#the reflection of their approaches in their lives UGH LOVE IT

[imblocking-you]

Puna na 'yung tags nung isang post sa this is the second one lmao. 3 AM NA JUSQ

[earthchica]

Try Again

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: you making your ex-boyfriend, Terry, jealous at a party.

warning: explicit smut (18+), jealousy, breakup to makeup, made-up characters, use of the n-word, spanking kink, choking, unprotected rough sex, dirty talking, creampie, slight daddy kink, foreplay, pet names (baby girl, baby)

note: That's right back with another Terry fic. Oh...lord, this man got me😍....anyway...I hope y'all enjoy it. There might be some errors.

-

Your relationship with Terry started lowkey chill and then became deeper than love.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly clear that you two wanted different things, ultimately resulting in a breakup.

It's been a long and agonizing three months, and instead of feeling better, the ache in your heart has only got worse.

Your yearning for him consumed you. You missed his smile, tender kisses, his cooking, and, oh, his warm hugs.

You missed everything about him and always wondered if it was the right decision to end the relationship.

Neither of you genuinely fought to save it; you just gave up too quickly.

You sat by the window, sighing, while drinking a warm cup of tea to comfort yourself.

The melancholy melody of music played softly in the background, adding to the reflective atmosphere.

Your phone vibrated, and you quickly reached for it to see who it was.

The caller was Aria; she and her boyfriend, Lance, are mutual friends between you and Terry.

She texted to express how much she missed you and extended an invitation to her house party.

You texted her that you also missed her and had to think about coming to the party.

She sent multiple texts in response, pleading and desperately urging you to come.

You agreed to attend and couldn't resist texting to ask whether Terry would be there.

Of course, she responded with a simple "Yes," confirming your question.

Then, you inquired if he was bringing someone else, and she replied, "Not sure."

You hoped he wasn't because the idea of him being with another girl was something you couldn't handle.

-

When you arrived at Aria and Lance's house, the vibrant party sounds greeted you.

The music reverberated through the air, and the energetic movements of the guests on the dance floor painted a vibe.

You looked at yourself in front of a small mirror near the entrance, fixing the sexy freakum dress that accentuated your curves and your silk-pressed hair that cascaded down your shoulders.

You paused to take a deep breath before stepping into the big living room.

As you walked by, a few men cast admiring glances in your direction.

Your eyes landed on Aria, and with a rush of excitement, you made a beeline for her, enveloping her in a warm, tight hug.

It had been far too long since you last saw her. After the breakup with Terry, you distanced yourself away from your friend.

"Oh my god {….......} you look so good." She gracefully twirls you around, evoking hearty giggles as you playfully showcase your figure.

"Thank you. You look so good, too, girl. And are you glowing? I see someone getting some good dick, huh?" You asked, observing her, which elicited a giggle from her.

"You know it, boo! That man knows how to put it on me. Ugh, I miss this...I miss you...come on, let's talk," Aria states, taking hold of your arm.

As you and Aria chatted comfortably on the couch, enjoying a great time, you noticed Terry conversing with Lance and a few other guys.

You were about to avert your gaze when a young, petite woman with a caramel-brown complexion, and long, luscious 4A curls approached Terry.

You tried your best to read her lips, she gracefully asked Terry if he wanted to dance, and his friends encouraged him to dance with her.

The surge of jealousy bubbled up within you, causing a knot in the pit of your stomach.

Despite taking a deep breath and turning back to Aria who was rambling about something.

You couldn't resist looking back at them and locked eyes with Terry. averted your gaze, but from the corner of your eye.

You noticed him striding towards you, and a sense of panic grew.

Aria was quick to sense your unease. "You good, sis?" she asked, and you nodded.

You tried to ignore his approach, but you heard his sexy, deep voice, and you almost lost.

"Hey," he greeted with his charming smile. You couldn't fathom why he had abandoned the girl on the dance floor to approach you.

You just gave him a nod.

Aria left, giving you and Terry some privacy to talk, and went to Lance.

Terry's imposing figure loomed larger than you remembered, his taut muscles accentuated by the snug fit of his shirt.

Feeling uneasy and irritated, you averted your gaze, fixating on your hands instead of meeting his eyes.

"You ain't gonna say hi to me?" Terry leaned in with a mischievous grin, his teasing tone lacing the air as he settled next to you on the couch.

"Why should I?" you replied, looking everywhere but him. His pretty grayish-blue eyes were unwavering and completely focused on you.

He was wondering what was swirling around in that pretty little head of yours.

"What?" you asked, eyes finally meeting his with confusion and curiosity.

A smirk graced his lips before he began to speak.

"You look gorgeous," he said, his words dripping with insincerity, igniting anger within you.

How dare he come over here looking fine as hell, complimenting you, and shit.

When he was just dancing with another bitch?

"Terry, don’t. Why are you over here? Where's your little girlfriend?" you asked with slight irritation and bitterness.

Terry smirked again, about to say something, but his sentence was abruptly halted by the sudden approach of a tall, strikingly handsome, dark-skinned man.

"Hey," He greeted, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours as he introduced himself. 

"I’m Jackson. Sorry...to interrupt...are you two together?" he asked, his eyes filled with hope, silently pleading for my response to be a no.

You noticed Terry's annoyance with Jackson’s presence and couldn't help but devise a mischievous plan in your mind.

You responded, "No," with a playful smile before locking eyes with Terry, who wore a disapproving frown.

Jackson nodded with a charming grin and asked if you wanted to dance.

"I'd love to, Jackson," you replied with a smile, intertwining your fingers with his and strolling gracefully toward the dance floor.

You couldn't help but feel Terry's burning gaze boring into the back of your head.

The next song starts to play—it was Beyonce. Jackson pulls you close to him. Wrap your arms around his neck as you dance against each other, hips moving in sync.

As the music played loud in the background, Jackson leaned in and whispered a flirtatious remark into your ear.

You turned in Jackson's strong embrace, feeling the warmth of his body as your ass pressed firmly against his crotch.

You slung one arm around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jackson's lips delicately grazed against your dark-brown skin.

You could tell that Terry noticed and was unable to handle that. He abruptly stood up, causing a few nearby to startle.

Terry strode purposefully toward the two of you, and the crowd instinctively parted as they saw the intense, angry expression etched on his face.

The tension was palpable as he came to a halt in front of both of you, emitting a low, menacing snarl as a warning to back off. Jackson swiftly positioned himself in front of you.

As he stood there, nearly matching Terry's height, the atmosphere grew tense, and it was unsettling to witness the fight between the two formidable men.

"Let's go," Terry says to you, reaching out to grab your arm, but Jackson intervenes and pushes him away before he can.

"Hold on, bruh," Jackson exclaimed, his voice irritated.

"She doesn't have to go anywhere with you. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Terry clenched his fists, ready to swing on bra. You quickly stepped between them to prevent the situation from escalating.

"Stop, let's go, Terry. Jackson...thank you for the dance," you said, gently guiding Terry into a secluded room.

-

Terry was pacing back and forth, struggling to calm down. You tried to capture his attention by repeatedly calling his name, but he ignored you.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you asked, annoyance evident in your tone. He immediately halted his pacing and fixed his gaze on you.

"What is my problem? No, what the fuck is your problem? Huh," Terry asked with his deep voice.

"Dancing with that muthafucka when I'm sitting right in front of you." He yelled, frustratingly pointing.

"First of all...The last time I checked, I was single and could dance with whoever the fuck. And second of all, why do you even fucking care, huh? Weren't you dancing with another bitch?" You pressed, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest.

"I barely dance with the fucking girl, you went out of your way to grind and let the nigga kiss you on and shit just to get a reaction out of me."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of defeat, realizing he had figured you out. You shouldn't be surprised with his ex-marine ass.

"You know what...fuck you. I'm out of here, " You were about to walk away, but Terry firmly grasped your arm to prevent you from leaving.

"Nah...you ain't fucking running like you always do. We're going to talk," Terry's voice echoed through the room.

"There's nothing to talk about, Terry. Now let me go," You yelled, straining to break free from his grasp, but his strength was overpowering.

"Don't you get it? I can't; not again," He stated intensely, causing you to stop comprehending his intended message abruptly.

"I tried to move on, I tried to get you out of my fucking head, baby girl....but..." He began but paused to gather his thoughts.

"But what? Terry," you said, shifting your gaze back and forth between his eyes, feeling his tight grip on your arm gradually loosen.

"I still love you, and I want you back." Terry's eyes bore into yours, a complex blend of love and frustration evident in his gaze. You pressed your lips against his lips without a word.

"I still love you too, Terry. I miss you so damn much. I'm sorry" You said, pulling away from the intense, passionate kiss.

"I miss you too, baby. Let's get out of here...so we can properly talk." He said, taking your hand gently and guiding you out of the room.

The warmth of his touch sends a comforting sensation through your body.

You exchanged byes with Aria and Lance, noticing their happy, knowing look as you both left the party.

-

As you both arrived at his place, the atmosphere was charged with sexual tension.

You two were supposed to talk, but the words faded into the background as the air crackled with the electricity of desire, and want.

You both were kissing, tongues dancing with each other while practically ripping each other's clothes off.

Terry's hold was firm as he lifted you to the edge of the bed. His body shifts between your legs.

He tilts his head to kiss you once more, his caress exuding a bit of roughness and fervor.

Terry moves to begin kissing your neck while slowly grasping your plump breasts and squeezing them.

You loved the way his thickness was touching the inner of your thigh.

Terry flipped you swiftly on your stomach to get a better view of your ass. You gasped, felt the sting of a sudden slap to your ass.

You turned your head to look at him, and his face lit up with a wide, mischievous grin.

"You thought you were off the hook, huh?" He asked, waiting for an answer.

You were on the verge of speaking, but all that came out was a groan as he landed another stinging slap to your ass.

"Daddy!" You whined, looking back at him.

"No...I gotta give you a little punishment after that little stunt," He says, sliding the tip of his dick up and down the wet slit of your pussy to tease you.

"Daddy, please. I'm sorry it will never happen again...I promise," you cried desperately.

"You bet your ass it ain't. Cause all kill a muthafucka." He says, stopping for a second before giving you a few stinging slaps on your ass.

"You're mine, baby! No one else, you got that?" His deep, husky voice reverberated as he leaned in and softly whispered into your ear.

"I'm yours, Daddy. I'm all yours. Please," You agreed, looking into his eyes.

He smiled before kissing you and roughly thrusting his dick inside of you.

You both shared a moan; he let go of your neck to grab at your hips while you held onto the sheets for dear life while he began with a few slow thrusted.

Terry chucked at your speechless whines, practically begging him to go faster.

"Come on, baby girl. Use your words for me.” his deep voice teases as his hips continue their slow thrusts.

"Faster, please. N-Need you to go faster, Need you to fuck me like you miss this pussy," You huffed out the words finally.

You suddenly felt the touch of his hand on your back to arch a little before his thrust got quicker.

"I do miss this pussy, this sweet tight pussy. Like this, baby girl?" He asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

"Yes, daddy. Just like that…oh fuck" you nodded with a moan as the slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the room.

Fuck, you missed this; you missed his delicious dick, missed feeling every inch of his dick hitting your sweet spot.

Terry slapped your ass a few times before grabbing a hand full of it to thrust in a slight angle.

You look back at him with deep pleasure expressed on your face as you grasp his wrist to thrust into him, which he always used to like a lot.

"Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Swear this sweet pussy was only made for me." He grunts, giving your ass another slap before getting on the bed in the spoon position, with you slightly facing him.

Terry kisses you, continuing to thrust hard into you while holding your neck.

You cried muffledly into the kiss, feeling him slap your cunt before rubbing circles over your clit.

His thrusts grow sloppier, losing himself to the great pleasure he’s feeling.

Terry missed you, your eyes, your smile, and the intimate moment you two had.

"I fucking love you, girl. Gonna fill up this pretty pussy...would you like that, baby" He asked, looking into your eyes intensely.

"Yes...I want it; I want to feel it all, Daddy. Fill me up," you moaned with a nod.

Terry picked up the paces again, balls hit your cunt hard, which ultimately sends you over the edge.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" You cried, orgasming so hard. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, climax rushed over your body with a jolt.

"Shhh...I got you, baby," He says, pulling out for a second to move you to ride him, thrusting back inside to catch his own release.

You managed to calm down a bit from your high and assist Terry in getting his release.

You bite your lip, matching the rhythm of his thrust. Your pussy slightly gripped him tightly like a glove, which drove him crazy.

"Fuck...baby girl...that's it....help your daddy....just like that," Terry grunts, eyes rolling in the back of his head while gripping your waist for dear life.

"Mmm...I'm the only one that makes you feel like this, right, Daddy" You asked, leveling yourself on his chest as you bounce on his dick faster.

"Fuck...yes baby....the only one...you're so good to me...fuck, I'm gonna...." He grunts, feeling him fill you up with the hot spurts of his cum.

His breath jerks and lifts you a little to pull out and watch his cum drip from your pussy.

"Didn't I tell you I was gonna fill you up, baby?" he asked weary, smugly, and you nodded in response.

After Terry cleaned you up, you were lying beside each other, staring into each other's eyes.

"Hey, I know we have a lot of shit to figure out, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it work again," he said, caressing your face.

A warm smile spreads across your face; you love this man with every fiber of your being.

His ability to transition from a lustfully filthy tone to an irresistibly tender, gentle tone was incredible.

"Me too, Terry," you said, and he smiled, pulling you into a kiss filled with hope and love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To be alone with you 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. 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: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: who predicted 2024 would be the year I converted to Cavill.

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 <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The blinds are drawn as you hug your pillow with one arm. Your body is stiff as you sleep with one leg hooked around your blankets, the bottom of one cheek exposed to the steady blow of AC. You shiver and roll onto your back, pulling the covers around you fully.

The night before is a vague shadow in your mind. You remember starting the movie but not much else. You’d been so tired after the break-in, you must’ve passed out almost immediately. You feel bad, hoping that Clark doesn’t take it to heart.

You push yourself up. Your head is thick and full with sleep. You haven't slept like this in forever. Your mouth is dry but tangy. You swallow the gritty morning and cough, turning to dangle your legs over the edge.

Your striped shorts are crooked and wrinkly and your tee shirt smells like sweat. Ugh. You're a mess. 

You stand and lumber around clumsily. You grab a change of clothes and try to stretch out the kinks as you cross the hall to the bathroom. You close the door and put your clothes on the counter, facing your reflection.

You look rough. You feel just as bad. You turn on the cold water and splash it over your face before you brush your teeth, scraping out the stale taste stuck to your tongue. You turn on the shower and undress, wincing as your thighs meet.

You must be close to your time of the month. You get a bit sensitive. It would explain your fatigue and the soreness. Great. 

You step into the glass booth and wash yourself. The warm water is soothing against your stiff muscles. God, you really hurt. You reach down to touch your folds, checking your fingers for blood.

PMS is a bitch. Not enough to bleed for a week, your body has to gaslight you into thinking you are already.

After, you pull on the fresh clothes but hardly feel more awake. Just sluggish and achy. Coffee. You don't live off it like your sister but you need it in that moment.

Thinking of, where is your sister? Not too unusual for her to he errant but it's been a few days.

As you come downstairs, you hear snoring rumbling through the first floor. You slow and tiptoe into the front room. You cautiously approach the couch and find Clark, arms crossed, sleeping on his side, cramped into the small space as he slumbers. The small throw stretched over his shoulders. 

Your stomach pits. You're certain he'd much rather be at home in his own bed. Your guilt keeps you from disturbing him.

You creep into the kitchen, making your movement muted and staggered. You flip the switch on the kettle and wait as it hums. You load the french press with grinds and teeter on your toes, dancing nervously around the tile. 

You pour the boiling water into the press and check the time on the stove. You give it time to brew and lean on the island, listlessly cupping your chin and tapping your cheek with your fingertips. As you blow out, you hear the floorboards and stand up to greet Clark as he enters. 

His hair is askew, eyes droopy, and the blanket still draped around his neck. You didn't realise before he hadn't been wearing a shirt. His pajamas hang low on his stomach, the dark hair across his chest and trailing down his stomach exposed shamelessly. You gulp and focus on his face. 

“Smells like coffee,” he grins crookedly, “morning.”

“Morning, uh, I hope I didn't wake you up,” you squeak.

“Not at all,” he waves you off, “you passed out so quick, I figured you'd be up and at em. Besides, Jonny’s an early riser.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn to press down the plunger on the press, “I'm sorry I zonked out so fast–”

There's less resistance than you expect and the coffee splashes up and overflows, splashing your hands as you recoil with a yipe. You try to shake it off but a particular spot on the back of your hand singes badly. Before you can think, Clark has your arm and angles you to the sink as he flips on the cold water.

He guides your hand under, crowding you as your arm shakes in pain. You hiss even as the water soothes. 

“Oh, I'm so clumsy,” you murmur.

“As long as you're okay,” he slowly lets you go, “you let me take care of this.”

He swipes up the dish towel and sops up the errant drops of coffee. He dries off the outside of the press and patiently pushes down the plunger. You turn off the water and use a fresh towel on your hands.

He faces you, “blistering?”

You look at your hand, “just tender.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” he chortles, “scare away all the bad men and take care of your burns.”

“Ha, yeah, I–”

“Mm, something smells like cherry blossoms,” he interrupts, sniffing the air, his blue eyes narrowing on you, “is that you?”

“Um, yeah,” you catch a wafting scent from your body, “that's my body soap. Oh no, is it setting you off?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, “I was more worried about you.”

“Ah, no, it's fine. The soap doesn't trigger me surprisingly.”

“Hm,” he leans on the counter, gripping the edge as you notice how his stomach muscles clench, “I bought Lois some cherry blossom soap once. She never used it. Guess it isn't her scent.”

“Not for everyone I guess,” you turn and open a cupboard, taking down two mugs.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees dully, “well, I should call your dad over my coffee,” he pushes himself straight and nears, stopping right beside you as you pour into the cups, “maybe after we can go get breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, you don't have to–”

“I want to. Kinda weird not having Jonny around, looking fir a distraction,” he accepts a mug as you slide it over to him.

“Makes sense,” you say, “well, who am I to deny a free meal?”

🏡

After searching your coffee cup for an ounce of strength, you give in to the persistent glaze in your eyes. Maybe eating will help. Clark's offer is generous, almost too generous, yet your stomach clenches at the thought of food.

You grab your purse and head down to find Clark. He's in the kitchen, rinsing his mug, your own forgotten on your night stand. He dries it and puts it away as you wait for him to notice you.

“Did you talk to my dad?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, couldn't get through. They must be on the road. Service gets spotty, right?” He hangs the dish towel neatly, “so you ready? I gotta stop by my place and change but then we can eat.”

“Sure, uh, well, you know, if it's too much…”

“Not at all, I'm excited. There's this place I've been meaning to try for a while but Lois hasn't felt like it,” he says, “tried calling her too. Think she's still mad at me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kent.”

“Clark,” he corrects you, “you make me feel so old.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again.

“It's fine,” he shrugs, “we should get going. I'm starving.”

“Not gonna lie, me too.”

“Must've been all the salty snacks last night,” he kids.

🏡

After you stop at the Kents', you set off for breakfast. The more you think about it the hungrier you are. You grow restless as you watch several options pass by, holding your tongue as Clark keeps driving.

You're surprised as he passes the city limits and you shift in your seat, craning to watch the sign pass. He clears his throat and turns down the radio, "almost there. Guess I shoulda mentioned it's all the way out here."

"Nah, it's fine," you shrug, "just curious."

"Really cute place, locally owned," he explains, "I prefer to give my money to an honest family business, you know?"

"Totally get it," you say coolly.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, as if he's restless or even agitated. He pulls into a gravel lot off the country road and you look up at the painted side. You passed this place with your parents a few times but never pulled over. It's a quaint brunch restaurant in a cottage-style house.

"Oh, this place," you chuckle.

"You been here?" He asks.

"No, but I've seen it."

"Right," he intones and clicks free his seat belt.

You free yourself of your own seat belt and climb out as he mirrors you. You let him take the lead and follow him to the front door. He holds it open and you enter ahead of him. You're greeted inside by an elderly lady.

"Good morning, may I show you to a table?" She offers.

You nod as Clark gives a vocal response over your head. She leads you to a table for two. You notice the place isn't very busy. There's an older man in the corner drinking coffee over a newspaper but no one else.

You sit as she introduces herself as Lena and promises menus. She shuffles away as you look at Clark who seems enamoured with the place. He admires the painting of flowers not far from your table and the lacy curtains around the front windows. It's cute but a bit outdated.

"There ya go, honies," she lays two menus on the table, her knobby hands shaking, "would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please, and..." he looks at you.

"Green tea, please."

"Coffee and green," she repeats, "lovely."

She hobbles away and you shift awkwardly in your seat. She must be the only waitress. In a place like this, you're not surprised. You just hope the food is decent, not that you can be picky.

"This place is nice," he muses, "peaceful."

"Yeah, it's interesting," you say as you pick up the menu. 

"I'm glad you got some sleep," he takes his own menu and browses it lazily, "glad I could be there to keep an eye out. Protect you."

"Ah, well, yeah, I don't think they guy would come back anyway but it did help," you give a small smile and settle on eggs benedict.

"Great," he puffs out his chest just a little. 

You peek up at him. It must be a good distraction for him. With Lois and Jonny gone, he needs something to keep him busy. You can humour him.

"Here ya go, sweets," Lena returns with a mug off coffee and a teacup on a saucer. She places both shakily and stands as straight as she can to ask if you've decided on what you want.

Clark lets you order first and you speak loudly and slowly to the woman as she cups her ear. She repeats it back to you before listening aptly to Clark. When she's done, she gives a soft clap and goes back behind the counter. She scribbles on a piece of paper and puts it in the window.

You glance over at the window, distracting yourself with the blowing grass. Somehow out here, you don't feel the same tickle in your sinuses. You sit back and cross your arms, watching the lazy blue sky.

"Oh, it's so romantic, a nice breakfast for two," Lena startles you as she appears again. She places a candlestick in the middle of the table then puts a wax taper in it. You can only stare and share look with Clark as she lights it, "you are so darling together. Is it a special occasion?"

"Uh," you bite your lip and look at Clark.

"Just breakfast," he answers as he throws his hands up, "spur of the moment, you know?"

"That's precious," she squeals, "you are such a beautiful pair."

"Thanks," Clark says and you just smile awkwardly.

She winks and leaves once more. You watch her cross the restaurant and sit with the old man and his newspaper. He lowers it as she whispers to him. You turn back and face Clark, leaning forward.

"I think she thinks we're together," you keep your voice quiet, "like a couple."

"Eh yeah, I didn't want it to be awkward," he shrugs, "no harm in it, really."

Your mouth slants as you consider his response. You guess he's right. What will it hurt? She's just a lonely old woman.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing," you answer.

"Really? I mean, I could correct her if it's a big deal--"

"It's not, really," you lean forward and cross your arms over the table, "just funny, I guess. Second time it's happened."

"It is?" He furrows his thick brows.

"Yeah, the ice cream guy..." you trail off, "whatever. Just... I'm kinda young but maybe don't look it."

"It's flattering, really," he insists, "people really think I could be with someone like you."

"Well, I mean, Lois is gorgeous," you laugh, "so..."

"Lucky man, surrounded by beautiful women," he grins.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you sit back awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. You're nothing like Lois, love handles excluded, you still couldn't compare. You're just the babysitter. “Thanks, that's… you don't have to say that.”

“Well, you are,” he rubs his neck bashfully.

“Ha, yeah, well…” you clasp your hands in your lap and look again out the window.

As you watch the horizon over the dusty road, your heart roils in the tension. There's something nipping at your mind, just on the edge of your memory but you just can't grasp it. Is he just being nice or is there something more behind his compliments?

Don't be silly, he doesn't see you like that. He couldn't.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you maybe write like obsessive gp Donna x Fem reader (they're dating btw)? Like Donna just absolutely going feral on the reader like losing all sense of control idk. No shy Donna chat, we die w feral donna going on abt how much she loves reader n all that, how reader is like a drug to her and she can't live without her bcs she's like hella hooked on reader. Waiter waiter! Smut pls! (U don't have to do it if ur not comfortable w it dw)

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

Trust me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, slightly dark Donna, jealousy...

Word count: 6,763

Summary: You love that obsessive and jealous doll maker...

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

The night covered that place with a sinister breeze. The sound of the waterfall seemed to bounce off the rock with more intensity. The cold was starting to be unbearable. Your walk was slow but determined, you were returning home.

After a fun night with friends, the way back was always relaxing, despite the shivers that crossing that forest alone caused you. Well, actually you could consider yourself almost lucky to have left the estate. It wasn’t something especially usual.

You sighed in relief as you approached the old mansion. The windows didn’t reflect light, only darkness, there seemed to be no one awake, good.

Slowly, you opened the doors, whose creaking echoed disturbingly in the old house. No light, no dolls in sight.

With extreme care not to disturb your girlfriend's rest, you closed them again, walking almost on tiptoe and adjusting your eyes to the darkness.

Everything seemed calm, it seemed like the house itself was comfortable with the silence, something that shouldn't surprise you. Step by step, you walked through the living room, with the same subtle step, not wanting to disturb that calm. It was a pity that it didn't last long.

“Shit!” you screamed when, unexpectedly, the light in the living room turned on, and in the middle of it there was someone waiting for you, Donna. “Ugh, hey, Donna, don't do that,” you protested with a hand on your chest, smiling embarrassingly

“What you don't want me to do?” she asked with a cold look, with a dark pose that startled you. “I was waiting for you.”

“I see, but... Did you have to scare me to death?” you said calmer, approaching the lady in black, trying to steal a kiss from her, something she prevented, studying your gaze.

“You've been drinking,” she stated, with her only eye fixed on yours, on the shine that was present in them. You laughed and shook your head, moving away from the lady.

“No...” you said without confidence, making a gesture with your hand to emphasize your lie. “Well, maybe.”

“Have you seen what time it is, (Y/N)?” the woman in black asked, with an accusatory look, allowing you to finally capture her lips with yours quickly.

You shrugged, glancing sideways at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Mm, two o'clock,” you whispered embarrassed, with a good girl face.

Donna sighed, crossing her arms.

“It's late, (Y/N), I was really worried about you,” the lady said, approaching slowly, placing a hand on your cheek, checking your condition more closely.

You shook your head with a tired smile, joining your hand to her caresses and sighing, controlling her breathing to calm her down, she seemed nervous.

“Oh, come on, Donna, you have nothing to worry about,” you whispered with a sweet voice, placing your lips on hers again.

She stepped back, shaking her head, frowning.

“Haven’t I? I'm your girlfriend, of course I was worried,” she said with a strange expression, as if you had denied an absolute truth for her.

“I know how to take care of myself, besides, I was with my friends,” you said with a passive tone, leaning on her desk.

The lady in black opened her eye wide, emitting something like an angry growl.

“That's what worries me,” she whispered, looking away, turning her back to you.

You rolled your eyes, resting both your hands on her shoulders, massaging them in a comforting way.

“Donna...” you murmured, continuing with that relaxing massage. “You have to calm down... I'm not a child. Besides, you already know that they are harmless. They would never dare to lay a finger on me. They know who you are.”

The doll maker turned around with a tired sigh, gently grabbing you by the waist, bringing you closer to her.

“If I lost you, I would go crazy, amore mio...” she whispered in your ear, placing her forehead against yours, closing her eye to relax from the contact of her skin with yours. “I love you so much…”

“Oh…” you sighed with a childish smile, moved by her constant declarations of love, wrapping your hands around her neck in a romantic way. “You're not going to lose me… see? I'm here.”

“You're here now, but… What about tomorrow? Will you still be with me?” she asked with a broken voice, caressing you, as if she didn't want to forget the touch of your skin, as if she wanted to remember it in case her fears came true.

You sighed tired of that pessimistic and distrustful attitude, one you had been living with for a long time.

“I'll never get tired of telling you, Donna, I'll never leave,” you whispered in her ear while she hugged you, holding you tightly against her body. “I always come back, and you know it.”

“You always leave again,” she murmured, pushing you away, with a sad look, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “You don't know how much I suffer when I see you walk out the door, when I think about where you are, if you're with someone else...”

“I've told you a thousand times, that's nonsense, I only love you,” you said seriously, cupping her face in your hands, trying, again, to fight against her jealousy, against that absurd fear of losing you.

“Words are something ephemeral, (Y/N),” she commented, letting herself be caressed with distrust. “If you loved me as much as you say, you would stay with me.”

“Okay...” you sighed, looking at her with sincere eyes, trying to convey with your gaze what your words affirmed. “Donna, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said abruptly, looking at you darkly. “You're the love of my life, and I want you by my side, you told me you'd be by my side.”

“Oh, wow, I thought I was gone,” you joked, something that, of course, she didn't like at all, moving away from you with a growl.

“Are you laughing at me?” Donna asked offended, pressing her lips together, with fury beginning to run through her body.

“Not exactly,” you said, ignoring the danger of that posture, of that look. “I laugh at your stupid paranoia, Donna.”

“It’s not stupid, just look at you, you're so… Prefect…” she protested, blinking nervously, shaking her head, as if you had said something stupid. “Wanting you to be only mine is paranoia?”

“No…” you murmured, looking at your nails with disinterest. “But believing that everyone wants to flirt with me is.”

“Everyone wants to flirt with you, that's an irrefutable truth,” she said with a proud pose, looking away in a childish way. “Everyone wants to take you away from me.”

“That sounds like paranoia…” you said with irony, arching your eyebrows. “Stop… Worrying that much.”

“(Y/N)…” the lady in black sighed, controlling her agitated breathing. “You still don't understand, do you? You are the only thing that matters to me, the only thing I think about, the only person I love… You are… You are my addiction, my light, the only reason that makes me smile. I think you don't realize how much I suffer when I see that you are not with me, when I’m not able to hear your voice.”

“Wow…” you sighed with a shy smile, your cheeks flushed by those words. You would never get used to that melodic voice, to those words that repeated over and over again, how much she loved you. “Keep talking…”

“Being without you is like the air is missing, I can't breathe, I can't feel anything if you're not by my side, if my my hand is not caressing your skin,” the brunette continued with a smile, slowly approaching, attacking your waist again.

You laughed nervously, biting your lip at those seductive words.

“If you weren't so tender...” you sighed, letting her arms hug you, leaning so your head rested on her shoulder, to fill you with her lavender essence. She pulled away abruptly, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“What? What would happen?” she asked worriedly.

You repressed the impulse to roll your eyes again, silencing her absurd worries with a romantic, slow, soft kiss, noticing how her body relaxed a bit.

“Nothing, Donna,” you said with a tired voice, yawning. “Well… It’s been a long day and I’d like to go to bed, are you coming?”

You moved to walk towards the elevator, being stopped by a strong grip on your wrist, one that kept you in place.

“Let me go, Donna…” you sighed amused, letting the brunette pull you towards her body again, surrounding you with her arms.

“I would never let you go, tesoro,” she said, with a soft voice, approaching your lips to devour them wildly, to kiss you with passion, with eagerness, to let out her fears, her feelings…

You kissed her back, trying to keep up with her fierce rhythm, trying to say with that gesture how much you loved her, how absurd her worries were. You took a breath as those kisses deepened, as they went down your neck without wanting to stop.

“Hey, take it easy, darling,” you said amused, separating yourself from a Donna, who was about to lose control again, if she hadn't already.

“I can't calm down with you by my side... You make my heart beat so fast, (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear, giving you one last kiss before turning you around abruptly, pushing you against the desk.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, trying to stand up, without success.

Her hands tilted your head towards the wood again before traveling down your body, caressing your waist, resting on it while the lady in black leaned on you.

You knew what her intentions were. You knew that when something worried her, that the fear of losing you was too much for her, she acted that way, wanting to claim you as hers in a wild way, wanting to feel you in a unique way, reminding you over and over again that you would never belong to anyone else.

“Taci,” Donna said to you with a dark voice, slipping her hands into your dress, lifting it up and leaving you exposed, at her mercy. “You are mine…”

“Couldn't I be yours tomorrow?” you asked jokingly, unable to stop her fingers from pulling down your underwear, her caresses from ceasing to be innocent. “I'm a bit tired.”

“Tomorrow is too late, tesoro…” she murmured, playing with the erection that was already pressing against your body. “I need you now.”

“Wait… Donna!” you squealed when, without warning, she entered you with a silent moan, stretching your walls unexpectedly. Of course, your body didn't object to that intrusion, welcoming it warmly as always.

“Shut up,” she said, pulling your hair gently, tilting your head up as she moved so your body would better adapt to hers. “Così bagnata, mm? Il tuo corpo mi ama…”

“Of course it loves you…” you said, starting to pant from that improvised pleasure, with your hips moving involuntarily to keep up with her thrusts. “That's because I love you, Donna.”

She moaned with pleasure hearing the words that came out of your lips, feeling your body adapting to her, confirming the truth of your statements. You may not have planned to end the night like this, but you weren't going to complain, of course.

“You… You don’t know… What it's like… To love you that much…” she murmured, rambling among moans, grabbing your hips to move them as she pleased. The sound of the old desk moving added a few more degrees of temperature to that dark room. “…Thinking about you all the time…”

“Mm…” you moaned, closing your eyes and letting yourself be carried away by her movements, by her desire to love you, to show you that unconditional and irrational love Donna felt for you. You would never blame her for that, her paranoia didn't matter. You didn't care about anything but her, even if you didn't tell her as much as she did to you.

“Don’t, don't leave me again, (Y/N),” the lady in black moaned, increasing her speed, the roughness of those intense thrusts, resting her hand on your back so you wouldn't move, so you wouldn't stop being hers. “I can't live without you…”

“Donna,” you moaned, repressing the pleasure you felt with a closed fist on the wooden table, sweating, feeling loved, full of her. “The things you say… They just drive me crazy…”

She laughed tenderly, relaxing her movements, leaning over you, grabbing your chin to turn it slowly, kissing you tenderly, almost as if time had stopped.

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered, positioning your head again against the table, resuming her increasingly erratic movements. She was close, and so were you.

“Wait, don't do...” you said when her panting turned furious, when your walls played with her shaft inside them, when her hips danced almost uncontrollably.

It was too late for warnings, her release caressed your wetness, her heat ran through your insides without warning, causing you to have an embarrassing orgasm due to the sensation.

 “… That…” you sighed, relaxing your body after a shy moan, after scratching the wood of the desk.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” the lady sighed, slowly moving away, approaching your lips as you caught your breath.

You kissed her back and stood up, turning around with your arms crossed.

“Again, Donna?” you asked with your voice cracked by pleasure. Her gaze remained fixed on you, trying to interpret its words. “Honey… You know I don't like it when you do it inside… We could… We could… Have problems.”

“You liked it,” she said, with a sinister smile, one that made you blush. You nodded defeated, with a tender look. “You can lie to me, but your body can't.”

“You know me too well,” you whispered amused, moving from the wet discomfort between your legs. “But, but be more careful next time.”

“Would a child of mine be a problem for you?” she asked shaking her head, with that accusatory look.

You rolled your eyes too many times a day.

“I'm not ready for that, Donna,” you sighed, hugging her waist, kissing her to dispel her paranoia again. “But well, it doesn't matter, darling... Hey, I need a bath, will you join me?”

She looked at you with a radiant face, devoid of fear and jealousy, that tender look that you fell in love with, that you could never stop being addicted to. With a quick kiss, she nodded, letting your hand guide her to walk with you.

Loving Donna Beneviento wasn't a difficult thing. You were a simple villager, one who wasn't special, who was like any other. To think that someone like you, a normal, ordinary girl, could attract the attention of one of the Lords was something you never even considered.

But, of course, once you started talking to her, having tea in her old mansion, wondering over and over again what was behind that black veil, you knew you couldn't, and didn't want to stop doing it.

A sick mind, a deformity on her face, a different body... None of that stopped your heart from beating faster in her presence, letting yourself be carried away by her timid flattery, by those smiles you could see when that black cloth disappeared.

Living with her was the closest thing to the Gods that you had ever experienced. It was a circle of constant love, of kisses, of hugs, of improvised lustful acts. But nobody said that the Black Paradise of the Gods was perfect.

Donna was a lonely woman, who spent most of her life surrounded by absolute darkness. She had no family, no friends; she only had Angie, who was nothing but a part of her own conscience.

Those experiences, that terrible childhood took their toll on her. Even though she was an immortal Lord, she couldn’t be oblivious to the suffering of a human being, to that fear, to that constant Sword of Damocles that hung over her head, threatening to plunge her back into the darkness.

You knew those reasons, the root of her fears, of her obsessive and possessive behavior. You understood and tolerated it, as well as her nervous breakdowns. None of that was a reason enough to stop loving her, to stop feeling the protection of her arms around your body, her healing caresses...

You loved her more than anything, you enjoyed her company, even if you had to deal with her problems, something that was becoming easier and easier for you. Time could be the best remedy for her fears, knowing that in more than a year you were still sleeping next to her should be enough reason for her demons to surrender to the truth. It didn't seem to be, but you were already used to it.

“Mmmm,” you moaned the next day while you were eating. Of course, nothing could compare to her way of cooking, to her eagerness to please you with the simplest things. “You've added spice.”

She smiled, taking a sip of her glass of wine, pleased by your liking, even embarrassed by it.

“Do you like it?” the lady whispered in a tender voice, with a look that could only convey love, that love you adored so much, so far from her obsessions.

“Yes, it's... Delicious,” you joked.

Donna laughed again, shaking her head.

“I'll do whatever it takes to please you, you should know that,” she murmured, keeping that intense look, the one that seemed to adore every part of you. “I know how much you like spicy food.”

“Do you? Well, I don't think I've ever told you,” you said with a frown, trying to remember a conversation that seemed to have never happened.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, looking away with disinterest. “Of course you haven’t, I've read it in your diary,” she said, without any problem, making the cutlery fall from your hands.

“What?” you asked incredulously, laughing nervously, open-mouthed. “Can you repeat that for me?”

“I've read it in your diary,” the lady repeated, offering you a basket. “Do you want a piece of bread?”

“Bread?” you said confused, picking up a piece and shaking your head. “Wait, wait, wait… I don’t think you said that… It’s a joke, right?”

Donna looked up. There was no smile on her face, she was serious.

“No,” she said simply, without giving it any importance.

You searched for the right words to react to that confession. You couldn’t find them. A mix of dangerous emotions began to run through your body.

“Really? Have you, have you read my diary?” you asked confused, incredulous at her words. “But, but if it is, it’s hidden… You shouldn’t even know I have a diary.”

“If you wanted to hide it, there are better places than the laundry room to do it,” the doll maker commented, with disinterest, as if she didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, I… Um, but…” you stammered, red with embarrassment and unable to react rationally and maturely to that intrusion. “But Donna, why the hell did you do that?”

The lady in black wiped herself with a napkin, sighing in annoyance and looking at you darkly.

“I thought there were no secrets between us,” she whispered with a cocky pose, proud of her action.

“There aren't,” you protested nervously, passing a hand over your forehead. “Don't you know that a diary is something intimate?”

“Didn't you hear me?” she asked, visibly annoyed by your attitude, something that made you even angrier. “There are no secrets between us, (Y/N).”

“Donna… I've been writing that diary since I was a little girl… You can't read it,” you said, unsure of how to act, nervous and embarrassed. “They’re my, my private thoughts.”

“Do you need your thoughts to be private? What are you hiding from me?” she asked, with an increasingly dangerous tone.

“Gods… Nothing,” you said, crossing your arms, opening your eyes wide. “But I like to have some privacy, you know?”

“It's not necessary with me,” Donna commented, with a serenity that made you even more nervous. “You can tell me whatever you want.”

“Oh, yes, of course, why would I tell you if you've already read it? Donna, listen to me, you can't do that. It's my diary, you understand? Mine.”

“Certo…” she murmured, taking another sip of wine, with a much more dangerous look. “I'm convinced that you would have told me when you made up with Ionescu's daughter in the back of the church.”

“Hey, you're so…” you hissed, huffing angrily. “Why do you want to know? Are you interested in my private life?”

“If your private life is full of stupid women who could come back one day to make you fall in love again, yes, I'm interested,” Donna murmured, crossing her arms, with the same posture as you.

“That happened 10 years ago,” you said nervously, shaking your head. “I was 15, Donna. Seriously, I can't believe your jealousy goes that far.”

“I can't believe you don't understand that I need to know everything about you,” she answered. “I can't understand why instead of telling me your worries, you write them in that book.”

“Because I don't want to worry you, Donna,” you said, more confidently. “I know what you're like, I know what you think, and I know how much it hurts you to think that before you there were…”

“Silenzio! Don't go on…” she said, screaming nervously, her jealousy consuming her again.

“See?” you said satisfied, causing him to growl nervously. “I wouldn't have to hide anything from you if you weren't so… Jealous.”

“I'm jealous because I like to keep what's mine, because I'm afraid of losing you,” Donna said, looking away from you. “You don't know how much I suffer when I imagine… Those things.”

“This would be solved if you trusted me, don't you think?” you asked ironically, earning a fiery look. “Gosh, Donna, you’re capable to piss on me just to mark your territory.”

“I would do it if I had to,” she commented in a low voice.

You laughed defeated, shaking your head and letting your shoulders fall, unable to continue with this absurd conversation.

“Do you want some more wine?” Donna asked in a different voice, as if she had never said those things, as if she hadn't delved into your most private intimacy.

You thought about it, but put on a fake smile, extending your glass towards her, which she filled immediately. Before you could bring that wine closer to you, you threw it abruptly at the brunette's face, soaking it unpleasantly.

“That's for reading my diary,” you said satisfied, leaving the now empty glass on the table.

Donna shook her head in confusion, mouth agape, her face covered in that red liquid, trying to clean it with her hand. You got up from the chair, taking your plate of food to enjoy it away from Donna, who did the same, tightly grabbing your wrist with an angry murmur.

“Why don't you go down to play with your dolls? I don't feel like being with you,” you said, moving away from her grip. “And wipe your face.”

Her eye was shining with fury and her breathing was uncontrolled. You weren't afraid, she would never hurt you. You were completely safe. She was probably furious, wanting to scream and break things, but she didn't, she just cursed your name in Italian and turned around, walking away to the elevator hallway.

“Oh, Donna, what happened to you? Have you forgotten how to drink?” Angie mocked, passing by the angry lady, who gave her a look that could scare the bravest.

“Vaffanculo!” the brunette shrieked, with all her rage contained, walking faster and faster.

“Hey! Don't say those ugly things to me! Bad Donna, silly Donna!” Angie shouted, causing you to grimace in disgust at that squeaky voice.

“Arghh!” Lady Beneviento growled, disappearing from your sight.

“Enjoy the wine, darling,” you muttered mockingly, sitting down on a sofa and continuing with your meal.

“Hey, you! Donna said mean things to me because of you!” the doll accused, climbing onto the sofa and pointing at you with her finger.

“Because of me? No,” you said in a passive voice. “It was her fault.”

“Her fault? Stupid lying villager…” the doll hissed, not letting you eat in peace. “Donna would never do anything bad to you. It was your fault, silly.”

“No? Ask her why she read my diary,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head. “That's not right, you know?”

“You're very mean to her, silly…” Angie whispered, dropping down beside you. “Poor Donna loves you very much.”

“Well, let her not love me that much,” you snapped furiously, looking at the hallway where the lady disappeared.

“Donna just wanted to know things about you,” Angie said, in a calmer tone.

“Well, she could ask me instead of gossiping, right?” you said, finishing your food, leaving it on the table. “Angie, I… I don't know how to tell her that she has nothing to fear, that she's not going to lose me…”

“What you say doesn't matter, silly, Donna would never listen to you,” the puppet explained, surprisingly understanding. “She's madly in love with you.”

“She’s madly obsessed,” you corrected with irony, calming your nerves.

“Isn't it the same?”

“Well, in part…” you rambled, leaning your back against the furniture. “You know I love her, right?”

“You say that,” Angie said, laughing amusedly. “You also say it in your diary.”

“What? You too? Oh, Gods…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, even more embarrassed.

“You are very hard on my Donna, she just wants you to be happy by her side,” the doll said after a moment of reflection.

“Hey, I have a hard time too. You don't know what it's like that no matter what I do, she never trusts me,” you murmured, shaking your head.

“And you, stupid villager, don't know what it's like for Donna to have someone by her side after so much time alone. She's stupid, and clumsy, but that's because someone like you had never appeared in her life.”

“Wow, Angie, that's very… Deep for you,” you said jokingly, with a soft smile.

“You're wrong about me, silly,” the puppet said, with a cocky pose. “I want the best for Donna. And if that's you... Well, I have to accept it

“She should learn to control herself,” you sighed, more relaxed, with the resentment disappearing from your thoughts. “She can't lose her mind every time I’m not with her.”

“You know my Donna has never had her mind on straight,” the doll mocked, whispering in your ear so as not to be heard. “But she's good, I promise.”

“You don't have to tell me, I know,” you said with a smile, remembering the thousands of good times with the lady in black, infinitely superior to the absurd arguments. “Besides, it's not like I dislike her wild side that much...” you murmured amused, winking at the doll, who moved away in horror.

“Disgusting,” she protested.

“Okay... I think I should go to the workshop and talk to her,” you said tiredly, getting up from the sofa.

“Don't be mad at her... She really loves you,” Angie murmured, in a strange, unusual, sad way.

“I'm not mad,” you said smiling, moving away from the doll and walking towards the elevator.

You were right. You didn't hold that much resentment. Yes, she had read your diary, but there was nothing you had to hide from her, besides that old book was full of compliments towards the lady in black, of words of love.

“Are you here to apologize?” the brunette whispered when you entered the workshop. You rolled your eyes, but continued walking, hanging on her shoulders.

“No,” you said amused, kissing her cheek affectionately. “The color red suits your skin very well, you know?”

“If you've come to make fun of me, I'd rather you leave, I'm busy,” she hissed, focused on one of her dolls, but without moving away from your grip.

“Oh, now you want me to leave, huh? I thought you liked being with me,” you said in her ear mockingly, making her stop with a sigh.

“There's nothing in the world I like more than being with you, (Y/N),” she replied, running a hand over yours, caressing it gently while manipulating a small dress.

“Mm, okay,” you said amused, kissing her quickly and settling yourself affectionately on her lap.

She looked at you, sketching a relaxed smile, kissing your lips slowly, holding you so you wouldn't move away from her body while she continued working.

“Your breathing is very funny,” you commented with a sweet voice, attracting her attention again. “When you're focused you breathe very deeply, I love it.”

“I do it without meaning to,” Donna said, with a wider smile. “Do you like my breathing? What kind of compliment is that?” she asked amused, accommodating you more on her lap.

You shrugged sighing relaxed, watching how that delicate hand gave life to another of those dolls.

“Well, the one I thought of,” you joked, hanging on her shoulders to be more comfortable. “I'm sure you've read some better ones in my diary.”

Donna stopped, sighing deeply, closing her eye, but pretending to ignore your words.

Being next to her in the workshop, in silence, was one of your favorite hobbies. Seeing her calm, working on her dolls, only stopping to kiss or caress you, bordered on perfection.

“I'm sorry about your diary,” the lady murmured, with an inaudible whisper. “I didn't know it annoyed you that much.”

“Well…” you murmured surprised by that apology. No, she never apologized. Donna always believed she was doing the best for you, for your love. “People don't like it when you pry into their secrets, you know…”

“No, I don't know,” she answered, with a slightly darker tone.

“Mm…” you sighed, studying the movements of her hand, which was beginning to tremble. “Donna, I'm not angry about that, it's just that… Hey, I don't feel comfortable with you knowing how I threw up in front of my family on Gods’ Coming day.”

“You drank too much,” she commented, with a calmer tone, with a slight smile decorating the beauty of her face.

“Yes…” you said, nodding amused.

“You don't understand, (Y/N),” she said, putting her dolls aside to look directly at you, with a sad expression, gently caressing your cheek. “Everything that has to do with you is fascinating to me.”

“Even a teenage binge?” you joked, with a good girl face that made her laugh. It made her emit that tender laugh that drove you crazy.

“Even that,” she said, kissing you on the lips quickly. “Knowing that you have lived the life you deserved comforts my heart. I’m so in love with you…”

“I know,” you said with a serious voice, with a sincere smile.

“Your life is addictive to me, you are addictive to me, do you understand?” the lady whispered in your ear, brushing your hair away from your face, a habit she had and that you loved. “You have come into my life to change it completely. You have illuminated my darkness… How can I not be interested in you? How do you expect me to not try to get to know you? To know what you think, what your fears are?”

“I only have one fear, Donna…” you whispered calmly, enjoying the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body. “You don't trust me.”

“It's complicated, you know?” she said, pulling away abruptly, frowning. “I, I would like to be able to please you, to free you from that fear but… My fear of losing you overcomes it, the thought that you are not here, with me, imagining of you in another person’s arms…”

Her words were fading with anger, with that incipient rage, with the trembling of her body, the hardening of her expression.

“Shhh, stop it, my love…” you said in a soothing voice, comforting her with your caresses, trying to erase the darkness from her face. “I don't want you to get nervous…”

“Of course I get nervous,” she protested, in a harsher tone, clenching her fists tightly despite your affectionate gestures. “No one, no one can touch you, not even look at you. You are mine, and only mine.”

“You haven't said anything I don't agree with, darling,” you commented in a soft voice, kissing the back of her clenched fist. “Only yours, you should know that.”

“I know that but… every, every time…I think that… I'm not the first one who…” Donna stammered nervously, starting to lose control again. You got off her lap, keeping her erratic gaze on yours, holding her head.

“You may not be the first, but you are the last, Donna,” you said seriously, confidently, sure of yourself, sure that what you were saying was an immovable truth. She shook her head, pulling away from your hold with a sigh.

“I love you,” she whispered, not looking at you, slowly standing up and grabbing your waist. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Donna… Me too,” you whispered back, letting her body dance with yours, her hands gently rocking it, playing with yours. “Come here,” you said amused, making a gesture with your finger, kissing her deeply, melting into her in a comforting, almost balsamic warmth.

“(Y/N)… Sei la mia vita, il mio amore, il mio sogno…” the lady whispered lovingly in your ear, making your whole body tremble.

“You know I melt when you talk to me like that,” you purred, earning a radiant smile, proud of what her words continued to provoke in you.

“Good,” she said with a murmur, cupping your face in her hands. “I want you to melt…”

The kisses became disordered, your hands began to wander over her dress. The panting interrupted the eternal rest of those porcelain dolls, filling that sinister workshop with passion.

“I love you so much…” she sighed, taking you in her arms, sitting you on one of the work tables, refusing to let her lips leave your mouth, to let her hands stop caressing your skin.

You laughed in response, adapting to the ferocity of her kisses, to the rhythm of her increasingly intense caresses. The desire that was always latent in you took control of your hands, which impatiently unbuttoned her dress, sneaking inside it, brushing the skin of her covered breasts, her body warm due to the friction with yours.

Her kisses went down your neck, her hands imitated yours, claiming your breasts, squeezing them intensely, engraving the mark of her nails on your skin, her teeth on your neck, engraving herself in you.

“Donna…” you moaned from the pleasure of that unbridled passion, from the hunger and desire she always had to possess you, to claim you, to tell you and herself, that you were hers, to show it in a passionate way.

Your legs danced until they were around her waist, pulling her towards you, not leaving an inch between her body and yours. The gasps, the moans accompanied that lustful touch, those caresses of the brunette on your legs, the soft dance of her hips desperately longing for contact with yours.

It didn't matter what you said anymore, Donna had already lost control again, scratching your skin, running her hands through every corner free of her caresses, wanting to dominate your entire body, wanting to be its owner, its only owner.

“I can't wait any longer...” she sighed, playing with her dress, releasing her more than evident arousal, brushing it with the wetness of your underwear. “Let me take you.”

You bit your lip, closing your eyes at that lustful contact, at the touch of her erection against your wet entrance, at the barrier that seemed to bother her so much, at your clothes preventing Donna from making her wishes come true.

“Wait a bit, darling…” you joked, biting her earlobe. Donna, already out of control, growled, shaking her head.

“If you don't take it off, (Y/N), I'm going to tear it,” she threatened with a dark look, increasing the rhythm of her hips, moaning desperately at the lack of authentic moisture in her body.

You opened your eyes, pleasantly surprised by that furious, anxious attitude, by that lust that only you could endure.

“Oh, you don't dare…” you mocked, lowering your hand to her trembling shaft, stimulating it to increase her suffering, her uncontrollable desire. “Let me give you a hand…”

She moaned in pleasure at your gentle touch, shaking her head. You didn't know it was that easy to control her instincts with your gentle stimulation, but you didn't want that, not at all.

“Mm, you don't follow through on your threats, huh?” you teased, intensifying your movements, playing with her so she felt unable to possess you, something that obviously bothered Donna, removing your hand from her erection and pulling hard at your underwear, inevitably tearing it. “Hey, they were new!”

“You wanted it…” she hissed, not waiting a second to fulfill her wish, to enter you abruptly with a scandalous moan. “Don't play with me, tesoro.”

“I… I like to play with you…” you moaned, moving to her rhythm, with your body receiving her with the same desire, hugging her, squeezing her with your walls. “Hey, slow down… You're big, Donna.”

“Don't tell me what to do,” she growled, lifting your legs, which desperately clung to her waist, holding your ankles, digging her nails into your skin, forcing you to moan louder. “You're mine…”

“Yes, yes, I am, I'm yours,” you repeated, blinded by the pleasure of her roughness, by that intense way of showing you her love, her desire, her irremediable addiction to you.

“You're not going to abandon me,” the doll maker murmured, moaning angrily, moving inside you tirelessly, deforming your body broken by the sensation, weak with its undisputed owner. “You're not going to abandon me!”

“Of course not, my love…” you said as best you could, with your voice breaking from the movements, from the pleasure, from the shivers that were beginning to threaten your body with tensing, with releasing due to that overwhelming pleasure.

“I trust you, I trust you, amore mio…” she stammered, controlling her effusiveness, not wanting to end that passionate act, not wanting to miss your face when you exploded with pleasure. “But I don't plan on moving away, do you hear me?”

 “No?” you said amused, playing with your hips so your insides would play with her erection, so they would caress it in every possible way, to make her lose even more control, something that you achieved, since her hand stopped on your chest while she held your legs.

“I’m going to cum inside of you so... So you can, you can be mine forever... You will carry my child in your womb... No one will dare to argue that you are mine, no one!” Donna said, rambling, losing control of her thoughts, of her intentions.

You didn't take it seriously, but you knew that deep down it was what she wanted. She wanted an indisputable proof that you were hers, that you would always be. But, luckily, things weren't that simple. Probably nothing would happen, like so many other times, right?

“I'm so close, Donna,” you moaned, stretching your body, fighting your own release, which was not long in manifesting, shaking your body, receiving thousands of electric shocks all over your skin. “Go, Gods!”

The spasms of your body, the involuntary movements of your walls caused the lady in black to stop, with her legs trembling, releasing herself inside you, at the same time as you, surrendered to the burning stimulation of your body.

“(Y/N)… I, I love you… I love you…” she whispered, letting your legs go and throwing herself at your lips, kissing you deeply, not wanting to move, wanting to stay inside of you as long as possible.

You smiled, exhausted, with your breathing slowly returning to normal.

“You know? Nobody had loved me as much as you…” you sighed, caressing her sweaty face, one that returned a tender, almost shy, smile. “I love you, Donna.”

“I know…” she murmured, calmer, slowly regaining the sanity that lust had taken from her. You laughed amused, kissing her quickly, covering her with kisses.

“Have you read it in my diary?” you asked jokingly, with your eyebrows raised.

Donna relaxed, bringing a hand to your cheek, shaking her head.

“No, tesoro… I see it in your eyes…”

[forusomimiya]

@jamminlocks ship & prompt: “Kiss me properly” w/ Kiyoomi Sakusa ˚₊˚✧🌱✧˖°😷

Kiyoomi is a rich person, with a very good social and economic status, but not the kind of rich person who is proud and boasts about it, but one who goes unnoticed as such.

He doesn't show others the power he has by coming from a wealthy family, he doesn't show everything he can buy with money, he isn't grateful to people through details to show that he can make people happy, and he doesn't behave in a nicer or more polite way than usual because of who he is or to make himself look good. He doesn't need any of that. As long as he has his loved ones close to him and is loved by them, he doesn't give a damn about anything around him.

That is why, after long family meetings, and long hours where his personality has to change with respect to the people he dinner, which he does not feel any kind of admiration or interest for them, he feels the great need to see you when that happens, thus releasing the tension and returning to being oneself.

Out of the corner of your eye you see the car approaching. You look up from the phone to see that it is the same one Sakusa described to you, a black BMW with tinted rear windows and a small statuette adorning the hood. After typing a couple of times, you put the phone away and get in, but not without greeting the chauffeaur before opening the door.

"Home?"

"Yes, thank you" the gentleman nods and sets off. "How was the trip?"

"Ugh, pretty long. I'm not used to sitting for so many hours."

"That's the thing about living so far away from Osaka. If you lived here with me, it would be different" his voice trails off as he moves closer to your neck, pulling down his mask to kiss it. "I've missed you" you smile and watch as his hand runs down your thigh slowly, searching for a place under your skirt to rest.

"In what way?" you return to his eyes, to his dark, deep black eyes.

"I'll show you later" your gaze flies to the front mirror, where the driver is taking no notice of what's going on back there.

"I missed you too" you give him a kiss on the head and turn back to the window, losing yourself in the people outside on the street and the cars speeding past you.

Suddenly, a mechanical sound makes you turn towards the source of the sound, finding a dark panel coming out from behind the driver and passenger seats, slowly ascending to the ceiling, separating your area from the one in front of you.

“What the h-“

"Don't worry"

"But, that's inappropriate Kiyoomi!"

"Well, it's done. Come here" he got rid of his mask and waited until he saw you next to him and, in a way, you were grateful that he had pushed that button and you had stayed hidden behind that panel.

Yes, his hand traveled to your thigh again, more eagerly than before. As you again provided him access to your neck, you admired the shadow of his figure reflecting inside the car with the light of each street lamp. You gawked at the movement of his fingers squeezing your skin, altering at the same time his breathing on your neck. And you lost yourself when he drew a line with his tongue that reached your ear, manifesting chills that would take a long time to leave, as many more were to come.

"Kiyoomi…" you whispered nervously to not be heard.

"He won't hear us so, you can moan my name if that's what you want" and just with that, he managed to steal one from you. "Yeah... that's how I like it…" your lip wouldn't survive tomorrow if you kept biting it out of anxiety, and your posture didn't show that the last thing you wanted, was to stay strong, when every kiss from Sakusa made you more and more fragile, especially if he got closer to your mouth.

"Kiyo-" his lips took yours, and in a desperate attempt to run his hand down to your panties and make you lose control, he stayed back, getting only, and at least, sweet moans with broken and impossible kisses. That's when the Kiyoomi Sakusa you knew, became as dark as that night. "Kiss me properly" an order that made you surrender and that, defeated and without control, made you take his lips as it was due, without missing shortly after to open your legs for him.

Of that night you would not forget the dominance he exercised over you, and neither would you forget the grunts that, in exchange for giving him his name in a melodious moan and plea as you cum in his bed the way only he wanted, he gave you as a reward for being such a good girl. The scratches, hickeys and the marks of his fingers on your ass would not be forgotten either. And with that, you would reconsider returning to Osaka more often.

[year2000electronics]

HIII I'm immediately obsessed w your Just Say Yes au like GRHRGGRH I'm gnawing on this foreverr. as a sweater twins enjoyer though it's UGHH. angst <3 . but angst </3

even when mabel and dipper eventually reconcile (because I'm getting the feeling they will, at least someday) could mabel and ford ever reconcile? I'd imagine she blames him more than she blames dipper for the whole ordeal, and with stan inadvertently kinda making it worse (not to mention bill just. being bill.)

UGH and he'd probably still be too stubborn to admit or apologize even to his niece (I say this w love I promise). god save ford from the wrath of an arts and crafts girlie. the multiverse couldn't prepare him for her.

this is a tough question, and one i have been GNAWING on. ive been working on a full plot for just say yes beyond just the initial premise (there's a lot of stuff i have to consider! i'm even trying to consider whether there even should be an eventual weirdmageddon or not) so its like, i dont know the ending to it all yet, but i know that i want like. a happy ending but REALISTICALLY happy, yknow? so its not all kittens and rainbows but i think dipper and mabel are definitely gonna make up and theres gonna be the chance to heal. the chance is so important.

but that still leaves the question of the stans, and by extension, the stans' now-splintered relationship with their "opposite" pines kids. its tempting to say mabel never want to talk to ford again, right? he came into their lives, punched their grunkle in the face, made everything awkward and stressful for the entire time he was there, and by the end of the summer, took her brother away and then was part of the reason he became a paranoid shut-in.

but i think it eats at her that they have something in common that nobody else currently alive can say they have.

a friendship with bill.

it's not JUST that bill is some master manipulator, its more about what he represents for both ford and mabel. both of them were approached by bill during a period in their life where they felt more lonely than they ever had before (especially in the wake of a rift between them and their twin) and bill purposely used that against them. how can they explain to people that they confided in bill, and they ignored the signs? how can they explain why on earth they would trust a DEMON? who could sympathize with the twins who sold the world?

i think thats what could be the key to mending the relationship between all four of them. ford being the one to reach out to mabel after everything's done, after she either helps billie bring about weirdmageddon or ALMOST bring it about depending on what i decide. i think for ford, whos been slowly realizing that he is hurting the people he loves, and has been forced to reckon with that because unlike fiddleford and stan, he's living with dipper and seeing him slowly grow into a reflection of his own negative traits. and he realizes that him and mabel separating was In Large Parts His Fault.

the fact that ford would reach out to mabel and try to extend the olive branch during the period of her life where she probably feels the most like a pariah, more alone than even before billie, to say "sometimes we do selfish things. but that doesnt make us irredeemable" is a sort of atonement for both her and himself, and also a way for him to admit that yes, he did hurt people

[obsolescent]

The Necessity of Saints - Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Um. I went in LMFAO. I literally had to cut myself off from writing anymore for this. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, multiple orgasms, protected sex, fingering, squirting, nipple play, cumming from nipple play, Simon is a gentle lover and always aiming to please, reader is touched-starved.

Word Count: 3,241

You let Simon know your availability, agreeing on a time–a date–something you haven’t been on in years. You’re filled with excitement, giddy at the prospect of dressing up and going out with someone, thinking of what all you two could do. Dinner, of course, maybe a movie? Oh! Maybe that carnival that’s in town for the week. You laugh to yourself, so many possibilities. So much anticipation bubbling, it has spilled over into your interactions with everyone around you.

“You’re chipper than usual, have anything going on?” A coworker asks. “Mama, you’re literally glowing, it’s so cute,” Your daughter says with a giggle, delighted to see you with a pep in your step this whole week. Friday night arrives, your excitement now mingling with nervousness. ‘Need something to wear, should I dress casually or should I be bold? Something slutty? Ugh, I don’t think I even have those types of clothes anymore.’ You don’t, you really don’t have much except for comfortable clothing now, some flowy dresses and skirts, and flats and sandals.

You pick out your fanciest dress. A long sleeved, empire cut, burnt orange dress with a sweetheart neckline. The length reaches mid calf, and you pair it with some comfortable, strappy flats. You fix your hair and makeup, looking sophisticated yet casual. ‘Probably the best for a first date.’ You and Simon spoke some more in regards to plans for that night, settling on a restaurant downtown to begin with. You agreed to meet there, not wanting him to know where you live just yet.

Your hands are sweaty as hell. You continue to wipe them off, pacing the living room while the time gets closer for you to leave. “O-M-G mama, relax! It’ll be fine. Just take some deep breaths and sit down,” Rhea says, having watched your anxious movements for the past ten minutes. “Ugh, I just…Don’t know what to do with myself,” You say, finding your way to sit next to her. She pats your shoulder, “Are you worried he won’t like the way you look? You look great, mama, I think he would think you’re pretty even if you showed up in a trash bag.” You guffaw, grinning at your daughter. She is a light in your life that you’re so glad to have, thankful for her reassuring words.

The clock reads 6:45 PM, fifteen minutes before your arranged time. “Reckon I better get going,” You let out a shaky breath, standing up and grabbing your purse. “Have a good time and have fun, love ya and be careful!” Rhea shouts from the couch as you’re opening the front door, “Love you, too!” You shout back, closing and locking the door. You get inside your car, backing out of the driveway and heading to the restaurant.

You arrive with five minutes to spare, giving yourself a pep talk. “If he doesn't like you, he can stick it! Go off on your own and treat yourself,” You say out loud, looking at your reflection in the visor’s mirror, making last minute adjustments to your look. You cut the engine and step out, locking the doors. Walking towards the entrance, you notice Simon standing off to the side, a bouquet in his hands, the other in his pocket. You’re internally screaming, face turning red at just seeing him with the flowers, in a black button up with matching slacks. 

He notices you approaching, giving you a smile, “Hello, love. Glad I didn’t scare you off,” He greets you, handing the bouquet over. A bushel of ranunculus, all varieties of color. “Thank you so much, these are beautiful,” You inhale their scent. “Could say the same about you, you look wonderful,” He says, his gaze following the contours of your body. You give a meek ‘thank you’ blush reaching the tips of your ears. “Shall we?” He asks, extending his arm for you to take. You nod, grabbing onto it, feeling him flex his muscles. ‘Good Lord he’s ripped.’ You both head inside, where the host seats you at a table in the corner, Simon taking the seat that faces out into the restaurant.

Light conversation begins, learning about one another. You find out that Simon is retired from the British military, which prompts you to ask why he’s here, of all places. “I like the liquor,” He says, causing you to laugh. Conversation carries on into dinner, your nerves far away from your thoughts, the wine Simon ordered helping to ease them. You’re honestly happy to have Simon’s company. He insists on paying for your meal, you opposing the whole time. ‘Let him treat you, he seems to really like doing it,’ The thought swimming through your mind. You bite your tongue, smiling and giving your thanks.

After the bill is paid, he escorts you out, once more offering his arm to you, which you gladly hang on to this time. You walk out into the crisp night air, feeling light and full of happiness. “Anything else you’re up for?” He asks, glancing down at you. You mention what you had been thinking about earlier, about the visiting carnival or a movie. He chuckles at your suggestions, “A movie sounds nice, yeah?” You nod, him leading you to his car. A sleek, black, Chevrolet Silverado is what he brings you to. Looking at it in astonishment, big and hefty. ‘Just like him.’ 

He helps you practically climb into the passenger side, settling in and buckling your seatbelt. He joins you on the other side, turning the ignition on and pausing, seeming almost nervous about what he’s going to say next. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be opposed to watching a movie at my flat?” He asks, shifting in his seat, using your wording from your first proposition. “No, no at all opposed,” You respond, replying with his past sentence. He looks over with a grin, “Alright, love,” Is said before he pulls out of the parking spot, in the direction of his apartment.

He gives his thanks, sitting down beside you. He picks up the remote and turns on his television, scrolling through the selections. You had mentioned liking the horror genre earlier, him also in agreement. He seemed to be checking out the movies in that category, noticing one you had been meaning to watch, but hadn’t gotten around to it. You express your interest in that film, before he selects it.

The movie begins, you settling against the cushions to immerse. Simon shifts a bit closer to you, before putting his arm on the back of the couch, the warmth radiating from him. You give a slight shiver, haven’t been this close to someone other than your daughter in a long time. He notices, grabbing a throw blanket near the end of the couch before draping it across your form. You turn red, not having the guts to tell him the real reason why you shivered. 

As the movie progresses, you steal glances at his profile. Blond hair effortlessly tousled, stubble adding a rugged look to him, his pronounced nose slightly crooked, likely due to it being broken before. He’s quite the looker, with a great personality to match. He looks over at you, catching you staring. Your gazes lock, looking deeply into his honeyed eyes. He smiles, before clearing his throat. “Would you like some bourbon?” You weren’t expecting that, but agree, him rising from his seat and making his way to a liquor cabinet, pouring you both a glass.

He hands you yours, taking a cautious sip. It goes down smoothly, warming your throat. You hum, thanking him, while he settles back into place. Immersing yourself once more, you don’t realize how much you’ve drank until the glass is empty. You set it down on the coffee table, the warmth now spreading throughout your body. He sets his down besides yours, having finished his own. His arm brushes your own as he sits back. You contemplate on asking him to cuddle, worrying your bottom lip. ‘It’s just cuddling,’ you think, inhaling through your nose, taking a deep breath. “Could we, uh, cuddle?” You ask, grimacing at how unsure it sounds. He raises an eyebrow, “Is that what you really want, love?” Your body buzzes at the pet name, but you squish it down, nodding your head. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Your body ignites at the sensation, nerve endings buzzing at his grip. ‘Bless your heart’ you say to yourself. It never occurred to you that you would be touch starved after all this time, but it’s made itself known. His cologne, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, his breath fanning out over your hair, small touches that feel so immense. You then notice the brush of his thumb, slightly rubbing at your waist. Heat surges downwards, like you’ve been set on fire. 

You don’t realize you’ve made a noise until you feel Simon tense up against you. “Everything alright? Do you want me to stop touching you?” He asks, beginning to pull away. “No!” You squeak out, face aflame. “It just…Feels really good? Ugh, sorry, you’re not even…I haven’t been touched in a long, long time. I didn’t know it would affect me like this,” You try to laugh it off, beginning to fidget under his gaze. He nods in understanding. “I’ve been like that as well, nothin’ to be bashful about,'' He says, shifting to face you, his firm grip steadfast.

“Y-yeah, I’m just more…Sensitive? Than I thought, I hope it isn’t bothering you,” You respond. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, large hands engulfing the side of your face. Your breath catches in your throat, frozen in place. “Not botherin’ me at all, love,” he mutters, studying your face. This close to him, you notice more details. Faint scars scattered across his face, likely due to his field of work. Feeling emboldened, you bring a hand to his face, tracing one that reaches from under one of his eyes to the top of his upper lip. He tenses again, watching your movements. 

Reaching his lips, you let your thumb graze across them, a huff of breath leaving Simon’s mouth, warming your finger. “Somethin’ you want, is there?” He whispers, pulling you closer. Liquid courage coursing through you, you ask, “Never got to properly thank you for your help at the store. Could I…?” You trail off, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does, but that open ended question isn’t the exact wording he’s looking for. “Could you what, love? You can ask for it, can’t you?” 

Needing words of consent, you take a deep breath. “May I kiss you?” He smirks. “There you are.” He allows you to close the distance. At first, you give a peck to his cheek, before pressing your lips against his. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, clutching at his shirt. Simon threads his fingers through your hair, sighing against you. 

Oh God. You want him so badly, a profound yearning within your gut blooms throughout your body. Feeling desperate, your hands comb through his locks, a firm grip on them. He grunts, before tugging on yours, causing a rather loud moan to slip from your mouth. “P-Please, Simon. I want you,” You plead, breaking away to kiss along his jaw. He hums, “Good girl, using your words,” He pets your hair, his hand trailing from your hair down your back, fingertips light across your spine, sending a shiver through you.

His hand finds its destination, firmly grabbing your ass. You gasp out, arching against him. “Touch starved, are we?” He asks, chuckling. You whimper, grasping at his forearms, close to getting on your hands and knees to beg him to keep going, please please don’t stop. “Been needin’ someone to take care of you, yeah? Allow me, sweet girl.” You feel like igniting at his words, his sweet talk adding fuel to the ever growing heat inside your body.

His hands reach towards your upper back, locating the zipper on your dress. He hesitates, waiting for your approval which is given with a quick ‘yes yes yes’. Agonizingly slow, he pulls it down, before taking both hands and pulling at the sleeves to move the upper half away from your heated flesh.

Oh. You forgot you hadn’t worn a bra tonight, the dress having built in cups, you didn’t see the reason to, until now. Feeling bare under his burning gaze, you hunch over. “None of that now, love. S’just me,” He says, moving your arms away from your chest. Sitting upright again, you jut your chest out some, closing your eyes against his wandering stare, taking you in. “Gorgeous,” He whispers, fingers running along the slope of your left breast. 

Gasping, you stick your chest out more. You’re hoping he doesn’t need verbal approval, not trusting yourself to form cohesive thoughts at the moment. He continues, your reactions enough. His light touches are bordering on driving you feral, needing more. You squeeze his forearms, hoping he receives the message. He seems to understand, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand pinching the other. 

You cry out, sensation like lightning electrifying you. Your eyes roll back into your head, chanting, “Please please don’t stop, feel s’good, God, please keep going!” He obliges, sucking harder on your hardened nub while tugging on the other. You begin trembling. “W-wait, Simon, I think I’m–” A loud moan rushes out of you along with wetness, soaking your panties from suddenly squirting. A tug of your nipple between his teeth sent you careening over the edge into glory. Your orgasm spreads throughout your body, holding onto him for dear life.

Simon groans, pulling away. “Fucking hell. Cumming from me barely touching you.” He’s looking at you in wonder. He lays you back against the leather, pulling your dress off all the way. Left in just your soiled underwear, he soon pulls those down as well, moaning as he sees the mess you made. “Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, pocketing the ruined panties. He quickly unbuttons his shirt, exposing his chest in all its grandeur. You bite your lip at the literal marble statue hovering over you, running your hands down his pecs and abs. 

You reach his slacks, tugging at his belt. He unbuckles said item, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Now able to see his rather hefty cock straining against his underwear. You let out another whimper, legs automatically spreading open. “Goin’ to give you all you need, sweet girl. Being so good for me,” He says, running his hands up and down your legs, giving a reassuring squeeze to them. He kisses down your chest and stomach, touches soft and sweet. Reaching the apex of your thighs, his hands slot behind your knees, pushing your thighs against you, laid bare before him.

The passion in his eyes is so intense you have to look away, biting your lip. He tuts at you, “Want you to see this next part,” He says, directing your gaze back to him. He smiles, before suddenly a hot stripe of his tongue runs up, through your folds and to your clit. You toss your head back and yell, his chuckle vibrating against your pussy. Your legs are shaking even harder than before. Your words incoherent, you grasp at his hand, pulling him closer to your heat. ‘Good Lord, he’s a goddamn professional.’ Good to know your thoughts are still intact.

Your thoughts come to a standstill, Simon sliding a finger into your warmth. He swirls it around inside before adding another, crooking upwards while sucking on your clit. “Ah!” You’re thrown over that precipice again, legs clamping around his head. He pulls away, watching you shudder and convulse, wetness releasing from you once more. He grins, proud of his work. “Think you have one more in you, sweet girl,” He says, matter of factly, like he didn’t just remove your soul from your body twice in under ten minutes. 

He pushes your thighs further up this time, knees almost bracketing each side of your head. ‘Good God, this man is going to ruin me.’ You’re thankful your thoughts have returned for the moment, knowing your brain will be scattered again soon. He reaches down, pulling a condom from his wallet, slipping it on. “Ready for me?” He asks, lining himself up with your quivering hole, clenching around nothing for the moment. You nod. “Yes, yes, yes please,” you beg, shame be damned, needing Simon inside you now.

He slides in effortlessly, going achingly slow. The stretch is a lot, not surprising, though. It definitely matches in accordance with the rest of his body. He fully seats himself inside you, letting you adjust. “Please, move. Fuck me, Simon, need it so bad,” You’re able to form a coherent sentence, it rushing out of you near the end when Simon pulls out and glides back in. “Fuck, so tight, love. Feel so good, baby,” He moans out, picking up speed. Skin slapping against skin fills the quiet space, movie long over with. 

He’s hitting every single inch of you, rubbing just right. He leans over you, letting your legs drop. You take the opportunity to wrap them around his waist, pulling him flush against you. Simon brings you in for a searing kiss, rocking his hips into you, barely leaving you now. Your moans and panting are music to his ears, his own noises making you sing to the heavens. Reaching in between your bodies, he works your clit in unison with the grinding of his hips. “One more love, you can do it, there you go sweet girl, so good f’me,” He feels the rhythmic clenching around his cock and your squealing, reaching euphoria for the last time that night. He picks up the pace again, his thrusts soon stuttering as he reaches his own end, gasping and whimpering into your neck. 

He keeps himself propped up on his elbows while you both calm from the frenzied activity. As your breath evens out, he pecks your cheek, grinning. “Most proper thanks I’ve received,” He says, laughing at your widening eyes. “You–!” You swat at his chest, beginning to laugh yourself. He slides out, disposing of the condom before picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He sets you down on his silken black sheets, before laying next to you. You toss your leg over his before snuggling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, feeling warm. You mumble a ‘Good night’ before drifting off, Simon not far behind you. Allowing himself to fall asleep cradling you in his arms. Feeling content and happy for the first time in a long while.

Tags: @dwkfan, spicy part two ♡

[threelionsgirl]

may i request a Jadon Sancho story please! where he’s hanging out with his friends 1 night but you text that you miss him and so he ditches them and they clown him for it 😭 he comes to pick you up and there’s a sweet reunion kiss/cuddle in the car :’)

i miss u | jadon sancho

warnings: none, just fluffy!!

word count: 601

notes: hope u like!! sorry for the bad title, I was out of ideas 🫠

masterlist | for now, requests are open!

It was a busy night when Jadon Sancho went out with his friends, laughing loudly amidst the excitement of the city. After returning to Dortmund, all he wanted to do was get reacquainted with the city he had lived in for a while and get to know his new clubmates better.

Meanwhile, you were at home, missing him, and decided to send him a message full of nostalgia:

y/n: "I miss you love 😔❤️".

It had been three days since you last saw each other, but for you it seemed like an eternity. You understood that he needed time off to go out with his friends, and that was fine with you, but that didn't stop you from missing and being affectionate with your boyfriend.

When he received the message, Jadon turned away from his friends, concentrating on his cell phone to answer you. He always replied on time when he wasn't busy with games and training.

jadon: I can't wait to see you again, do you want me to pick you up?

y/n: ah no need jad, you're with your friends I don't want to get in the way

jadon: you're not in the way y/n, I love my friends but your company always makes any place better for me

Y/N could swear she felt her heart melt. She was so lucky to have him as her boyfriend.

Jadon's distraction caught the attention of his friends who began to ridicule him. "Hey, Jadon, looks like Y/N's getting some attention, huh?" teased one of his friends with a mischievous grin.

Ignoring the jokes, Jadon replied: "You know how it is, when the right person calls, we answer." He turned away from the group and headed towards where you were.

Jadon parked in front of your house and flashed his headlights as it was always empty. You went downstairs and ran quickly to his car. As you approached, he opened the driver's door with the clear intention that this was where Y/N should enter. She got the message, got into the car and snuggled into his lap. Jadon closed the door and turned on the radio and the car's heating, making the atmosphere perfect. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting affection, wrapped his arms around your waist and you wasted no time in grabbing the back of his neck and giving him a kiss. As you looked at him, you noticed the sympathetic look in his eyes and, before you could say anything, Jadon smiled and said: "I've been missing you too."

"You're so cute!"

"You're the cute one." He said, giving you an Eskimo kiss and you laughed. Jadon stroked your hair and you hugged him tighter. All the time in the world wouldn't be enough to make her miss you.

"Do you want me to hold you closer?" He laughed when you squeezed him a little tighter. Jadon ran his hands up your back, caressing you lovingly.

"No that's not it, ugh-I just want to curl up inside you. Is that weird?"

"A little, but I don't mind at all."

"The fact that you love me even though I'm weird makes me love you even more."

"You're my weirdo and I love you anyway." She smiled and moved closer to kiss him again. No matter where they were going, they could always look forward to those moments and the affection they shared in the car.

As Jadon drove through the illuminated city, the conversation between you flowed with laughter and confidences. The tension of your friends' mockery disappeared completely.

[aishangotome]

Roger Barel: Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Premium Story

♡———♡

From errand girl, I was promoted to pet dog, and Roger gifted me a lovely collar – I mean choker.

But that same night, I did something that was almost like being lovers, and now I'm holding a grand self-reflection meeting all alone.

(Ugh... Being with Roger always throws me off balance.)

Ale: Woof woof woof!

When I lift my downcast face, Ale comes running.

Kate: Oh, Ale. Hehe, you're awake? Good morning.

Ale: Woof. ... Woof?

Ale looks up at me with a puzzled look, as if sensing my troubles with animal intuition.

Kate: Hmm. Today, I have to write the overdue Fairytale Keeper report. And then...

*flashback*

Roger: Is removing the cursed from this world good, or is it evil?

Roger: You don't have to answer right away. Tell me when you have the answer within yourself.

*flashback over*

It's not just the almost-lover act with Roger that's been occupying my mind lately.

(The "homework" Roger assigned me that day...)

(With my current knowledge, I don't know nearly enough about the cursed to answer the homework question.)

Kate: This is something... I can only ask your master about, right?

Ale: Woof!

-

After submitting the report to Victor, I knocked on the research room door with Ale.

Roger: Oh, what are two dogs doing together?

As I approach, he tries to pet Ale's head with one hand and my head with the other, so I quickly dodge.

Roger: Oh, the rebellious phase?

Ignoring his words, I lower my head.

Kate: I have a request. Please lend me your research materials on the cursed.

Roger: Hmm, research materials, huh?

Roger: These materials are like my life. First, let me hear your intentions.

Kate: To find the answer to the homework you gave me, I don't have enough knowledge as I am now.

Kate: Also, since I was lucky enough to meet Crown, even if it's for a limited time, I want to face things seriously.

Kate: Whether being cursed is a good thing or a bad thing for Crown.

Kate: I thought I wanted to think about it with my own head and leave a record of it as a Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: ...You're the kind of person who cares about the cursed like that, huh?

Roger turns his back and starts gathering research materials on the cursed from his desk and bookshelves...

Roger: Here you go. I don't mind lending them to you.

He dumps a whole bunch of books, files, and even scraps of paper into my arms.

Kate: Wow, thank you! ...But, this much?

Roger: What, are you only brave at the beginning, lil' lady?

Roger's lips curl up in a challenging smirk, and I, the competitive fool, am easily provoked.

Kate: Don't be ridiculous. Absorbing this amount of material is a piece of cake!

Roger: Oh really? Then here's some more. Take this.

Kate: Ugh...

He dumps even more materials on me, and my arms grow heavy.

Roger: Learning new things and expanding your knowledge of the world is also a form of strength.

Roger: If you can read through all of this and absorb it, I might promote you from pet dog to assistant.

Roger: But, a sweet lil' lady like you might break under the pressure...

--CHOICES--

Don't underestimate me.

Are you trying to provoke me?

I'm quite capable, you know.

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

Kate: I'm quite capable, you know. More than you think, Roger.

Roger: Oh really? Now you're talking. Live up to my expectations.

(Geez...)

I stagger towards the exit, burdened by the massive pile of materials.

Roger: I'm counting on you, Kate.

Kate: .............

I glare at Roger as he opens the door for me, and then I leave the basement.

Ale: Woof!

Ale chases after me towards the door, but then stops and looks up at his owner.

As if to say, "Don't be too mean to her."

Ale: .............

Roger: ...That guy probably thinks Kate is one of his dog friends, not a human.

As the door closes, Roger chuckles to himself.

-

I leave the basement and head for the garden.

Kate: Let's change the mood and read outside, Ale.

Ale: Woof!

I sit down on a chair and start going through the research materials on the cursed that Roger lent me.

(I'm pretty sure all of Alex's research materials were confiscated by the police, right?)

(That means all of this is what Roger researched himself.)

The vast amount of material is all in Roger's handwriting, representing the days he spent on research – the time he's lived.

Kate: ...I'll read them carefully.

And with that, I turn to the first page of the research materials.

("The cursed" are humans who have been cursed since birth, and it is not related to genetics.)

(And I believe that it is not acquired but innate.)

(In other words, I believe that the cursed are "individual" mutations.)

The vast amount of material is made up of hypotheses, verifications, and resulting conclusions, and with each page I turn, I am surprised by new facts.

As I read through it carefully, not missing a single detail, my eyes are drawn to a certain sentence.

Kate: ... "The tragic fate that the cursed suffer cannot be changed. There are no exceptions in the past," huh?

Kate: Wait...?

In the blank space at the edge of the research material, I find scribbled writing.

"The more I learn about the cursed, the more absurd it is."

"It's like God's whim, and I don't like it."

Only that scribble, mixed in with the numerous research data written without emotion, revealed Roger's heart, and for a moment, my breath stopped.

He started researching the cursed since he was a child, and even now, he hasn't found a way to remove the curse.

(...How... daunting.)

His life is like walking alone in the darkness with no end in sight.

Ale: Woof woof!

Suddenly, I look up at the sound of Ale's voice.

Kate: Whoa. Ale, what's wrong? Roger?

I look in the direction of the voice, and the owner of the footsteps appears.

Ellis: Sorry, it's not Roger.

Kate: Ellis.

Ellis: I thought I'd give Ale a treat.

Ellis: Also, Roger said you were with Kate.

Steam rises from the offered mug.

Ellis: Hot milk. This is for Kate.

As I wrap my hands around the mug, warmth from the ceramic spreads through me, and a natural smile appears on my face.

Kate: It's warm... Thank you for your kindness, Ellis.

Ellis: I just want to make you happy.

As always, Ellis says this while petting Ale's head.

Then --Ale's hands stick together with a snap.

(Ah, Ellis' thorn ability...)

Ale: Woof?

Ellis: Sorry, I'll undo it right away. "It's okay now."

(Ah...)

Alex: ... Thank you. – "It's okay now."

At that moment, the images I had in my mind overlap, transcending time.

(Alex and Ellis' abilities are... the same?)

(That means...)

What came to mind was a sentence I had just seen in Roger's research materials.

("The curse itself does not die out even if the cursed person dies.")

("After the cursed person dies, it reappears after an unspecified period of time, but")

("People with the same curse do not exist simultaneously.")

(Then... does that mean Ellis became the "Thorn Cursed" after Alex?)

As I ponder this, fingertips touch the space between my eyebrows.

Ellis: I've never seen you make that face before.

Ellis: Kate, you're starting to look a little like Roger.

Kate: Huh...?

Ellis: Hehe, because Kate, you were making the same face as Roger just now.

Kate: What kind of face is that?

Ellis: The face of a child who is absorbed in something and desperately thinking about it.

Ellis: You're studying the cursed, right? I heard from Roger. Is there anything I can help you with?

Ellis leans in and peers into my face.

Kate: Then... would you mind telling me about how you and Roger met?

Ellis: Sure.

Ellis' twilight-colored eyes waver slightly.

Ellis: ...I met Roger before joining Crown.

Ellis: I was already assisting Jude with his company, but even then, Jude was resented by many.

Ellis: One night, Jude was stabbed with a knife and stumbled into the clinic run by Roger's father.

Ellis: Roger was there, helping out at the clinic – that's how we met.

Ellis: And, to get back to the story. At that time, Jude asked Roger, not his father, to operate on him.

Kate: Why?

Ellis: Because the reason for Jude's injury was always shady business, so ordinary doctors were reluctant to treat him.

Ellis: But Roger didn't have a medical license at the time and was looking for practice subjects for his surgical skills.

Kate: So... it was convenient for both of you?

Ellis: Yeah, that's right.

(So, he was performing procedures without a license back then...)

(I'll pretend I didn't hear that.)

Ellis: After that, Jude was often injured, and each time, Roger secretly treated him...

Ellis: That's how we started visiting him so often.

Ellis: When he found out we were cursed, Roger was really happy.

(I'm sure he was as happy as when he met Alex.)

Remembering the boyish smile he sometimes shows, my chest tightens.

Ellis: It was the umpteenth night that Jude was injured...

Ellis: We were having idle chat, Roger and I, beside Jude who had fallen asleep.

Ellis: That night, we were listening to the story of when Al was tested to see if he was cursed.

Ellis gazes into the distance as if recalling a memory.

-

Ellis: That "Alfons" guy. He forced you to eat shoe polish?

Roger: Yeah, he showed me an illusion. That's how I realized he was cursed.

Roger: But the price I paid for that was...

Roger: Every time I eat cake, I'm reminded of the taste of shoe polish.

Ellis: Hehe, that's a pretty big price to pay.

As they laugh together, Roger suddenly stares intently at Ellis.

Roger: Come to think of it, I've never seen your ability.

Ellis: Oh, is that so... maybe?

Ellis: Well then... I'm going to surprise you a little, Roger, sorry.

Ellis touches the top of Roger's head.

Then... his hand sticks, as if in prayer.

Ellis: This is my ability. If you poke Jude's forehead...

Roger: .....................

Roger: ...Alex.

Ellis: Roger?

Roger: Oh, no. It's just been a while since I've had an ability used on me, so I was surprised.

Roger: Ellis. You have the "Thorn Curse," don't you?

-

(...So Alex and Ellis have the same curse after all.)

Ellis: ...I wonder why Roger looked sad when he found out I had the "Thorn Curse."

Ellis: And sometimes he looks at me with the same expression.

(...It's not my place to tell him.)

Kate: Is that so?

Ellis: But I don't want to make him sad, so I don't pry into it.

Ellis: I want to make Roger happy too.

Roger witnessed Ellis' eventual demise, and that's why he doesn't want him to follow the same path as Alex.

(I can't easily say that we can avoid that outcome, though.)

Roger: I want to erase the cursed – from this world.

The voice that resurfaces in my chest tightens around my heart.

Kate: ...I'm sure just talking to Ellis like this makes Roger happy.

Ellis: Really? Even enough to kill for?

Kate: Th-that's not allowed!

--Ellis' curse seems quite complicated too.

-

After a few days, I finished reading the massive amount of material Roger gave me.

(Maybe I'll go borrow some medical books after I change.)

(If I have medical knowledge, I'll understand the cursed even better...)

That's what I was thinking when...

Roger: Kate, good news. We might have found a new cursed!

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 11 Letter

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[heretherebedork]

I mean, I suppose Do Han did predict this correctly, that she would fall in love and choose love over him in the end.

But also this entire flashback breaks my heart because the show could have, you know, showed this to us so much better than it did and having a flashback to supposedly claim all of this as true doesn't work when the show hasn't shown us in the modern day.

Poor Do Han.

I am going to say this once and I am going to say this clearly.

Staying in the closet is not something that is being done to the people around you, it is a choice a person makes in order to feel safe in a world that judges them.

Do Han taking on the guilt for hurting Ji Han and Ah Jeong's relationship when the truth of the matter is that neither of them approached this relationship well is not his fault.

Do Han did not do this to them.

Ji Han objected to Do Han's marriage because he wanted Do Han to live out his own dream instead of Do Han's and Ah Jeong knowingly entered a contract for a fake marriage to help Do Han stay in the closet.

Neither of these is a selfless act and though there can be arguments about loving, neither of them has approached this in a loving way.

Ah Jeong has more claim because at the very least she was actually doing something for Do Han but frankly Ji Han has been treating like crap the entire time and his every objection to Ah Jeong stems from him thinking he knows better than Do Han and pushing him towards a dream that Do Han never had.

I want to protect this man.

He loves them both so much and everyone takes this the worst way and blames him and he is constantly trapped in this closet that also feels like the only place he can be safe because being out is far, far scarier.

Do Han is buried deep in a closet in a desperate attempt to protect himself but also, frankly, his family. This is a family where personal matters reflect on their business. How is him coming out as gay in a conservative society going to reflect on the very people he loves?

Staying in the closet to protect yourself is not running away.

If any closeted people read this... you are not running away, you are keeping yourself safe and that matters.

I swear, I promise, you matter whether you come out or not and if that lie keeps you safe, then stay safe. There are others way to protect the people around you.

The amount that I want to protect Do Han from the people who love him is agonizing.

(It's the way Ji Han takes Ah Jeong helping Do Han keep his secret as a personal offense that really gets to me. Ugh.)

Boy, just run. Go back to New York. Flee. You don't want any of this!

Keeping Ah Jeong in the contract wasn't your best choice, boy, but I understand your fear and reluctance and that anxiety you thought you'd escaped but didn't have the chance to, not for long.

[esta-elavaris]

Part Thirteen [4,751 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - *Part Thirteen* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: At this point, my approach to this fic is “what if POTC was an Austen novel?” and we just need to live with the consequences xoxo

“Is this not a bit much?” Theo asked doubtfully, scrutinising her reflection.

“My dearest darling Theodora, that is the point,” Elizabeth replied simply.

Both of them had already been dressed by the maids, and now they were resorting to a bit of primping as they waited for the appropriate time to head downstairs.

“I’m not opposed to a bit of glam, but this is…you’ve got me looking like Marie Antoinette.”

“Who?”

Whoops. At least making slips like that with Elizabeth wasn’t quite as disastrous as it might’ve been with anybody else.

“An extravagant French queen.”

“The goal was more fierce ancient warrior goddess attends a ball in her free time.”

“You need your head examined.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I expect you’re rather more affectionate towards our dear captain, to have captivated him so.”

“Ugh.”

“Then again, perhaps it’s the muttered fieriness that has captured his heart so.”

“Ugh.”

“I heard that the first time.”

“And you’ll hear it again, at this rate.”

“Too right, save your charm for its most fervent applicant.”

Theo then unleashed a third, hearty ugh at her friend – but Elizabeth anticipated it and uttered a matching one in unison at the exact same time, and both of them dissolved into very immature laughter. It was much too difficult to get too annoyed at her friend. Mostly because she seemed to delight in it.

Their looks were not quite matching, but certainly themed alongside one another, and it had all started when Theo gave Elizabeth her gift.

Having never been one for big heartfelt emotional gestures, she felt like her insides were eating themselves as she sat with Elizabeth in the drawing room after dinner. It wasn’t like she never did anything nice for people, she wasn’t a feral animal, but…well. The Irish had a way of doing these things. Usually by offering forth whatever the warm gesture was, along with a (loving) insult and a refusal to make a big deal about it after the fact. That, she suspected, wasn’t the way of things here. And to be honest, she didn’t even consider that fact a bad thing – she certainly wouldn’t judge Elizabeth for being warm and sincere, but she just had little idea of how to respond to it. Maybe it wasn’t even just an Irish thing, maybe it was a product of being raised by a guy, amongst guys.

Combined with the time period disparity, she was left with hopelessly little idea of how to be a woman in the expected manner in these parts. Usually, Elizabeth found that equal parts amusing and charming, likely because Theo didn’t eschew traditionally “girly” stuff. She wasn’t about to stamp her feet at the sight of anything pink and frilly. But the fact remained, that she didn’t want this to be amusing or awkward, or whatever else it was she managed to be here. The last thing she wanted was to put a dampener on this.

So, resisting the strong urge to simply chuck necklace into Elizabeth’s lap and call it a day, she cleared her throat and straightened, taking a sip of her wine in an attempt to appear casual.

“So…I have a present for you,” she began.

Elizabeth’s dark eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement both, one eyebrow arching a little. That was fair. Not because Theo was the ungenerous sort, but because she didn’t exactly have a whole lot to be generous with around here, other than her time. And she had that in spades, which made it lose its lustre a bit.

“I know how much you like my necklace,” she said, reaching up to tug at it where it sat between her collarbones, “and I was half-tempted to just give you it, because it’s the only thing I really can offer, with the way things are right here. Y’know, other than my dazzling personality.”

Huffing a laugh at her remark, Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she shook her head.

“Theo, I could never accept such a gift-”

“Which was why I didn’t try,” she nodded, “Bit of a crap gift if it just makes you feel bad. But…well. I worked my wiles, and I got a bit of advice, and then I found just the right craftsman for the job.”

Something glimmered in her eyes, and Theo knew then that she’d caught the hint of who exactly had been involved in the making of the necklace.

Presenting the pouch, she pinched the drawstrings between her thumb and forefinger, and then offered it to Elizabeth. Finally, she did a passable job at not appearing as awkward as she felt while she watched her open it, tipping the contents out into her palm. That awkwardness disappeared the moment Elizabeth grinned, and was forgotten entirely when she dragged her into a hug that was more tight than she would’ve thought the younger woman capable of.

If there’d been any small doubt in her mind that she was only pretending to like the necklace – which had been a real fear, given the many fine jewels that she had in her jewellery boxes upstairs – it would’ve been erased by Elizabeth’s sunny disposition in the following days. In fact, whenever they encountered others, servants or friends both, she began each conversation with ‘have you seen what Theodora has given me?’ while Theo flushed under the sheer weight of her enthusiasm.

Yes, she’d done well. She’d have to thank Norrington. Although she suspected he’d have the same dislike for accepting profuse thanks that she did, but that might double the fun. Still, Elizabeth had decided that the necklace should be the focal point of her get-up for the men’s going-away dinner, so no doubt he’d see that, and the hand he’d had in it, as thanks enough – at least once he saw her enthusiasm for it.

“I have to wear silver to accentuate my lovely new necklace, so it only makes sense that you wear gold.”

“My necklace also silver, so shouldn’t we both be wearing that colour?”

“Heavens, no. There’s a fine line that separates what we’re doing, and being a couple of strange old spinsters who wear identical garb and speak in tongues.”

“I already do the latter, depending on who you ask.”

“All the more reason not to partake in the former,” Elizabeth teased. “In any case, that is why you shall borrow one of my necklaces tonight.”

She might’ve disliked being dressed up like a doll, were Elizabeth’s tastes not so damn good. That was the thing with Elizabeth, she never tried to dress her up like her. Everything she flung at her managed to have Theo’s own feel to it, and the garments that did not were artfully styled so that they would once the look was complete. And how many modern women ever had a chance like this? It was like being on a period drama set, without the ordeal of having to learn lines. Fibs about her origins aside…and more concerns over potential lead poisoning. But Elizabeth wasn’t one for powdered faces, however much she was determined to induce a powdered wig fetish in Theo.

Her hair had been wrestled into a voluminous updo, with swooping curls defying gravity pinned up at the back, and one lone crimson ringlet left to fall at her collarbone, ending a good few inches above where the neckline of the gown began.

The necklines here took a bit of getting used to. The way the gowns shoved whatever a woman had in the chest department entirely up, and making even one like herself who was rather un-blessed in the chest suddenly appear busty. Sure, she hadn’t been averse to showing off her figure back home, but it turned out she’d thought the Georgians distinctly less free with that kind of thing than they actually were. For a time that she’d gone into thinking of as very buttoned up, she’d quickly realised how wrong she was when Elizabeth had giggled at her (albeit kindly) for asking if putting so much chest on display wasn’t a bit scandalous.  

It turned out she’d arrived a bit early, if she expected people to faint over the notion of a woman having breasts.

And anyway, the gown was gorgeous. Gleaming gold damask that caught the light of any and every candle in the room, making it appear almost liquid rather than just mere fabric. The sleeves ended with ruffles at her elbows, and there was a minimal amount of bows and frills and lace, so there was no worry that she’d feel like she’d be better suited atop a wedding cake than sitting having drinks with her new friends, and…uh…”friends”.

The sad fact of this impending departure that it was taking half of her allies with it, and Elizabeth had proven the only woman around here who was inclined to take a shine to her. Unless they could start dragging the maids along with them to afternoon tea.

Elizabeth’s gown was similar to hers, although not quite an exact replica. It had more of a floral motif, in shades of silver and dotted here and there with pearls. She looked like some sort of wintry queen when all was said and done – although the coldness of the look ended the moment she smiled. As breathtaking as she was, it was a wonder the other women didn’t hate her and not just Theodora. But in their minds, any positive attributes Elizabeth held were likely just expected. They were correct.

In truth, Theo didn’t envy her. When she met expectations, she’d receive little recognition for it. When Theo showed any fine qualities, it was a pleasant surprise to those inclined to like her, and infuriating for those who did not. The former was nice enough, the latter was funny.

Which made Amelia’s impression of a bulldog chewing a wasp while Elizabeth delighted over her gift during the gathering downright hysterical.

Theo couldn’t tell if the brunette knew she could hear her or not. She stood some ways away, speaking in a little circle with Norrington, Lieutenant Groves, and a handful of other ladies, while Theo mingled with those who had not chosen to snub her. That number was growing, she noted, but there was still something about their smiles that disconcerted her. A tenseness, and an analytical look hidden in their eyes, like they were turning over and over every word she spoke to find some hidden meaning.

She wished them luck with it – for while she had her secrets, there’d be no guessing them for any folk here. It was amidst one of Mrs Spencer’s speeches, during which she listed every fish known to man and whether she liked it or not, and which was the best cooking method if she did, that she caught wind of Amelia’s snide comments, floating airily across the room.

“I confess, she could personally hand me the Crown Jewels and it still would give me no notion of what she’s attempting to say when she speaks, more often than not. It seems a strange consolation prize for Miss Swann.”

Theo stifled an eyeroll, for fear that Mrs Spencer would think she was levelling it at her.

“I find Miss Byrne’s manner of speaking charming. It’s clever,” Groves said, visibly uncaring that Amelia very much did not want to hear that.

“In its own way, no doubt,” she replied boredly.

“No, in the true sense of the term.”

A break in Mrs Spencer’s list (during which she debated whether she preferred crab or lobster) allowed Theo to chime in. Mostly because she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m very beautiful, too – talk about that next,” Theo called over, leaving no doubt as to the fact that she’d heard every word.

Groves grinned and then laughed, “What was it you said the other day? About an old colleague of your father’s – a lanky fellow? Built like a…”

“Built like the side of a bank note.”

“Yes! That’s the one. I confess, I’ve been laughing at that ever since you said it.”

Beside him, Norrington’s lips thinned, and he gazed down into his wine glass as if in disapproval.

Was Groves being inappropriate, or did he just disagree with his opinion? Considering she couldn’t much imagine the former, that only left the latter. Didn’t it?

“Well, to your discerning ear, Lieutenant,” she offered a smile and raised her glass.

Groves mirrored the gesture, and even Mrs Spencer gave a trickling laugh and sipped from her own, but Amelia scoffed. And Norrington? Norrington took a long drink from his own glass that seemed to have little to do with the toast. All while not looking at her.

At some point as the night wore on, Theo excused herself to seek the night air. It was a cloudy night, which kept the stifling heat of the day trapped down upon them, and with all of the bodies and the revelry inside, it soon grew stifling. The saving grace – out here, at least – was that it had begun to drizzle. It was refreshing, even if it would work a few questionable waves into her carefully primped hair.

That didn’t bother her, though. Everybody here was even drunker than she was, and those who gave a toss about what her hair looked like were those who already searched for reasons to dislike her. They could crack on. Walking quietly over to a stone bench in the middle of the patio, she sank down upon it and breathed deeply. She’d need to sober up a little before going back in. All right, she wasn’t exactly shit-faced – there’d be no risk of her climbing up onto a table and belting out ABBA’s greatest hits – but she didn’t like to be much beyond mildly tipsy around this lot.

Most of this lot.

It wouldn’t do to grow too comfortable, but she was at least pleased to find that the list of those she didn’t feel like she had to be permanently on her complete and total guard around had grown more than she ever could’ve hoped. Elizabeth had been the first to occupy it. Then Governor Swann, even if she was never destined to be the best of friends with him. Then Groves, and now – most surprisingly, and in the biggest U-turn of all – Captain Norrington.

“I see we both had the same idea.”

Norrington’s voice was distinct and instantly recognisable from where it sounded behind her. Maybe she’s summoned him with her thoughts.

“Would I be imposing if I joined you?” he hedged.

“Not at all,” she offered a smile, “but I haven’t got any books on me for us to discuss, so we’ll need to find another way to play nice.”

He offered a low huff of a laugh. “I’m optimistic about our changes.”

To her relief, his earlier questionable mood seemed a thing of the past. As he spoke, she scooted along to the left side of the bench and he took a seat to her right, uncaring for the raindrops that had gathered atop it.

“Mm. We’re the capable sort, I think,” she replied. “Speaking of, I’d ask you if you’re prepared for tomorrow, but I’m worried you’d take it as an insult.”

“Once, from you, perhaps. But no longer.”

Was she mistaken, or was humour creeping into his tone? He continued before she could dwell on it – and this time, he was definitely teasing her.

“I am well prepared, or else I should not be here. Shall you miss me?” he asked drily.

“Mm. If, on a scale from one to ten, one is being delighted to see the back of you and hoping you never return-”

“I rather regret asking now.”

“Let me finish - and if ten is I won’t eat or sleep ‘til he’s back, I’d give you…a solid…seven.”

“Seven?” he seemed surprised.

“And a half. Maybe even an eight, in your warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I’m not sure I have any warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re not half as scary as you’d have people think.”

“Scary?” he echoed with a snort. “Did you find me so fearsome when we first met?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“No. Truly.”

When she realised how sincere his question was, she gave it the thought it deserved before answering.

“Okay, scary was the wrong word. Not just because I don’t frighten that easily.”

He chuckled quietly, “I can believe that.”

“But…intimidating, maybe that’s the word. That’s your job, though, isn’t it?”

“And we did not have the most harmonious of introductions.”

“Memorable, though.”

That earned her another laugh.

“Certainly memorable, yes,” he hesitated then for a moment and then finally asked. “I must ask – do I intimidate you now, still?”

“No,” she admitted. “If I’m being honest, and I’m only being honest because of the Governor’s very good, very strong, wine…I’ve never been so happy to be so wrong about a first impression.”

Before they could linger too long on something that was just a touch too close to sincerity – and before she could overthink the way his entire face seemed to soften in response to her words – she pressed on.

“What about you? Do you still think I’m the mad malevolent influence I appeared to be in the beginning?”

“Mad, perhaps,” he teased drily. “But not malevolent.”

“However…?” she sensed the continuation in his tone.

“However,” he conceded, “I do think there is much you are not telling me.”

“Well. Have to save something for my biography.”

He didn’t appear to find that as amusing as she’d hoped.

“Look…anything I’m not telling you…it can’t harm anybody here. Truly. If it would, I’d leave.”

“I believe that. Once I may not have, but I do now.”

“Good.”

“Could it harm you?”

Theo didn’t respond.

“Miss Byrne- Theodora. You can tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters a great deal!”

“I don’t understand how we got here,” she fretted with a tired laugh, “we were just joking on.”

“We were just about to discuss something frankly, for perhaps the first time.”

“For the first time? What are you talking about, we speak all the time. Are you…are you saying you think I’m usually lying?”

“No, I do not, but we have never gotten anywhere before now.”

The words hit some alarming note deep within her.

“Gotten anywhere? What do you mean gotten anywhere? I don’t…”

Theo trailed off. Because she’d been about to say that she didn’t understand, but as her mind worked through the fog of the alcohol, the heat, and the panic, she suddenly found herself understanding all too well.

Whether her dawning realisation showed on her face, or Norrington could simply guess the natural route her thoughts were taking, she didn’t know – but he quickly tried to intercede.

“Theodora, I did not mean-”

“Have you…” the prospect seemed too ridiculous to be true – to voice – and it had her feeling sick to her stomach, but it was all that made sense, and the panic in his widening eyes only seemed to confirm it.

Because James Norrington did not panic.

“Have you only been speaking to me to try to get somewhere?” she asked. “The books, the lunches, the long conversations…has it…has it all been to get me to lower my guard? Have you just been biding your time, the whole time, hoping I might slip up? And…and what? Admit that I’m secretly a pirate? That I’m here to rob everybody and run?”

“Of course not,” he insisted intently, eyes boring into hers as though force of eye contact alone could force her to believe him. “I said I believe you mean no harm, and I spoke truly. I have come to believe that.”

Theo did not respond. Because there was more he wasn’t saying.

“I…I merely hoped that if you came to trust me, that you might…be willing to reveal whatever it is you have not.”

She felt sick. Physically sick. Or like she’d been punched in the chest. Both at once, really. This whole time. This whole time. Every conversation, every book, every lunch, every joke, every smile…it had never been because he’d just wanted to spend time with her, or even wanted to make things right. He’d been playing the long game.

And sure, she hadn’t thought the sudden U-turn had been a miraculous change in his opinion of her. She thought it had started off as a desire to keep Elizabeth happy by being amicable with her friend, but…but that it had morphed into…

God, she was an idiot. Exactly what she thought it had morphed into, or was morphing into, hadn’t been clear to her until now, upon being shown how wrong she was. Christ, she’d watched three very long movies of the guy mooning over Elizabeth, and she’d really thought that a couple of jokes and a fucking sandwich from her would change that? Even a little bit?

How many of their conversations had he endured rather that enjoyed? Listening to her prattle on the same way she listened to Mrs Spencer, waiting either for her to slip up, or shut up, only presence out of duty? Out of protectiveness towards the Swanns?

How stupid could she get?

Several half-baked words of parting flitted through her mind. Some of them were even vaguely clever. But she had neither the heart nor voice to actually say any of them. So instead, she rose to her feet – though she could hardly feel them beneath her.

“Theodora,” he faltered and tried to reach for her hand, but she yanked it back and took her leave.

Amelia was at the piano when she moved inside. That was good. Not just because she was a fantastic player – which she was – but because Theo knew by now that the night would soon draw to a close. A few more would play, the drinks would be finished, and the guests would trickle out.

While there was nothing she wanted to do more than race upstairs, get into her nightgown and hide from the world beneath the covers, she refused to do that. Not just out of pride, but because she felt numb, bereft, and mortified, all in one. And that was paralysing.

The song drew to a close as she walked in and moved to stand at the side of the room, but Amelia’s dark eyes found her the moment she was finished playing.

“Miss Byrne! You next!”

Norrington returned to the room as she spoke, but Theo didn’t look at him.

“I can’t play,” she said.

“Oh, but you must be able to play something. Anything! We aren’t snobs here,” no, just vipers, “we’ll admire a good effort if nothing else.”

“I agree,” Norrington intoned.

If Amelia looked delighted at that, Theo felt the exact opposite – and she saw her own horror reflected in Elizabeth’s reaction, from where she sat by her father.

“I will take a tu-” the blonde’s attempt to rescue her was interceded by her father.

The Governor, deep in his cups by the flush on his face, chuckled and interrupted Elizabeth.

“Come now, Elizabeth, you’ve already played twice. Give Miss Byrne her chance to shine – I’m sure you know something worthwhile, my girl, and none of us here are renowned composers. It is for novelty only, I assure you! You are among friends.”

He wouldn’t have insisted, had Norrington not encouraged Amelia’s spite.

And she couldn’t refuse, could she? Not now that the man who was housing her had bid it. He’d meant no harm, he had no way of knowing about the wound he was in the process of packing salt into, but Theo felt her nausea increase tenfold.

The drizzle outside had set into her hair and set it askew, and what remained of the damp on her skin and dress both quickly warmed in the head of the room until she felt like she was stepping into a sauna. It was suffocating, and only added to her discomfort.

Walking numbly to the piano felt like being trapped in a nightmare – the sort where you turned up to an exam you hadn’t studied for. Naked. She knew some things. Mostly from pissing about on friends’ keyboards, or from music classes in high school – a decade ago. Nothing compared to what people here knew. And nothing well. Chopsticks, the first two seconds of Für Elise, and the song from the sodding Titanic movie.

The final option was the one she knew the most, but that only spoke for how little she knew the others.

Sitting down at the piano, she didn’t meet Elizabeth’s gaze – because she knew the sympathy she’d see there would crack whatever composure she’d plastered on as she left the gardens. It took a bit of plodding to find the first note she was looking for (the ones in her old music classroom had the keys labelled with stickers and/or sharpie, but there was no such help here), and even that drew a muffled snicker from somewhere behind her.

The rest was no better. Halting and awkward, as she hit wrong notes and either had to muddle through it, or pause and find the right key. At first, she thought nothing could be worse than the silence behind her – because she’d never heard such a large crowd be so, so silent. But then another snicker followed. As well as a few coughs, whether from second-hand embarrassment or as an attempt to disguise yet more laughter.

And she didn’t take herself seriously. Anybody who met her knew that. Back home, this wouldn’t be embarrassing at all. Among friends. How many times had she sat in a friend’s bedroom, a joint between her lips as she muddled through Paint It Black, laughing at her own mistakes and leaning into it before handing the instrument to someone who actually knew what they were doing? But she was not among friends here. The conversation she’d just had proved that to her.

It was all she could think of, and it had her wanting to crawl out of her skin.

She ended after the first verse, utterly unable to bear trying to go on (ironic, considering the song choice), and the Governor began to clap. To give him credit, he wasn’t even being an ass.

“A valiant effort, Miss Byrne! A valiant effort!”

A few murmurs joined in, Groves insisting he should go next – no doubt a kind-hearted attempt to make whatever she’d just tried to play look good in comparison. Theo brushed by him, and then took her leave of the room entirely. That meant going by Norrington, but the night couldn’t get any worse anyway. And if she didn’t leave soon, she’d cry in front of everybody. She refused to do that.

She made it as far as the stairs before he caught up to her.

“Theo- Miss Byrne, I did not mean to-”

Whirling, she found he did indeed look horrified. Apparently his victory had not tasted as sweet as he’d thought. Something about that only made it worse.

“Do you realise, Captain, that every time you’re kind to me, it only lasts so long as it takes my guard to drop, and then you’re cruel again? Then you embarrass me, again?” her voice came perilously close to breaking and she took a moment, inhaled deeply and fixed her eyes at some point above his head rather than at him. “So, at what point do I become the idiot for falling for it?”

“I did not-”

“Just leave me alone. That’s all I ask. Leave me be. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

She turned and began to ascend the stairs before he could reply, but he – thankfully – made no move to call after her.

James watched Theodora ascend the stairs in the Governor’s mansion feeling positively nauseous with regret. Not only at what had transpired in the gardens, but at how gloriously his half-baked in-the-moment plan had backfired thereafter.

She was out of sight by the time he was aware of Groves’ approach, his lieutenant moving silently to stand by him.

“May I ask you a question from one man to another, and not as a Lieutenant to his superior?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” James replied flatly.

“…What was your thought process behind that? Back there in the sitting room?”

The question cut more deeply than any admonishment might’ve.  

[femmefatalevibe]

how do you reconcile being a feminist, single, and a high-value woman? maybe I'm misunderstanding the concept but I always thought HVW and hypergamy were all very centered on seeking a male partner.

Hi love! Great question. I think your curiosity offers a great opportunity to dive a bit more into my personal views and philosophy.

I believe that the goal of feminism is to protect all women and provide them legal protection, structural resources, and social power to live equitably in society. In my eyes, a high-value woman is one who is unapologetically self-respecting and sets her life up in a way to allows her to work towards goals that meet her needs in all areas of life.

Hypergamy, by its modern definition, is the idea that women "date up" to intertwine their sexual relationships with men to those who offer more or equally high social, financial, or sexual capital to them. The traditional idea of hypergamy was exclusively referred to as "marrying up" as marriage was the only way women could achieve most resources (like a bank account, credit card, housing, and certain medical care – it's so terrifying, honestly).

In the latter case, hypergamy is nearly synonymous with centralizing men. Before women gained certain freedoms (in the U.S. this was mostly in the 1960-70s), centralizing men was a survival mechanism, not a preference or act of self-imposed oppression.

I believe in the modern world where women can have their own bank accounts, careers, and access to birth control (the latter one is an anxiety-inducing topic at this point in time, ugh), women are given the choice to be hypergamous either while centralizing or decentralizing men.

I believe that you can uphold hypergamous standards in your dating life without centralizing men in your life. For me, personally, my relationship or dating status has no bearing on how happy or successful I am in my life. No man (or lack of one in my life) will ever determine my self-worth or reflect my progress in life. My metrics of fulfillment and accomplishment stem from thriving in my professional life, staying in good health, practicing consistently healthy habits (WFPB diet, regular exercise, mental health hygiene, sexual wellness, mindfulness, self-care, etc.), and maintaining nourishing friendships. Dating and my interactions with men (in non-platonic ways) are fun ways I enrich my life, so I believe this mentality embodies the modern – albeit hyper-progressive – definition of hypergamy. Remaining single allows me to enjoy all of the ways men can uplevel my life – socially, financially (to the degree some nighttime activities, such as dinners, drinks, car services, club fees, etc. are paid for – no sugaring activities or anything), and sexually without the aspects of dating men that would contradict my sense of self-respect or autonomy. I'm not personally designed to be a man's therapist or feel like I should have to include a man's needs in all of my life or day-to-day decisions because we're sexually involved with each other. I have a strict vetting process regarding who I will entertain in my dating/sexual life to ensure they're adding value to my life and there's mutual compatibility considering the type of arrangement we're both seeking.

Personally, I believe the only way to maintain equity in dating is to remain single, which allows me to meet all of my other standards in life. I will never sacrifice my life goals for a man, but I do not believe that means you have to approach dating or sexual relationships from a black-and-white perspective. However, if I'm going to date men (which can be a headache for certain), I believe they need to enrich my life in some way – whether that's interesting conversations, gaining business acumen, social relationships, fun sexual experiences, or just learning about different cultures/world perspectives.

From my observations, women who use hypergamy as an excuse to centralize their life or aspirations around a man are glamorizing regressive/oppressive ideologies (like submitting to a partner or relying on men financially) as a last attempt to uphold the patriarchy as women wake up to the fact that having to do all of society's emotional labor plus having to contort ourselves in a world designed for men, namely in our professional lives, is not the truest form of feminism out there (not to mention it's lack of intersectionality, but that's a whole other rant lol). I don't use the "hypergamy" tag on my posts anymore for this reason, though. I believe that many people are conflating the textbook concept of hypergamy with regressive political agendas, which I will never promote let alone subscribe to.

This is all just my take, so I hope it all makes sense and resonates with some members of this amazing community. Every woman should figure out what approaches to all of these matters would make her the most genuinely happy and fulfilled regardless of society's expectations or cultural norms.

Sending love xx

[elliespuns]

enduring and asking like god intended

i love your blog and your thoughts on the game and i fully appreciate the time you dedicate to tlou, and i have this little something that i think about regularly but never really found anyone who talked about it sooo, if you feel like sharing your thoughts i wouldn't mind it one bit !!!

you know in the first game, there's this very short moment where ellie approaches joel to tell him about a dream she had. i always alwaysalwaysalways try to pay extra attention when a character talks about a dream they had cause it never fails at foreshadowing what will possibly happen later in the story, and ellie's dream really stuck with me

here's the link btw! https://youtu.be/bUaJcOxI9Ow?si=fHJRRzvO4A_DWmj0

the whole concept of a plane going down is enough of a warning, right? all the people are terrified and screaming for their lives and who wouldn't, and when she gets to the cockpit there's no pilot. from my point of view, it kinda reflects how humanity is counting on ellie to achieve a cure (landing the plane safely, if you will) but she doesn't really know how to, that's a situation completely out of her control and even though her intentions are nothing but for the common good, she fails. but the end !!!!! the fact she woke up before the crash immediately reminds me of her waking up in the backseat of joel's stolen car

ugh i don't know, what do you think?

What I understand about her dream is that she's afraid of not being the 'cure' everyone is waiting for. Everyone and herself are expecting her to save the world. But she doesn't know how to save it; she doesn't know how to fly a plane, and so she's hopeless and helpless. She's scared that she won't be able to be the cure everyone hopes for a dying world and that humanity and herself will eventually die because of that. 

Your theory of her dream is the best theory I've read so far. So well explained. I love it. "That's a situation completely out of her control and even though her intentions are nothing but for the common good, she fails." - this is so real, dude. This is Ellie's life in a nutshel. Can anyone grant this kid a break? Her heart's too big for any universe.

[beltransadie]

I finished another animatic! This is the third one I've finished properly and I spent a good amount of time finishing it compared to the previous two. At this point, I just consider animatic making as a way for me to get out of my comfort zone while doing something I actually enjoy.

Here's some art from it:

Some concept paintings I did on a tablet while bored:

(If you can't tell, I really love the first frame xD)

I talk more about 2ha book 2 and the animatic-making process below (because making a thorough essay gushing about it in my cousin's dms isn't enough)

Spoilers for 2ha below.

Why the song?

This one is based off of a random thought where I went "Oh this song fits Chu Wanning pretty well, especially in book 2" and after a good bit of listening to the lyrics, I found that the first verse reflected Mo Ran's inner turmoil too. And I thought why not both? and it just unfolded there.

The first thing I thought of ended up being the sequence where Mo Ran and Chu Wanning are both walking together at the same time at the third verse. And it leands to both of them not wanting to admit but they're okay with that and they'll stay by each other's side even if they don't tell each other the truth.

Doing this sequence was hard and annoying because I had to animate Wanning and Mo Ran individually and time both at different times to the same song. This was also where I realized that Mo Ran has a calm outward demeanor contrary to my initial impression of him.

Mo Ran and Past Life Relationship Trauma

If you look at the very rough storyboard above, I had Mo Ran run towards the screen in panic on his side (left). But that's not how it turned out in the end. Mo Ran is more calm about it compared to Wanning who, inwardly, is panicking throughout most of book 2.

He realized he's in love but is hesitant to actually pursue it because his last relationship with Wanning in his past life doesn't really consider Wanning's say in it. Not to mention it turned out really really well last time huh...

And you say "oh but Mo Ran did confess" and he did, after he was sure that Wanning held feelings for him after he saw that he kept the brocade bag with their hair. And even then, this trauma from his past still manifested with how he approached their relationship.

There's this small passage in where Wanning describes it:

And this conflict is explored more with Mo Ran's section. The animatic actually starts with Mo Ran realizing that he loves Wanning, but instead of being panic-y about it he accepts it and relishes in it and his reaction overall is calmer. He kinda confesses to him in a vague way then.

And I kind of want to go a bit into the part where he looks at Chu Wanning drumming and his face transitions to a memory of him in Mo Ran's past life's memories before Mo Ran rips it apart and throws it to the side coz that one originally was an iffy frame I didn't like.

And by didn't like, I mean it was really sus and it made the animatic unwatchable for me so I had to change it to that. And it turned out for the better coz symbolism! It's him not really liking how that relationship went.

Chu Wanning and Running Away From What's In Front of You

So, contrary to how Mo Ran's section went, I found making Wanning's section more fun because I love drawing him having a tsundere expression, I live for Tsundere Wanning. Like, I know it's super OOC because the way he acts is that there's this really small ripple of emotion that appears on the corner of his eyes and ears, basically he's also pretty good at acting aloof.

How do I start with his sequence... Well, it transitions from Mo Ran helping Shi Mei carry some boxes to Wanning's POV (which I'm very proud of btw). This is kind of why I also found Mo Ran's sequence hard to do because how I built the animatic was:

"Got, got, got it bad" > dual sequence > Wanning's sequence > Mo Ran's sequence.

(Ugh, small mention of how annoying I found the Mo Ran seeing Shi Mei sequence to do because I had to keep in mind the character positions.)

Anyways, while Mo Ran's sequence was pretty much (not-exactly-running-away per se but) him walking through reminiscing memories of his past with Wanning, Wanning's sequence was pretty much him running away from the kinda-obvious signs that Mo Ran likes him.

Because, as far as Wanning knows, Mo Ran likes Shi Mei and he also has to keep in mind his position and image. Now, add to that the weird dreams from Chu-fei's soul fragments which lead up to Book 2 being the blueball fest that it is, his sequence ends up being very chaotic.

We see him running all over the place: exit to the right, enter left to then exit to the bottom of the screen, left then turn around, bottom to up, then backing away from a kneeling Mo Ran (which I totally mean to reference the umbrella scene where Mo Ran practically kneels before him saying he wants to hold the umbrella for him), only to lead from him falling and being caught by Mo Ran.

The catching scene, by the way, was annoying to do because it's the same thing but in four different perspectives.

And it's like... the first thing I did too. (I just redrew the characters at the final pass).

But yeah, Wanning runs away from what's in front of him because he's so insecure with himself and it only took Mo Ran cornering him in a situation he can't run away from before confessing and it's glorious.

Wanning, honey, you got to love yourself more.

Still, can't I just talk about how much I love the frames where he's like somewhat honest with his expressions.

Like I live for that smile.

Oh! Speaking of, that frame appears at a sequence I added after noticing the detail in my reread (like proper reread coz I'm rereading 2HA but physical edition).

Ranwan Forehead Poke

Did you know that there are a total of 7 forehead pokes that happened between Ranwan throughout the whole book?

(At least the ones I managed to search by searching the word "forehead")

Aside from the obvious ones like with Wanning's first death and he used the forehead poke to transfer part of his soul to Mo Ran and Wanning poking Mo Ran's forehead to put a protection charm on him, there are some minor gestures of this scattered all throughout the book.

Most of them are in book 1 and 2, but there's one in book 3 between Taxian-jun and Chu-Fei and (not even a ranwan one but I want to mention) one between Taxian-jun and a very drunk MengMeng-er.

So, anyways, ever since I noticed that small gesture, I ended up adding it at the final sequence of the animatic. Originally, I planned it to be Wanning showing an embarrassed face at Mo Ran and turning away. (The walking away sequence was as originally planned though.) In the final product, it plays out like: Wanning seeing Mo Ran glum, with something in his mind, smiling and poking his forehead as a gesture saying don't worry, and Mo Ran being like blushing and following him as they leave off screen.

Anyways, I live for Ranwan forehead poke.

Bonus forehead poke at previous life ranwan in one of the frames at Mo Ran's sequence.

This one's the forehead poke in book 3 I was talking about.

Post-Processing Moment

I think that's most of what I wanted to talk about in this animatic-making adventure.

Just some random moments that happened while I was polishing this.

So I fucking saved over the file that had Mo Ran's section. I was trying to make a credits sequence and ended up auto-piloting saving over it so no more that. At least there's still the frames and the rough sketch but yeah.

I also found that I can't stop getting the urge to color some of the frames and I think that's a good sign. Like, the amount of colored frames there isn't as much as what As The World Caves In had (glorious final sequence btw, I love rewatching that section) but I wanted to color more even when I think it's already done.

Like, I wanted to color the forehead poke section and the figments of the past in Mo Ran's section, and even the introduction section, oh and add tsundere Wanning to it too. I'll do it someday. More ranwan wallpapers for me :D

Oh I kinda realized by then too that my coloring style has become pretty streamlined.

[grey-gazania-fic]

Five Letters Caranthir Sent His Wife (And One Letter He Didn't)

When Fëanor is exiled to Formenos, his seven sons accompany him, but Caranthir's wife stays behind in Tirion. A selection of their correspondence. Rated PG.

1

My dear Parmë,

I have no idea how long it will take for this to reach you; there’s not much in the way of a postal service up here, so I’ve entrusted my letter to Herenyo, who’s headed back to Tirion now that he’s seen his sister safely settled here.

We’ve arrived, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. The place hasn’t changed much since we were last here. Remember standing on the banks of the Híri and looking up at that ring of mountains -- the bright snow on the peaks, and the way the light reflected off the water and brought out all the bands of color in the stone? It’s still as beautiful now as it was then, though I’m having a harder time appreciating it when I know I’ll be stuck here for twelve years, instead of just visiting for a few weeks.

I miss you already.

Atto made all his preliminary construction plans on our journey here, and he’s already started the work. He intends to build into the mountains as well as settle on the plain -- a precaution for the winter, I suppose, or maybe he just wants a place he can fortify. I admit I haven’t asked, because he’s still in a filthy temper about the Valar’s judgment and I’d rather not get my head bitten off. In front of the others he puts on a cast-iron show of leadership, but when it’s just the family, he’s worse than a snapping turtle. Haru is the only one who can calm him.

Curvo is already running himself ragged, trying to do everything Atto asks and trying to keep Nyellë from exerting herself now that she’s expecting. 

I've taken over all the cooking, mostly because I can and it beats babysitting or making nails and door hinges.  But I keep thinking how you've probably gone back to living on tomato & cheese sandwiches and raw mushrooms. (I still don't understand why you eat those. Ugh.)  Promise you'll eat some real food at least occasionally? Meet up with Amarië for lunch or something.

I miss you, but you'd hate it here.  It's all noise and shouting and people everywhere, hardly any quiet.  I don't remember things being so loud even when I lived at home, but I guess there were fewer of us then.  And things are strange – Tyelkormo is out hunting most of the time, as usual, and Curvo fusses over Nyellë while she tries not to snap at him, but now Haru tries to placate Atar, and Maitimo tends to the twins and is quietly miserable.  Not that he's confessed it to anyone, but it's plain enough, at least to me.  

How is Tirion holding up with so many people gone? Are things calmer at all?

I can’t sleep through the night anymore, not without you beside me. I know why you stayed behind, and I understand, I really do, but I already miss you so much it aches.

All my love,

Carnistir

2

My dearest, beloved Parmë,

I’m sorely tempted to toss Curvo in the river, and you know, I think Nyellë might applaud me if I did. He’s smothering her with all his fussing, which is clearly driving her mad. I had no idea the two of them could argue so fiercely. So now we have not one, but three people in a constant state of bad temper. Family dinners are approaching open warfare.

I’m not blameless myself; I’ll be the first to admit it. I’d forgotten how hard it is to live with so many people under one roof. It was so much better at home with you, just the two of us. You’ve always been my even keel, my oasis, the cool water to quench my hot temper. It’s difficult being here without you. It feels like we’re all taking after Atto, snapping and snarling at each other. Not even Maitimo can keep the peace these days, and he was always the one who smoothed things over among us.

I think he misses Fingon desperately, even if he won’t admit it. The two of them argued before we left, and they must have exchanged some truly bitter words, because Maitimo’s heart feels like it’s surrounded with nettles now. I’ve tried talking to him – I thought maybe I could help draw out whatever’s poisoning him inside – but my efforts have gone nowhere. He’s locked part of himself away, like he doesn’t want to feel his own emotions. But the pain is bleeding out of him, even if I’m the only one who can see it.

I miss the days when we were happy. I miss my mother. Most of all, I miss you.

Your cousin is here, did you know? Alassinkë, I mean, and her ridiculous husband. They’ve been trying to curry favor with Atto through me, but I’m having none of it. Why should I give them the time of day, when they never treated you with the respect you deserve? I know that once we married, Alassinkë only ever saw her relationship with you as a means to an end. I won’t reward that kind of loveless conniving.

I was glad to hear that you’ve been spending time with Amarië. Please, offer her my congratulations on a successful first date with Findaráto. He’s been pining over her for years, but I thought he would never work up the nerve to ask her out. And while you know I’ve never been particularly close with him, I will say that he’s always been the least objectionable of Arafinwë’s brats. Amarië could do a lot worse.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I feel like I left a piece of myself behind in Tirion with you. Please, try to come for a visit soon, even if it’s only a few days. I think Canyanis would give you the time off if you asked. She adores you, and you’re one of her best archivists. Try, please. I would give anything to see you, even for a little while.

All my love,

Carnistir

3

Parmë, my Parmë, light of my life and dearest in the world to me,

I know I said this before you left, but I need to say it again: I am so, so sorry for how Atto treated you while you were here. I knew he was angry that you stayed behind in Tirion instead of coming here with me, but I never thought he would have such harsh words for you. I’ve tried to convince him that he owes you an apology, but he won’t listen to anything I say. He sees the fact that you stayed behind as a betrayal, just like he sees Ammë staying behind as a betrayal. He’s even accused me of being “blinded by my love for you.”

I told him that was nonsense, and that when we married we promised to love and cherish each other, not to always agree with each other. I’d be nothing but a petty tyrant if I’d tried to wheedle you into coming to Formenos with us, and I never could’ve done that to you, anyway. You love Tirion. You love the archive. You love your work, and your friends, and the garden that you’ve tended to for so long. I know you’d be miserable here, away from all of that, and I can never bear to see you unhappy.

I would’ve stayed with you if I could, but Atto never would have forgiven me. Plus that would’ve been tantamount to declaring allegiance to Nolofinwë, which is something you know I’ll never do. If he hadn’t listened to Melkor’s lies and tried to usurp my father’s place, none of us would be in this mess.

At any rate, Atto and I aren’t speaking now, because of what he said about you. Maitimo hasn’t even tried to get us to reconcile, which tells you all you need to know about how well he’s doing. Curvo’s taken sides, of course, so now he’s not speaking to me either. Tyelko’s been smart enough not to offer an opinion, and I think the twins are too young to really care. Makalaurë hasn’t said anything to Atto’s face about it, but in private he told me that Atto was out of line and that he doesn’t blame me for being angry. He said if Atto ever spoke to Melindil like that, he’d be furious, too.

I don’t know what Melindil and Nyellë think, but if I were them, I’d be nervous. You were always Atto’s favorite daughter-in-law, and if he’ll talk to you like that, they must realize he’ll do the same to them if they misstep. Though they came with us, so Atto is seeing them in a better light than he sees you. Loyalty has become very important to him, but I’m concerned by how strictly he seems to be defining it. I think if Haru had stayed behind to continue ruling in Tirion, Atto would’ve fallen apart completely.

Again, I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my fault, but you deserved better. If you don’t want to come back, I’ll understand, and I won’t fault you for it.

I cherish you, Parmë. More than the stars in the sky, more than the light of the Trees, more than all the gems in the earth.

All my love,

Carnistir

4

My dearest, darling Parmë, who has the cleverest hands,

I was a bit surprised when your package came, but oh, melissë, you outdid yourself. It's beautiful! And so warm – I swear it's the warmest blanket in the fortress. You must have been working on this quilt for months. The embroidery alone must have taken you weeks. Truly, it’s a work of art. I’ve never seen a quilt so fine, or so unique. Every time I look at it, I feel like you’re here with me, your arms wrapped around me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

In other news, Nyellë's had the baby. It's a boy. His name is Curufinwë Tyelperinquar. Typical. I’ve always thought this family already had more Curufinwës than it needed, but it seems Curvo disagrees.

There's not much else to say about him; he's little and bald and red, and he cries a lot. He looks to take after Curvo, at least in his appearance. Atto is thrilled, but Nyellë wants to try to arrange a visit with Ammë, so I'm not sure how long the good mood will last. Nyellë’s in the right, though. Ammë deserves to meet her first grandchild.

Little Tyelpo’s birth has cheered Maitimo up, too, which I’m grateful for. He’s clearly enjoying being an uncle, not to mention having a baby in the house again. I always thought he would make a good father. He loves children more than anyone I’ve ever met, and certainly more than I do. He’s having a grand time teaching Pityo and Telvo how to properly handle an infant, though so far they’ve refused his diaper-changing lessons.

Nyellë and Curvo are both exhausted and clearly appreciate the help. Even I’ve been charmed by the little dumpling, though living in a house with a baby is a new one for me, as you know. By the time Curvo and the twins came along, I was already settled in Tirion with you.

I do wish he didn’t cry so much, but when I made the mistake of saying that to Maitimo, Maitimo told me that I cried ten times as often and ten times as loudly when I was a baby. If he’s telling the truth – and let’s face it, I have no reason to doubt him – I was the unhappiest infant in all of Aman.

Will you come to see your nephew? I think Atto is in a good enough mood that he won’t snap at you again, and as always, I’d love to see you. I know you know nothing about babies, being an only child, but Maitimo and I would teach you, and I think Nyellë would like to see you, too. I know she said she’d like to thank you in person for the baby clothes you sent last month. They’re a little big – Tyelpo came a few weeks early, and he’s small – but he’ll grow into them. That’s one thing I do remember about babies; they grow faster than you’d think.

I’ve included some chrysanthemum seeds with this letter, for you to try in the garden back home. They grow wild up here, and these are from a plant with blooms that were a lovely shade of peach that I haven’t seen before. I hope they grow, and that they make you think of me.

All my love,

Carnistir

5

My darling, dearest, precious Parmë,

It was so, so good to see you. It’s amazing how much more peaceful the place is since little Tyelpo arrived, though I’ll be the first to say that that’s an awful lot of weight to put on a two-year-old’s shoulders. But if it means you can come and go without trouble, then I’ll take it. Selfish of me, I know, but I’ve never claimed not to be selfish. Thank Canyanis for me, will you, for giving you two entire weeks?

I hope there’s no trouble in Tirion over the fact that you’ve been coming to Formenos. I worry that some people there might view you with suspicion, or think you’re spying for Atto somehow. I know things are tense both here and there, and I’m glad that you’re doing your best to navigate both simultaneously. Selfish of me again, maybe; mostly I’m just happy I’ve been able to see you.

Tyelpo’s taken to dragging the blanket you made for him around with him everywhere, to the point that he cried when Nyellë took it away so that she could wash it. It’s displaced the bunny Ammë sent as his favorite thing.

I planted the rose seedlings you brought with you along the wall outside my bedroom window, so that I’ll be able to see them when they grow. They’ll make the place feel a little more homey. Not that it’s ever going to be home, for all that we’ve already been here three years and are due to stay another nine. Home isn’t here. Home is with you.

Tell me, has Findaráto asked Amarië to marry him yet, or is he still dragging his feet? He’s lucky she loves him so much, or someone else probably would have stolen her away by now.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t criticize. I proposed to you with no planning and no rings. But I’d known for years by then that you were the only person I would ever want to marry. I was just waiting until I’d turned fifty. Findaráto is well past fifty. He needs to get a move on things, or he’ll be like Maitimo, unmarried forever.

Of course, don’t tell him I said any of this. I doubt he has any desire to take relationship advice from me, considering how poorly we’ve always gotten along. His loss, though. I think I have the happiest marriage in the entire family.

Write me back quickly. I know I just saw you, but I already miss you.

All my love,

Carnistir

+1

Parmë, my love, my life,

It feels unfair, having to stay here for so long. It was Melkor’s lies that drove Atto to do what he did, and the Valar haven’t even managed to find Melkor. But they banished Atto anyway, even though they haven’t managed to fix their own mistake. Maybe Atto’s right, and we would be better off in Endorë rather than caged here. I don’t know. I just think a fresh start sounds tempting.

Would you come with me, if we were to really leave? I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid the answer would be no, and then we’d truly be sundered. Formenos is two days’ ride from Tirion. Endorë is an entire ocean away. But I know you don’t feel hemmed in here the way I do. You’re happy in Aman. You have your work, your friends, your family. I see the way you light up when you talk about the archive. I see how much joy your craft brings you.

If I’m honest, I’m not just afraid to ask; I think I’d actually hate myself if I ever did ask. I could never demand that you make that choice.

I’m afraid to ask the other question, too. If Atto did decide to lead us east over the sea, and you didn’t want to join him, would I stay with you? Or would I go with Atto? I don’t know the answer to that question, and that terrifies me. I love my father, but I also love you. I think having to make that choice would tear me in two.

Atto has been commanded to appear before Manwë at the festival, though the terms of his banishment haven’t been lifted. Haru has refused to go with him, and Atto has told the rest of us to stay behind as well. But I’m worried. Maybe it’s nothing, but I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is about to go wrong, that there’s some great malice at work that we can’t see. I’ve been dreaming of darkness rolling across Aman and choking the light.

I’m afraid. I wish  

Carnistir set down his quill, screwed up his parchment, and fed it to the flames.

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Halloween 2023 - A capricious love for an endless night: Episode 9

Bradley: Damn…what ‘cha doin’? Go play somewhere else if ya want to play with water.

Cain: Bradley! Something is hiding in this village. A strange child with black hair and golden eyes...

Bradley: ...... Ah, that explains the strange feeling I've been getting. It's affectin’ the Sage. Hey, get a grip!

[Bradley slaps Akira’s back]

Akira: ...Ugh!

Owen: Look, even Sir Knight is like that.

[Owen slaps Cain’s back]

Cain: Ouch! Why me too? You don't have to hit me on the back!

Owen: You were a bit dizzy, weren't you? Be grateful.

Akira: ….W-what? What did I just...?

Bradley: Oh, you're back.

Cain: I'm glad...Akira, are you okay?

Akira: Y-yes...

Bradley looked back in the direction where the boy disappeared, ignoring us who seem to have returned to our senses.

Bradley: Didn’t those humans said he sometimes appears as a beautiful boy. Guess that’s on point.

Owen: Look like it. Seriously, this world doesn't need three of those pretty faces.

Cain: You guys...Do you know something about that child?

Bradley: What, you still haven't realized?

Owen: That's Thewlis disguising as a human.

Figaro: Sage.

Lennox: Your clothes are wet. Did something happen?

Akira: Figaro, Lennox too...

Bradley: A Thewlis appeared. And it even went to the trouble of taking the form of a kid who looks like Snow and White.

Owen: It must have something it wants to draw attention to, doesn't it? It even went so far as to choose a human – the Sage, and try to charm them.

Figaro:……. I see. I thought it was strange that the wind was restless, and now I understand why the whole village is in a daze.

White: Ah, right. It must have come to show off its power.

White, who had just crossed the bridge with Snow and Oz behind him, agreed with Figaro's words.

At that moment, raindrops began to fall from the dark sky, one by one.

Cain: It's dark, but the sky is clear...

Oz: The land spirits are reacting. To welcome what's coming.

Snow: Everyone, it was indeed the right decision to come here today. We are about to witness something wonderful. Look over there.

Bright-haired man: W-what is that...?

Short-haired man: Something is approaching from the village entrance...

As the murmur of the gathered villagers grew, something shimmery can be seen between the falling rain in the direction Snow is pointing. Her outline, faintly translucent in the darkness of the night, shone with an ethereal light, like the first hint of dawn breaking through the inky blackness.

Akira: The lights of the village reflect off its scales, making it shimmer like twinkling stars. That is...

Emerging from the twilight haze, a figure materialized. Ethereal and majestic, it brought to mind a beautiful morning light.

This strange creature resembled a large fox. A long, flowing tail swayed behind it, and its fur shimmered with scales that seemed to catch the fading light of dusk, transforming it into a mesmerizing display.

Snow: This one is a female Thewlis.

White: Indeed, she is a beauty.

Cain: That's the Thewlis…is it different from the one that lives in the spring in this village?

Akira: I heard that the one in the spring is male. So, this is...

Snow looked up, his hand reaching out to catch the raindrops that streamed down like silver threads.

Snow: Thewlis can only live in water. Therefore, it is said that they only travel on the ground on rainy days... However, during weddings, it will rain even on clear days.

White: It seems that after a long time, a mate has appeared for the one living in the spring of the village.

The female Thewlis moved slowly and gracefully towards the village center.

With each step, a sprinkle of gold dust danced in the air, a mesmerizing display that captivated everyone. The sight was both fantastical and majestic, the beauty of the creature holding everyone in its thrall.

Lennox: The sheep are reacting too... I wonder if there is some kind of connection between animals.

Owen: I guess. Not many magical creatures can control spirits and change the weather, even if only for a short time.

Bradley: I like this better than when they were dressed like kids. Her scales can be sold for a lot.

Lennox: Bradley...

Bradley: Don't worry, I won't. I'm not that rude to interfere with a wedding, even if it's a beast.

Oz:….... The male Thewlis living in the spring was originally lacking in the power of charm. However, it seems that he has regained his power without knowing it.

Akira: Eh, really...?!

Owen: Sage, you were completely smitten just now. You looked at that guy's eyes when he was in human form and acted like you had taken a love potion.

Bradley: You were stumblin’ around and wading into the water, almost a drowned rat.

Figaro: Oh? If you had called me, I would have taken care of you.

Lennox: Dr. Figaro, weren’t you suffering from leg cramps until just a moment ago?

Figaro: Oh, come on, don't mention it.

Cain: So that's what that feeling was... I was a little dizzy too, to be honest.

Akira: S-sorry...for the unsightly scene.

Snow: Hohoho. We too wanted to see how flustered you'd get. But you, from the moment you were near the spring, you felt it a little, didn't you?

White: You said that when you licked the honey candy, it smelled like flowers and fruit. That was the scent of Thewlis' pheromones. I was going to make this scene a surprise, so I stayed silent.

Akira: Oh, is that… I remembered the twins were talking mischievously in the parlor a few days ago. They said that there was something good to see in the village, but they wouldn't tell what it was.

Akira: So the “good thing” you were talking about... is the Thewlis’ wedding?"

Snow: Indeed. It is also said to be a sign of good fortune. We were surprised too when we saw this scene for a moment while divining.

White: Is it the influence of the Great Calamity, or a trick of fate...? Or maybe both, I don't know, but the spring is now filled with an overwhelming power of charm.

Snow: This’s also a kind of miracle.

Later, the female Thewlis reached the largest spring in the back of the village.

The surface of the spring rippled without wind. Something rose from the water's depths, its form wavering like a mirage.

Akira: Is that the male Thewlis that lives in this spring…?

Snow: Yes. We hardly ever saw him either.

White: Once the two of them land on the same surface, the wedding ceremony will start.

Snow: Well, let's watch from the best seats. The Thewlis’ wedding is a beautiful sight.

Prompted by Snow and White, we had settled back down on the terrace-like spot by the edge of the spring where we had been relaxing earlier.

The other wizards naturally followed suit. Some sat down, some leaned against pillars, and some leaned their shoulders against trees a little further away.

As everyone watched the spring, the two Thewlis floating on the surface rubbed their noses together.

And then, as if dancing, two Thewlis frolicked and waved their fluffy tails. Each time, gold dust danced and sparkled in the dark scene.

A veil of rain draped the sky, whispering secrets to the earth. Amongst its threads, a celestial dance unfolded - countless stars of gold dust, shimmering and serene.

Akira: Beautiful...It's like stars are falling all over the dark sky...

Lennox: You can see the light particles shining through their translucent bodies. It looks like they might just melt into the night.

Cain: Yeah...the falling light particles will disappear if you touch them. It's like a sea of twinkling stars stretching across the night sky, but I think it's actually daytime now, this gives me a strange feeling.

It seemed like a truly special sight, like a curtain of Thewlis’ magic descending over the village, something that could only be seen on this night.

Snow: Ah, it's so fleeting, delicate, and beautiful.

White: Indeed, it's truly a momentary spectacular view.

Figaro: ……I agree, I suppose it was worth the trip.

Owen: Well, I guess it's okay to see them once in a while.

Bradley: If only there was some wine. Should’ve pinched some on the way here.

Cain: …..I wonder where these two go after the wedding ceremony is over. Will they both live in this spring? Or will they go somewhere else?

Oz: Neither. Once Thewlis find their mate, their lives come to an end.

Akira & Cain: Eh.....?

Startled by Oz's words, the beautiful scene unfolding before my eyes suddenly felt distant.

Akira: No way... After all this time, they finally found each other. And now, they're going to disappear soon?

Cain: But they've only been together for a moment...

Snow: Don't worry. This world is full of wonders and miracles. Every time a wedding ceremony ends, two new fated Thewlis are born in water sources somewhere in this world.

White: They will eventually meet again after a long period of time. They were also born under the same star, far apart from each other.

The twins, their eyes etched with the stories of a thousand joys and sorrows, blinked slowly as they gazed upwards at the two Thewlis playing with each other.

Snow: It’s said that this spring is the gateway to the underworld. Such a beautiful end to life and a new beginning is not something you see every day.

Akira: End and Beginning...

The two Thewlis, dancing playfully above our heads, did not look like they were about to end their lives.

Their scales and eyes shimmered as they intertwined their tails, sharing the joy of their reunion and bidding farewell.

It was a dreamlike scene that seemed to last forever.

Eventually, the two Thewlis, side by side, kick off the water's surface and soar high into the sky.

At the peak of their ascent, the male Theslis seemed to glance back at us slightly.

With a flick of his gleaming scales and a graceful sweep of his long tail, rain erupted from the sky, then intensified into a downpour.

Akira: Wow….

As if someone had cast a spell, the raindrops didn't touch our skin, but bounced and disappeared in front of us.

Eventually, the rain subsided, and the darkened sky began to brighten.

A rainbow appeared.

A strange sight, as if day and night were reversed.

At the edge of the sky, dawn was breaking, as if to bless this wonderful new beginning.

Akira: (…..It's strange, but looks like a new day has begun somewhere high up in the sky...)

Cain: ...Have they been born again? The new pair of Thewlis that have inherited the fate of those two. Even though we don't know how many hundreds of years it will take...they will surely meet again, won't they?

Akira: ...That's right. Although it was a fleeting encounter… But maybe, it wasn't a sad farewell.

Bathed in the afterglow of a sky painted with twilight hues, I dwelled on the dreamlike quality of their meeting. A soft splash broke the spell, a ripple whispering across the silent face of the spring.

Something was washed up on the edge of the rock face.

Akira: An old...teapot...?

The familiar object looked like the copy of the teapot that Snow had shown me earlier, or so I thought.

As Snow caught sight of it, he clapped his hands as if he had just remembered something.

Snow: Ah, I remember...!

Figaro: What? Why did you suddenly raise your voice?

Snow: It's about this teapot. Just before I went away from this village, I had a big party...I got drunk and accidentally dropped it in the spring.

Akira: So, it's...

Snow: Indeed. It's the other teapot that I lost in my youth.

Snow picked up the pot and gently stroked it with his gentle hands.

I wonder if the Thewlis had been protecting Snow's lost item until today.

Snow: What a sweet little thing.

As Snow murmured lovingly, I felt as if the spring responded with a soft "pooch" sound.

When we returned to the village after the rain, there was something sparkling on the path where the Thewlis had walked.

Mufflered woman: Sand? No, this is...

Hooded man: It’s gold…A path of gold dust stretches across this area...

Akira: Amazing...The snow and gold are mixed together, and it's sparkling!

Cain: This one is huge! Like jewels...

Bradley: Hey, isn't that a Thewlis scale?

Figaro: Oh, you're right. There are a few mixed in among the gold grains.

Snow: The mythical beast that brings prosperity... This is a blessing left behind by the Thewlis.

White: With every step they took, the gold dust shimmered, like a golden cloak being laid out. The scales can be used as protective charms. And with this much gold, the village will prosper for a while.

Lennox: That beast...he seemed to turn and wave his tail at us one last time. As if he was saying goodbye. If he left behind something like this, then this village, where it lived for so long, must have been a special place to it.

Figaro: Well, if that's the case, he is quite a polite beast. I guess he also feels he owes a debt to the twins.

Bradley: What a great parting gift. With this much, we could probably take a little without getting caught.

Owen: I agree. It's not as valuable as mana stones, though.

Cain: Hey, don't take too much. This is for the villagers.

Akira: ……..

Snow: Sage, my dear, what's wrong? You seem a bit down.

As everyone else was interested in the gold dust, I turned back to the spring.

I thought back to what I heard before coming here and after arriving in this village.

Akira: That spring is the lifeline of the villagers, isn't it? It's always been maintained without freezing or drying up, thanks to Thewlis... Does that mean that now the Thewlis is gone, this village could be lost at any time?

Snow:...Well, yes, I guess so. It's just the way things are.

Snow nodded rather casually, almost indifferently.

I watched the villagers returning one after another from the spring, curiously scooping up gold dust and holding it up to the sky. I turned back to White and saw him gently stroking the teapot that he had tucked under his arm, smiling faintly.

Episode 8 | Episode 10