.

If and when Jack ever speaks of the one he's loved before, it's a must that you will keep it to yourself. Jack has only ever loved but twice. He's loved his Mother, and he's loved another. Another that he met in his younger years.

It was a time where he knew he may have had his younger years pushing at him to do things he would never do now. But, through one of those instances, he found you.

You were a simple person, running a cafe and doing whatever you needed to make sure it kept running. Customers were always in and out, but through a simple instance of where Jack was having a certain craving, he met you. The wonderful person behind the counter, and the person he would keep in mind for the rest of his years.

You were a gentle soul, keeping your kindness and your purity on your sleeve. He didn't even need to remove his monocle to see what you were feeling. And frankly, he thought it was beautiful either way. Your lovely face and your lovely appearance, or your truly beautiful colors lining your silhouette.

Jack has only ever loved once by then. But yet, when he interacted with you while buying a treat for himself, he could only feel the unbearable warmth that coursed through him. He didn't even know you, and yet your energy brightened his day.

He visited another day. Same result. And he visited another day. The same result. Those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months. Those months turned into years. By now, you had his order memorized by heart. You knew he always wanted a slice of apple pie with some darjeeling tea with two teaspoons sugar and a small splash of milk.

Within these years, Jack grew more accustomed to a gentleman-like behavior. But only once did he manage to ask you out. You were rather flustered with the request. But yet, you knew this man for perhaps years.

You two had small talk, and sometimes managed to see each other outside of the cafe. How different would this be?

You agreed to his request. Words couldn't express how happy he was. He took you to many places and took his time with you. Seeing you for a much longer time than he usually does seemed to take him into a world of love. Truly, he loved you. Truly, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his years. You knew his feelings as well, and you agreed to it. You were his.

Jack thought this was finally an upside to his situation. He thought he could finally have someone with him.

But he wasn't a simple man. You were a simple person that ran a cafe. He was an assassin. A man that had many targets on his back because of how he killed and how much he managed to murder. Of course it placed a target on your back as well when he left someone alive on one of his jobs.

Of course the cards dealt to him on a certain day made him lose you. He wanted to give you a gift, so he stayed out a little later to get flowers. If he hadn't, perhaps he could have been able to save you. If he were just a little faster in his choosing, perhaps you would have lived. He knew it was simple excuses when he saw that you were lifeless in his arms with others approaching to kill him.

Jack never paid attention to anyone else when this happened, and instead kept his eyes on you. It felt like his world was gone. Taken from him in a manner it shouldn't have been. He knew there were people rushing at him to kill him. Truthfully, he wanted to die because he couldn't protect you. But he didn't want to let go. At least not yet.

He didn't let any of them take you away from him, but he knew pieces of his being were already long gone by the time he saw you.

That weight never left his being when he knew he had to let you go. He never did, even when his eyes watched you being lowered in your own grave.

 Jack only ever loved but twice. Once for the mother that used him for another man. And twice for the significant other unfortunate enough to be caught by his eyes.

[chocosea]

Heartcatch Novel Summary Chapter 1

Chapter Title: Cure Moonlight is Born

(There is a LOT of detail in this book, so this is going to be long.)

It starts on a day when Yuri goes to visit the Hanasaki Botanical Garden, of which she has visited countless times because her dad, Hideaki, was employed as a chief botanist there. Because of that Yuri loves flowers and knows flower language. The garden has 15 different greenhouses and houses 15,000 species of flowering plants from all over the world. (The show really didn't give the sense of scale of this place.) The room that you most often see in the show with Coppe-sama is known as the "Plushie Mansion" because everyone thinks he's a giant stuffie.

Yuri came to the botanical garden because Kaoruko (Tsubomi's granny and the head of the garden) wanted to give her information about how her dad had gone missing in Paris for over a month now. Kaoruko was the one who recommended Hideaki for the Heart Tree project.

Kaoruko tells Yuri that a week after her dad went missing in Paris they got the international police involved but couldn't find him, so the search was expanded to all of France and then to every country, but no dice.

Yuri is shaken. Her mom, Haruna, stopped eating and sleeping for 3 days when they had first got the news that Hideaki had disappeared, and then had to be hospitalized for 10 days and has only been back for 3.

Kaoruko gives Yuri Darjeeling tea, which she has done for her ever since 4th grade when she was waiting for her dad's work to finish after cram school. Yuri has picked up a habit of putting her pink finger slightly up from copying Kaoruko as a kid. Kaoruko mentions that her granddaughter Tsubomi who is close to her also does this. Yuri gets ready to go home because she needs to do dinner preparations as her mother started work again because she can't stand being stuck at home anymore as her mind goes to bad places when she isn't busy.

As Yuri is leaving she feels someone looking at her. Kaoruko says it must be Coppe since she's so beautiful, but after she leaves Kaoruko says out loud, "It wasn't Coppe who was staring at Yuri-chan, but Cologne, right?" and Cologne pops out from Coppe's heart mark. Cologne says that he's decided on Yuri. He refers to Kaoruko as Cure Flower, which she asks him to stop doing, but he says Cure Flower is a legendary figure to the heart tree and they never use her real name.

Cologne says Yuri looks athletic and he really likes her heart flower, which is a pure and honest white lily. Kaoruko is against Yuri becoming a Precure because she's already going through a lot with her dad. Cologne says that even despite all of that, her heart flower isn't showing signs of wilting, which means that she has a strong spirit. As he puts it, it's like she was born to be a Precure.

Kaoruko is mad and tells him to find someone else, but Cologne protests about how they need a Precure as soon as possible since the Desert Apostles are on the move again, which he says Kaoruko should already know. She doesn't say anything back, but it's true as the pendant of her necklace has been glowing since a month before. The pendant has some of Dune's magic sealed inside it and reacts whenever the Apostles are near earth. She's already gotten Coppe to set up a barrier around the botanical garden.

Kaoruko becomes calmer but tells Cologne he has to find someone else. Cologne relents and flies out of the garden to search. Apparently Coppe is a fully matured fairy who can shapeshift and teleport but Cologne is still a young fairy so he can only disappear and fly.

Yuri and her mom live in company housing for the botanical garden, and her dad's paycheck covered their expenses (which includes the cost of private school of Myoudou Academy) just barely. Her mom had gotten a job at a shop at the station to help with finances, and she's been working there for a year and a half, since Yuri entered the Academy.

Yuri would've been fine going to a public school, but her grades were so good in 6th grade (of elementary school in the JP system) that her homeroom teacher went ahead and recommended her to Myoudou Academy. Haruna agreed to this for Yuri's future.

—

So, timeline summary:

Hideaki has been missing for one month. Haruna has been back from the hospital for 3 days, and she was hospitalized for 10 days. before that she didn't eat or sleep for 3 days. For a total of 16 days, which implies that Yuri and her mom found out about him missing 2 weeks ago. Yuri is in halfway through her second year of middle school (1.5 years). Given the Japanese schooling system, she's in 8th grade.

—

Yuri is thinking that she won't tell Haruna about this new information (about the search being expanded and not finding anything) to prevent her mom from breaking down again.

Yuri has gotten into the habit of doing the cooking in her house, which both of her parents enjoyed a lot. Her dad didn't really say anything but "it's good", but her mom would tell her what she thought in detail so Yuri's cooking improved that way too. She felt happy when her parents would eat her food. (RIP)

Yuri decides to make 3 portions of food and sets aside a place for her dad. Haruna returns from work and immediately asks about what she learned, but Yuri tells her that they'll talk about it in detail so she should go change her clothes and wash her hands first. Her mom says she doesn't know which of them is the mother. Over dinner Haruna is sad to find out that the search isn't turning up anything but Yuri tries to reassure her that her dad might have actually found the Heart Tree and is just lost in research. Her mom notices the third portion of food and asks about it, to which Yuri says that she prepared it so that her dad can eat right away when he comes back. Haruna asks about what she'll do with the 3rd portion of sashimi she bought if he doesn't come back, and Yuri says that she'd boil it in soy sauce and bring it for lunch tomorrow, of course. Her mom laughs, for the first time since Hideaki has disappeared.

Yuri feels lighter seeing that and starts talking a lot, about her club stuff. She's been athletic ever since she was a kid and was chosen for relay all six years for sports day in elementary school. In middle school she was scouted for basketball and volleyball for her height, but she didn't have interest in team sports so she went with the track and field club so that she could just practice on her own. She's not people shy, she just prefers improving on on her own without talking to people. She won the city's 100 meter race this year and placed second in the prefecture, so she's been chosen to be the prefecture's representative at the national competition. Haruna says that if it's on a Sunday she'll have work off and can come cheer and make Yuri a fancy bento. Yuri says she's starting to feel pressured, but she doesn't actually mean it as her expression is soft.

Yuri's mom thinks she felt someone in their entranceway, but there's no one there. (COLOGNE IS THAT YOU.) Yuri opens the door and looks left and right and the hallway but there's no one there.

Myoudou Academy is an integrated system of middle and high school where you can go from one school to the other without entrance exams. It gathers the brightest students from the prefecture, and Yuri's always been the top of the class even through all of this. Most students who have outstanding grades go to cram school but Yuri has just been preparing on her own and asking her teachers stuff since she entered middle school. (So I guess she only went to cram school for 2 years in elementary.)

Yuri is taking a bath and feels like she senses someone in the changing area (?!). She feels like she's being watched going about her day. (Cologne WTF)

Momoka appears and they're described as best friends. Yuri confides in her about being watched and Momoka's answer is, "It's probably just some boy that likes you, isn't it?"

Momoka says that Yuri looks pretty without her glasses and should swap to contacts. (THE GLASSES HATE….!) She takes off Yuri's glasses and says that she could definitely make it work and she could model with her. Yuri takes her glasses back and is like I was a fool to have asked you about this. Yuri gets up to go back to the classroom and Momoka is like noooo Yuri i'm not making fun of you I swear! if you don't like me anymore then I won't have a single friend pleasee don't be mad at me

Momoka's alone because she's been a popular model ever since she was young and is popular with the boys which makes other girls jealous of her. She and Yuri are in the same class this year and since Yuri is also a loner due to her academic focus they gravitated towards each other. The book describes them as oil and water personalities that became close anyway. Momoka does gravure modeling (yikes). She has to miss school a lot so she gets her notes from Yuri. When the two of them go shopping for clothes together Momoka picks out outfits for Yuri and Yuri finds her skill and style amazing in that regard. Yuri feels that she can relax most when she's with Momoka. (yurimomo, anyone?) But yuri still feels eyes on her while she was talking to Momoka. (Cologne, cut it out.)

Cologne finally shows himself in her room while she was studying, after a week of stalking her. He's like sorry I've been observing you for a week, and Yuri's like, you've been observing me since that day you were peeping at me in the bath? And he gets all red and is like "How rude! Despite how I look, I'm a gentleman! I may have been in your bathroom, but I absolutely did not take a single glance at your nude body!" (okay. is this really how we want the first conversation to go)

Yuri finds this funny and says she'll believe him. Cologne sits on her desk and asks her to be a Precure, then has to explain what all the terms mean.

I'm not sure this was ever covered in the Heartcatch show but Cologne explains that the Desert Apostles are a group of wandering people who used up all the resources of their old planet, so they just find new planets to inhabit and use up all the resources there, and then they move onto the next one. They change planets to deserts because that's what's best for them to live in. Apparently the Desert Apostles have been eyeing earth for 400 years (since the Edo period) but Precure have been fighting them off.

Cologne explains the Heart Tree and mentions that every human has a heart flower, and if they all wither the tree will die. He says Yuri's heart flower is a white lily and Yuri confirms that it means "pure" and "majestic".

Yuri agrees to be a Precure because of the Heart Tree's connection to her dad. Cologne tells her that she'll likely meet the Heart Tree if she grows as a Precure. Yuri says that she'll be able to meet her dad then; Cologne says he can't promise that. (LITTLE DOES SHE KNOW…) He looks dejected when he says that so Yuri laughs. She says she likes how honest he is.

Kaoruko is wondering how Cologne's search is going because she knows it isn't easy to find people who can become Precure. Just then Cologne shows up and is like I did it! and then calls for Yuri to come in. Kaoruko is shocked and is like, "Didn't you say you were searching for a Precure this week?" and he's just like "yeah after observing her for a week I'm confident that there's no one else that can become a Precure" (dude.)

Yuri requests seriously that Kaoruko let her become a Precure because she wants to meet her dad again, and she's prepared to lay her life on the line. Kaoruko says that she'll be the one to train her then, all the while thinking about how she can't make Yuri's mom sadder.

Kaoruko is near 65, but was apparently the youngest karate champion in all of Japan before. She had to give it up due to the injuries she sustained from fighting Dune, so she started botany instead. She doesn't talk about her karate days with most people.

Kaoruko is secretly hoping that Yuri will give up after strenuous training. However, Yuri goes all in. She quits track and field to start training immediately. Her advisor asked her to at least wait for the national competition but she said no. (Girl, what about your plans with your mom…) Yuri only liked running the 100 M dash before. Didn't want to do 200M her reasoning was apparently "A man who chases two rabbits catches none". Her advisor was hoping she'd rep the country in her sport someday. (rip yuri olympic dreams)

Afterwards, Yuri goes to Kaoruko to set up her schedule. She's practicing karate 1 hour before school and 2 hours after school, and on the weekends from afternoon to evening. (wow they're taking this so seriously. the heck were Tsubomi and Erika doing)

After 1 month of training, Yuri has already mastered the basic 6 "kata" of karate. Kata or "form" refers to "detailed choreographed pattern of martial arts movements". Kaoruko then teaches her close combat and battle efficiency, as well as palm strikes as Yuri's special technique. (I do believe you get to see her use that in the show.) Yuri masters that in 2 weeks also. She can blast Kaoruko away even if Kaoruko blocks perfectly using this technique.

Kaoruko says she's not young anymore and her body can't keep up, so Yuri will be training at Myoudou's dojo starting from the day after. They specialize in aikido rather than karate. Yuri won't have to worry about paying for classes because Kaoruko told Gentarou (Itsuki's grandpa and an old friend of Kaoruko's) that Yuri has talent that might surpass her own, so she'll be admitted on scholarship.

Kaoruko is already 99% sure that she'll say yes to Yuri becoming a Precure but the 1% of her that's hesitant is because Yuri is too serious and has no flexibility in her heart. She's hoping that Myoudou's aikido, which focuses on stillness, will nurture some capacity for space in Yuri's heart.

However, she doesn't get to start training there because the next day the Desert Apostles take over the news channel and announce themselves. They're broadcasting from a cave with a throne in it, with Sabaku sitting in it. Sasorina is given an age, 24-25. She says that they know Cure Flower is alive and about which area she lives in, even if she's erased her presence. They're coming for the pendant she has. The other people who see the news think it's just an internet prank since no one knows about Precure. These current Desert apostles are different from the ones Flower fought before.

Kaoruko tells Coppe to call for Cologne and Yuri. She tells Cologne to give Yuri a heart perfume. the moment Yuri touches the perfume she transforms. The way they narrate her transformation sounds more like the other three's rather than the quick one Yuri had in the anime. Here, she sprays one thing at a time. They describe the blue in her outfit as indigo blue, and also her one long bang is supposed to be reminiscent of a crescent moon.

Kaoruko asks Yuri why she chose Moonlight as her Cure name, and Yuri shyly says it's because she likes Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Cologne has been helping Yuri prepare by telling her to think of a name beforehand and he already explained how to purify Desertrians. He's being cheeky again, whistling when Yuri completed her transformation and winking at Kaoruko now.

They feel a presence of a Desert Apostle so Kaoruko tells them to all grab onto Coppe. Coppe teleports to the area, the parking lot near the station. Sasorina is terrorizing people with the Snackeys. she spots Haruna, who works at a shop in the station and sees that one of her three yellow rapeseed flowers in her heart is wilted, which makes her a prime candidate for being turned into a Desertian.

Sasorina does so, and like always, plucks off the human trapped in the orb part of the captured flower and throws it aside. As it falls, Cologne quickly catches it and brings it to Yuri. When Yuri realizes it's her mom, she falls silent and trembles in rage. Kaoruko reminds her that fighting from anger is dangerous and that she needs to think calmly about how to save her mom.

Yuri jumps into combat and tries to palm strike Sasorina, but Sasorina teleports behind a mailbox, which she now makes a Desertrian out of with Haruna's heart flower. It tries to trample on Moonlight, but she jumps high into the air and has that classic Precure moment of wow I'm so high up. She reverses direction in air and lands a kick on the Desertrian, which goes crashing into the wall of the parking lot.

The Desertrian starts talking, sad and angry about Hideaki not having contacted them at all. Haruna's upset at how much he's made Yuri worry as well. (Honestly, deserved.) Sasorina of course thinks this talk is useless and orders it to attack again. It changes the mail into bombs and starts firing from its mouth. It also cries out that it can't stand living without Hideaki and yells for him to come back.

Yuri finds that she can only dodge but not fight back upon hearing her mom's voice, until Cologne reminds her that she needs to beat the Desertrian to save her mom. Yuri declares that she can't forgive the Desertrian for changing the letters and postcards that holds people's feelings into bombs and beats the thing for good. Cologne directs her to summon her Moon Tact and she casts Silver Forte Wave and purifies the Desterian.

As Yuri confirms that her mom's flowers are fine, Sasorina attacks her. Yuri tosses the flower orb to Cologne and catches Sasorina's hair that's trying to wrap around and sting her. Sasorina for some reason says, 一刺しでゴートゥヘブンよぉん! which literally has "Go to Heaven" in it in English dkjlf;kjd. (It's like, with one prick, you'll go to Heaven!) Sasorina was trying to sting Yuri in the throat but she chops it to bits with her hands. She then grabs the part that's still connected and swings Sasorina into the sky like she's getting ready for a hammer throw. She lets go and Sasorina crashes into a building.

Sasorina retreats like a sore loser. Cologne births a Heart Seed, which he does while turning his back to Yuri and wagging his tail. The narrative describes it like a chicken popping out an egg. The Heart Seed goes back to the Heart Pot Coppe has. Onlookers have appeared so they all grab onto Coppe and teleport back with Haruna.

Haruna wakes up in the botanical garden, fine but confused. Kaoruko says that there was a big commotion at the station and she found Haruna collapsed there, so she and Yuri brought her to the garden. Kaoruko says they should head home now that she's awake, but Haruna realizes she didn't do the shift change at her stall and wants to go back there. Yuri walks with her as Haruna says that they should eat out tonight, since it's been a while.

Yuri senses that Haruna seems to be in a good mood and asks her if something good happened. Haruna says that she doesn't want to say because Yuri will laugh at her, so Yuri promises not to laugh. Haruna says she had a dream in which she became a post box and rampaged while yelling at Hideaki.

Haruna asks why Yuri has been bringing around that plushie lately (Cologne). Yuri says that she found it at a boutique and just happened to like it so she bought it. Haruna picks up Cologne and studies his face. then she says that he doesn't look very cute, and asks if Yuri would like her to buy her a cuter plushie. Yuri is about to laugh, but notices Cologne eyeing her secretly. So she says that she's never been that interested in the cute things that would appeal to the average girl. She prefers something that's just a little bit more cheeky. As she says this, she takes Cologne back.

At the station Haruna explains things to her coworkers on a later shift. Cologne says, "Sorry for being cheeky," to Yuri, and she laughs and teases him, saying that her mom accepted him after that, and that he's lucky she doesn't like cute things. Seeing his sulky face makes her smile.

Yuri asks him if people who become Desterians remember what happened, and Cologne says it looks like that and that they probably feel better after getting all their feelings out. They reconfirm their goal to get stronger so that Yuri can get a clue about her dad from the Heart Tree.

Haruna comes back and says that they should get something delicious and takes Yuri's hand for the first time in a long while, and Yuri feels light.

At the villain hideout, Sasorina reports about the new Precure to Professor Sabaku, who has been entrusted with all of the desertification plans. (He sure climbed his way up the ladder in an entire month, huh.) Kumojacky and Cobraja are happy to hear this. Kumojacky asks how strong the new Precure was, and Sasorina says she can't say anything yet because today was only a greeting. Kumojacky says she must have just lost and ran away. Sasorina grabs him by the collar and says he shouldn't make jokes like that, and the next time she'll finish the Precure off. He gives a noncommital noise and shakes her off. The two argue over who gets to fight the Precure when Cobraja asks Sabaku to let him do it. Sabaaku just tells them not to make any moves by themselves, since he's the one who will decide. He leaves the room.

Apparently he created all 3 of them, starting from Sasorina and then Kumojacky and then Cobraja. The 3 of them are made from taking the genes from a scorpion, poisonous spider, and a cobra, (kumo in kumojacky is "spider") and combining them with a mostly wilted heart flower.

Sasorina was originally a nursery school teacher but a kid she was looking after died due to some accident and after all of the societal pressure she had a mental breakdown and was being treated at a facility. (I think in show you see her wake up here after she's been purified.)

Kumojacky was kidnapped after he had failed to become a pro martial artist due to his egocentric and violent personality. He had been expelled from his school of martial arts and fallen into despair.

Cobraja was a fashion coordinator but he would verbally abuse any model he didn't think was prettier than himself and also get into fights with designers who didn't make clothes that fit his tastes. He was likewise expelled from the fashion world.

Sabaku has hopes for them as generals but the three of them have very strong personalities, so he's a bit worried. He returns to his room to stare at the enchanting, wriggling lifeform in his cultivation tank. it's a girl curled up like a baby would be in a womb, with wings on her back. he murmurs for her born soon and refers to her as his daughter while staring at her in a trance.

Personal commentary:

My god! So much detail! I really like that they actually bothered to build on the Heartcatch world. The character motivations are really interesting also. This is truly like watching a trainwreck though given how Moonlight's solo attempt turns out. I'm gonna read Cologne dying in 1080p HD. Though tbh, he kind of deserves it after being a creeper for a whole week. Was that bath scene really necessary? I don't think so! The mental image of Yuri leaping up from the bath to yank open the door to confirm that there's no one in her bathroom is not really something I need. Cologne is lucky that he's a stupid animal and not a humanoid thing. Him dying later is paying for his cheeky sins. Why is he even a boy fairy. Why do the fairies have gender. They're not the ones birthing the other fairies, that's the Heart Tree's business. So what's the point of them doing that? Why does Cologne have an idea of what it means to be a gentleman? Maybe Kaoruko let him watch too much TV.

Things I forgot about the series: Itsuki's family owns their private middle school that they attend.

The rabbit proverb is like word for word almost in Japanese. makes me wonder if English or Japanese took it from the other. there was also another one earlier that was the same, but I don't remember what it was.

Really thinking about how deserts are treated so badly in media as signs of like death and whatever when they're their entire ecosystems. It's unfortunate, especially given that Sasorina is like Arab coded as a villain.

I appreciate the foreshadowing with Yuri's upcoming failure regarding the having lack of flexibility. Since ultimately Cologne dies because she didn't agree to have a partner. AU Cure Momoka where?

I also really appreciate that there's a real reason why the Desertrians are attacking their area specifically, and it's because they want that power Kaoruko is squirreling away. Always nice to have a real reason instead of just "uhh they kinda happened to be hanging out here."

The line where Yuri said she couldn't forgive the mailbox Desertrian was also really good because it nods to how she can't even get a phone call or letter or anything from her dad right now. It's unacceptable to put someone else in that situation by turning their attempts of communication to bombs.

The word that I used for "boutique" was "fancy shop" store in waseigo (ファンシーショップ) and refers to stores like this

[fungifanart]

Hello there! Ive read your rules about requests just to make sure I dont request anything you dont like-

Anyway, Ive read some of your twst works, and I LOVE them! Their so amazing! Anyway can I request a riddle x m!reader just having a tea party date? That would be wonderful! Its ok if you dont do this request tho!

Tea For Two

Characters: Male reader, Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Cw: Mild cartoon violence

Word count: 807

Notes: That's so sweet! Thank you for your kind words!

-----------------------------------------------------

Riddle paces back and forth in front of the gazebo as he mentally goes over the list of everything he'd done to prepare for afternoon tea with you:

Fresh darjeeling tea? Check.

Toast with your choice of jam or butter? Check.

A wide variety of cookies, scones and miniature sandwiches laid out on a tea tower? Check.

Ace and Deuce being ordered to trim the bushes on the FAR opposite end of the hedge maze? Double check.

Riddle stops pacing to look over the table underneath the gazebo one last time, ensuring that he's content with the placement of everything, which he is, although he can't help but feel a little sad at the absence of a tart of any description.

When Riddle had first made the suggestion of afternoon tea, you specifically requested he not have any tarts prepared, much to his surprise and disappointment.

But still, what is a relationship without making compromises?

And so, Riddle decided to respect your wishes and leave tarts out of the preparations.

Riddle is then pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turns around to see his lovely boyfriend approaching with a soft expression.

"Y/N! Wonderful to see that you made it!" Riddle says happily as he walks toward you before noticing a small box you're carrying in your hand, "May I ask what you have there?"

You give a small giggle before responding, "It’s a surprise! Let's sit down first." You say while motioning to the table.

Riddle nods as he and you walk to the table while talking happily to each other, so happily, in fact, that neither of you notice the sound of rustling leaves slowly getting closer.

After you both sit down, you proudly place the box in front of Riddle and begin to speak, somehow still not noticing the leaf rustling getting ever closer, "It’s been a while since we've been able to be alone like this, so I decided to make something special for you! I spent a whole week looking up and trying different recipes to make sure these were perfect just for–"

Your sentence is cut off by Ace and Deuce crashing through the hedge parallel to your table while throwing punch after punch at each other.

Riddle's curiosity at your creations is immediately replaced by fury at his underclassmen as he stands up to reprimand them before the butter knife suddenly disappears from the table and finds itself forcefully embedded in a wooden plank between the two freshmen's faces, causing all parties to freeze in shock.

Riddle watches as you wordlessly stand up with a blank expression, walk over to where the knife is and yank it out of the wood before pointing it at the freshmen and then using it to threaten them by making a cutting motion over your neck as both of their faces go pale.

Ace and Deuce run off as you sigh and sit back down at the table while Riddle does the same, albeit very stunned and mildly impressed by how you handled the troublemakers.

"Anyways, as I was saying," You begin calmly, leaving the large hole in the hedges to be dealt with later, "I put a whole week into making sure I could make these perfectly just for you!"

Riddle's eyes widen as you finally open the box, revealing six miniature tarts of various colors looking back at him. He sees a lemon tart and a blueberry tart among others, but most importantly, he sees a bright red strawberry tart at the center that feels like it's almost calling out to him.

Riddle stares dumbfoundedly as you take the miniature tarts out of the box and lay them out for him in all their glory, "So this is why you asked for no tarts…?" He says in awe.

You scratch your cheek sheepishly while responding, "Heh, yeah. It made me sad to see you so disappointed, but I wanted it to be a surprise." You say while reaching over to take Riddle’s hand in yours, "And…what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn't do something special for you?"

Riddle feels his cheeks instantly turn as red as the strawberry tart in front of him as he intertwines his fingers with yours and maintains loving eye contact with you for several minutes before the cheesiness of the situation settles in, bringing an awkward atmosphere with it.

"So…do you, uh, wanna try the tarts now?" You say as you let go of Riddle’s hand to bring yours to the back of your head awkwardly.

Riddle can't help but miss the warmth of your hand in his, but he still smiles softly at your question, "I'd like that very much." He responds while placing the strawberry tart on his plate and grabbing his knife and fork.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 16: Crossing Paths - Episode 2: "Today's Special"

Nakamura: “I apologize for not letting you know earlier. I’ll be awaiting your manuscript.”

Homare: Hm, you can leave it to me.

Nakamura: “I apologize for disturbing you.”

[Call hangs up]

Homare: (The meeting ended earlier than expected.)

Homare: (I could simply return home, but I do feel like taking my time and enjoying a cup of tea.)

Homare: (Oho? The café over yonder seems quite pleasant… I shall stop by, seeing as I’m already here.)

-

[Door jingling]

Shopkeeper: Welcome. Are you alone? Feel free to take a seat over there.

Homare: …

Homare: (Hmm, it is indeed quite pleasant and relaxing… And they offer a wide variety of teas. I shall stick with a traditional choice—)

Homare: Hm?

Homare: (“Today’s Special”? It seems to be some sort of blended tea, but it’s much cheaper than the rest of the menu…)

Shopkeeper: Are you ready to order?

Homare: What may this “Today’s Special” be?

Shopkeeper: Ahh, that’s something like a special item on our menu… It’s a flavored tea brewed by one of our part-timers.

Shopkeeper: It all started when one of our regulars agreed to become his practice subject…

Shopkeeper: He’d make something unique every once in a while, and we added it to the menu as it was rather well-received and attracted quite a few fans.

Shopkeeper: Its contents are a secret, so if you’d like something specific, I recommend you try a different—

Homare: No, I am quite intrigued. I will have one “Today’s Special”.

Shopkeeper: Coming right up.

Homare: *humming*

Homare: (Oh my, there are picture books displayed here. This illustration looks quite familiar…)

Homare: ——

Homare: (This is…)

[Walking]

Kureha: Thank you for waiting. This is “Today’s Special”.

Homare: Thank you.

Homare: … Mhmhm, I taste Darjeeling with a hint of Assam. The milk pairs quite well, too. How truly delicious.

Kureha: Naturally, since I created this blend.

Homare: Hm, there is a soft scent of… mint, jasmine, and perhaps a few more… A slightly unusual combination, but quite light on the nose.

Homare: It almost makes me want to dance…

Kureha: !! You can tell? The idea behind this blend was a fairy dance party!

Homare: Hm, how wonderful. I can almost envision the world you speak of when I close my eyes… Inspiration is coming to me!

Kureha: !! You’re the first customer to understand it to this extent…!

Kureha: The tea leaves are packed with the climate, season and all other natural elements of their place of origin, and they come together to create a world of their own…

Kureha: Just by changing one of those elements, the scenery you envision could change completely… The world has infinite possibilities… and so does tea!

Homare: Hm. I could sense the artistry of your tea with a single sip. It’s no wonder this “secret menu” of yours has garnered fans.

Kureha: Thank you very much!

Homare: Could I take some home as a souvenir?

Kureha: As the tea leaves change every day, we don’t sell any. But we could give you some of our leftovers!

Homare: Thank you. I would like to let my fellow troupe members taste a bit of this, you see.

Kureha: I apologize for overstepping, but… what kind of work do you do?

Homare: As I am a poet with a wide love of all arts, I am also an actor. Have you heard of the theater company called MANKAI Company?

Kureha: Ah, I have. My friend is a big fan–

Homare: I am part of the Winter Troupe. Perhaps that friend of yours is a fan of Homare Arisugawa?

Kureha: Uhmm, I don’t think so.

Homare: Oh dear… That means I still have a ways to go as an actor.

Kureha: That reminds me. I did once pick up something one of the actors from the Summer Troupe lost.

Homare: Ohh, that was Misumi-kun, if I’m not mistaken… So you were the one that picked it up. That was right before their performance started, too, so things were quite frantic. You have my thanks.

Homare: Did you watch the Summer Troupe’s performance?

Kureha: No… My father does take me to watch performances with him, though we have yet to watch one of MANKAI Company’s…

Kureha: I’ve only watched videos of the first generation.

Homare: In that case, seeing as the Winter Troupe will be performing next, you should definitely come watch it along with your father and friend.

Kureha: Right… I’ll try inviting them.

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

[trektraveler]

Geronimo

Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Always at each other's throats, their endelss bickering comes to a boil and Y/N has had it. She storms out of the bunker leaving Dean high and dry! Well, he isn't about to let her get the last word! What happens when he catches her?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Bickering, Mud Wrestling, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 4563

One Shot

Author’s Notes: This is a follow up to Trouble (more or less). I've had this in my WIP for quite a while. My other stories are a little stalled right now, but the muse visited me for this one.

I do think this will be a series at some point... I mean, we all need another series to work on, right?! Right??? Maybe need is a strong word...

Masterlist

     Dean was ready to climb the walls.  He hated research; nose buried in some musty book that was written centuries ago, the pictures always sucked.  And it was quiet work.  Sam refused to let him play any good music when he was working, and Charlie had those massive headphones on.  Then there was Y/N. 

     A picture of scholarly serenity, she fit right in with the damned Men of Letters.  Three stacks of books stood in tall, narrow towers in front of her organized by publication date.  Her laptop was open to her left running a scan on her personal database and a pot of Darjeeling tea that she claimed was excellent for concentration sat mostly untouched.  Even after hours of research she maintained that perfect posture as she added notes to a yellow steno pad already half filled with her neat shorthand.  Not a hair out of place, not a smudge of ink on her fingers, even her over-sized glasses were clear of fingerprints.   

     How can anyone be so perfect?  It was freaking annoying! 

     He let his gaze wander over her form.  She was wearing another one of those impossibly soft sweaters the color of cranberries that covered her from neckline to wrist.  Probably meant to be modest but somehow looked incredibly sexy on her.  She shifted in her seat and reached for a book, causing the bottom hem to hitch up just slightly over the waistband of her pants.  The movement exposed a thin leather belt and about an inch of her lower back.  Creamy skin that Dean really wanted to touch, see if it felt as silky as it looked.  See if she tasted as good as she smelled. 

     God!  Why did she always smell so damned good?

     Dean growled in the back of his throat and slammed shut the book in his lap.

     Sam glanced over at his brother, “You good, Dean?”

     “We are getting nowhere with this and I am losing my damned mind.”

     “Why don’t you have a cup of tea,” Y/N suggested, not looking up from her research, “It will help calm your nerves.”

     “I thought you said it helped with concentration,” Dean muttered.

     “It helps with both,” she replied, irritatingly rational.  She glanced over at him, “Perhaps you should have two cups.”

     “I’m not drinking that crap; it tastes like dirt”

     “Then have coffee, or Gatorade, or whiskey, or chocolate milk with a bendy straw.  Whatever it takes for you to calm down and be quiet.”

     “Oh, sorry I am disturbing you, princess?”

     “You are disturbing all of us.  Honestly, you’ve been projecting your utter boredom out to the rest of us for the past three hours.  Its deafening and unreasonably distracting.  I’m surprised Charlie can’t hear it over her podcast.  So, find a way to calm yourself or go do something else.” 

     Charlie looked up wide eyed, not at all comfortable being brought into this argument.

     Dean did not appreciate being dressed down by anyone and his mouth formed a hard line.  “You are not kicking me out of my own library!”    

     Y/N regarded him over the top of her glasses, obviously not impressed.  “Listen to yourself, you’re like a child throwing a tantrum over having to do a little homework.”

     “A little homework?  We’ve been at this for days!  In case you’ve forgotten, we are on a deadline!”

     “How could I forget?  You complain about it every chance you get!”  Y/N felt her temper begin to boil, “Of course you’d rather be out there killing monsters than in here reading about it.  But just because you don’t like doing something, does not mean you are incapable of it.”

     “Look at you, you love all this don’t you?  You even dress for it, like you’re having tea with the damned Queen!”

     “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

     “Designer jeans, cashmere sweaters.  Would it kill you to wear something practical for once?”

     “These are my work clothes, we’re working.  Situationally appropriate wardrobe,” she arched a haughty brow at him, “I suppose I could take a page out of your book, buffalo check and burger juice couture.”

     Dean chuckled humorlessly, “I’m a hunter sweetheart, that means I do the dirty work.  I don’t have the luxury of sitting on my ass and drinking tea with my pinkie up.  While you’re here trying not to break a nail, I’m out there saving people.”

     With deliberate, measured movements, Y/N placed a marker in the book she was reading and closed it.  She removed her glasses, placed her palms on the polished tabletop and stood.  When lifted her chin and raised her gaze to meet his, there was a fury that nearly had him taking a step back.  Her professional reputation may be unconventional, but the respect that came along with it was well-earned.  She wasn’t about to be pushed around by Dean Winchester or anybody else.  She knew her strengths, she knew her worth and frankly she’d had it with him trying to muscle his way around her. 

     Dean Winchester with his fierce frown and muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.  He was used to being able to intimidate in a very physical way, the hardened hunter.  Tough as fucking nails, hard as granite.  An immovable force.  Well, he could get bent!

     “My work takes me to the most exclusive libraries and private antiquity collections in the world.  Places even the most celebrated scholars are denied access to, I find it helpful to at least look like I belong there.   You are a hunter with no monster, no direction, and no clue.  You want to get back out there, you want to do your job?  Sit down, shut up, and let me do mine.  Because without me, you are just pissing in the wind.”

     She sailed past him, towards the stairs leading to the entryway.  Her suede flats were kicked off and replaced with bright aqua rain boots.

     Dean knew she had a point, but with his temper riled he was hard pressed to admit it.  “Where are you going?”

     “I’m walking the dog,” she replied grabbing the leash and climbing the grated steps with Macey trotting up beside her.  “Feel free to pick up where I left off.  It’s a Christian text written in fourteenth century Italian.  Good luck!”

     When the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the bunker, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and cursed, “Damn it.”

     Sam rolled his eyes, this thing simmering under the surface between Y/N and his brother was getting out of control. 

     “Nicely done.  Hope your translating skills are better than your manners.”

     Dean slammed his body down into one of the hard, wooden chairs and angrily tore open a book, “Shut up.”

Two hours later

     Dean checked his watch again and growled, “How long does it take to walk a dog?”

     “I’m sure she’s just blowing off some steam, you got her pretty worked up,” Sam muttered, his head bent over a manuscript.

     “I worked her up?!  She started it.”

     “Actually, you started it.”

     “Still,” Dean stood and paced, tension visible in every movement.  “She should be back by now.  The sun’s starting to go down.”

     “If you’re so worried, why don’t you call her?”

     Dean reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket.  He really didn’t want to be the first one to initiate contact, “I’m not worried, I just don’t want to have to go looking for the little pain in the ass in the dark.”

     He dialed her number and a moment later her phone sounded from under a stack of papers where she had been working.  Dean dug out the slim phone with the shatterproof cover depicting the Eiffel tower.  “Damn it.”

     Charlie smirked when she recognized the tune, Copacabana.   “Is that… Barry Manilow?  That is not her ring tone!”

     The brothers exchanged a look and Charlie laughed, “No.  Come on… Do you really think the lady who told off lean, mean Dean would get lost walking her dog?”

     “Mean?!  I am not mean!”

     Sam was already out of his chair, “I’ll go get her.”

     “No, no, damn it.  I’ll go.”  Dean pulled on his coat and headed for the door.  “I swear, we are duct taping this phone to her ass!”

     It didn’t take the hunter long to pick up Y/N’s trail.  Her wellie boot tracks went west along with massive Labrador paw prints.  Probably headed off to the stream, she did like the view down that way.  He heard her before he saw her.  Calling to Macey and laughing. 

     “Come on, you dopey dog!”

     Dean slowed his approach and hung back behind a trio of trees, observing out of pure curiosity.  Down a shallow embankment that led to the water’s edge, stood Y/N.  Her shiny rain boots were sunk in mud up to her ankles and her dog was splashing through the stream in pure delight.  Finding her prize, Macey bounded back to her mistress with a massive branch in her mouth.

     Y/N took the branch and tossed it back to be fetched.  A fine mist of muddy stream water sprayed over her charcoal trousers as the dog set off after the stick.  When the dog dove into the waters again, obviously delighted in the massive mess she was making, Y/N laughed out loud.

     Dean had to admit, it was a charming scene.  The low light of the sun setting spilled golden beams through the clearing and glittered off the surface of the water.  Not so perfect now, Y/N was rumpled.  Strands of her hair had worked free and floated around her face and her clothes were splattered with mud and water.  Still, she looked nearly ethereal in the glow of the disappearing sun.  Carefree and certainly happier than when she stormed out of the bunker. 

     He had started it.  He knew it, but his frustration had gotten the better of him.  He took it out on her, but damn it.  She was driving him crazy!  Why should he be the only one to suffer?

     He sighed, now that his temper had cooled, he was reluctant to interrupt what was obviously a much-needed break for her.  As fate would have it, he wouldn’t have to.   Macey caught wind of his scent and made a beeline straight for him, all gangly legs and slobbery kisses.

     Y/N turned in time to see Macey tackle Dean with enough force he stumbled backwards, barely keeping his balance.  She frowned, “What are you doing here?”

     Dean patted Macey’s head, calming her down.  “Looking for you.  You were gone so long I figured you must have headed for the boarder.”

     “I’ve been gone like twenty minutes.”

     “Try two hours.”

     “Oh.”  She frowned, having lost track of time.  “Why didn’t you just call?”

     He held up her phone with a raised eyebrow.  She felt her pocket and confirmed its absence.  “Oh.”

     Dean strode towards her and tossed her the phone, “I don’t know why you even bother with the damned thing; you never have it on you.  At this point I’m thinking we just tag you like grizzly bear and release you into the wild.  At least then we’d have GPS.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, shoving the phone into her back pocket.  “I was always going to come back; it still gets dark early.  And Macey needs a bath.”

     “Sweetheart, you get lost going for milk.  You and that dog would be wandering around for hours if I hadn’t shown up.”

     “I’m sure this will come as a shock, but I have been traveling this world unescorted for years without incident.  And while navigation isn’t my strongest suit, I am perfectly capable of finding my way home without you!”

     Y/N turned on her heel, determined to leave the irritating Winchester as quickly as possible.  She started to climb back up the embankment, but it was slick after the recent rain.  Her boots slipped in the mud and landed square on her backside.  Mud and water soaked through her pants and splattered everywhere.

      Dean really laughed then.  Doubled over and practically crying, while Y/N glowered up at him.

     “Are you just going to stand there laughing at me or are you going to help me up?”

     He held out a hand to her, when she took it, she pulled him down into the mud with her, taking him by surprise.  He landed with a grunt, and she smirked. 

     Dean was fast, faster than she could anticipate.  Before she even knew what happened, he turned the tables, and she was flat on her back.  He had her quite efficiently pinned, yet somehow not crushed under his weight.  His large hands clamped her wrists, holding them fast on either side of her head. 

     She tried to struggle against him, and he chuckled, his intense green eyes boring into hers, “Self-defense rule number one Sweetheart, never give up your leverage.”

     He was so close, hips pressed against her pelvis, his face mere inches from hers.  Y/N wasn’t nearly as unaffected as Dean thought.  She was just as distracted as he was, acutely aware of his presence at all times.  He radiated heat and power, coiled just under the surface.  That warm, clean scent of his filled her senses.  Like leather, whiskey, soap and something else undefinable yet unique to him.  She swallowed and her heart sped up, hammering against her ribcage. 

     Y/N surprised them both by angling her head up and kissing him.  It was passion and desire, red hot and built up over weeks of denial.  He kissed her back, letting himself follow the waves of desire.  His tongue swept inside her mouth, drawing a moan from the back of her throat.  She seemed to turn to silk under his touch, soft, smooth, and pliant. 

     As he gave into the kiss, his grip loosened just enough.  Dean was fast and so was she.  Y/N snaked a leg around his and flipped him, so she was on top.  She straddled his hips and held her forearm against his throat just enough to gain control but not constrict airflow.  The look of shock on his face had her grinning in triumph. 

     She leaned in close and whispered into his ear, “Who says I gave up my leverage?”

     When she nipped at his earlobe, Dean growled deep in his chest.  She felt him harden against her and held tight as he sat up right, keeping her anchored to him in one swift move.  Sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers gripping his shoulders.  His calloused hands splayed her back and he pressed a hot kiss to the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat erratically under her skin.  He was everywhere, flooding every sense.  Fully in control, his expert mouth exploring and branding her skin.  When his hand found her breast and his thumb stroked through her sweater, Y/N breathed his name. 

     Dean believed words to be over-rated when it came to intimacy.  Anything he could say at this point would be inadequate in expressing how he felt, far better to show her.  The life of a hunter was harsh, cold; filled with darkness, horror, and death.  The woman in his arms sat in stark contrast.  A physical representation of all that was light, and good and beautiful in the world.  All he wanted was to lose himself in her and forget about the end of the world. 

     It had been a very long time since Dean let himself give in to his needs.  It was the job, it can take over everything so quickly and so completely that before you know it, that’s all there is.  There is no time for the joys of being human.  Most days, he kept himself too busy to even notice.  But then came Y/N, the living example of what he was missing.  Seeing her every day made it harder and harder to just do the job.  She awakened his senses, and he wanted more.  That was why he bedeviled her all the time. 

     She’d compared him to a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground.  And she was right.  It was just plain fun!

     But this… having her in his arms, pressed up against him.  Tasting her, feeling her, getting lost in her; this was better.  This was heaven on Earth.   

          “Wait, wait, wait,” Y/N pulled back, desperate to catch her breath.  She put her hands on Dean’s chest and dropped her head, trying to clear it of the hazy desire that clouded everything. 

     To his credit, Dean stopped his advances, taking a moment himself.  He ran a hand over her hair and touched his forehead to hers, “Yeah, yeah.”

     She leaned into his touch.  God!  He felt so good, so right!  Before she could stop herself, she brushed her lips over his.  It was intoxicating.  All encompassing.  Addicting.  The heat between them built again, hotter with each passing second, threatening to ignite.  Her fingers raked through his hair, sending an almost electric current down Dean’s spine.  He ravaged her again, tongue and teeth grazed her heated skin. 

     Suddenly, her control came back, and she pushed herself off of him.  She stood on unsteady legs and stared at him.  Her eyes, normally calm now stormy and clouded.  Like thunderheads brewing over the sea.

     Dean looked up at her and had to chuckle.  She looked somewhere between turned on and terrified.  “I gotta tell ya, I’m getting mixed signals here sweetheart.”

     She braced one hand on her hip and ran the other over through her mud caked hair.  Panic warred with yearning.  “I know, I know.  Damn it, I’m sorry!  I just… I’m sorry.” 

     Suddenly overwhelmed, she turned away and started walking as quickly as she could.  A task made difficult with her slick rain boots. 

     Dean was on his feet and right behind her, “Hey, Y/N!  Slow down.”

     Y/N ignored him and kept her stumbling pace.  She had to get away from him, just had to think for a minute, breath for a minute.  Get away before she did something she regretted.

     “Where are you going?”

     “Back to the bunker,” she replied, stubbornly trudging through the mud, “We have work to do and I’m sure Sam and Charlie are wondering what happened to us.”

     “The bunker is in the other direction.” 

     Y/N abruptly stopped and looked around; he was right.  “Damn it.”

     When she spun around to head back, Dean stopped her.  His hands caught her shoulders and held her fast, “Hold it.  Just hold it.”

     “Let me go.”

     “Not until you tell me what’s going on.  One minute you’re all over me the next you’re running away.”  Dean’s smile faded when he saw the tears gather in her eyes. 

     “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

     He released her, worried that he’d crossed a line.  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay?  Nothing.  Just talk to me, tell me what’s going though that head of yours.”

     “We’ve got a job to do, people are in danger and relying on us.  This is not the time for…for this.”  She waved a hand at him, as if to even say the word sex was to invoke its power.

     He nearly barked out a laugh.  She shifted back into the prim and proper, by the book Y/N in an instant.  It was her armor, her last defense.

     “You’re the who left in the middle of research.  Research we can’t complete without you.  Turns out I don’t speak Italian.  From any century.”

     A small smile curved her lips, but her eyes turned sad, and Dean could hardly stand it.  He could spar with her day and night.  Actually, he kinda liked it.  Her acidic wit and high-handed attitude were fun to bounce off.  Most women caved to his charm, and those who didn’t, usually responded to his gruff side.  Y/N remained immune to both. 

     And he liked it.  He craved it.

     But him being nice to her, had the opposite effect.  And him kissing her had her in tears. 

     “This isn’t about the job; this is something else.  I’ll fix it.  Whatever I did, just tell me so I can fix it.”

     She looked at him for a long moment before replying, “Why did you kiss me Dean?”

     “Because when a gorgeous, irritating woman sits on top of you and kisses you stupid, you kiss her back.”  He tilted his head to ask, “Why did you kiss me?”

     “Because I’m an idiot,” she blinked away the moisture in her eyes and looked off towards the horizon.  “Because I want you and I am just so very tired of fighting it and fighting you.  It was a mistake.  God, I’m so sorry.”

     He kept his voice even, despite the hope blooming in his chest.  “You want me, I want you.  Sweetheart, I’m not seeing the problem.”

     “But that’s the thing… I shouldn’t want you!  You’re all… hard and rough and you watch fake wrestling.  You look down your nose at anything Men of Letters related, and you hate when I talk about Rome.  You take every opportunity to tell me what a snob I am.  Dean, we have nothing in common except the job we’re doing.”

     Dean brought his hand up to slowly cup her face.  His thumb gently ghosted over her cheekbone then down her jaw.  His gaze focused on her lips, yet he made no move to kiss her again.

     “I’m not always so rough.”

     He touch was warm, yet she shivered and let out a shuddered breath when he brushed her hair back with his other hand.

     “I hate you talking about Rome because you always go on and on about that hot dude.”

     She frowned in thought, “Bastian?  He’s a cardinal!”

     “He’s a slick Italian.  Just like all the Men of Letters douchebags, they’re just a bunch of book smart, smooth talkers.  And that wrestling isn’t fake, it’s choreographed.” 

     He moved his hand to her shoulders, slowly rubbing his thumb over the curve, “Besides, we have something very important in common that you’ve overlooked.  Chemistry.”

     His mouth came close to hers then moved to hover near the sensitive spot just below her earlobe, but he didn’t touch.  His hot breath fanned over her skin making her thoughts cloud over.  She couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped.

     “I think I’m exactly your type.”

     .  “It’s the close quarters,” her voice sounded husky, not at all like her normal, measured tones.  “It’s because we’re penned in together.  Stressed, with no way to release the tension.  But if you were out in one of those little dive bars you like and the right… opportunity presented itself.  You would forget I even existed.”

     “And if some suave, ivy league dirtbag swept you off your feet, would you forget me?  Just like that?”

     “No.  I wouldn’t.  That’s why this is so dangerous.  I don’t do casual, Dean.  I’m not built that way.”

     “There’s nothing casual about you.  And there’s nothing casual about what’s happening between us.  This is more than lust, Y/N.”

     She wanted to believe him, and that was a problem.  She was entirely biased.  She wanted Dean’s words to be true, but she need proof.

     “How do you know?”

      “Your birthday?  It’s June 17th.  You love cake but hate frosting.  You always put money in those little charity cans in gas stations, even if you have to go to the ATM to do it.  You tell people your favorite song is Let It Be but it’s really Africa.  You can roller skate backwards.  You speak your mind even when it scares you and you have a soft spot for Cas.”

     “Good angels are hard to find,” she muttered.

     “You hold your breath every time we drive over a bridge and you sent a Christmas card to that old guy in Raleigh.”

     Her head shot up and he nodded knowingly.  “Ben Montgomery, from that double werewolf case.”

     “I didn’t think you noticed that.”

     “I notice everything about you.  Always have.  From the minute you came knocking on our front door, you’re all I see.  For the first time in my life, I see more than myself.  More than a life ending bloody.  More than the job, even more than my brother.  I see you and I want… more.”

       This was Dean Winchester laid bare.  Green eyes, bright and earnest against his mud caked skin.  Who said vulnerable was weak?  He’d spoken so simple and true that she felt like a coward in comparison.  Her attraction sent her running for the hills.  If this was love, it was the scariest thing she’d faced yet. 

     “I notice you too.”  She shook her head with self-depreciating smile.  “You’re ridiculous!”

     “I think you mean adorable,” he winked. 

     Of course he did.

     “And funny.  And brave.  And… so very kind.  When I came to the bunker looking for answers, I knew they wouldn’t come easy.  I was prepared for that challenge, but I never expected you.  My whole life I’ve always known what to do.  I know the steps to take but when it comes to you… I haven’t a clue.  I am lost.  And I am terrified.”

     He took her hands and laced his fingers through hers.  His skin was warm, especially compared to hers.  A serious look creased his brow, making that little line appear between his eyebrows.  She resisted the urge to reach up and smooth that worry away. 

     “I’m terrified too.”

     “You?”

     “Comes with the territory.  It’s a risk, Y/N.  I’m not saying it’s not, but everything good in this life is a risk.  And this?  Right here, you and me?  This is good.  You’ll never convince me it’s not.  The way I see it, we’ve got two choices.  Door number one; we keep the status quo.  Go back to the bunker and take cheap shots at each other until Sammy and Charlie are ready to lock us in the dungeon.”

     “I think they already are.  Door number two?”

     “We jump.”  He grinned and swung his arms, making hers swing too.  A reluctant, but inevitable smile bloomed on her face.  “We tell the fear to fuck off and take a chance on ourselves for a change.  Even heroes deserve a little happiness now and then.”

     “Dean Winchester the optimist?”

     “I spent the afternoon mud wrestling with you, things are looking up.  So, what’d you say, Sweetheart?”

     He made valid points, and she shared many of them.  But that wasn’t what swayed her.  Nor was it the obvious appeal of his hunter’s physique or his shameless flirting. 

     It was hope.  For the first time, she saw it shinning in his eyes.  It was beautiful.  It belonged there always. 

     A jump, he’d said.  A leap of faith.  Maybe she could do it… if they jumped together.

     She wrapped her arms up around Dean’s neck, determined to meet his honesty with boldness. 

     “Geronimo.”

     Kisses between them always followed a fight.  Battles of strong words and unbending wills.  Building to a climax that could just as easily come to blows.  Overflowing with passion and misplaced emotions.  Exciting yes, but easy to dismiss as something else when fear reared its ugly head.

     In many ways, this was a true first kiss.  Powered by something more substantial than desire.  It was born of hope and tasted like joy.  If such a kiss could exist in the dark lives of hunters, then maybe happiness was achievable.  And that was a risk worth taking.

TAGLIST:

@deans-baby-momma

@muchamusedaboutnothing

@peterpangirl21

@ficbreaks

@teresa-67

@sacriceria

@verytoadpapersoul

@heartbreak-of-a-marauder

@savspersonalproperty

@deanwanddamons

@jenwinchester40

@perpetualabsuridty

@starryeyeseunbyul

@sexyvixen7

@katymacsupernatural

@agirlwithdemonblood

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@imthedoctorlove

@roonyxx

@smellingofpoetry

@deanwinchesterswitch

@thinkinghardhardlythinking

@pink-sparkly-witchy-witch

@barewithme02

@deadlynightshadeindustries

@jc-winchester

@mrswhozeewhatsis 

@kinderousmaster

@lyarr24

@aphorism-001

@onlinecemetery

@allonsy-yesiwill

@myeagletoadmaker

@panicing-outside-the-disco

@haylie-spnfam4evr

@lauraashley93

@foxyjwls007

@bluedragonflylady

@foxyjwls007

[lilnavelorange]

Intro: Hello there!

Name: Orange

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 24

Occupation: Full-time flirt (consensually, of course)

NSFW

I am a pansexual switch from Texas. I am also a cisgender Indian woman.

If I am spamming you, I am basically flirting with you tbh

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my page. I will not answer DMs to anyone below the age of 21.

If you are racist, homophobic, transphobic, islamaphobic, or are hateful towards any other marginalized group, you will be blocked. Also don’t try to fetishize me being Indian. I deal with enough outside of this and I would appreciate it if you didn’t sexualize my culture.

If you wanna DM me, you can. IF YOU ARE CREEPY I WILL BLOCK YOU. I am also NOT interested in being someone tickle slave, housewife, pet, or full-time submissive right now. If that changes, I will make an update. Respect me and treat me with kindness. If you just want to jump in and try to be my dom or sub without even getting to know me, you will get the boot.

Be gentle with me. I am already anxious enough so don’t scare me away.

Also, sad that I have to remind ppl of this but, CONSENT IS KEY. If you are not consensual and try forcing me into something without my approval, you will get blocked.

I do not feel comfortable sending pictures of me unless I already posted them. I am also not comfortable to meet in-person with anyone. I like my privacy, so be respect that.

My kinks:

Tickling, navel play, nipple play, voice, hands, overstimulation, body worship, praise, light bondage, blindfolds, light gagging, teasing, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, sensation play, temperature play, food play, checking how wet I am

What I am NOT into:

Penetration (including fingers and tongue), anal (also including fingers and tongue), choking, piss/scat/blood play, pain, edging/orgasm denial (I don’t like this one for myself, but I don’t mind doing it to others), crying, screaming, degradation, humiliation (especially public humiliation), CNC, r*peplay

Btw, I write tickle stories!

Here is the master list!

With that out of the way…I enjoy chatting with ppl so feel free to DM me.

Hobbies: Sewing, Baking, Reading

Movies I like: Wes Anderson films, The Menu, Matilda, Disney, Marvel

Shows I like: Mad Men, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Only Murders in the Building, WandaVision, The Good Place, Mister Rogers Neighborhood, UnBreakable Kimmy Schmidt

Conversation starters (in case you might be shy but wanna DM me)

What is your favorite Wes Anderson movie?

What is your favorite song?

What is the last book you read and would you recommend it?

If you had a sandwich named after you, what be in it?

What is your favorite color? (The answer will surprise you!)

What is your favorite thing to bake?

What food are you currently craving?

What type of music do you listen to?

What is your favorite flower?

You may simply ask me about The Darjeeling Limited.

I promise I am fun. Just get to know me and see.

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

Mutually Beneficial Dalliance

Chapter Three: "Are you still jealous of some blood bags?"

He carries me into the bathroom, kissing me on the lips as he does so. We head inside the glass walls of my large shower and he places me on the bench there. His fingers fiddle with the taps and he twists them to get the right temperature for the water. Once he's satisfied, he walks over to me. I look up at him and he is glorious. He starts to take pins out of my hair and the curls tumble around my shoulders. Once he's done, he offers me his hand and I take it. He leads me under the stream of water, gets the bottle of shower gel and pours the liquid into his hand. I lean my head back under the water and let the hot water cover me. 

"Now, I would really love to devour you again," he sighs lustfully. "But I am very aware you need some sugar and at least a nap."

I open my mouth to tell him I'm fine but close it at the glare he gives me.

"Do not argue with me, little girl, I can hear your heart remember?" he shakes his head as he retrieves a towel.

He sits me back on the bench and kneels in front of me. He begins to dry my skin, from my feet, up my legs, to my thighs, up my torso and throat. He gets another dry towel and wraps my hair in it. He dries his own hair and body quickly before tying the towel around his waist. His hand takes mine and he leads me back to the bedroom, peeling back the covers and helping me into it. I feel my head spin a little.

"Sit there, I'll make you some tea." he disappears out of the room and I hear the kettle begin to boil and the clinking of mugs and teaspoons. I lean over and grab the television remote, flicking it on. I know better than to get up until I'm told now. I open up Netflix and Elijah enters with two steaming mugs.

"You always have the best tea." he says as he puts my cup down on my bedside table, and then goes and puts his tea on his side.

He enjoys the domesticity of our visits too, the "girlfriend package". We get drunk together, watch TV and films in bed and he loves to tease me on my modern tastes. He feeds from me, but makes sure to feed me supplements, high iron foods and lets me feed from him too.

He heads to my chest of drawers and opens one up, the drawer with my pyjamas. His hands rifle through quietly and chooses a red silk pair of shorts and matching cropped vest. He hands them to me and I put them on as he pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and slides into bed.

"What rubbish have you decided on enduring me to this evening?" he asks, as he picks up his mug. "Drink your tea."

I pick up my drink and take three big sips.

"I was actually going to choose The Darjeeling Limited." I respond, and take another drink at his stern look.

"Ah yes, I do enjoy Wes Anderson." he tells me. "I will fix you something to eat shortly, then you will go to sleep."

We watch the first fifteen minutes of the film together, then he wanders off to the kitchen and I'm left alone. I try not to dwell on the sheer ridiculousness of the situation I've found myself in. We'd been seeing each other for almost two years, he passes through every few months, spends the week and disappears again. The money is incredible, the sex is just insane and Elijah great to be around.

My train of thought ends when Elijah walks through the door with a tray of food. He places it on my lap. He'd fixed me a plate of scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, spinach and kale. There's a small glass of vitamins and supplements and a green tea. I didn't realise how hungry I was until I took a bit of the scrambled egg. I moan, he's an incredible cook.

I finish the plate quickly, take the supplements and drink the tea. He takes the tray away from me, spends some time cleaning up, when he comes back, he stays in the doorway. He has an odd look on his face.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I am going to need to feed, I am hungrier than I care to be." he replies, seemingly annoyed.

"Ok, come." I offer out my wrist.

"No, I have some blood bags in my suitcase-" he stops mid sentence as he sees my face. "Why are you pouting?"

I shrug, feeling silly now.

"Are you still jealous of some blood bags?" he laughs, at me, shaking his head.

[mermaidchan05]

The First Petty Disagreements

Apparently I am forever cursed to turn fluffy prompts into angst and angsty prompts into silly fluff lol.

Here we have the first silly, completely pointless, perfectly healthy little arguments between my MC's and all their LI's.

Asra and Meleia

Asra always leaves his sandwiches and snacks on the shop counter

Meleia always insists the shop counter needs to stay clean to ensure a good experience for the customers.

In Asra’s opinion, no one is going to care if there is food around.

Meleia very much cares that there is food around.

Asra can and will mercilessly tease her for being so insistent that the storefront stays clean when their shared bedroom is organized chaos at best.

It’s all done out of love, though.

And Meleia will forgive Asra for his counter-sandwich crimes.

Most of the time.

Julian and Damian

Their first petty argument happened right after seeing a play together.

Someone had brought in a magician to do some of the special effects

Oddly enough, the argument went in the opposite direction of what one might expect

Julian loved the magic effects. He thought they made the whole thing more immersive.

Plus, dangerous-looking stunts done with complete safety? Genius!

Damian was unimpressed.

It was all just party magic. And it didn’t take as much effort or creativity as practical effects.

That, and he’s an alchemist, so he appreciates the work it takes to actually physically create something.

Julian argued that sometimes the puppets and prop swords and such look silly.

Damian argued that the silliness is part of the charm.

This exact argument happens over and over again, after nearly every show they see.

By now they’ve both agreed that each method has its own pros and cons, and both can be great if used well. They just enjoy bantering about it, honestly.

Nadia and Chimalus

Chimalus knows basically nothing about tea. Or wine. Or fine drinks in general.

Nadia always responds as though this is a vast oversight that must be corrected immediately.

Chimalus was not prepared for the lecture they got upon the discovery of that lack of knowledge. .

To this day, they still don’t know the difference between darjeeling and hōjicha

Nor, as they often point out, do they see why that difference matters in the first place.

But that will not stop Nadia from doing her best to educate her partner.

Chimalus just sort of lets it happen at this point. Even if they simply don’t get it.

The two of them can bond over wine sampling, though. Eventually.

Portia and Chimalus

(because yay for polycules!)

Portia, Nadia, and Chimalus all have a book club together.

And with that book club comes drama.

Portia and Chimalus will spend over an hour at a time playfully arguing about the book they just finished.

And they will argue about anything.

The best scene. The most interesting character. Which book is the best in any ongoing series. Which books were well written, and which books were absolute trash.

It’s all fair game in the art of love, war, and book club.

Nadia just lets them go at it… and grabs some snacks while she enjoys the entertainment.

[notquitejiraiya]

I just finished reading GM from start to finish, couldn't put it down! It's brilliant and I'm so invested in the world you've built. What was your inspiration for it?

Thank you so so much! 🥹 ♥️ Hearing you enjoyed it means the absolute world, thank you! And thanks also for asking about what inspired it — although, be warned: you’ve just opened a can of worms I’m not sure how to re-seal haha.

My inspirations for GM are an amalgamation of things more than I can even begin to put down on paper without writing thousands of words. But I’ll try to be concise, first, and ramble later, to spare you the time.

A very brief overview:

The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Chess (1984)

Judit Polgár — arguably the strongest female chess player to ever live

Obsession and love, and how perfectly that ties in with sport and competition

the lovely @unioncolours, for a thousand different reasons

If you’d like details, see below. You’ve been warned: it’s long and rambly, but I love my fic and I love to talk about it so… without further ado:

When it comes to the world and time setting of GM, I owe a lot to The Darjeeling Limited. That film inspired me to write Strangers, which in turn inspired me to write GM. When writing Strangers, all I had in mind was that Temari and her husband needed to have a lot of money and be public figures of some kind to fund this trip and fuel Kankuro’s annoyances with her. To fulfil that, it made sense to me for Shikamaru to be a chess player and a very good one at that. I’ve discussed this before, so I’ll link the post where I better explained it, but from then on, it just made sense to me that she was also in the same profession, albeit a different type of player. When I thought of it, I thought of her like Judit Polgár, aggressive and unafraid, groundbreaking and leaps and bounds above all other women at her time.

GM kind of came about because I wanted to reason with myself why Temari was the way she was in Strangers. In that fic, I tried to evenly distribute the focus on all three siblings, but I do feel that more attention went to her brothers than her, especially Kankuro. Strangers gave some indication as to why he didn’t like her then, but not necessarily the other way around, and much of his dislike stemmed from the man who “took her away from him.” So, I started to think about how this woman, who is so stubborn and protective of her brothers, might find herself in this situation in the first place. How did she come to feel so lonely and separate from them? How did she combat that loneliness, if she ever did?

With story itself, I had an endpoint I had to reach. Strangers begins a few years after GM is set, at which point a few details about her life as a chess player were mentioned and both her familial and romantic relationships are firmly established. I set myself two jobs in writing GM: firstly, show how Temari could become the sort of person she is in Strangers; and secondly, show how her relationships with her family, namely Rasa and Kankuro, could reach what they are there.

Suffice it to say, GM is more about her than about ShikaTema, but Shikamaru’s role in her life is intrinsically linked to who she becomes. Shikamaru being a (somewhat forced) rival turned friend to Temari came to me kind of without thought. He is canonically a lot more intelligent, but she is a stubborn fighter, and to play at the top level of any sport, you have to be obsessive.

I myself I’m not a very good chess player, but I've studied them enough to know how desperately they want to win. I know how obsessive one has to be to reach the top of any sport and I found it hard to believe that Temari could be obsessive only about chess — I felt it would dip over into other aspects of her life. If she fell into chess as an escape, it made sense that she would initially find him as one too; she lost herself in a game to avoid what was going on around her as a child, then lost herself in this game she plays with Shikamaru, this constant back-and-forth they find themselves in when chess itself lost its spark for her.

I love stories that explore obsession vs love, and humanising someone who one looks up to. I don’t like to impose themes on things, but I wanted to incorporate that if I could. I wanted Shikamaru to go from this untouchable wunderkind to just any other guy, and one she could genuinely trust and feel safe with in a way she could with very few (if any) other people.

I just saw a comment that you left on the most recent chapter (thank you so so much for your kind words; I appreciate them endlessly) in which you mentioned the musical Chess. It’s been a huge inspiration to me since I first started writing fanfiction altogether, and it definitely inspired the relationship between ShikaTema in this fic. I don’t think there’s a direct comparison to be made of any character or relationship in Chess to any character or relationship in GM (besides the fact I literally named one of the Russians ‘Molokov’), but it’s definitely got a general vibe, if you will.

There are scenes in GM that I wanted to feel like Mountain Duet (one of the most beautiful duets ever, in my opinion) and scenes that I wanted to feel like Argument, and the storyline runs with the same sort of themes as Where I Want To Be and Pity the Child. Pity the Child is a very direct inspiration as I’m sure you can tell if you know the song. The name of this series of fics even comes from that song; it is one of the greatest inspirations for it all.

(If you haven't seen or heard the musical, I recommend both the original and 2008 recordings. I just linked my personal favourite versions. Also this stellar version I found on Youtube this morning.)

Finally, when it comes to how GM is written and its focus being solely on Temari, a lot of the credit has to go to my stunning friend @unioncolours. Bex has written so many wonderful stories, my favourites of which are those that are Temari-centric. I will use this as yet another opportunity to direct everyone towards ‘no one cries for unknown soldiers’ — it is my favourite Shikatema fic ever, and I insist you read it. Reading her stories, especially that one, feels like travelling both through time and space and doing so alongside one particular character has a strength to it that I found phenomenal. I really wanted to do something like that. I never had before. Bex is an inspiration to how I write in so many ways, and so I have her to thank for so much ♥️

I’ll spare you the ins and out of inspiration for names, nationalities and place settings etc unless I’m asked about them directly. Because that would be another essay nobody asked for and this is already way too long.

Anyway, thank you for asking me and for inspiring me to ramble about what’s basically been my baby for the last 2 years. I apologise if this was not what you were after when you asked but… hopefully it still serves as some kind of answer!

Thank you for your time, your kindness, and your support. I hope you have the most spectacular day ♥️