#And no I don’t understand how all of this works so who KNOWS what’s really going on the background
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mulloey · 2 days ago
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Can you write a full length fic of boyfriends!sanhwa reminding the reader who she belong to after someone tried to flirt with her at party and she was too oblivious to understand and went with it?
Can you include overstim and them having the reader on their lap. And a bit of size kink on sanhwa's part.
Do not include: mxm, misogynistic terms like whore and slut.
too sweet
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san & seonghwa x fem!reader
words: 1k
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warnings: overstim, punishment, soft doms!sanhwa, kind of innocent!reader, reader is smaller than sanhwa, big size kink (you’re referred to as small, tiny, little etc)
“Do you understand now?”
Seonghwa’s voice is low and teasing in your ear, making you squirm in his hold; he has you on his lap, your legs spread apart and held in position by his own strong thighs. His arms are wrapped around your torso, stroking your flushed skin as you sob through another orgasm.
You don’t know how many you’ve had now, nor how many you’re yet to endure; San’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy relentlessly, his other hand holding a vibrator firmly against your swollen clit. You writhe pathetically in Seonghwa’s arms but you all know it’s pointless; they could overpower you in your sleep, and when they’re this determined to teach you a lesson, there’s nothing you can do but take it.
“Yes, Hwa,” you hiccup. Your voice is tiny and pathetic, hoarse from screaming and begging for God knows how long. “Hwa, m’ sorry, please.”
He laughs softly into your skin, lips trailing across your neck. “Oh I know, honey,” he coos. “It must hurt so much, huh?” His voice drips with condescension and you know he doesn’t actually care if it hurts; he wants it to hurt, wants you so drunk on pleasure that you can’t think of anything except them, their hands, and how sorry you are for being so bad.
And you were really, really bad—or so they said. You don’t think it’s fair, honestly, to be punished for something you didn’t even know you were doing, but you’re not silly enough to protest; Seonghwa in particular hates when you try to weasel out of a punishment, sees it as the ultimate form of disobedience—so trying to talk yourself out of this would only have made it worse. For the nth time tonight your safeword dances on your tongue but you have no intention of using it. They know as well as you do that you absolutely adore being used like this.
Still, it would be better if this wasn’t happening as a punishment; then you’d be able to ask San to take it slower, or to pull his fingers out and fuck you instead. But if that’s what you wanted, then maybe you should have been more careful.
They knew they shouldn’t have taken you to that party. A company event filled with other artists and staff, it was all too easy to lose you in the crowd; you were smaller than most of the people, a social butterfly, and endlessly optimistic of people’s intentions. For just ten seconds San had looked away from you to chat with one of his stylists—but that was all the time it took for you to slip away.
It was Seonghwa that found you chatting happily with one of the choreographers. To be fair to the guy, he was new and didn’t know the nature of your relationship to them yet; but that didn’t make the sight of him leaning against the wall with his hand on your arm any more pleasant. And you, sweet thing that you were, had no idea what he was doing.
He got you out of there quickly, both of your boyfriends bundling you into the car despite your protests; Seonghwa nearly broke the speed limit trying to get you home before he snapped and took you right there on the motorway.
You’re just too sweet for your own good. And the noises you make as you approach another orgasm certainly are.
You can’t bear to look at San anymore; the focus on his face and the bulging muscles of his arms as he works you open are only turning you on more, so you bury your face in Seonghwa’s neck, crying pitifully into his hair. You shudder through your next orgasm, barely in control of your limbs anymore and San kisses your cream-covered thighs. “Pretty girl,” he croons. “Naughty girl.”
“M’ sorry,” you whine. “Sannie, please, I can’t—”
“Yes you can,” Seonghwa says with a sweet smile. “You’re gonna, baby.”
San hums in agreement as he resumes his assault on your aching cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he purrs. “So tiny for us. Only for us, right?”
“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Only for— only for you. Only for Sannie and Hwa.”
“Good girl,” Seonghwa says. “Such a sweetheart, learning her lesson so well. Isn’t she, Sannie?”
“She is, yeah. One more orgasm, baby, then I’ll fuck you, alright?”
You nod dizzily, barely aware of what’s going on; just as your last orgasm approaches, San pulls the vibrator away and attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking harshly at it and it’s all takes for you to come crashing over the edge, releasing onto his face. He comes up with a grin, mouth and chin wet with your juices as he pulls you out to Seonghwa’s arms and into his own. He pushes you down on the sheets, hovering over you. “Hi, tiny,” he smiles. “Want me in your pussy?”
“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “And— and Hwa?”
San’s smile widens and you hear Seonghwa laugh from next to you. “Silly girl,” he says. “How am I gonna fit in there with Sannie? You’re too little, baby, we’d tear you open.”
“Don’t care,” you say. Your voice is stubborn and San pinches your thigh in warning.
“Be good,” he mumbles. “Hwa’s right, honey. We’re too big to fit in that little pussy. But if you ask him nicely I’m sure he’ll fuck your mouth, right?”
“Right.” Seonghwa grabs your chin gently, turning your head to face him where he’s kneeling at the side of the bed. His eyes are soft and impossibly aroused as he looks you up and down. “Want me in your mouth, pretty?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”
“That’s not enough.” There’s a stern edge to his voice now that makes you shrink into yourself a little and his lips quirk amusedly when he notices. “You were really, really naughty tonight, baby. If you want me in your mouth you’re gonna have to beg for it, aren’t you?”
“Please,” you say. “Please, Hwa, I need— I’ll be so good. I won’t be bad again, I won’t let anyone flirt with me again, I swear I learnt my lesson, pl—”
“Sh, sh,” San soothes you with a chuckle, rubbing your pussy gently; the wet sounds make you blush. “We know, baby, good girl. Always so good.”
“You are,” Seonghwa smiles.
As you feel San start to push into you you feel the bed dip under Seonghwa’s weight as he climbs onto it. His dick is already leaking when he presses it against your lips.
“Open up, baby.”
ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta @lemonkait00 @uhh-awkward-rightt @whyokoa @miyaluvvsyou @yabbadabbatuh @mylovelymito
requests open!
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juricel · 1 day ago
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heyyy its me again
I have a silly request for you which you can ignore if you want to, since I think your ask box is piling up haha!
basically,
Yandere reader x pre corrupt shadow milk cookie turns to reader x Yandere shadow milk cookie
Reader, at first is super obsessed and does a lot of stuff for pre-corrupted shadow milk cookie and hes like super disgusted by how they’re acting. And suddenly, reader disappears one day, and hes fine with it
beasts get corrupted then get jailed,,
while in jail shadow milk cookie misses how loving y/n was, and realised that he has taken them for granted </33 And now he wants them back because of how love deprived he became
when hes out of the silver tree he see’s y/n again and at first hes all hip hip hooray !! until he sees that y/ns clinging onto the THIEF!!!
he goes batshit crazy, you can be creative with this if you want or just give your little ideas/comments I just really want more food wahah
so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, it’s 2am :’)
tysm for reading oh great one!! you don’t have to do this right away dont worry love ur work already
—💤non
a/n: it's okay, i understand what you were aimimg for! I focused on the other requests before this one and had some church duties to do, so I apologize for having you need to wait for so long.
— yandere! shadow milk cookie x past yandere! reader (ft. the bus driver, pure vanilla cookie.)
໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, corruption, objectification, stalking, pure vanilla cookie needs a fucking break, one of these warnings is not like the rest, potential ooc.
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𖦁 blueberry milk cookie was a heaven sent gift from the witches above, he was a celestial jewel, an angel's whisper brought down to earth, the very breath of seraphim—an impossible, transcendental blessing cradled in the tender arms of witches' own grace. he was a splendid confection, kneaded from divine essence, destined to scatter blessings upon the crumbed multitudes of earthbread—a being way out of your league, you, an ordinary cookie who could crumble and wither into a flour with not a single eye batting to your direction.
𖦁 ah, but how radiant he was, you couldn't help yourself from your love, your dear, your luminous, immortal darling. does he even know? does he grasp the way his mind glows, the way his thoughts spill like molten gold onto the parchment of your very soul? he was your everything, your love—your guiding star, your perfect darling, your sole, necessary breath. and yet, the world, the pitiful, ignorant world, could not comprehend his brilliance, like a mere toy, they had molded him, and cast him aside once their utilitarian need had been served; they did not deserve him. no, the world could not deserve him—those who fail to recognize the sacredness of his mind, who treat his wisdom as commonplace, who look upon him without the reverence of a disciple at the feet of a god—it sickens you, stirs a fury deep within your chest. in the hollowed, gleaming corridors of his towering spire, you would see them—fawning, indulging in their miserable, blind inanities, lost in the sick lies they prefer over the sublime truth he alone could offer. and mind you, it was he—he—who spent his invaluable time, his precious moments, entangled with these dull, odious fools, these imbecilic cookies just for them to throw it away! he should not have to share his divine self with such paltry, uninspired creatures. no, no, no. you could not abide it. you would sever every connection, carve away every distraction, erase every tether that pulled him from you. and if it were required to cloak him in the softest, most unrelenting shadow, to shield him from the world that could never grasp his greatness, to hide him where only your gaze could drink in the luminous glow of his mind—so be it. you would protect him, cherish him, and keep him safe from those who could never understand him as you do.
𖦁 yet, he couldn't seem to understand it all; with every embrace, a look of disdain was given to you, as if you were a taint smeared upon heavens, can't he understand? these cookies were the one that were evil! they will defile him, corrupt his very name with degeneracy! you were merely shielding him away from the evil, how could he not comprehend that? he must've been brainwashed. yes, surely, or so that was what you wanted to believe, however, all his actions proved otherwise: with every touch, he recoiled, like a skittish moth repelled by the flame it once sought. with every affectionate word, he replied in clipped, mechanical syllables, blunt and cold, each one landing with the weight of a slammed door. there was no love in them—no warmth, no hesitance, no trace of a feeling that might, by some miracle, have softened the harsh lines of his indifference. you learned quickly that tenderness was a language he neither spoke nor cared to decipher. a hand reaching for his own was met with a perfunctory pat, a touch devoid of meaning, as if acknowledging, rather than returning, the gesture. you could pour all your warmth into him, let it trickle down the cracks in his facade, but he would not absorb it. He remained, steadfast in his distance, near enough to torment, far enough to elude. you tried to believe in the silences, in the space between his words, in the possibility that somewhere beneath that marble exterior, there was something that resembled love. but hope, much like affection, was wasted on him. you tried, really! to continue loving him, you truly did, but, ah, your feelings leisurely diminished into grains of flour until your love turned into rust and dust.
𖦁 it wasn't long until then your unfortunate sweet dear darling, the celestial beacon in your life was sullied into taint when you vanished into thin air. from graces, he fell, and into the bottom of the endless pit of corruption.
𖦁 and oh, how much he changed: in the cold, lonely cell, he reminisced the past, thought of you, thought of your oh so tender gentle caresses! and to say that it made him deprived of warmth, made him ache—hunger not for food, but for yours was an understatement. he sought and yearned for it, hunger gnawed, a sensation with fangs, sharp and insistent, curling inside his ribs like a starved serpent. he gwaned for you—not sweetly, not poetically, but in the way of a body denied water, of lips cracked and trembling at the edge of a mirage. oh, to be held, to be devoured, to be anything but this wretched hunger pressing against the ribs, licking at the throat, whispering: more, more, more... ah! he couldn't stop it! he promises to himself that he'd apologize to you and pamper you with affection once he gets out of this petulant little silver tree!
𖦁 and he'd definitely stick to his word; the moment he flees from the withering tree binding him and his allies, he had his priorities straight: to find his dear darling! he was beyond ectastic, thoughts filled of embracing you once more and kissing you, but, ah, none could prepare him for the sight that would unfold infront of his very gaze—his sweet puppet was linking arms with /him/. at first, he laughed, he chuckled and brushed it off, no, no, surely he was just presuming things! there was no way his dear would betray him and replace him with such a... ungracious caricature of a cookie, right? right? if you were, he'd definitely need to give you a better eyes as a replacement which was a no worries for him! he has a nice stock of replacement! surely, you wouldn't stoop down to that level of degeneracy. yet, you didn't approach him like he thought and dreamed of within the silved tree, you only took a cautious step back, away from him, away from your perfect celestial darling and to the burlesque version of himself, realization dawned and it made him seeth with anger.
𖦁 blasphemous! how dare you! you superseded his spot with this thing?! to betray him was one thing, but to replace him with this cheap copy of himself whom hadn't grown ever slightly intelligent despite wielding his own power?! you little pest! he'll make you pay for this. oh, and, don't worry your pretty little brain! he promises to be much, much more tender than he will be to him, it will be grand, a show that will mark itself in earthbread's history. so won't you be a good little dear and wait till he finishes his one last marionette show before tending to you?
𖦁 and as for the destiny of the silly little thief... ah, he vows to make him taste his own medicine and he'll make certain it will be a fate worse than crumbling away! he wasn't gonna kill him, no, no, death was far too gentle, he was gonna corrupt him, brainwash his mind with sweet, insidious poison, and distort his reality into a glistening hall of mirrors where every reflection was a lie, every whisper a trick of the light. he would unravel, unravel most grotesquely, as his reason frayed like moth-eaten silk, his thoughts dissolving into the same exquisite delirium that had once seized his own skull in its venomous embrace! and most importantly, he was gonna make him feel like what it felt like to be in his place! he stole his soul jam and now you, surely he doesn't think he can get away with that, can't he? no, no, if he wants to take from him so badly, he was gonna make him /him/.
𖦁 but ah, don't be so upset, dear. shouldn't you be exhilarated? he's giving you the attention you craved for, the attention you digged the sand and soils for until your fingers scarred and numbed for, the attention you yearned and sought for like a madman. so, why won't you clap, give your sweet jester an applause for his spectacular show? don't tell him you were still concerned of pure vanilla cookie! he simply put him in the right path, the road down to the deepest depths of hell, of course, but it was still a befitting destination!
𖦁 yet, still, still, you prattled on, fretting that lovely little head of yours over pure vanilla cookie—his name tumbling from your lips like some sacred incantation, a hymn to a god too distant to listen. and oh, how it curdled something deep inside him, how it set his very marrow alight with a fury so exquisite it was almost pleasure. could you not see? he was here. here, before you, in all his resplendent, fevered devotion, and yet you—blind, foolish, maddening thing—spoke of another. oh! perhaps a lesson was in order. yes, yes, that's right, a lesson. a gentle one, at first—he was, after all, a man of remarkable patience. a game, then, a little amusement, something to turn those wandering thoughts back where they belonged. he would not interrupt, no, never that. he would only guide, nudge, mold. and in the end, oh, you would see. you would understand. you would learn.
𖦁 and to say the wait had been merely excellent would be a crime of understatement, a paltry insult to the fevered anticipation that had coiled and uncoiled within him for so long. no, the outcome was a marvel beyond the bounds of mere expectation. you were back, back as you had been, intact, whole—his darling, his own, still in possession of that precious, once-fractured self. giddy with triumph, he would fall against you, arms encircling the exquisite stillness of your form, his dear darling, still and unresponsive—your gaze, those glassy and depthless eyes, did not meet his but stretched past him, unfocused, fixed upon some distant and nameless horizon. there was no flicker of recognition, no gentle return of his embrace. and yet, he clung to you, triumphant, unbothered by your silence, unshaken by your vacancy. you were here. that was more than enough.
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a/n: I've received like... so many requests featuring pure vanilla cookie with yandere shadow milk cookie after i made that one post... do you guys want him dead? anyways, i just lost my pity in the guaranteed banner to fucking sherbet cookie. i need frost queen to turn him into snow once again... can someone bless me their mystic flour luck, ill give you my burning spice who is currently 4 stars (f2p)
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fairestwriting · 21 hours ago
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Hello 👋 could I please request headcanons for leona's fem s/o defending him everytime one of the other characters start making backhanded comments to his face (if you've seen some of the vignettes you'll know what I mean) she doesn't reveal things like he's depressed or anything (tho he is) she just tells them it's shitty of them calling him lazy/selfish constantly without even knowing him personally
[Everyone treats leona like crap and I take personal offense to it >:( ]
You know i make fun of him on a regular basis. but theres a line thats gotta be drawn when it comes to leona bullying. cause damn this guy needs a real Break he cant even have issues in peace
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𐙚 Leona Kingscholar
Before you got closer to him, there’s a fair chance the comments didn’t even stand out to you at all. It always felt a little unfair, yes, but not in a way that was particularly shocking, they were all just rude comments like any other. Back when you weren’t quite friends yet, and maybe even at the start of your friendship, you might have interjected with a simple ”hey, he’s not that bad” or "you don’t need to be rude about it”. It was just a gesture of basic politeness then, something the people around you seemed to lack.
But obviously, your perception of those interactions, and the way you see Leona’s situation itself, soon went through a rather radical change. Possibly even before you two started dating, or even before he “told you too much” — His own words, mumbled dismissively but bitterly, the day he came back after spending a weekend with his family and then proceeded to complain for a little longer than usual — As he warmed up to you, you started to notice things about him more. You started to see the spark of actual passion he has in his eyes during his club activities, the level of detail he gets into when analyzing things, the precise way he moved his chess pieces when you two played...
Above all, though, you started to notice how he often looked actually tired when he took part in any of the “slacking” he’s so infamous for. Learning the littlest bit more about his family life just worked as the final piece of the puzzle you’d been putting together without even noticing — And then, other people’s “rudeness” started to sound like something much more cruel. It didn’t help that he never seemed to react to it whenever he overheard others gossiping, or whenever you told him about the things you heard. “Why doesn’t he care?” The thought would echo in your mind for ages, trying to understand him through the tiny slivers of vulnerability he didn’t mean to show.
Now, as his girlfriend, you feel you just can’t let people say whatever they want, and you feel it more strongly than you ever have. ”Why don’t you mind your own business instead of talking about someone you don’t really know?” You snap back on instinct when one of your classmates, who was in Savanaclaw, comments on how lazy their dorm leader is. Their mouth closes instantly, regardless if you’ve made your relationship public or not — You realize that, on top of all the negative treatment Leona got, it was also extremely rare for others to defend him in any way at all. Enough that even a response that simple elicits shock from others.
”You know, it’s crazy to see you hanging out with Leona like that. I never thought I'd see anyone get so excited to spend time with him.” You hear some other day, while spending time in Savanaclaw’s common area, sat right next to Leona, and it just makes your blood boil. He’s just half-glaring at your particularly cocky acquaintance, sighing like he’s heard it a million times before, which you know he probably has. ”Hey, make sure you don’t get too influenced, we don’t need another person who just sleeps all day—”
”Yeah, you’re right. This type of person can be such a pain. I’m so glad I don’t know anyone who’s, you know, actually like that.” You say through grit teeth, just barely holding back aggression, and in the corner of your vision, the subtle flash of surprise in Leona’s face only encourages you to continue. ”Imagine if like, the Magift team had this sort of player in it… the club would be done for.”
They stare at you with wide eyes, having very much picked up on the aggression. The entire room is silent, you refuse to break eye contact, arms firmly crossed. ”Well, I mean…” The student stammers, but then, Leona himself speaks up for once. ”Did you not get her message? You need me to tell you to shut up instead?” He snaps, and they frantically shake their head, eyes fixed on the ground. You feel pride swelling in your chest, almost unable to hold back your smile.
”You know, Herbivore, if I needed a bodyguard I’d already have one.” He tells you later, in that same day. His tone has that snarky edge that feels like his default, but it’s much less pronounced than usual. You can even see a sort of softness in his eyes while he tries to play it cool. But needing and deserving are two different things, you think. As interactions like these repeat, with you defending him every time, you hope your message fully gets through to him, one day.
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if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦
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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 3 days ago
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feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)
- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.
- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.
- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)
- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.
- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!), and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.
- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.
- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.
- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.
- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.
- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.
bonus facts!!!:
- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)
- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.
- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.
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revelboo · 18 hours ago
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hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️
Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too
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It Had to Be You Pt 17
TFO Megatron x Reader
• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.
• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.
• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.
• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”
• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.
• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.
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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days ago
Note
Hiya Blusy! Could you write something where the reader is Donna’s maid and over the years, they’ve developed a close working relationship. Eventually Donna starts doing things like holding reader’s hand, calling her pet names etc, but never anything explicitly romantic like kisses. Reader has been in love with Donna for a while now, and she just thinks Donna’s being affectionate because they’re close, so she accepts and returns the gestures. And then at the lords meetings, visits to castle Dimitrescu, and on the phone, Donna sometimes tells the other lords how wonderful her girlfriend is. Reader is confused and jealous that Donna apparently has a girlfriend that she doesn’t know about… not realizing that Donna is actually talking about her! Eventually she figures it out, like “what do you mean we’re already dating?”
I really enjoy reading all your stories, Blusy! You are doing amazing work at keeping Donna fans fed. Keep it up, but don’t forget to take breaks!
Yesss!!! Sorry about the delay, and thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes too!!! :)))))))
What do you mean by "girlfriends"?
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, maid! Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Donna being Donna
Word count: 8,663
Summary: Why was she doing that? What was on her mind?
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVING MESSAGES, I'M VERY HAPPY TO BE BACK!!!
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“That's it... you here...” you murmured as you arranged a pile of books on a shelf. “Perfect.”
Sighing, you looked at the result of your effort, finding a comforting pleasure in a well-done job.
You didn't really understand why those damn books always appeared in disarray, but you did have slight suspicions about who the culprit was.
“Angie...” you hissed, narrowing your eyes, too accustomed to the doll's pranks. “You'll never change.”
After three years working in that house, chores became mere pastimes. You were always a happy, hard-working girl, confident in what you did, well, almost always.
If you thought about how you had ended up like that, you were still surprised by yourself. You wanted a future, some way to get a job that didn't involve serving an impossibly tall woman and her daughters.
In that village, the options were few, and none were particularly pleasant. At the foot of the castle there was always a line of beautiful girls determined to serve Lord Alcina Dimitrescu as maids.
The decision was between join that queue of aspiring handmaidens, or find a different place to earn a living. You weren’t that brave, and, despite everything, you walked through the snowy forest, crossed a sinister path and a dangerously unstable bridge to make a very risky move.
With the lady of the castle surrounded by maids, your options were considerably reduced. You would have to look for another place, perhaps another Lord to serve.
Lord Heisenberg, perhaps? No, he wasn’t the kind of man that needed to be served or to look for someone who was… alive. Mother Miranda? Gods, you didn’t even consider it. You didn’t want to end up like one of the poor creatures who hunted at night.
What about Moreau? Oh, no, definitely not.
There was still one option left for you, one you hadn't considered in the first place, one you didn't want to consider. There was one Lord left, the youngest, the most unknown, the woman in mourning who lived beyond the forest, in the old mansion by the waterfall, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.
The little knowledge you had about her was an advantage, but also a drawback. Knowing what you could face reassured you, but in this case, it wasn’t possible. To tell the truth, no one knew much about young Beneviento, at least, nothing good.
But things were really bad in your old cabin, and you were sure that you wouldn’t endure the cold of winter another year.
Forgetting about the rumors about the mysterious Lady Beneviento, you decided to try your luck. If you had known what awaited you, you would have done it sooner, much sooner.
The shrill voice of the lady's living doll kicked you out of the place as soon as she saw you, saying that you weren’t needed, that you should leave immediately. With failure already in your eyes and a treacherous trembling in your legs, you decided to give up, and pray to the Black Gods that you could return alive.
There were no visions, no nightmares and no evil power that made you hallucinate as you had heard from the people of the village. You could only hear the sound of footsteps in the snow, your own.
One step, two, three, and finally an impertinent cry from Angie, calling you not to go too far away.
You didn't know why the lady had changed her mind, and you didn't want to know, but she did and hired you as her maid.
You couldn't deny that that ghostly air and the black veil that covered her face intimidated you, especially the first days, but you soon got used to it.
Donna Beneviento was just as the rumors said. She was a sick woman, who didn't even speak to you, locked in her old workshop for hours, with the only company of her inert dolls. You could even say that she had an irrational aversion to people, to you… but… then, why were you still alive? Why didn't your reality distort and force you to throw yourself off the cliff?
The mystery stopped being dark and sinister and became a complex but entertaining riddle.
Perhaps without the presence of that rebellious puppet you would have gone crazy. It's not that you were a girl who loved conversations, but your mistress's eternal silence was heavy, uncomfortable, terrifying.
The days, the weeks, the months passed without any change. You did your chores, bowed slightly to your mistress and rested, a routine only broken by the games of the Angie doll, in which you, usually, were the protagonist.
But everything changed that day, the day you realized how hurt Beneviento's mind was. It was an unexpected crisis, in the middle of a dinner that seemed calm. The woman in black began to scream, to move, to try to hurt herself. Luckily, you were there to prevent it.
Her madness was so great that it even made that black veil disappear, thus unveiling her face to you involuntarily. You were too busy to notice her. You didn't want her to hurt herself, you couldn't stand to see her suffer like that. She didn't deserve it, she had never shown you that she deserved such punishment from the Gods.
She got worse before she got better, going from rage to tears quickly and finally finding comfort in your arms, in your chest and in your soft, reassuring words. When Donna calmed down completely, she came back to reality, aware of what she had done, of what you were seeing: her face, one that no one should ever see.
You thought that the crisis would return, that her madness would attack her again, and perhaps you would be the target of her anger, but it wasn't like that.
The lady slowly stood up grabbing the veil she had thrown away, looking down at the ground, blinking erratically with her one eye. In the middle of that unpleasant situation, she did it; she finally talked to you by herself:
“Thank you”
Her hoarse, but melodic and seductive voice reached your ears while your eyes were still processing her beauty. You couldn't say you didn't know what she looked like, since the portrait on the stairs was a good reference, but seeing it in person, seeing the beautiful woman you worked for with your own eyes... Something definitely changed that day.
Not only her voice became frequent, but the veil disappeared. Surely she realized that you didn't act as if you had seen a monster, that you weren't disgusted by the scar that deformed her face. Yes, she may have realized that your eyes saw a woman and not a deformed being that torments children in their nightmares.
Time only improved that great change, making the shy and hermit ventriloquist find in you something resembling a friend. The truth was that you two shared tastes, interests. Contrary to what you initially believed, you had many things in common.
Donna was a strange woman, of course, but sweet in some way, intelligent, elegant... in short: she was the opposite of what was said in the village.
You, who thought you would find a job with which to survive, found more than that, you found a friend, a good friend.
The sound of the door distracted you from your memories, causing you to turn on your heels and shake the dust that covered your apron as you walked, also taking the opportunity to arrange your hair correctly.
“Donna, you're back,” you said kindly, welcoming the woman in black and her doll at the entrance.
“Of course we're back! Don't you see us, silly maid?” Angie said, moving in her owner's arms as Donna lowered her to the floor. “Did you have fun, silly?”
“Yes, I actually had a really great time tidying the shelves,” you said with a mocking smile, putting your hands on your hips. “How funny, someone was kind enough to mess up all the books to keep me busy.”
“You're welcome, silly, that way you wouldn't get bored,” the doll replied, laughing evilly and passing by you with disinterest.
“Yes, thank you very much,” you said through clenched teeth, shaking your head and looking back at the lady in black, who was bringing one of her hands to her veil, slowly removing it. “How was the meeting?”
“Mm, not good,” the brunette whispered, looking away from you with an air of nervousness and sadness as she folded her veil carefully, leaving it on a nearby table.
“Oh, um, did something happen?” you asked pleasantly.
She shook her head, sighing and walking slowly towards the dining room, letting herself fall into one of the chairs. Slowly, you approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder, ready for a comforting talk that poor Donna was unwillingly asking for.
“Donna, what's wrong?” you asked quietly. “Gods, you're freezing.”
“Mm, nevermind, (Y/N),” she answered, sighing again.
“Donna,” you said, sitting in a chair front of her. “Tell me what worries you… Well, as long as it doesn't have anything to do with Mother Miranda's evil plans or something similar,” you joked, getting her lips to form a shy smile.
“No, it's just that… I was looking forward to going home,” Donna explained, with a sweet, sincere voice. “These meetings are torture for me, I, I just want to be with my dolls and…”
“Oh, Donna, I know,” you interrupted calmly.  “Don't worry. You're at home now, mm?”
“Yes…” she sighed, smiling again. “I'm at home… Sorry, (Y/N), I'm… I'm not having a good day…”
“I know,” you said in a soft, understanding tone. “I’m not surprised. With this cold it's hard to be cheerful.”
“Mm,” the lady murmured, looking out the window wistfully.
“Do you know what you need?” you said in a louder voice, clapping your hands, which comically scared your mistress, who shook the head with her eye wide open. “I'm going to prepare a relaxing bath for you, it will help you warm up, what do you think?”
“It's… it's… yes, I think it's a good idea, grazie, (Y/N),” she answered, with an innocent smile.
“Great, I'll let you know when it's ready,” you said enthusiastically, glancing sideways at Angie, who was climbing up the bookshelf, threatening to mess it up again. “Hey, I'm watching you!”
“Don't look at me, silly!” the doll answered squeakily. “I'm checking your work.”
“Ugh,” you growled annoyed. “No, no, no! Hey, I just tidied it up!” you shouted as you saw how the puppet slowly took out one of the books. “Angie!”
“Angie, basta! Lasciala estare!” Donna said, coming to your defense, as usual.
“You’re an annoying killjoy,” Angie protested, getting down from the bookshelf, shaking her head haughtily and leaving the dining room.
“Angie...” the lady hissed, putting two fingers on her temples. “This is the last time I...”
“It's okay, Donna. You already know her,” you said, downplaying it. “I'm used to it. Just relax, the bath will be ready soon.”
With those words and a soft caress on her back, you went down the elevator, ready to make the lady in black feel better. Of course, you knew that meetings with her siblings weren’t to her liking. She never asked to be a Lord, she was forced to be one; she was forced to stay away from a solitude she didn’t choose, but that she enjoyed somehow.
As you filled the bathtub, you remembered all the moments you spent with her, the laughs you sometimes shared, the moments of silent reading, the dinners in the sole company of your eyes…
Fine, you had to admit it once and for all. Saying that Donna was your friend was an understatement, it was almost rude to your feelings. Over time, you began to see the lady in black not only as an interesting and attractive woman, but as something more… Something you still didn’t admit.
The looks, the kind and gentle words, the unthinkable kindness coming from someone like her, her beauty, which she denied so much…
You had been in that house for three years, one of them completely in love with Donna.
You knew that love was something completely unknown for her, fictitious, but still you allowed yourself to fantasize at night about what your life would be like with her, what it would be like to love her. Of course, these were completely fanciful feelings, ones you didn't think you could make real, ones you felt you had to hide from her.
After all, you were still her maid even if you melted for her, even if she looked at you like that, even if your heart raced with every smile.
“Donna? Can I come in?” you asked after letting the lady relax in the tub. You hoped that at least that sadness you saw in her eye had disappeared.
“Yes, of course,” she said, opening the door while putting on an elegant black silk robe, which made your eyes travel unintentionally to one of her legs, that was uncovered with the movement.
Not now, (Y/N)
“How was the bath? Did it feel good?” you asked kindly, blinking to force yourself to stop looking at the pale skin the black fabric was revealing.
“Yes, thank you, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, sitting on a stool next to the sink.
You approached with a smile, knowing the meaning of that innocent gesture.
“Let's see…” you murmured, taking a brush and starting to run it through her black hair, a soft and mysteriously delicate hair. “Mm, maybe you want to try a new hairstyle, don't you?”
“No,” the lady said dryly, letting your hands enjoy the caresses on her hair while you noticed each white hair that broke the harmony of the darkness, like a field of stars in the night sky.
“Fine,” you whispered kindly, starting to comb her hair carefully. “Well, so…” you said after a few seconds of silence, making her eye look at you through the mirror. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Donna asked, frowning.
“The meeting, you said it didn't go well,” you commented in a calm voice while you passed the brush with a slow, calm movement.
“The meeting went well,” she said, making you stop and arch your eyebrows with a tender smile, enjoying her clumsy way of communicating. “As good as it could go, I guess…”
“Mm,” you murmured, nodding, handling the brush gracefully while shaping her usual bun.
“Alcina wanted to talk to me,” the lady commented, ruffling her hair in a childish way to give the hairstyle her personal touch, a messy and adorable touch you loved.
“What did she say to you?” you asked, observing the result in the mirror.
Donna seemed somewhat nervous, slowly turning to look directly at you while biting her lower lip, as if she was embarrassed by something.
“You don't have to tell me, forget that I asked you,” you said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I don't want to get into your business.”
“It's just that... she... she's worried about me,” the lady finally explained, without looking you in the eyes, nervously playing with her hands.
“Worried about you?” you asked in a low tone, without making her more nervous, as you learned to do a long time ago.
She nodded slowly, sighing and raising her gaze to you briefly.
“She says that... that I'm alone and... and that I should have someone by my side...” she commented with difficulty, making clear to you that she was embarrassed by this type of conversation, although at first, you didn't understand why. “She thinks that being alone isn't good and that I would be much happier if I wasn't and...”
“Oh,” you sighed, leaving the brush on the sink and listening to her attentively. “Well, actually, you're not alone, Donna.”
“Angie is irrelevant,” the lady grumbled, crossing her arms, breathing more and more agitated, which put you on alert. “Am I really alone? You...? You think she's right?”
“Shh, hey, Donna,” you whispered, resting your hands on her shoulders, waiting for her gaze to meet yours. “The truth is that she's somewhat right, but, she's wrong about one thing,” you said with a serious tone, staring at her. “You're not alone, Donna.”
“I’m not?” she asked, shaking her head, with a suspicious look.
“Of course not,” you affirmed with a smile, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. “I'm here, with you.”
The lady in black opened her eye wide, as if she had run out of words. You didn't think you had said something so shocking, but seeing a spark of joy on her face motivated you to smile sincerely, maybe too sincerely.
“Y-You mean that I... that you... that you're with me?” she asked, narrowing her eye, as if she didn't trust your words.
“Of course I'm with you, don't you see?” you joked, making her smile again. “Donna, it's been a long time since you aren’t just my boss or my lady. To me, you are something more, something much more... special,” you said, stumbling over your words when you noticed that you were about to say something stupid.
“You are also much more than a maid to me, (Y/N), you are also... special,” she said, with a bright smile on her face. “N-Now I'm not alone because I'm with you, right? I-I won't be alone anymore...”
“Yes,” you said amused, surprised by her changing behavior, but accustomed to it. “I won't abandon you, Donna.”
“I... I won't either...” she said, radiating a strange happiness, one that clashed directly with her melancholic mood, one that seemed to suddenly disappear.
Suddenly, you felt warmth in your hand. The softness of her skin brushed against yours as she gently grabbed it with hers, still looking at you, still smiling.
Your heart was beating very fast, and your mind was starting to draw kisses, a declaration of love from her lips, a fantasy that seemed closer and closer.
With a happy sigh, Donna pulled your hand to her lips, kissing it in a way that made you stagger. It was a quick kiss, too quick, too… empty. Of course, it wasn't what you expected, but you were sure you would dream of that feeling. For the first time in a year, you thought that longed-for moment was closer than ever.
“Grazie,” the lady said, closing her eye and slowly releasing your hand, leaving an unbearable cold on your skin and a clear disappointment in your gaze. “Thank you for being with me, (Y/N).”
“You're welcome,” you whispered sighing too, glad to have made her happy, sad because a kiss of love hadn’t been the end of that conversation. It was just a simple: thank you
“Anyway...” you sighed, wanting to scream, to say that you loved her, but without being able to do it. “I should make dinner,” you said before turning around, ready to leave the bathroom and regret what had happened, or rather, what hadn’t happened.
“Un attimo, (Y/N),” Donna stopped you, getting up hastily from the stool, with that nervous expression again. “Let me help you.”
“Mm?” you murmured about to walk out the door, excited by the idea, but knowing that above all, her well-being was your job. “Oh, no, it's not necessary... you must rest, you've had a bad day and...”
“No!” she squealed, making an exaggerated movement with her hands, making you blink in confusion. “I-I mean that I don't feel sad anymore and… I would really like to cook with you.”
“Oh, well… in that case… okay,” you said with a knowing smile, letting your feelings repress themselves again, leaving the regrets and anger at your cowardice for another time. “Um… Donna,” you whispered amused when the lady also approached the door. “Maybe you should get dressed first, huh?”
“Cosa? Oh, certo, certo…” she said, looking at herself and blushing. “You'll wait for me, right?”
“Of course.”
It wasn't the first time you cooked together, but you couldn't help but have a strange feeling, as if something had changed. After all, you didn't care too much. Spending time with Donna had long been your favorite hobby, and it was even better when she smiled, free of her demons.
You couldn't help but think that her mood swing had been largely due to your encouraging words, but in a dark corner of your mind, there was still that terrible possibility, the possibility that her behavior was just part of her damaged mind, that her unexpected joy would disappear and lead to a terrible crisis.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time that this had happened either, and those bitter experiences made you not enjoy that time together enough.
Dinner was silent, as always, but something different was still in the air, a different smile on the lady in black, one that didn’t lead to an episode of madness.
Ignoring the cries of your heart begging you to confess your love, you enjoyed dinner calmly and cautiously, talking about how your day was, about Angie's pranks... about nothing out of the ordinary.
That routine conversation brought you closer to the thought that the change of mood had been a coincidence, and you were about to be devoured by disappointment. But something happened, something that would change everything from that moment on.
After dinner, the best moment of the day arrived, a moment of silent reading with Donna. She read her book, apparently distracted, and you pretended to read yours, glancing sideways at the woman you loved in silence, that woman who was so close to you, but who at the same time was unreachable.
Suddenly, you noticed something moving beside you. Donna wasn't holding the book with both hands, and her free one was sliding slowly across the sofa, searching, reaching for yours. Your breath froze and you glanced at the lady out of the corner of your eye, but she seemed completely oblivious to her own actions.
Your fingers intertwined automatically, without an order from your brain, knowing what you wanted, and how you wanted it. Your heart was beating thunderously, in a way you thought she would be able to hear, while you felt subtle caresses, the softness of her skin brushing against yours.
You thought about reacting, making a noise, clearing your throat, asking for an explanation for this unusual act, but the pleasure you felt when you noticed her caresses, the warmth of her hand on yours, prevented you from doing so. You decided to play along, forcing your hand to move, to stop being cold and motionless and make your fingers caress hers too.
Donna seemed focused on her book. It seemed like she didn't realize what was happening, or she simply didn't give it any importance, something that caused contradictory feelings inside you.
Time passed slowly and your body began to feel heavy, leaning towards hers, as if something invisible was pulling it. Her hand moved away from yours and the lady moved closer, wrapping her arm around you, making your head rest on her shoulder.
You were completely frozen, with your eyes wide open and your breathing accelerated. She didn't look at you, she didn't move, she just ran her hand through your hair gently, settling you comfortably on her body.
The feeling was warm, strange but welcomed. You had many things to ask, many things to say, but you couldn't do it. The comfort you felt on her shoulder, the softness and delicacy of her caresses on your hair forced you to take advantage of the moment, to enjoy it before it was over.
Neither of you said anything about it, and with a not extraordinary farewell, you both went to sleep. Of course, you didn't sleep much that night.
Your head was going round and round about what had happened, about those caresses, about those strange gestures on her part, gestures that had no explanation and at the same time you didn't know if you wanted them to have one.
You only managed to sleep when you convinced yourself that it would be an isolated event, that the conversation in the bathroom and that moment on the sofa were something unique, and of course, unrepeatable.
It wasn't, not at all.
The caresses on your hands became common. They became another part of the routine. It could happen in any circumstance, without warning, leaving you petrified, but relaxed, comfortable. The attitude of the lady in black didn't change too much despite everything.
It was true that her mood was curiously different, she seemed... happy.
The days passed and those strange acts continued, adding more caresses, more glances, adding more hope in your heart, the hope that somehow, you were close to knowing what it felt like to love Donna, what it felt like to be loved in return.
Your name ceased to exist. She no longer addressed you as usual, but in different ways: tesoro, darling, dolcezza… It seemed like simple kindness, as if over time, without you realizing it, your bond continued to strengthen, as if that closeness you already had was increasing little by little.
Of course, that's how the dark and pessimistic part of your mind saw it, a simple coincidence, a trust earned with effort, but that didn't go beyond friendship. Little by little you began to act, checking what would happen if you were the one who initiated those caresses, those unexpected gestures.
Her reaction wasn’t something remarkable, but neither was it ordinary. She simply let herself go, just as you did. It was pretty obvious that something had changed for her, and after a whole month of seemingly meaningless caresses and nice words, you could see a clearer joy on her face.
She even finally agreed to go visit her sister from time to time, something she always refused to do.
Thoughts were eating you up; feelings were burning you from within. It seemed like everything was fine, that you were the situation you wanted to be, but not exactly the way you would like.
You knew it was dangerous, risky, you knew you couldn't do it, but you started to get an idea in your head that you couldn't stop thinking about.
You knew Donna. You knew how afraid she was of people, of relationships, at least with someone other than you or her sister. Did you really think she was going to confess her love to you?
If she really felt something for you... why didn't she dare to tell you and instead caress you, kiss your hands, your cheek or call you affectionately? It was a contradiction, but Donna was herself a contradiction, you couldn't think it was something strange.
So, without the expectation that those three words would come out of her mouth, the only thing left to do was to act, swallow your pride, your fear, stop being a coward to finally be brave and confess to her.
“I know it's going to sound silly, but I think... I think... no, I'm in love with you and...” you said, looking into her eyes, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “Donna, I'm crazy about you and... I... Ugh, no, no, no, no!” you squealed nervously, hitting the porcelain doll you were talking to.
The doll fell to the floor and with a grunt you put it back on the table in your room, pacing impatiently from one side to the other, thinking intensely.
“Let's try this: Donna, I love you and I love when you caress me and call me dolcezza and... Pathetic,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the bed, looking resentfully at that poor doll. “Gods, why is it so difficult? Focus (Y/N), you know that if you don't tell her she will never do it and...”
“If you don't tell her what?”
“Yiaaah!” you screamed scared when you saw Angie appear through the door, giving you a scare. “Damn it, Angie! What did I tell you about entering my room without warning?”
“I don't know, I have a very poor memory,” the doll answered while you narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. “What are you doing to this poor doll?”
“Nothing, it's none of your business,” you answered, unable to prevent the doll from getting on your bed.
“Did you want to tell my Donna something?” asked the doll, with a malevolent tone that made you tense up.
“Um, no, I...”
“Donna, Donna! The silly maid wants to talk to you!” Angie shrieked, making your blood boil as you tried to cover the puppet's mouth.
“What are you doing!? Shut up!” you protested, struggling with her, unfortunately hearing familiar heels from downstairs.
Angie broke free from your grip laughing and cowardly running away, leaving you red in embarrassment, forcing you to look over the wooden railing to see Donna, who was looking at you curiously.
“Did you call me, tesoro?” the lady asked, with that sweet tone that drove you crazy, with those pet names that drove you crazy.
“Um, um, um, I…” you stammered, finally mustering up your courage and deciding to take advantage of the moment. “Yes, I… wanted to talk to you.”
“Va bene,” she answered with a kind smile as she watched you walk down the stairs.
Everything you had rehearsed became a mess in your head. It would be a mess, for sure.
“Um, um… Donna…” you murmured in an almost inaudible voice as she looked at you expectantly. “I wanted to talk to you… about… about something…”
“Mm, go ahead,” she urged you, cooling her smile a little. “(Y/N), you're shaking, what's wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing, it's just that... I wanted, I wanted to tell you that... that...” you said awkwardly, in the worst possible way, making her to frown in confusion.
A shrill sound interrupted what was undoubtedly going to be a pathetic confession. The phone rang unpleasantly, but Donna didn't take her eye off you, increasingly worried.
“Oh, I... don't worry, pick it up,” you said, seeing that call as a salvation, an opportunity to think better about your words. “Come on, Donna, maybe it's important.”
The lady nodded slowly, walking towards the dining room while you hid against a wall, growling discreetly.
“Shit, idiot, idiot, idiot…” you lamented in a low voice, pretending to pull your hair. “Damn, one day I'm going to commit dollicide… Gods, this is a disaster…”
“Pronto,” you heard the lady say when she picked up the phone. “Alcina, is something wrong?”
You rubbed your eyes, trying to concentrate, but you couldn't help but feel the strange need to spy, or rather, to accidentally listen to that conversation.
“Oh, you mean this afternoon? Yes, I know, but… I don't know, I, I’d like to spend the afternoon with my girlfriend and…”
You stopped thinking, your vision became blurry and your senses seemed to shut down. You hadn't heard wrong, she had said “my girlfriend”. Everything began to spin around you, you felt dizzy and terribly confused.
It couldn't be, it simply couldn't be true. Did Donna have a girlfriend? No, no, no, no, it couldn't be possible, it couldn't be, right?
You turned pale, making sure you had heard correctly, regretting doing so. You wanted to forget it, you wanted to not acknowledge the fact that seemed impossible, but your mind was already working on tying up the loose ends.
Yes, that could explain a lot of things: Donna's outings, that change in her mood, that increase in confidence... Finally, you understood.
With great regret, you remembered the conversation that day in the bathroom, how you cheered her up, how you agreed with Alcina saying that being alone wasn’t good. You thought she was happy to know that you were by her side, but in reality, that wasn’t the case.
That confidence that you unintentionally gave her surely eliminated the barriers that Beneviento put between her and others. Yes, yes, she surely gained enough self-confidence to dare to meet someone, to find love, to find it in someone, who, of course, was not you.
Everything in your world fell apart with an invisible noise that reverberated throughout your body. You thought about running away, going up to your room and crying until you fell asleep, but you didn't have time to react, you were in shock and Donna ended the call.
“(Y/N),” she said, bringing you out of that trance, feeling how you hadn't even noticed that her hand was on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you okay?”
“Me? Y-Y-Yes…” you stammered, not really knowing how you could pronounce a single word.
“Okay…” Donna whispered, distrustful, with an air of concern in her eye. “Well, what was it that you wanted to tell me?” she asked, walking with you back to the dining room.
Your body was almost paralyzed, acting by inertia and your eyes were struggling not to cry. You had to be fast, pretend, lie, deny everything you were going to say, deny everything you felt.
“Um, um yes, it's just that… it's just that…” you said, looking around, looking for a way out that didn't exist. “Oh, yes, there are no apples left.”
“Mele,” Donna repeated, frowning and looking at a corner, where a basket overflowing with that sweet fruit was, just to embarrass you.
“Yes, oh, wow! there they were… I… how stupid I am…” you said, red as blood, looking for a window from which to throw yourself into the snow and run away.
“(Y/N), tesoro, are you sure you're okay?” she asked, of course, not believing your pathetic words.
“Yes, great, great, um… yes, I'm very well, how are you?”
“Well… I’m fine,” she whispered, with a smile that pierced your heart. “Oh, I almost forgot, you better not wait for me this afternoon to have tea. I have to go to…”
Another stab in the chest. You knew exactly where I was going, who I was going with.
“Yes, okay, um... no problem, of course,” you said quickly, trying to recover from that open wound.
“Va bene,” the lady murmured, still distrustful. “Relax, I'll be here for dinner.”
“Yes, of course, come whenever you want, it's your house, and... well, and... hurry, hurry up or you'll be late,” you said, pushing the woman from behind.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, when you closed the elevator door.
You spent a good part of the afternoon crying. If at any time you thought she had feelings for you, you were terribly wrong. You cried inconsolably and angrily, jealous, trying not to imagine those caresses, those kisses on the cheek, those nice words directed at another woman, at someone who wasn't you.
You still found it incredible that Donna had met someone, she barely left the house, she didn't know how to communicate with others, only with you, damn it, only with you! What kind of treacherous witch had won her heart?
A maid from the castle? No, that wasn't possible since she apparently refused to go with Alcina that afternoon. A villager? It could be... but who? Damn, who?
No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn't find an answer, and you didn't want to look for one.
It was inevitable. Your coldness when she returned was beyond your control. Your heart burned with rage and your eyes, red with tears, refused to look at her, not after what could have happened, what she could have done to someone who wasn't you.
“It looks delicious,” the lady said, rubbing her hands together before dinner, while you played with your food in silence.
“Mm,” you murmured with disinterest, pouring yourself a glass of wine, the third that night.
“Tesoro,” she said, frowning, burning your soul with that word, with that beautiful way of calling you. Liar. “Isn't that too much wine?”
“No, no, no,” you said with a spiteful tone. “It's not.”
Donna looked at you strangely and then continued eating, raising her head from time to time, only to find indifference in your eyes.
“The pasta is perfect, you're a wonderful cook,” the lady commented, with a kind gesture, but one that betrayed a bit of nervousness.
“I know,” you said arrogantly, finishing the glass in one gulp, leaving the brunette confused. “You taught me how to prepare it, Donna.”
“Yes, certo, ma…” she stammered, shaking her head, with a nervous laugh.
“The wine, pass me the wine,” you said coldly.
She obeyed cautiously, swallowing and deciding that it was better to be quiet.
“Well...” you sighed, noticing how the alcohol was beginning to affect your words, how the wine was increasing your jealousy and anger. “Did you have a good time this afternoon?”
“Mm, well, better than I expected,” she answered sincerely, wiping herself with the napkin. “Next time I'd like you to come with me and...”
“No, thanks,” you denied immediately, without letting her finish the sentence. “I have a lot of work.”
“But, (Y/N), I...” Donna said, looking away. “I'd like you to meet her and...”
“Really, Donna? Do you want me to meet her?”
I was talking about her, about that damn mysterious girl, you were convinced.
“It's important to me,” the lady in black explained, extending her hand towards yours, which you pushed away in a quick gesture, knocking over the wine glass.
“Shit,” you protested with a grunt, getting up to go find something to clean up the mess with.
“No, leave it, I'll do it,” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder innocently.
 “I have to do it, it's my duty, I'm your maid, remember? Or have you forgotten?” you said, letting out the hatred, the rage that was building up inside you, a hot, intoxicated rage.
“But, (Y/N) what...?” she sighed, with a sad expression. “Tesoro, I think...”
“You think what? Look, it doesn't matter. I'm too drunk to listen to you, why don't you go with your stupid dolls? Or better yet, why don't you go to bed, I'm sure you're exhausted after that visit, right?”
“But, but, what have I done wrong?” she asked, grabbing your wrists, getting dangerously close to you.
You thought about stopping breathing, avoiding smelling the scent of another woman mixed with the lavender of Donna’s perfume. You were unhinged, drunk, and angry, you weren't thinking straight, and you had to do something before you did or said anything stupid.
“Nothing, Donna, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? I…” you sobbed, pulling away from her touch, moving away little by little, something she stopped by gently grabbing your hands.
“Please, let me go…” you hissed, pulling them away to take their warmth from yours, turning around and running to your room, leaving Donna paralyzed, not knowing the reason for your behavior.
Your heart ached as you did so, but the next few days the distance you put between you grew dangerously. Sometimes you gave in, you let her hands caress you, giving you the false illusion that nothing had changed, that nothing else existed apart from you, that she didn't exist.
Frustration and jealousy took their toll on your body and mind, but you still loved her, you still wanted her, you had to continue being her maid, you couldn't lose her, even if you had. Sometimes you cried for no reason, other times you let your body fall on her lap, falling asleep on her, letting her hands soothe your pain, while knowing you would never be hers increased it.
It was a horrible two weeks, really horrible.
“Angie, I'm not in the mood for your nonsense!” you yelled at the doll as you cleaned the shelves, trying to keep the doll from destroying your work, something that normally didn't seem so horrible to you.
“Ugh, you're unbearable, silly,” the doll snorted.
“You are unbearable, do you hear me? You are unbearable!” you growled angrily.
The doll let out a gasp of false surprise, pointing at herself in indignation.
“I'll tell Donna, you silly maid, and she'll be angry with you...” Angie sang.
“Do whatever you want, but she's in her workshop and you know she hates being disturbed,” you said, trying to calm down.
You actually liked Angie, she didn't deserve for you to pay all  your pain with her.
“Bah, I can wait,” the puppet sighed, letting herself fall on a sofa, pretending to read a magazine.
Did she even know how to read?
You shook your head and continued with your task without desire, without motivation, just looking for the time to sit down to read, and for Donna, your Donna, to give you the affection she had left for you, the only one you would have.
“Damn it,” you protested when you heard the screeching sound of the phone, something that, of course, amused the doll.
“Silly,” she said laughing. “Come on, pick it up, maid.”
You groaned, but took a deep breath before approaching the phone.
“Beneviento estate,” you said pretending that everything was fine. After all, you could be talking to Mother Miranda.
“Oh, wow, it seems I'm not talking to Donna…” a deep, sensual voice spoke from the other end. Your jealousy was activated briefly, until your memory recognized that voice, the voice of the oldest lord, Alcina Dimitrescu. “(Y/N), my dear…”
“Oh, yes, um, Lady Dimitrescu, I'll let Donna know right away and…” you said hurriedly, as politely as possible.
“Why the rush? I was looking forward to meeting you…” she said in a honeyed voice, making you frown and blink in confusion.
“Me?” you asked carelessly.
A terribly sexy laugh came from the phone.
“Yes, dear, you,” said the lady in white. “It's funny, Donna talks about you so much that it's almost as if I really knew you.”
“Donna? About me? I-I don't understand,” you said, noticing a clear difficulty in pronouncing the words.
“Don't be modest, if you've won the heart of my sad and dark sister you have a lot of merit, there's no point in downplaying it,” Alcina answered, leaving you even more confused, more and more.
“Oh, and since I'm here, talking to you, I'd like you to reconsider your position and grant me the pleasure of meeting you in person. It would be an honor for me to meet Donna's very famous girlfriend.”
“G-G-G-Girl…” you stammered, thinking that the phone had broken, that she wasn't saying what she was saying. “G-G-G-girlfriend?”
“Mm,” the vampire murmured, exhaling what sounded like cigarette smoke. “The lycan got your tongue, dear?”
“I-I-I… I… I’ll, I’ll tell Donna to call you later,” you said, hanging up quickly, a cold sweat running down your back.
Donna’s girlfriend? You? Really? Was it a dream? Or a nightmare? You didn’t understand anything, everything seemed overwhelming.
“Um… Angie, come here,”you said almost without a voice, indicating to the doll to come closer.
“What do you want?” she asked unpleasantly while you meditated on everything that had happened.
“Tell me…” you whispered carefully, bending down to be at her height. “Does Donna…? Does Donna have a girlfriend?”
“What? Are you laughing at me, stupid?” the puppet protested, moving away from you with distrust.
“No, I'm not laughing at you,” you said, containing your impatience. “Please, answer.”
“What a weird fool... really? You're her girlfriend, you stupid maid!” Angie shrieked, making you fall to the floor in shock.
“What? What do you mean?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you stood up and rubbed your back. “Gods, what?”
“Have you been poisoned? Did you hit your head?” Angie asked ironically as you walked away thoughtfully, trying to put your mind in order, something impossible given the situation.
A nervous smile appeared on your face as you walked towards the elevator, denying everything you had heard and everything that had happened.
When did you become her girlfriend? Why didn't you know? Had she ask you in Italian and you didn't understand? What had you missed?
You didn't know, but for once your heart was beating strongly in your chest, with a mixture of relief, love, and bewilderment. You weren't sure what you were to her, but you did know what you were going to do: you had to talk to her.
You quickly went down to the basement, ignoring the darkness and humidity of the place and walking determinedly towards the closed doors of the workshop. Your smile was no longer nervous, but amused, incredulous and hopeful.
“Donna!” you shrieked as you abruptly entered the workshop, making the lady jump out of her chair and ruin the porcelain head she was painting.
“Cazzo!” the lady shouted, juggling with that porcelain piece, which now had a peculiar makeup. “Oddio... la testa... (Y/N)! What are you doing? Don't you know how to knock on the door?”
“Shut up, Donna,” you said in a mocking tone, approaching her chair and grabbing her face with your hands, making her eye widen in astonishment. “Shut up and listen to me, will you?”
She, trapped, nodded slowly, creating a scene that could be comical.
“Alcina just called. She told me she wants to meet me,” you said, taking a breath and closing your eyes. “She says she wants to meet Donna's girlfriend, can you explain it to me? What does she mean by your girlfriend? Me? Does she really think we're dating?”
“Mm? Of course we are. We're dating, what's that question about?” she answered, annoyedly breaking away from your grip.
You, ignoring the answer, breathed in relief, rubbing your eyes.
“Oh, okay, fine, thank goodness that… What!?” you said when you analyzed her words, catching her in your hands again. “Donna, but, but…”
“What's wrong with you?” the lady protested, her voice distorted by your grip.
“Am I your girlfriend? Are we girlfriends? But, Donna, since when?” you asked nervously, letting her go and resting your hands on your hips.
“Yes, you, you're my girlfriend,” she repeated, scared by your attitude. “What is it…?”
“Let's see… Donna, honey, what makes you think that we are dating?” you asked, starting to lose patience.
“Well… well…” the brunette stammered, leaving the ruined head on the table. “I love you.”
Of course, you didn't expect that. You didn't expect such a direct, calm confession. You didn't expect those three words to come out of her mouth so naturally, as if you, somehow, should already know.
“You love me…” you repeated with wide eyes, shaking your head.
“Yes, I love you, (Y/N),” she said, moving her hand to grab yours. “What's wrong? Per favore, don't leave me, don't you love me anymore?”
“Whaaaat…?” you said, mouth agape, not understanding anything, almost as if you had a terrible amnesia. “Oh, no, no… You're serious, right?”
“You don't love me anymore!?” Donna shrieked, moving erratically.
“Donna, listen to me, I… I love you, I love you so much.”
You definitely didn't expect to confess it that way. You didn't expect that, just like her, it would come out so naturally.
“So? What's the problem?” the lady asked, following your advices to calm herself down. “Y-You told me you were with me, you told me that day, (Y/N).”
“That day? Oh, Gods…” you sighed, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair, starting to understand what it was all about.
“You told me that with you I wouldn't be alone, that you would be with me and…” Donna said, on the verge of tears. Surely the poor ventriloquist was as lost and confused as you.
“Wait, you…? Donna, did you think that meant we were together? Together… in a relationship, is that it? Did you think that?”
“Well… I did…” she said in a low voice, taking her hand away from yours, lowering her gaze. “(Y/N), if you want to leave me, at least give me a chance to…”
“Donna, I don't want to leave you,” you said, putting your hands on your shoulders. “I mean, damn it,” you said, noticing your own confusion. “Donna, I didn’t even know we were dating…”
“How could you not know?” she asked, with an accusatory, almost childish look. “I do nothing but give you affection.”
“Affection? You mean…?”
Suddenly, everything started to make sense in your head: the reaction she had that night, the change of mood, the unexplained joy, the caresses, the innocent kisses on the cheek, the affectionate nicknames.
During all that time, there was no one else, just you and her. You were her girlfriend; you were the one who owned her heart. But you didn’t know it. You had no way of knowing it.
You almost wanted to throw yourself on the floor and laugh out loud, in fact, you did, but Donna seemed confused and worried, and that was the most important thing.
“D-Don't laugh, you're making me nervous,” the brunette protested, shrinking in her chair. “Why are you laughing?”
You calmed down a little, approaching her, affectionately caressing her cheek and fixing your gaze on hers.
“Donna… My precious Donna,” you sighed with a tender look. “Do you know how jealous I was thinking that there was another woman in your life?”
“What nonsense, there is no one else in my life, there is only you, I only love you, why did you think that…?”
“It doesn't matter,” you said, not wanting to continue with the subject, relaxing, without stopping caressing her skin while she looked at you expectantly.
“Donna, I didn't expect you to interpret my words like that. Actually I… well, I'm in love with you but… I didn't say those things to ask you to be girlfriends or something like that…Damn, I didn't even think you could feel the same way about me…”
“I do, I love you,” the lady in black said hastily, grabbing your wrist. “Ti amo.”
“Me too,” you said, losing yourself in her gaze, in the sincerity of her words, and yours. “I can't believe you thought we were girlfriends…”
“Aren’t we?” Donna asked, frightened, hardening her expression.
“We are,” you answered briefly, expressing a wish that you didn't know had already been fulfilled. “But just for you to know… being girlfriends means much more than holding hands and you calling me tesoro or dolseza…”
“Dolcezza,” the woman corrected, with a cold, confused tone.
“Whatever,” you said amused, winking at her. “Donna, being girlfriends means much more than that…”
“It means not being alone, right?” she asked, pleading, praying that everything she thought she had lived, wouldn’t become a memory.
“Yes, of course, that too,” you whispered, making the lady smile tenderly again. “But, hey, how do you want me to know if you haven't even kissed me on the lips?”
“Oh, well…” she said quickly, looking away, blushing. “I didn't want to do it until you were ready, I didn't want to go too fast and…”
You didn't let her finish the sentence, as your lips slowly approached hers, resting on them, kissing them for the first time, noticing for the first time the softness of her mouth on yours.
“Mm, that's why I love you, you know?” you whispered, still very close to her lips, while she looked at you surprised. “You're such a sweetheart, Donna. You're a very special woman, and a very beautiful one, by the way…”
She smiled, cupping your face in her hands, pulling you in for a second kiss, that time deeper.
“Forgive me, (Y/N),” she said after a few passionate seconds, ones you'd been waiting for so long. “I'm stupid.”
“No, don't say that,” you said, comforting her.
“I… I have no idea about love, how to love you like I'm supposed to. I'm so clumsy that you didn't even know how I felt about you, or that we were dating.”
“Shh…” you hissed stealing another one of her addictive kisses. “It doesn't matter anymore… I don't care that I was your girlfriend without knowing it. It doesn't matter that you think you don't know how to love… Now, we're together, Donna, I love you, you love me. We'll learn to love together, what do you say?”
“Please…”
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merakiui · 2 days ago
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idia, who's already spying on you when he hacks your phone and sees all the juicy messages you've been sending out. now he gets secret copies of everything you do. the nude you sent to tease ace and deuce last week? saved. the video of you playing with your pussy for the tweels? saved. the fancy lingerie you bought to entice malleus? idia knows and is making a custom AI model of you wearing it that he'll jack off to later. if you didn't want him seeing, you should be better at cybersecurity!
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ your fault for being trash at this sort of stuff. He’s probably hacked into your phone itself to be able to watch you from behind the screen if he hasn’t already outfitted Ramshackle with small, undetectable STYX-brand cameras. Now he gets to see you filming those lewd videos or taking photos in real time. >:) it’s like a 24/7 livestream feed, and Idia hardly ever sleeps so he’s always at attention, watching you, his room awash in crisp blue light.
When you think those photos or videos are being kept confidential between you and the others who receive them, you don’t think for a minute that a third party might have slipped in through what was basically an open door to have these sides of you to himself. Idia doesn’t understand. Why are you so huffy over the fact that some guy like Ace might spread that nude to his classmates when anyone with a brain and a modicum of cybersecurity intelligence could easily get that photo for themself. Not that just anyone could it, he’ll think, oozing pride. But still. It’s too easy. You really should make an effort. At least put a password on the folder of lewd stuff (which he’ll hack into just as easily). :/
He’ll be snacking on junk food late into the night while he watches the live feed of you lowering yourself onto a dildo. Maybe he should send you something… it would be so embarrassing if you found out it was him, though. >_< but he’ll make sure he’s perfectly anonymous. And maybe he’ll finally work up the courage to send you a message… obviously it’ll be through a number you won’t recognize. He’s too scared to talk to you in person. It’s much easier if you don’t know of his existence.
He’s typed and deleted the same greeting for days now. Once he finally sends it and you reply, it’s downhill from there. You’re like the chatbot he created of you…but real. 😳 and if you ever try to get out of this, maybe he can blackmail you, poke around inside private folders, etc etc. You can prattle on and on about all of that “they’ll find you once I report you!!” nonsense, but Idia isn’t some amateur. He knows how to be untraceable. You, darling, don’t have the winning hand here. :) so sit back down and reply to his text, and there won’t be any issues. <3
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asnowperson · 1 day ago
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Takemiya Keiko interview about Kazeki OVA (1987)
Here's another short interview from platypus's stack of old magazines with cool interviews: Takemiya Keiko talks about Kaze to Ki no Uta Sanctus: Sei Naru Kana in the 1987 December issue of Puff.
Translation is under the cut, and please let me know if you spot my mistakes.
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Kaze to Ki no Uta – OVA is finally on sale!
Takemiya Keiko Interview
“It will not ruin your image of the work, so please watch it!”
Let us first hear your thoughts on finishing this project.
Mr. Yoshikazu was sitting at the director’s chair. That alone assured me that everything would go smoothly, and I left everything to him. He read the manga thoroughly and gave the work his own interpretation. I had nothing to worry about. I didn’t have to ask him not to do a certain part in a certain way, or to avoid including too many “risqué” scenes. I can feel that he gave the work the treatment it deserves. Even the animation style was not too flashy and anime-like. The movements were more orthodox. Everything worked out perfectly, so I have nothing to say.
The background art was amazing. Did you ask them to draw them that way?
Both Mr. Yoshikazu and I thought that she’d be a  good fit, and suggested having the same person who was the art director for “Natsu e no Tobira”, but we couldn’t get a hold of her. We found out the reason later: The producer thought she was too slow, and we should give up on working with her (laughs). But when we said that she was the only person who could draw the backgrounds, she was hired to work in the project. However, she was too late to turn in the drafts. We really were in a tight spot. She might have been slow, but she really is an artist. When she can’t draw something, she just can’t. She gave it her all… Even though it was something that’d only be on screen for two seconds… If we couldn’t ask them to do something, I said I should go ahead and do it myself.
So, I gather that you drew some key animation yourself. Are manga and anime too different to draw for?
Both mediums are used basically to capture “movement,” so I think they are the same. You go with the flow, trying to capture “movement”… You think about how original you can express it. That’s a really fun undertaking. For example, even if it’s just a scene of a character turning to look back, if you strive to give it a little touch, you can really bring out an erotic feeling. That’s the stuff I’m talking about. If I had a lot of money, I would dabble more in in-between animation. I now understand why Otomo Katsuhiro-san was so obsessed with it (laughs).
I’ve seen the OVA. It felt like reading one of your works.
Do you think so? I didn’t ask him to do it, but to keep close to the atmosphere of the original work, Mr. Yoshikazu outlined the key points. He put the same things as my drawings in those scenes. But if you looked closely, you could tell that they were different. When I saw the whole thing, I thought “wow, it’s the same!” However, upon closer inspection, I found out that such scenes did not exist in the original. I even thought maybe something was wrong with me. The same also goes for the lines. “Did he ever say that? He might have said that…” But when I re-read, I see that no such line was uttered. I had so many moments like that.
What was the fans’ reaction to this OVA adaptation?
When I said it was happening, I received an equal amount of positive and negative reactions. Well, that’s only to be expected. So, like I thought, only when I said that Mr. Yoshikazu was the one directing it, I saw the real opposition. The animation director was decided on, but the VAs weren’t cast yet. When news of the production got out, I received letters saying “it’s too late, I give up!” (laughs) They said stuff like, “Here we are, so against this idea, but you still say that you’ll do it! I don’t care anymore!” I can say that there are people who definitely won’t watch it. It makes me happy to see the work being loved that much, but when people are that obsessed with it… It’s kind of scary. I sometimes go as far not seeing it as something I myself created. But well, there are still a lot of people who say “I might cry and whine, but I’ll still watch it.”
Can we have Ms.Takemiya, the creator herself, do some advertisement for the OVA?
The OVA didn’t embarrass me, so I’ll keep promoting it. I don’t think it’ll ruin your image of the work. But I know that there are people who are too nitpicky and say stuff like the lines of a character’s profile is kind of off and they hate it, or that their legs are too thin  or that their feet look weird (laughs). In that sense, we paid extra attention to the movement itself and tried to animate the characters in a natural manner. “The Poem of the Wind and the Trees” makes you think of subtle movements, right? We can’t have them move too briskly, and even the fight scene is nothing too serious. Because Mr. Yoshikazu didn’t want to create too vivid of a scene. Rather, he didn’t want it to stink of “masculinity” that much. And people who’ve only seen the character designs might think that they look nothing like the manga, but when they are in motion, they do look like their manga counterparts. As for the voice of the characters, I don’t know the actress of Gilbert, but we have Nobita-kun for Serge (laughs)! People who are into anime will recognize her voice, so they might be a little bit of put off by that, but she doesn’t sound like Nobita-kun here. Not at all! The more you listen to her acting, the more you enjoy it! There are parts that reflect Serge’s character, so I’m really content with the result.
Can we consider this as “episode 1” of a series? Do you have plans for a continuation?
If this OVA sells, it might happen. If this one gets a positive reaction, I think we can make another one. The producer said that’s what he thought would happen. If you ask Mr. Yoshikazu, he says it’ll be at least 6 episodes long, but I doubt that. I can’t bring myself to believe that we can make that many episodes. Anyway, to think that we won’t be working with the staff who brought it to life with such resemblance feels so sad. But I also think that if we ask them to do it again, they’ll simply run away (laughs). We’ve already done Yoshikazu-san’s favorite part right off the bat, so what remains is the hard part. He says he can’t decipher a character like Augu (laughs). Maybe another director might do better.
And what about the future of the story in manga?
There’s the stuff about marriage and children problems, how to reach enlightenment, and everything in-between until Serge’s death. But even if I drew that, that would have no meaning for people who are only here for what Gilbert and Serge had (laughs). I don’t have any plans to draw any continuation for the moment, but one day, if I ever get the chance… If the are conditions right, I think I’d like to draw it.
Can we have your final message for Puff readers?
Watch the OVA. Please do it. I believe that if you watch it once, all of your worries will be washed away.
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gallavichsreddie1128 · 1 day ago
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Complicated (Will Graham)
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Description: Will loves Y/N who is cold towards everyone but opens up to him that is until Hannibal comes along
Warning: Smut
Word Count:1,908
Request:Can you write a will graham x fem!reader where reader is an fbi agent and is working in the case with will and will starts to fall in love with her since she ‘understands’ him but she’s quite cold towards everyone can you also make her one of the best agents and Hannibal becomes quite intrigued by her could you add in will and reader smut too pls❤️
Author’s note: kind of an x Hannibal story as well. Also I misread it and thought it said to add smut and then add Will I am sorry but I hope you like it!
She took off her gloves and put them in her pocket as her and Will checked out the body. “Looks dead to me.” She said in a plain voice but Will laughed. “Yeah he certainly does.” Jack put the best agents on the Chesapeake ripper case and all week they’ve been trying to find hints, clues, anything that would give away who it was.
Y/N sighed and looked at the poor guy’s neck. “He was strangled to death.” She said and he nodded, “His lower half is missing.” She nodded. “Way to point out the obvious.” She looks at him and he smiles. They sat there and investigated the upper half of this man. Y/N making jokes with a straight face and Will laughing and adding to the jokes. Y/N was cold and distant to a lot of people. She was very professional and one of the best agents in the FBI.
Will favored her over anyone and loved her jokes even though she never has a joking tone to her voice when she speaks. He could tell her anything and she never judged him and even on rare occasions she would share some things with him. She too had sleep problems and needed therapy. She could make him smile without even trying. He wanted to tell her so badly but decided that it wasn’t right. She was too professional; there was no way that she would date him. 
“You have a good night, Will Graham.” She tells him and he nods, “You as well, Y/N Y/L/N.” As she walked to her car she had a small smile on her face. Will had a huge smile as he got in his car and drove home for another restless night. 
Will should have told her how he felt but once Hannibal met her he had the feeling that Hannibal also liked her but Y/N didn’t seem interested in his company as a matter of fact Y/N didn’t seem to like him at all. “You need to leave, we are working on a case Dr.Lecter.” She told him without looking at him.
Will hid a smile as Hannibal looked surprised. Not many people talked to him like that but he wasn’t offended. He was intrigued and wanted to know more about her. “I was offering my help on the case.” “We don’t need it.” Will nodded at Y/N agreeing with her. “Well I will leave you two to it.” He said and left the room.
“You don’t like him very much do you?” He asked her. She shrugged, “I don’t like many people.” She told him and he felt that. Though he had his quirks with Hannibal the guy was smart. “He shows up and thinks he knows everything and that he could help.” Y/N says and Will looks at her a little surprised. “You aren’t interested in what he has to say?” He asked her. She shrugged, “Not really.” Hannibal felt the complete opposite about her. And the next day Will would be pondered with questions about her. 
“Y/N seems different.” He said to Will who was not happy about him taking interest in her. “Y/N doesn’t really like you Hannibal. I would give up now.” He told him and Hannibal looked offended. “She doesn’t even know me.” Though this was true Y/N didn’t care to get to know him at all. “She’s just like that.” Hannibal looked at him before standing up, “What makes you any different?” He asked Will. Will gave him a smile, “She likes me.” What does Will have that he doesn’t? 
Y/N rolled her eyes as Hannibal walked in her office with Will and Jack. She looked up and greeted ⅔ of them. Hannibal cleared his throat but she ignored him. “Y/N this is Hannibal. You may have already met him.” Y/N nodded and looked over at the man. “He is helping us on the case.” Will said, trying to hide his annoyance. “We don’t need help, we have got this.” Y/N told Jack. Will agreed but Jack didn’t care. Y/N tried to hide her eye roll but Will saw it and smiled at her. “I promise I won’t get in the way.” Hannibal said and Y/N looked at him. This was going to be so fun. 
Hannibal shared his thoughts on what he thought about the next person that was murdered. Y/N hated to admit it but he seemed to know what he was talking about. Maybe he should be in the FBI. “You are onto something Lecter.” Hannibal chuckled, “Did you just call me by my last name?” He asked with a smile.
She looked at him and shrugged, “You have been warming up to me.” He teases and she rolls her eyes. Will was the only person that she truly was comfortable around but after these past few weeks she had gotten closer to him. Will walked in and saw the smile on Hannibal’s face. He too has noticed that Y/N was warming up to Hannibal and he didn’t like it. Hannibal also could tell that Will was annoyed by it but that was more of a reason to do it.
They worked on the case and made up theories and thoughts until it was time to rest. Will left first no longer wanting to be in the room with Hannibal and his flirty comments towards Y/N. “What’s it going to take for you to let me make you dinner?” She looked over at him. 
She couldn’t say exactly how she got to this point. This wasn’t like her at all. She was eating the meal that Hannibal had made her and let herself go for once and now she was on the table that they just ate off of and Hannibal was thrusting into her. Her fingers dug into the table as he rocked her and the table. His large hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises, not that either of them cared right now. Her lips were swollen from kissing and taking his dick into her mouth. She was loud but not extremely loud.
Hannibal had his hips angled to hit her sweet spot so she was moaning and whining for him. He looked down at her and noticed how beautiful she was and how amazing she felt. She whined his name weakly pulling him out of his thoughts and making him thrust faster. He wished Will was here, not to join but to see him fuck the woman of his dreams.
Will would hate it but Hannibal would love it. He wrapped a hand around her throat and groaned, “Are you going to cum for me?” She nodded and was breathless. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock and scream.” He demanded and just from that it was so easy for her. She screamed his name as she came all over him. Her body shuddered and her hips stuttered as she felt the intensity of the orgasm flow through her body. The sight of her made Hannibal cum with a moan. 
The next day Will was supposed to have a session with Hannibal but Y/N was there for the case. Will had nearly walked in on them making out but Y/N stepped away before they could get caught. “What are you doing here?” Will asked her as he walked into Hannibal’s office. She held up the case file in her hand, “I believe I have the next lead.” She told him as she handed him the file. He took it but looked over at Hannibal, “We were supposed to have a session.” “Yes but Y/N said that this was important.” Will opened the file and looked through it.
Though he believed that the other man in the room had something to do with this he couldn’t shame Y/N’s effort. “So this is what we are working on today?” He asked them. Y/N nodded and sat in a chair, Will sat in the other one. He couldn’t shake off how weird it was that Y/N was in Hannibal’s house and in the office with the door closed. Come to think about it, Y/N never knew where Hannibal’s house even was…unless… He tried to ignore that thought but couldn’t.
Y/N would call him first about the case before showing Hannibal. Let alone tell him what the plan was today. He saw Hannibal not even paying attention but staring at her with hungry eyes. He had no doubt that they had slept together and maybe were about to before he came in. Anger and jealousy rose in him and he was going to confront her as soon as they left the house. 
“You slept with him didn’t you?” Was the first words out of Will’s mouth once they were outside Hannibal’s house. Y/N turned to look at him with surprise. Had it been that obvious? “What makes you say that?” She asked him. He shook his head with a scoff, “You so did. You would have straight up said No and you barely show emotions through your face.” She stared at him with a straight face as he ranted. “Why does it matter?” Will couldn’t believe she would even ask that.
He thought that they had something but was proven wrong with this Hannibal situation. “Y/N you can’t be that oblivious.” She knew that Will and her were very close and before Hannibal that was the person she was closest to. “You think he’s using me for something?” Yeah she was that oblivious. “I’m in love with you!” He yells at her and her eyes widen a little. “I love you and I thought that we had something or that was a possibility but you sleep with him? You hated him when you first met him.” This was all true and Y/N couldn’t help but look down at her feet in shame. This wasn’t like her at all and if she was to sleep with anyone it would be Will. She couldn’t believe herself.
“Will I-I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated.” She admits to him and he wants to laugh. He wants to laugh in her face because what was so complicated about it. He shakes his head, “Truth be told Y/N I think he’s the Chesapeake ripper.” He walks away to his car leaving her stunned. 
She couldn’t stop thinking about what Will said to her that night. She went back to being quiet during meetings and investigations and even cut ties with Hannibal. She knew that Will was smart but did she actually believe what he said? Hannibal, a killer? Hannibal was confused by her behavior. Maybe she regretted sleeping with him or maybe Will put things in her head about him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Will was truly behind this. But she wasn’t speaking to him either. Actually she was avoiding them both.
But for different reasons. Will loves her and maybe she feels the same way back and Hannibal could be the killer that they are looking for. She sat in her bed staring at the pictures of all the bodies that they found. Could Hannibal actually be capable of doing all of this? She thought back to all he was saying about the killer and how he did seem to understand things even though he was a therapist. She reached for her phone and called Will, he answered and she sighed before talking, “So Hannibal’s the Chesapeake ripper.”
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deathworlders-of-e24 · 2 days ago
Text
Danny, Security Chief
Part 5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These kids are making me feel so old, Danny though, running a hand through his hair before setting his ball cap in place and walking out the door of his room. The talk he’d had with Liz Collins the cycle before was still reeling through his brain on a loop. Once again, he questioned the merits of keeping GAIL Command in the dark, but once again followed the logic of Admiral Townes and Captain Skitch. At this point, they didn’t really have conclusive proof of sabotage, and if they started raising any alarms, any evidence would point back to the Terrans. The codes used to send encrypted messages were the science team lead’s, a human’s, and the more vocal opponents to the Earthling’s membership would use that against them.
For now, however, Danny decided to turn his attention to the other possible threat to human/GAIL coexistence in the galaxy. The Noah was scheduled to have a rendezvous with a Sed trainee ship later in the cycle. Apparently the GAIL council had decided that a group training session would be just the thing to drive home the idea of interspecies cooperation. However, the captain of the Sed vessel they were set to sortie with was a man named General Drinner, a high ranked figure in the Sed power structure. He’d been fairly curt in transmission between ships, and claimed he would be personally overseeing the exercise. When Danny asked who he was, Skitch hadn’t been able to provide much information. The Sed government had totally wrapped the man in red tape so any information about his military record or personal life was behind a security clearance wall that nobody onboard the Noah had access to.
Before he entered the lift, Danny Ducane paused and walked back to his quarters and strapped on his ‘work belt’, complete with pistol, stun batton, and combat knife. He chambered a round in the pistol before holstering it again. Danny had a feeling in his gut telling him it was gonna be that kind of day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Coola grumbled, arms crossed in her seat around the security command console.
“Because unfortunately bureaucracy is universal,” Danny said as he cycled through screens on the terminal, “and we have our orders. Now, the plan here is to head down to this planet here,” Danny pointed to it on the screen, “and meet up with Drinner and his crew for the joint training. Supposedly we’re going to be running standard drills, some close quarters work, and there will be a combat demonstration at the end. Any questions?”
“Yes,” Ritz chimed in, tail flicking around the floor in annoyance, “why is a Sed general taking part in this? This is a simple training procedure, correct?”
“I don’t know,” Homet said as he strapped upper armor to his thermal suit, “but I’ve seen Drinner before. He spear headed a GAIL mission to apprehend some pirates a couple rotations ago. None of the pirates made it to a cell, and two of his team died, neither of which were Sed.”
“You’re sure of that?” Hayte asked, sitting forward, concern starting to show on his face.
“Hundred percent,” the Doun said. “I was on the ship set to take the raiders to stand trial. All we did was transport the remains. After that, Drinner was removed from GAIL mixed forces and the Sed brought him back into the fold on their home world. I heard he got a promotion for the operation, it’s how he made general.”
“That just great,” Danny mumbled, “one big party like this.”
“Sir, what are we going to do?” Coola asked. Danny looked around at them, his team. He could feel the unease and anxiety coming off them, a sense of uncertainty surrounding them.
“We do what we always do,” Danny answered, “our jobs. We don’t start anything with them under any circumstances. Most likely the Sed government is just inspecting us on the down low, so as long as we show them we’re competent there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“Just saying it Chief,” Ritz hissed behind sharp teeth, “they’re going to see that the only Sed crewman in any position of power here got replaced. They aren’t going to like that.”
“No, probably not,” Danny signed, “thanks for that Ritz, I wasn’t already sweating about that at all.”
“You are very clearly perspiring sir,” Coola added.
“Sarcasm, guys. Remember our talk?”
“Right, sorry.”
“Anyway,” Homet popped the last plate into place with a solid metallic click, “I think what the chief is saying is just be prepared for them to try and antagonize you, but don’t react to it. Right?” He looked to Danny for confirmation.
“Right,” Danny took a deep breath. “Go get suited up, we’ll be dropping out of WARP in a few hours. Dismissed.”
The Quintin siblings Ritz and Coola left, alongside Hayte who gave one last look back into the security office before heading out. Then it was just Danny and Homet left in the room, with the holographic face of General Drinner oscillating above the console.
“So what’s the word boss?” Homet finally broke the silence. “You got your work belt on and your… hat, that’s the word, your hat is on backwards. Humans mean business like that, right?”
Danny chuckled.
“I think that’s mostly a me kind of thing man,” he said as he dragged a hand across his face and screwed his eyes shut. “I got a bad feeling about this. After all this shit with Grite, and now this Drinner guy is showing up… I don’t know if I’m being intolerant or what, but every bit of training I’ve ever had is saying somebody is making a play here, I just can’t see all the players.”
“Trust me, you’re not being anything but prepared,” Homet tapped a couple claws against his thermal suit and the added plating. “The Sed have a reputation in the GAIL for the collateral damage of other species. Couple unexplained accidents and botched missions, but never enough evidence to directly link them to any crimes or negligence. So as far as I’m concerned, do what you gotta do.”
Homet clapped his big paw on Danny’s shoulder.
“Who knows,” he continued, “maybe you humans will be the ones to finally teach them some manners.”
Danny’s terminal trilled, then his comm-link did the same.
Must be synced, he thought.
With a push of a button, Danny brought the message up on the holoviewer. It was a message from engineering.
We have something for you
-PADRINO UNIT H663K67Q6
“What do the Padrino want with you chief?” Homet asked.
Danny stared at the message a beat longer.
“Side project. Make sure everyone is ready for the drop, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Unit H66-, uh, 3-,”
“You may refer to me as Sixer, Chief Ducane,” the unit said in its machine synthesized voice. “It is what the Human Thomas calls me for efficiency.”
“Sixer,” Danny started again, “what did you find?”
“Per your request, myself and the other Padrino have been collating the data from the ship’s AI CORE in an effort to find any clues to your… problem, as you call it. Using the assumed times that you claim Human Elizabeth’s access codes could have been used, we have begun searching through all long range messages during those time frames.”
“And?”
“We have found numerous encrypted messages going out, but no data could be acquired. It seems someone has uploaded a program to scrub the system after each message is sent, but it appears they did not implement this function until after this broadcast:
The mis[]io[] is s[]ill g[]in[] ah[]ad as pla[]ne[]. Th[]re w[]s a min[]r set ba[]k, but no one []board t[]e NO[]H sus[]ect[] a[]yth[]ng. We wil[] be []ictorious as we h[]ve alw[]ys be[]n. Pro[]ee[] with t[]e s[]cond pha[]e as sc[]edule[]
“Why is it all piecemeal like that?” Danny asked.
“I found traces of a scrubber program in the core systems, a less advanced version of what is erasing the more recent messages. It seems this message was sent early into the mission, appropriately forty hours after launch.”
“Seriously? This has been going on for that long?” Danny was dumbfounded. Forty hours. The numbers made his head spin. It was almost inconceivable. They’d been over confident, and now it turned out they’d been tricked from the jump.
“Is it possible to get surveillance data from the long range communications consoles? See who all was in there during that time frame? Maybe start narrowing down our suspects?” Danny asked. He clenched and unclenched his right fist a few times. Maybe now he’d finally start making some headway into solving this instead of staring at puzzle pieces for hours on end.
“It is possible, with your approval and from your terminal in the security lounge. With your permission, I could start reviewing footage on your word,” Sixer stated. Danny eyeballed the android before nodding.
“When I get back from this training, we’ll do it together. Leaving you alone in there is a major security risk you understand. It’d cost me my job.”
“Of course,” Sixer said. “Permission to inform Human Thomas of these events? I believe he’d be of assistance in this endeavor.”
No no no, not the kid, please, the corner of Danny’s mouth twitched a little. I can’t deal with the fucking kids anymore.
“Why?” He asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“I have been informed that it is protocol for friends to inform each other of important information regarding their interests. As Human Thomas is greatly invested in the wellbeing of the ship, it seemed prudent to inform him,” Sixer explained. “Though I do agree that yes, it does involve a security concern, which is why I’m requesting permission from you first.”
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Sure. Fuck it. Why not?” He said exasperated. “Turn this whole operation into a game at day care, I’ll go Vend some juice boxes or something.”
“I’m sure Human Thomas will appreciate the refreshment, sir.”
“Oh my god,” Danny cried, “okay, keep doing whatever this is, get Thomas if you want, keep me informed about anything you find, got it? I gotta go deal with the other problem that’ll give me stroke today.”
“Orders confirmed, sir,” Sixer gave a kind of salute to which Danny assumed was also somehow not sarcasm and walked away, taking deep, calming breathes, and wishing the Vending Machines could make something stronger than a juice box.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“All ready for the big drop Chief,” Homet called when Danny made the hangar bay. “You take care of that other thing?”
“We’re gonna have to wait and see about that I think,” Danny replied, making a face that said it better or I’m gonna lose it. “How’s tricks in here?”
“Everything protocol says is on the shuttle,” Homet gestured, “and a few extras, just in case. Just waiting for you now.”
“And the team?”
“Nervous,” Homet admitted, “but you gave them the brass they need chief. I think they got this.”
“Careful Homet, you’re starting to sound like a real Terran there,” Danny joked. Homet laughed, a deep, hearty sound, making his thermal suit’s armor clank and clatter against itself.
“Skitch and Commander Koatil are already down there, they sent the go ahead just a minute ago,” the Doun man continued. “We better get moving Chief.”
“All aboard then,” Danny clapped his hands together and stepped through the hatch.
“Once more into the breach.”
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tophat-69 · 1 day ago
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Vander and Silco - First Meeting
When I started writing for Arcane I wasn't sure if I wanted to write Jayce/Viktor or Vander/Silco first. I landed on Jayce/Viktor because the idea for "it's the good, defining itself" pretty much took over my life to the point that I was putting out a chapter a day for 22 days. But I backburnered a prequel fanfiction of Vander and Silco, to get back to later. I'm not quite ready to commit to it, but wanted to put out there what would be my first chapter. I'm hoping you enjoy it, because I'd like to revisit the idea and keep going someday. So, for now--enjoy Vander and Silco meeting for the first time in the mines, and the start of a partnership.
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To be honest, on first impression Vander’s not actually all that impressed. 
“Hey-hey, slim! How was lockup this time?”
It’s midday at the mine, not that anyone would be able to tell if it weren’t for the whistles that echo down into the depths. The only lights in the drift tunnels come from their headlamps, and there’s a sort of liminality to that—it could be dawn or it could be midnight, and in the tunnels they would never know. All they can see is directly ahead of them, and everything else is shadow and rock, like blinders for the beasts of burden that they are. 
As the forward line, their crew is down deep enough now that stopping for meals is almost as miserable an affair as chipping their way through rocks, the kind of heat that makes the heavy protective gear suffocating, the kind of humidity that has Vander’s hair plastered to his neck and forehead beneath the hard hat, and his shirt melting into his skin under the leathers. 
“Still dank, dark, with terrible food and worse company. So, roughly the same as being down here with you lot.” There are a handful of hearty laughs at the dry sarcasm coming from within the echoing cavern, the kind of shared bleak humor that comes with working in the shittiest conditions known to man and, apparently, spending time in prison too. The voice continues with a sly undertone that lends itself well to the affected accent of the Promenade. “Still, food on the table and a roof over my head and topside footing the bill. I’m considering the merits of making it my summer home. ‘Stillwater Manor’ sounds very refined, don’t you think?”
As they stump into the echoing depleted cavern, tobacco smoke curls through the air, though smoking down in the mines is a dangerous game to the point that bringing a match or lighter down is highly regulated. Yet the thirty hewers of their shift fan out to sprawl onto the rough stone floors on either side of the cart rails, and all of the more experienced members of the crew seem to be taking this as expected and normal, throwing out greetings as they haul out their lunch pails and settle in.
Taking off their protective gear is more than just against regulations, it’s a stupid idea: yet there’s a helmet hanging from a rivet in one of the support ribs of the walls, head lamp pointed down to illuminate a book in the lap of a shadowed figure comfortably sprawled out lounging while the rest of them busted their asses. In the dark and with the light focused on the book in front of him, all Vander really gets is a glimpse of stick-thin legs resting on top of the thick leather uniform jacket as if it’s a cushion. 
Vander’s not even really a tight-ass about the regulations. Just someone who understands why these particular rules exist, and how dangerously stupid it is to ignore them.
So, overall--not the greatest of first impressions. 
“You ever consider not getting arrested, Silco? It’s getting to be a pain in the ass for the foreman to pull you out of there.” Cray may be their shift supervisor but down this far he’s just another one of them, putting his back into it to lead by example. Until Vander came along he was the biggest of the crew and did that just in productivity alone, and he’s a well-respected and liked man overall. But leading by example extends beyond hauling rocks and apparently means plunking himself down next to this ‘Silco’ and hooking his helmet off of the bolt, dropping it down onto his head and then thumping his loose fist on top of it. As Vander settles nearby, feet braced against the rail, he can hear Cray’s voice lower, his tone a warmly affectionate warning. “Keep your helmet on, kid. We had a rib pop about a month after you were pinched. Sully didn’t make it out.”
“When they’re given the choice between having me break rocks up there and break rocks down here, I always end up back in the mines. Congratulations, even Stillwater thinks this is a worse punishment than prison.” There are a few of the men who have clearly done time as well who raise their canteens in a toast to that, and the echoing clamor of ribald and lively conversations pick up, letting the newcomer drop his charismatic performance to respond to Cray. He sounds different without a crowd to perform to, and Vander has to strain to listen as he sits nearby and opens up his thermos of leftover stew. “I heard the news when I came in. He was a good man, it’s going to be hard to replace him. …Though I assume that’s why we have the eavesdropping newcomer.”
When the headlamp swings his way, Vander turns and squints against the glare of it being directly aimed at him until his eyes adjust to the light.
Vander’s second impression is an entirely different matter. 
For Vander’s first job, he had been a dockhand where the River Pilt met the Conqueror’s Sea, saltwater and freshwater slow to mingle in the estuary. The brackish waters were a pretty shade of blue-green under the too-bright sunlight, beautiful and troubled, river eternally forced to cede to the overpowering force of the ocean. 
Staring into brilliant, challenging eyes, Vander’s second impression is just ‘pretty.’ Which is probably stupid to think about a dirty little thing so grayed in coal dust that it looks like he’d rolled in it, no matter how striking his eyes are under direct lamplight. 
“Vander, Silco. Silco, Vander. He’s a cousin of mine, so maybe try to be nice to him?”
“Half of you up in the sumps are cousins and all the rest of you call each other siblings. I’m not going to ‘be nice’ to any of them until they prove they’ve earned it.”
It’s an interesting way to phrase things, almost like a slip of the tongue. There are damn few people in the world who would consider the Sumps to be ‘up’ from anywhere at all, even in the undercity. You’d have to be looking up from the bottom of the fissures or the mines themselves to see the world that way. That combined with the Proms accent doesn’t make sense, but Vander just files it away for now as he offers an amiable smile and an extended hand.
“Well, let’s just hope I can earn it, then. Pleasure to meet you, Silco.”
It’s hard not to feel like he’s being dissected when under the glaring bright light of Silco’s headlamp, sharp eyes assessing him. It certainly makes it easier for Vander to do the same without it being awkward, despite being the only thing the other can see clearly for that moment. 
‘Slim’ isn’t a surprising nickname—he’s built small and wiry, all limbs and no bulk to him. There’s a shrewd, wary intelligence in his eyes but one of them is bloodshot; beneath the coal dust Vander suspects he has a black eye and a gash on his cheekbone that he’s trying to conceal. Stillwater wasn’t the picnic that he wants to pretend it was, and the second he’s in direct light it’s obvious. Vander’s nineteen and he’d estimate Silco’s seventeen or eighteen, but he talks as if he’s been a part of this crew for years, he’s gone to Stillwater more than once in that time, and he is perhaps overly comfortable in the mines. 
And he’s a snarky shit who doesn’t even pretend like he’s going to shake Vander’s hand. 
Instead bandaged fingers bring his cigarette back up to his lips as he drags in one last deep pull before stubbing it out on the toe of his boot and pushing himself to his feet, Vander’s outstretched hand completely ignored.  
“Charmed.” His voice is dry, sarcastic, and then he’s back to the show of it all again so others can hear. Illuminated from below by Vander and Cray, they watch as he tucks the book into the small of his back to be held in place by a cinched in belt, then tugs on a uniform jacket. “New rule number one of these mines, Vander. If you see your blaster run, you get the hell out and if I tell you to stand clear you stay the hell out. Cray, I’ll be at the third inbye. You haven’t done anything with it since I’ve been gone.”
“We hit solid on that one about three weeks after you were picked up, slim. I could have asked for another blaster since mine decided to spit in an Enforcer’s face, but then I’d have a harder time convincing them we needed you bailed out.”
Standoffish towards newcomers or not, it’s clear that Silco’s deeply embedded in the crew and they’re looking out for their own. Mining communities are tight-knit like that, and they may squabble among themselves but they’re viciously protective of each other among outsiders. It’s one of their best qualities, and has carried over into the culture of the Sumps. The Enforcers picked up the youngest member of the forward line, and they raised enough hell to get him back out a little early by grinding their operations to a crawl. 
“I’d thank you, but now they’re making me work off that bail so I’m doing this for half my take for about as long as I’d have been behind bars. Which as far as I’m concerned means I’m not being paid to be nice to any of you.” Cray grimaces, but Silco’s wry, slanted smirk doesn’t slip as he shoves his tied-back hair up into his helmet and grabs up a leather toolbag. Wedging a rod through the strap, lighting a safety lamp, and tucking a stub of chalk behind his ear, he then waves a hand lazily as he lopes into the dark. “Tell Myra not to wait the cart on me at shift’s end. I need a chance to get some prospecting done while you’re all out of my way. Draw straws for who’s going to butty me, because I’m blowing something up tomorrow one way or another. ”
“Try not to make it one of us!” One of the miners pipes in, and Silco huffs his amusement as others laugh, but he’s disappeared into the dark, just a narrow silhouette and an uneven bob of a light as he heads to the tunnels, voice echoing back to them.
“Half pay, so I only half promise.”
Vander frowns after him, and based on tone he’s fairly sure Cray is doing the same. “Don’t mind Silco. He takes a while to warm up to people…”
“Your blaster is limping and beat to hell from being in prison. He’s going to get himself killed.”
“The limp isn’t from Stillwater, it’s why he got himself picked up in the first place.” Cray passes over a hunk of bread for Vander in exchange for a portion of the stew, and together they eat side by side. Vander doesn’t have to ask him to explain, his silence says enough. “We had a shitty roof bolter, it’s why the rib popped on Sully too. Too much strain on a pillar ended up with a rockburst. Snapped Silco’s leg like a twig, and it’s only because he’s a fast little bastard that his leg wasn’t just crushed and him along with it. He went from the medical tent straight up to the first Enforcer he saw, picked a fight and let them think they fucked up his leg. So, Stillwater foots the medical bills and gives him three hots and a cot while he can’t work to feed himself or keep a roof over his head anyway. He’s done it before, and him being a kid usually lands him a short stint, too. We’d have left him in for another couple of months to finish healing up...”
But they were threatening to replace him. So Silco is back with a half-healed leg in a job that requires him to be fast on his feet or be caught in his own blasts, doing overnight deadwork that isn’t even going to get him paid, and still dryly quipping with the people who screwed up his plans to let himself heal. 
He’s also not really a kid anymore, so the trick with the Enforcers isn’t going to get him leniency in sentencing for much longer if he goes and gets himself injured again. And it’s clear he’s not exactly making himself friends in prison, either.
“Don’t draw straws.” 
Silco needs a partner, but whoever is stuck with him loses the chance for production bonuses while they’re paired up, and risks being blown up alongside him. Vander has a roof over his head, can get by on the daily wage. Plus he’s pretty sure he could throw the cantankerous little shit over his shoulder and book it faster than Silco can run right now. 
Cray’s scrutinizing him, light bright on Vander’s face again, but he just dunks stale bread into three day old stew and continues eating. 
“…Well, guess we’d better get you the gauntlets, then.”
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crowleysgirl56 · 11 hours ago
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Just to go back to @meatballlady’s first reblog for a second regarding the reason for season 2, I actually wrote a theory about that early last year right after Prime confirmed S3 had been green lit. I think the reason for S2 being what it is comes down to how a sequel to the original book was planned. I can’t quite remember what the exact wording of the story for the green lit S3 was now, but it went something along the lines of “The second coming is approaching, there are only two people who can stop it, Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re not talking”. My theory is this is exactly what the sequel novel’s plot was going to be.
Firstly, we obviously know they’re not taking because of what happened in the final 15. But what if that was the actual premise of the sequel novel? The second coming approaches, only Aziraphale and Crowley can stop it, but they’re not talking.
Secondly, we know the sequel to the book probably had to do with the second coming, because that’s just the obvious next step after the anti-Christ turns up (as per biblical doctrine). Crowley even says “the Big One” in relation to a war between Heaven and Hell. What would be bigger than the second coming of Jesus?
Putting all this together, my theory is something occurred unseen between the two novels that caused Aziraphale and Crowley to fight and stop talking. What that something was, whether it would get revealed slowly in the book via flashbacks, or revealed later during exposition, or maybe not referenced at all and perhaps they just make up instead, I guess we’ll never know.
But as a narrative for a television series, that probably wouldn’t have worked. So season 2 was written literally to give the audience a backstory to why Crowley and Aziraphale aren’t talking when the second coming happens. I don’t think trying to add why they weren’t talking would have worked if they were also trying to tell the story of the second coming at the same time.
Whether that narrative worked seems to be a bit of a debate. I think everyone (including myself) became so obsessed with Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship and the excellent flashback sequences, and then traumatised by the final 15 and the cliffhanger ending, we’ve not really critically looked at how plain and simple the rest of the story was. Like, it was fine, but it didn’t have that bombastic narrative like the first story. There didn’t seem to be any urgency to the matter. S1 you had the end of the world approaching and the desperate search for the anti-Christ. S2 was merely the mystery around why Gabriel’s memory was wiped, and maybe something bad could possibly be happening. So I can understand why people found it unsatisfying.
I do think S3 will be a lot better (even if it is only 90 minutes), but I think because we will definitely be able to focus in on the narrative of the second coming and the romance between Crowley and Aziraphale.
Anyway that’s my completely rambling thoughts, hope they made sense!
Also @maaikeatthefullmoon you’re Imposter Syndrome on AO3?! Hello! I read Epistolary back when you first wrote it! Excellent work. I’m sorry you feel like you won’t be able to write planned story, it sounds very interesting.
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Who else is in the ‘they are speaking - mind-to-mind’ theory camp?
I’ve had to accept that I’m not going to have time to write the fanfic I have all planned out in my mind. Not if I want to Write Seriously™️ and be a functioning human.
I don’t even have the time to write a long-arse meta like I’d love to. I’d love to spend a whole day just delving into my thoughts but…not gonna happen. As it is I’ve got about 10 minutes until someone gets home and I’ll be expected to do useful things.
So.
I think Aziraphale taught Crowley a useful magic trick in 1941. Our Part 3. Which we see during The Kiss in the Final 15 - when Crowley passes something to Az. What does he pass? Dunno. But it’s got something to do with this new communication ability.
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This isn’t Crowley realising his feelings. They have both known their feelings for long enough. This is him realising he needs to put plans into action. Spurred by Nina’s words, and other things. They’ve been too conspicuous. It’s too dangerous. He needs to protect his angel.
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All of this - a lot of acting for those listening in, but probably also anger and devastation at Crowley for putting into action the emergency plan without Az’s consent? But rather than being angry, I think this “I forgive you” is genuinely meant. Az knows Crowley saw no other way out for them. I think there’s a degree of bodily autonomy this plan takes away, but Az wants him to know that’s ok. He forgives him.
And that means more than “I love you” to me.
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So while Crowley drives, he’s (oooh, is it breaking the law? Is it like talking on the phone?? Demon!) talking to his angel. I believe, telling him he’ll be taking his place as the Grand Duke of Hell. Ready to fuck shit up.
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As we have Aziraphale (and Michael Sheen, master of microexpressions) joining in the planning.
Ready to fuck shit up.
And so we have our players manoeuvred into place. Head of Staff of Heaven & Hell. Ostensibly.
Not speaking. Verbally.
But mentally…that’s a different story.
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eddieswritinghell · 2 days ago
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I have a request!!
Can you do headcanons and/or a short blurb for König, Soap, and Price with a fem!s/o who constantly gets hate and bullied online for no reason? She hasn’t done anything wrong she just likes to post things that she made and is proud of, like photography, art, edits, etc. They see her reading comments and trying not to cry, how would they be in the moment?
It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or if you need time there’s no rush!<3
Added a read more because I got super into this and the post is very long. Hopefully, this is good to read, definitely had fun writing it! 💚
König:
"What is wrong, mein Schatz?" The man seemed greatly concerned upon finding you with tears in your eyes while looking at your phone.
"Just some... mean comments. Nothing bad." Your hand reaches up to wipe at your eyes but König stops you. He settles down next to you and the pad of his thumb gently caresses your cheek.
"Nothing bad? Anything mean towards you is automatically considered bad. What is it about?" His brows furrow in concern as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear to better hold your face in his hand.
"Just some bad reactions to a photo I posted. It wasn't the best photo, but I was proud of it and I think that's why it hurts a bit more."
"Oh nein, nein, nein. Nothing could ever be bad if it came from you. Creativity should not be judged and ridiculed, no matter the person. And it definitely shouldn't be yours either." He holds out his hand and makes a grabby motion. "Give me your phone. I will get rid of all the comments so you won't have to look at them and I will replace them with my own."
"You don't have to do that. I just need to get over it."
"I am still going to do it. Gib mir jetzt das Handy." He makes the hand motion and you hand over the phone. The man seems a bit upset about some of the comments, but he happily deletes them as he pulls you closer to him with his free arm. "This happens again and you come to me, ja?"
Soap:
"What has you all worked up?" He raises an eyebrow as he sits down on the couch next to you. You gladly lean into the arm Soap wraps around your shoulders.
"It's nothing really. Just... need to get over myself." You sniffle and move to tuck your phone away but he's much quicker. Soap snags it out of your grip as you exclaim at him to give it back.
"Nah. Nope. Not giving it back till I know what has you all worked up. Can't stand to see you upset like this, lassie. You being sad makes me sad, and that's a crime against nature."
You fight back a sniffle as you watch him scroll through the post you had open of a picture of a painting you and posted because you were rather proud of it. "You don't need to worry about it."
"Oh, I absolutely need to worry about it because it's my right to worry over my girlfriend." He begins to scroll through the comment section and his smile drops. "Is it the painting you posted? The comments from the asses?"
Your silence is greeted with a grunt and a few pings from your phone of Soap deleting the comments. You sniffle and press your face into his shoulder.
"Boom. All gone. I'd have a go with them if I could. Smash all their faces in. Your painting was absolutely stunning. Right bonnie like the artist who painted it."
Price:
Price wasn't sure what had you crossing you phone on the nightstand with a huff, had you crossing your arms and deeply sighing with a shaky breath of air. He wasn't as attached to the device like you were, didn't quite understand the importance of it other than for communication. "Did your phone die?"
"No. Still at sixty percent, just... upset over something."
Price hums in acknowledgement as he removes his shoes before sitting on the bed next to you. Rolling to face you, a hand rests on your hip and rubs soft circles into the sliver of skin that showed. "Care to share with the class?"
"It's... I made a post about this edit I made. It was the first edit I made in quite some time. It wasn't the greatest edit ever, not viral-worthy either, but I was proud of it."
"An edit?"
"Like... a series of clips of a TV show or movie or video game set to music. It's... I can't explain it well, but that isn't what mattered."
"Well, regardless of what it was, in sure it was great. You're a creative person, and if it made you proud then it made you proud. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks if you enjoyed it and had fun with it, then that's what truly matters. I'm sure people liked it, but comments usually come from people who are jealous of your abilities. Don't let them get to you, love." He smiles and pulls you closer to press a heavy kiss to your neck. "And certainly don't let them have the satisfaction of knowing they got to you. I'll fight off every one of those... haters? Whatever they're called, they don't deserve to know you."
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tricoloreddango · 8 hours ago
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Yandere Phainon sabotaging reader’s relationship
contents: gaslighting / gender neutral reader / mention of the death of the readers’s cat/ word count: 1k
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The relationship you had with your boyfriend might not have been the most exciting, but you thought of it as satisfying enough… just the fact it let you live a stable and predictable life was enough to be comforting and not leave you lonely. Your relationship hasn’t started a long time ago, but you assumed it was going into a right direction.
However, Phainon wasn’t having it. He’s been consistently trying to prove it to you that you have settled down just for a bare minimum or has been bringing up things that (in his humble opinion) were red flags. This wasn’t any different when you invited Phainon over for tea.
He looked around the kitchen, noticing a spill of coffee beans on the counter. “Is this his mess?”
You nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he’d clean it any other day. He just had to leave early for work,” you shrugged. You decided to change the topic, before Phainon would start telling you how you shouldn’t have to clean up after your own boyfriend. It was an innocent mistake from him, as he usually did his share of work. Phainon would still probably say something along the lines of “Even if, this is just the beginning—”
“He bought me flowers today,” you bragged to your visitor, sounding happy—not expecting your friend to soon make you lose that feeling. “What flowers did he give you?” he asked curious, smiling for your enthusiasm. “Roses,” you responded.
Suddenly, your friend looked disappointed, killing your smile. “Roses? Look, it’s nice he got you flowers. But aren’t peonies your favorite flowers?”
“Yes, but… he still didn’t have to give me any outside of occasions,” you muttered.
Phainon disagreed, “No, no. If he was buying them he might as well had picked the ones you like. It means he doesn’t really care about what you want but about what he wants and expects you to be grateful. Roses are so cliche and boring. He’s not romantic in any way.”
The look of uncertainty, wondering if you should believe his words, didn’t discourage Phainon. He was ready to prove you wrong furthermore your conversation. “Well… I can always tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand and will make sure to get me the right ones the next time? He just didn’t know my favorite.” You smiled encouragingly, hoping your friend will agree.
He didn’t. He was ready to debunk your claim. “You really think he’ll listen? If he cared, he’d have asked you about your likes first. Also, don’t you remember when you asked to help you fix a tap? He didn’t,” he said with a slight disgust.
“Yes, but he was tired! He promised me he’d do it tomorrow, I just managed to do it before him,” your voice was now frustrated. Why was he so not understanding?
“I doubt that. You had to ask him to not tighten jar lids multiple times before he eventually had stopped, or had to ask him to stop putting jars on a shelf too high for you. He clearly doesn’t care about your boundaries. Don’t you remember his reaction? You said he raised his voice at you, didn’t you?” he said with worry.
“Right, but it’s because I asked him when he was busy and I wouldn’t stop interrupting—”
“My friend,” Phainon put a hand on your shoulder, his face all soft and apologetic you had to deal with such a bad man. “Even if busy, a right boyfriend wouldn’t raise his voice, as it signals anger issues if he’s snapping at something so simple. He would have remembered to not tighten lids in the first place, and be considerate of you having less strength or you being shorter. A boyfriend who cares is the boyfriend who knows you well.”
Phainon’s words were getting to you slowly, making you have second thoughts. What if you were naive and didn’t notice signs? You trusted Phainon, he’s never given you a reason to sabotage your happiness, so surely there must be some truth to his words… which doesn’t mean hearing it all was easy. You felt self conscious at the idea of letting yourself end up in such a bad relationship or being used. Tears blurrier your vision, threatening to fall.
“But… when I ended up losing my cat, he was there to comfort me! He definitely cares! He listened to me and did things for me so I could rest! He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t!”
Phainon shook his head gently, making his voice more serious, “He was using affection to get you attached in your vulnerable moments. That has to be true, considering he normally doesn’t show you much affection? He even acts all distant.”
“He’s just not that comfortable with being vulnerable, cause he had a difficult childhood! He still gets adjusted to opening up to me but we’re getting there!” you protested, but your efforts were starting to feel useless in your perspective. Phainon might really be right—if he didn’t mind easily showing you affection during your sad day, why wouldn’t he do so any other time?
“Emotionally unavailable people don’t change. They make relationships one sided! Aren’t you tired of making yourself vulnerable while he doesn’t give you anything in return?” he scolded gently, pulling you into his arms when you were finally crying. You didn’t protest, letting him rub your back. Phainon has never let you down, unlike your boyfriend, apparently. “I think you just want to ‘fix’ him. Yet this isn’t your role. You should find someone who makes you happy, rather than someone that you have to be responsible for! Relationship should make your life easier, not burdening. You have to say so many ‘buts’ to defend him; that should be enough concerning,” he added, his voice made cashmere to comfort you.
He felt all joy and relief when you ended up nodding into his chest. He’ll gladly show you what a boyfriend model should be, as no way in any universe he’d let you be with someone else. Phainon wholeheartedly believed that only he was meant for you, and that you can be the happiest with him only—he may as well be your soulmate.
Didn’t he know your needs the most? You could ask him what he thinks you’ve eaten yesterday and he’d have no problem guessing. You weren’t aware of the extent of his knowledge about you.
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prlssprfctn · 12 hours ago
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hey! so the intro for this is weird but pls hear me out
yesterday night while walking home from a bar with friends, a group of men probably about my age (early-mid 20s) in a large truck started shouting queer slurs at us then threatened to kill me 😬
my nerves are still a little frazzled but my stupid brain is currently attempting to manage these anxieties about what happened by going “hmm I wonder how the batkids would have responded if they saw that happen”
so I was just wondering if you had any kinda headcanons or anything about how any of the batkids would handle a scenario like this :) I know this is kinda heavy haha so pls don’t feel like you gotta respond to this but I really like your writings and thought it was worth a shot to reach out and ask :) thank you!
(also, my friends and I did make a report and we’re currently talking with the civil rights division of our local gov’t about handling this case as a hate crime so we are in the midst of handling it)
oh my god, i am so sorry this happened to you. i am glad you put charges and dealing with the situation, though. be careful, and i hope you are recovering well.
Bruce, i feel like, would try to charm his way out of this at first since he doesn't need additional interent drama. maybe he will try to smile politely and go along lines like, "oh, is that supposed to be offensive?" but if the situation escalates, he will not be afraid just to fight them off. who would blame him, anyway?
i have a feeling that Dick doesn't like fighting on the streets as well, and he usually tries to escalate the fight, only ever using it as the last resort. i also think that if someone picks up on him at night, he just decides to creep out everyone by using his amazing gymnastics. like, imagine him just turning his head around like an owl, cracking bones like in horror and pretending to be a spider — men will run away in the instant. without a fight. that's effective.
Cassandra is not a one to deal with bullshit like this. she doesn't acknowledge these people at all, but if they start to actively catch her attention and cause a fight, she will first offer the scariest death stare to ever exist. people mostly scram afterwards, but if someone didn't, she will nonchalantly break the bones of their arm. as a threat.
you see, Jason probably is not getting annoyed by people like this. who would pick up on a fucking double-fridge, right? i think he mostly spawns behind his siblings' backs when someone picks up on them and terrifies tf out of others. but if someone did risk their lives, i think Jason would either just point a gun silently (if he is in a bad mood) or start roast these people so much, they would leave.
oh, Tim. Tim is gracious about it. someone starts haunting him on the streets, so he wordlessly records a video, and while that person still screams at him, he calls his lawyer. they will get charged and outed in the news for this faster than they will finish their attempts to terrify Tim.
Steph starts shouting back. she is so loud about it that people usually start gathering around them, and she starts making him join the conversation, too. "just look at this weirdo, huh! hey, hey, you, look at him and tell me — isn't he fucking insane?" and stuff. she is equally good at escalating the fight to the reaching point of just make people leave embarrassed, depending on the situation.
baby Damian definitely doesn't even understand the meaning of slurs — his family is adequate, and he is a sheltered kid in a way, so he has no idea what all that means. but he feels a threatening aura. he first reminds people who he is, giving a chance to escape... and when it is not working, someone is about to get stabbed.
Duke tries to joke it off first. like, in a "oh, from all slurs, i got called *this*? that's something new, buddy, kudos" kind of way. if it doesn't work and people continue annoying him, he simply fights these people. he doesn't care much.
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fiveredlights · 21 hours ago
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Loved it!!!! Is there any Benjamin POV of when he found out Max and Daniel were drivers in this world? Like any thought process? It surprised me too that they weren't in his world haha. Thanks for sharing!
okay i managed 400 words of benjamin arriving in the universe and then my brain continued on its holiday in aruba so i’ve written out what would’ve happened afterwards
It's not like Benjamin expected there to be a whole parade when he landed into his DAUD universe, but a room full of people staring at him like he's an alien from another planet feels a little weird.
Technically, he is an alien from outer space—if you equate an alien to a life form, and the other planet is true, but at that point they should consider that we’re all aliens in a planet floating around the universe and there’s no need to stare at him like that.
Or really, they aren’t staring at him. They’re staring at the name emblazoned into his race suit. Or the flag. Maybe they’re struggling to understand why the Dutch and Australian flags are mashed together.
Benjamin worked really hard to get the team and the FIA to approve that. He had to do a whole presentation.
One of the people—his boss he assumes, given that he’s one of the two people to be wearing RB shirts—takes a slow step forward, adjusting the black rounded frames on his face.
“Benjamin—” Ooh, French, “—Ricciardo-Verstappen,” he states, though it’s really more like a question.
“Yeah.” He steps out of the portal tube. “Did I get sent to the wrong universe or?”
“Maybe,” someone in a Red Bull shirt quietly mutters and the other RB shirt guy hits him in the shoulder and scolds, “Christian.”
He has no idea who this Christian guy is but he knows he already doesn’t like him. Giving off bad energy, or whatever Julian uses as an excuse whenever he meets someone he doesn’t like.
“I’m Laurent Mekies, I’m your team principal,” the French—Laurent says. “Can we just confirm who your parents are?”
Everyone in the room seems to lean in and hold their breath. Benjamin thinks they’re all really weird. “Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen. They live in Monaco, or well in my universe they live in Monaco, so maybe they’re in the Netherlands or Australia here.”
Laurent immediately spins onto his heels and they all form some sort of emotional support huddle, like they’re the ones who got sent through to another universe.
“I’ll get Max,” Christian sighs and points a finger at Laurent. “You’re calling Daniel.”
Laurent tenses. “I don’t want to call Daniel. Why can’t you call Daniel? You knew him longer?”
Christian goes very quiet. “I think he’s blocked my number,” he says with no room for further questions as he walks out of the room.
benjamin has found a wheely chair to spin around the room in whilst laurent peter and helmut (idk if he's here) debate on who is calling daniel, benjamin's like "I can call Daniel if you don't want to break the news," and frankly it's a bit concerning how three of these very grown men look very ready to take this offer.
eventually someone is like, you know what. we'll get MAX to call him. daniel will answer max's calls and they leave benjamin in the room with laurent whilst the rest of them look in the mirror and wonder what they need to do to atone for this hell-ish situation they've been placed in.
(there is no atonement possible. you must live in the decisions you made. no amount of apologies or prayers will be able to heal the deep, deep scars you have given. zero love and zero light will be given.)
“So Max works here or?” benjamin asks, if only to make small talk so they’re not sitting in silence. laurent takes a very long look, he's confused. he tells him that of course Max works here, he's a driver?? but reigns it in because maybe benjamin was asking if max was at some different RBR factory. or maybe he's asking because he thinks max is in monaco, laurent doesn't possess the brain cells needed right now.
benjamin is thinking oh maybe max's a sim driver. or a test driver. he knows that max's father was a f1 driver, but doesn't really know much else. nowhere in benjamin's brain is the thought that max is a formula 1 driver, and certainly nowhere in benjamin's brain is the thought that he's a 4x WDC.
max walks in, looks at benjamin. benjamin looks back. max walks out.
he walks in again. looks at benjamin again. walks out again.
he walks in again. is about to walk out when benjamin's like, "You know walking out for the third time doesn't activate me being sent back to my universe?"
(internally, max is like, oh my god. he talks exactly like daniel. i'm looking at another daniel. which you know. a little bit insane given that i wrote benjamin to look like max, and benjamin wouldn't really sound like daniel accent wise at least, given that they raised the kids in monaco, but you know. maybe the speech patterns are similar, who the fuck knows. easier to see the parts of the person you love than yourself in your kid. can't blame him, daniel did the exact same thing for like the whole fic.)
max immediately looks around at the whole group of people and does a head nod for benjamin to follow him into his office, and it’s probably not until he sees the replica WDC trophy sitting on a bookcase with max’s name inscribed on it benjamin’s like what the fuck…
in his head benjamin is like, i am hiding the fact that i am shocked about max being a driver so well. he’s not. he’s kinda just staring at the trophy but max is way too distracted about the fact that alternate him had a kid (emphasis on kid, singular) with daniel.
benjamin is stalking around the room looking at EVERYTHING, and he catches the photo of max and daniel in malaysia 2016 and is even more like what the fuck… BOTH of my parents are drivers?????
first thought: they’re both horrible normal road car drivers. maybe it makes sense now.
second thought: god it’s so cool that his parents (or this version of his parents) are formula 1 drivers. that’s like so arguably cool. suck it julian, he KNEW doing the DAUD program was a good thing. 
third thought: do they know sebastian vettel.
in this moment he has decided that this max and daniel cannot know that his max and daniel aren’t drivers. he kinda suspects that max might be going through a quick existential crisis and he’s not making it bigger by telling 4x WDC max that his max is a 0x WDC and has never driven a f1 car in his life. 
(also it has not crossed his mind that this max and daniel are not together. if you saw that photo of malaysia with max looking at daniel doing the shoey like he wants to jump his bones in public, yeah i wouldn’t question it either and end that line of thought immediately.)
i’m learning very quickly that benjamin processes things so quickly that he doesn’t really have time to freak out.
max is processing everything and benjamin is like “are you gonna call dad or?? where is he??”
max: dad?
benjamin: yeah. dad. daniel. this tall. your husband. or partner idk i don’t know, i’m not gonna assume. oh god are you guys broken up here please don’t tell me that. i mean like tell me, but like that’s so weird.
max kinda looks embarrassed and benjamin clocks him so quickly. 
benjamin: oh. you two aren’t together here. you two have never been together here.
max: … yeah
benjamin is immediately like fuck everything about them being drivers what do you MEAN they aren’t together???? he looks at the malaysia photo again. looks at max again. 
benjamin then decided his only goal is to parent trap his parents. which i think he did achieve. good job dude.
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