#i love this doll so much its unreal

[jikatuka]

1st photo by Kate Kravtsova on Flickr, i think it belongs to a user named Lukoshka (2nd photo) on Dollshe

[bl00dh0rs3]

the thing people dont get abt writting a good Quaritch redemption arc fic is that he himself just Saying he's "not that man" in the movie... doesn't actually mean anything. Because he is literally ONLY saying it for the sake of his own comfort--He saw his own corpse, proof that his methods (the same ones that had kept him alive on Pandora for anywhere from 10 to 30 years up until That Point) Failed him, catastrophically and humiliatingly. That is terrifying, and that is humbling--two sensations that your typical man of his demographic would not take well.

He's lying to himself, because even though his body may be new and his methods may be skewed to take full advantage of that fact, he cannot truly be any different because his MOTIVATIONS are still functionally the same; Revenge and dedication to his career. He's acting like he's already partially 'redeemed' (for the crime of dying and losing the Battle at the Hallelujah Mountains.), like his body actually does somehow automatically make him 'a new man'--it doesn't. It provides a very streamlined opportunity to become a new person, but it is Not a "100% it will happen!!" Guarantee--it's likely in canon that he won't*.

He can only begin to really start taking stride in changing when he finally admits to himself that he Hasn't changed. Papa Dragon needs to start developing a little self awareness to recognize that he sucks before he can start figuring out how to be better, to even decide what better MEANS--and yes, it will be Cringe. It will. It's not going to be sexy and it's not supposed to.

* I stand by that he probably won't BUT it is integral that I mention there are inklings of him starting the process of reassessing himself and his methods Because of Spider--He follows Spider's lead with the Ikran, and he chooses not to kill any of the people during the village searches Because of Spider, and for a man as formerly ruthless as Quaritch, that's a pretty significant detail.

His personal kill count in Avatar; The Way Of Water is a 0. A zero. A big fat goose egg. But like i said before--he has yet to change his motivation entirely. Even after sacrificing his mission to save Spider from Neytiri, he still swears revenge--and rather violently at that. His priorities simply now include Spider's well being--Spider hasn't replaced any of them.

And imo, that's usually the key to a solid, believable Q redemption fic. He needs a New priority, and Spider is the most straightforward and automatically intriguing option, simply due to how challenging bridging that cultural Gap is going to Be for Quaritch--it FORCES him to reassess his priorities and his prospects, is forces him to step out of his career conditioning, it forces him to ask himself uncomfortable questions and make difficult decisions--these are all just, months, YEARS worth of challenges that he needs to undergo in order to grow as a person.

He's a stubborn man. It's baked into everything about him, even the way he moves--he is stiff, tensed, sometimes even awkwardly so. He is not going to be redeemed easily, no matter what the motivation is--so don't let it be easy. Make it hard. Make him struggle. Make him regress and regret and be a hypocrite and face the consequences of his actions and sit in a corner and think about what he's done.

And remember, then--that a redemption arc is never actually finished. It is a sisyphean task--to consciously choose to be better every day, and to keep the upsetting memories that remind you why you're doing it. Forgiveness for what he's done is not required--and even if it is given, it is not the same as crossing a finish line.

He killed hundreds of people. Men, women, and children. He's gotten his squad killed. He left his own son an orphan, and now his son has explicitly disowned him. His crimes are irreversible, and (depending on what, if anything, you as an author decide to do with Lyle) he is now pretty much alone.

Let him live with that.

[thedolldyke]

My first Kurhn doll is here! She’s so gorgeous I might cry

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hi can u please write about domestic life with Bills Eric Draven? Can there be fluffy and smutty moments? Tyyyy

Boy can I??? I’d be DELIGHTED. His domesticity is all I think about. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving bf and you can’t change my mind. I got a little carried away! Hopefully this is what you were wanting! Enjoy doll!

Bf!Eric x gf!reader. Explicit sexual content under the cut, minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v. brief mentions of drug use, mostly fluffy relationship stuff

It wasn’t entirely easy. You and Eric. The circumstances under which you met and the nature of the both of you was quite dysfunctional. You were chaos, and he was a mess. But it worked. The two of you. You worked perfectly. You weren’t sure what it was, you had never been able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone. But it was almost like you were meant to be together. If you didn’t believe in the whole soulmates thing, you started to believe it when you met Eric.

He was so unreal, so out of this world. He was always by your side, fingers laced with yours, arm thrown over your shoulder. He always had to be touching you, whether it was something as little as holding your hand, or going as far as putting you in a matting press when he fucked you, because he hated the idea of not being as close to you as possible. He never meant to, he didn’t even know what it was. He just did it one day. Your knees damn near next to your head, your body nearly folded in half as he draped his body over yours. You didn’t even know your body could bend this way. But god this you like it. How deep he could be this way. And you had him so close you could hear his little sounds, his hard breathing and his soft grunts.

He always felt a little bad, manhandling you around like you were nothing. If he wasn’t bending your body in ways you didn’t think were human, he was putting you in a headlock as he took you from behind, one arm draped around your neck from shoulder to shoulder. He just wanted you close, afraid you’d run away. But he sometimes forgot to take it easy on you. You always assured him you were more than happy with him, that he wouldn’t hurt you. Deep down it made you all kinds of earn to know you could arise such passions from him. For someone so morbidly quiet and nonchalant, Eric was very intense and passionate lover.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. You’re doing so good.” He would tell you, his voice soft and quiet in your ear, grounding you as his cock fucked you into nothing. “I just want to make you feel good, hm? Just want to make you feel good. That’s what you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve this. You’re too good for me.” He would say, his lips on your cheek as quiet moans spilled from your lips. “You’re just so… I can’t believe you’re all mine.” His name falling from your lips would be the end of him. So soft and desperate for him. He didn’t have much experience before you, but now he just can’t get enough of you. He wanted to be all over you at all times it actually upset him when you had to leave or when he did.9

But he was also oh so kind, so gentle and patient with you. He always followed you around like an oversized puppy, quietly listening to whatever tangent you would go on about. You could be cursing up a storm (albeit not directed at him) and he would take it with a straight face and big eyes. And it was often that nothing more but his presence would calm you down, center you.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one day, hot tears staining your face after a day of one stressor after another. Eric had managed to get you on the couch where he silently sat you down on his lap. You almost immediately curled up into his lap, legs tucked under you and your head on his chest. You felt an almost instant sense of relief and peace fill you, and you were sighing deeply, feeling your heart slow its fast beating.

“Do what?” He asked you softly, his fingers massaging your head calmly. You rested your hand on his chest, eyes closed.

“This. You calm me down. I was crying two minutes ago and now I feel… okay.” You felt him shrug under you and when you looked up he had a smile on his face. That smile could make you forget any grief or sadness you might have, because none of it really mattered.

But it wasn’t just him who could bring you peace, you were his, too. His lows weren’t as intense or visible as yours, but when he was at his low, he was at an all time low. He wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t eat, he would just go about his day like a corpse, eyes dead and empty and his mind elsewhere. You understood he had his issues too, so you tried to be there for him without pushing him. You were more subtle. You’d make him dinner, you’d invite him to watch a movie with you. And you’d tangle up with him on the couch as you all but forced him to eat, and you’d talk to him about your day. But something so small always meant so much to him. He couldn’t help the way he felt, he couldn’t help his negative thoughts that drove him to do drugs in the first place, but having you around to remind him someone in this world loved and cared for him, it made it all a little bit easier.

Eric started to bring you flowers one day. Every week once a week, he could come home with your favorite flowers. He alternated colors. With a sheepish smile he’d stand in the doorway with his hands behind his back. And the way he would look at you when gushed about how pretty they were was like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, the only one that mattered. And to him you were. Seeing that smile on your face was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

“You like them?” He would ask as if it wasn’t obvious, but he’d do it just to hear you giggle and watch you all but skip to put them in water. “Yeah? I saw them and thought about you.”

He always thought about you. There wasn’t a single waking second where he didn’t. You were good for him. And he knew that. He didn’t need anything else to fill the emptiness in his chest because he had you. You had filled that hole and he made sure you knew that everyday.

Eric had many ways to show his love and devotion for you. He wrote you poems, he drew for you, you had so many sketches you have started to run out of places to hang them, but this one was by far his favorite. He could spend literal hours between your legs. He absolutely loved it. He was absolutely obsessed with it.

“E-Eric.. Please.” You were shaking, sweating, incoherent as his tongue circled on your clit, his long fingers fucking you through your, fourth, fifth? You stopped keeping count. He had been down there for an eternity. He just kept asking for one more, just one more and he’d leave you alone. But it wasn’t enough. He was quite obsessive with the things he wanted.

But he figured he’d have to give you a break eventually. He was also painfully hard.

“I’m sorry baby.” He muttered softly as he crawled up your body, using the back of his hand to wipe the mess you had made, but his plush lips were still bright red and glistening. “You know I get carried away sometimes… You’re just so..”

He would kiss your face, brush your hair, soothe you back into a functioning human being. It wasn’t often that Eric vocalized his thoughts, but in moments like this when he felt safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, he would tell you all about how pretty you were, how talented you were, how much he loved you.

Eric was always full of surprises. He was quiet and nonchalant, but he was impulsive. You learned that very quickly.

“Baby?” You heard Eric call out to you as he came into the loft. You sat on the computer as you listened to one of his recordings. He had asked you to help him out since he really wanted to start pursuing his music and art now that he actually had someone that supported him.

With a smile, you took your headphones off and went to greet him, but you immediately frowned when you saw him hold something wrapped up in his hoodie.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” You stood up, approaching him with narrowed eyes as he broke out a smile.

“I’m sorry. I just found it, I just.. I felt bad.” He pulled down his hoodie to reveal a precious little kitten. A black ball of fur coating its little face. Your heart immediately sank and you wanted to cry.

“Oh my god, Eric.” You took the kitten into your hands and your eyes started watering as you hugged it. Eric wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction. Did you hate it? Were you upset?

“No, baby, I’m sorry. I found it outside, it’s kinda cold and it was drinking from a puddle. I didn’t want a car to hit it. We don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, we can take it to a shelter or something.” He started to mumble, a hand coming to rub the back of his head and his lips fell open when he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He approached you, reaching to grab your face. “Please don’t cry.”

“No… No Eric I’m not..” You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears as you leaned into Eric’s chest while still hugging the now purring black ball of fur. “I’m not upset at all. It’s just… I’ve never had my own pet before. And it’s so cute, can we keep it, please? It’d be our little child.”

The way you looked at him with big pleading eyes made him feel so warm, he never thought he’d feel something like this. He smiled, nodding as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Of course we can keep it. He’s kinda cute, right?” Eric chuckled as he scratched the little one’s head.

“Or she.”

Your little ball of fur wasn’t the only thing you and Eric shared. You got so many matching tattoos it was concerning. Your friends and family had even told you it was odd to get tattoos with a guy you had been dating for only a few months. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t know why, but deep down you knew your connection with Eric was out of this world. So what were a couple tattoos? You loved that you had a physical reminder of your connection with him. The feelings deep within your souls were forever marked on your skin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Truth was, Eric loved tracing each and every one of your tattoos. He traced his fingers over the fine lines, traced the words, he traced his lips over them too. He particularly loved the ones on your back and on your stomach, the ones no one but him could see. They were his little secret.

You matched each other perfectly, in every way.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiiii! You’re my favourite writer!! <33 I have some idea

Maybe G!P Donna with reader who is a very romantic and artistic soul. She reads a lot of romance novels and gets a little lost in this world. Donna has been wanting to do sexual things with the reader for some time now. Each time, the reader tells Donna to stop or runs away. One time, Donna can't stand it anymore and confronts her. It turns out that the reader, because she reads so many romance novels, is afraid that she will not be able to meet Donna's expectations and will disappoint her. She is also afraid of sex because in most romance novels the girl is in pain and how Donna will react to her body :(

Yess!!!! OMG, thank you for your words, your support is very important to me :)))) Thank you for your request too!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

The love that wasn't in the books

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 8,441 (ups, maybe it's too long)

Summary: You were afraid of doing what lovers do in your books...

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

The backpack you were carrying on your shoulders was heavy, the cold was almost unbearable, but the path you were traveling made you not care about any of that.

After playing to look for love in your books, you finally thought you had found it.

A tall, handsome and kind villager? No

Maybe a shy villager like you? No, not at all.

Any resemblance to a reality you thought you were living was a coincidence. After years feeling maybe that feeling, that impossible romance, was only written in your books, the day arrived. The day you didn't think you were awake, the day love knocked on your door or, well, you actually knocked on its door.

Neither a villager, nor a farmer, nor a forbidden lover nor an impossible love. Just when you thought that maybe you weren't born to be loved in the world you lived in, in that sinister place, reality hit you, thus overcoming the stories you could get lost in for hours.

It was not a reality similar to any of your friends. It was not a marriage proposal to unite two businesses, no... Love appeared in your life unexpectedly, with an unexpected someone.

Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, a mysterious figure who dangerously bordered on legend. She was waiting behind that door, in that idyllic place, with the incessant sound of that waterfall. You never expected someone to open the door for you. You never thought you would really meet that woman who seemed to give nightmares to your friends.

You didn't believe in ghosts or monsters, how could you in a place populated by werewolves? You never liked fantasy novels. Living in that village, the most impossible thing was love, romance. Maybe that's why you were so hooked on those books, maybe that's why they seemed almost like a fantasy to you, almost more unreal than a legend about a monster.

It could have been precisely your lack of faith in dangerous creatures, more dangerous than those you already knew, that made you smile at her mourning figure, at that dark woman, tormented by her past, sick, dangerous, much more than any ogre or giant.

But, as has already been said, you never believed in those book monsters, you only believed in love, a blind faith in the possibility of experiencing something similar to your novels, in feeling the same as the protagonists of those books. Maybe then you would forget you were born in the wrong place.

Silence, sinister dolls and sighs. That was all you got from the lady in black when your daring pushed you to sell the vegetables you grew beyond the forest. It could be a dream of living those adventures that you refused to read. But, like everything else in the village, they cost money that was increasingly scarce.

But your daring didn’t end in an eternal nightmare, in a terror that could kill you, just as you were warned. The only thing you gained was a quiet afternoon, having tea with what seemed like a ghost, with that woman with a covered face, in the darkness of the mansion.

A poor excuse, the flavor she said was unmatched from vegetables made you come back again, and again, and again...

Oblivious to that strange curiosity the lady in black seemed to feel about you, your fantasies increased without meaning to. The protagonists of your books became little by little deformed in your head. The innocent lady who fell in love with the knight stopped being innocent. Her hair turned brown, and the knight changed his armor for a black dress.

Love had come to your head, to your heart, and you didn't know why, but you imagined that somehow, she felt the same.

That was confirmed when that horrible black veil disappeared on one of those afternoons of tea and few words. It was an unmatched beauty, a wounded but beautiful face. Those knights in black dresses no longer had a helmet. They had a face, lips, a desire to be that innocent lady from a medieval town. You were. You ended up succumbing to what your heart said it felt, just like Donna.

After a few months enjoying true romanticism, feeling everything you read in novels, you took the last step to remind yourself that you were not living in a dream. Living on the Beneviento estate, living with Donna, with your love, living those moments your books always hid after: they lived happily...

Everything was new to you, you couldn't think, or imagine what was to come and that was... Exciting.

“I thought you wouldn't come...” the lady in black murmured, opening the door so you could enter that new life, your new life, your own story.

“Well, I had a lot of things at home,” you said, kissing your lover slowly, just as you had learned in your books. Love was in no hurry, it was slow, intense… It was something so subtle that it left an indelible mark on your memories. You wanted it that way.

She smiled in relief. If your greatest fear was living without being loved, hers was losing you, something she always made clear, something that always made her tremble, made her look shamefully weak.

“I see,” she commented amused, helping you, taking a folder you were holding in your hand. –“What is this?” she asked, browsing its contents.

You smiled and blushed.

“Drawings, sometimes I feel like letting the paintings think for me, you know,” you said nervously, looking next to her at those mediocre landscapes full of castles, ships on the sea, the scenarios that you read over and over again in books.

“You're quite an artist,” Donna murmured, with a tender smile, with the smile that reminded you were loved, she loved you.

“What is that, silly?” a squeaky voice asked, Donna's faithful companion, her inseparable alter ego, the Angie doll. The puppet picked up one of those drawings, looking at them.

You got nervous, blushing even more.

“It's her stuff, Angie, come on, behave,” Donna snapped, taking the drawing from her wooden hands and putting it next to the rest in the folder. The doll laughed, while you left that heavy backpack on the floor.

“You're the one who has to behave, Donna, now that you can finally put that stupid villager in your bed and...” the doll couldn't finish the sentence, since the lady's hands went to her with a scared look, causing her to turn and run away.

“Don't pay attention to her,” she said, shaking her head, with a blush that was also quite evident.

You smiled amused, but with a knot starting to form in your stomach. One of your worries, one that kept you awake at night, came back to spoil the beginning of your new life.

“Yeah, I'm used to it,” you said, with nerves starting to distort your voice. No, it was not the time to think about those things, it was not the time.

“I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it a little more from now on, tesoro,” Donna whispered, gently grabbing your waist, not wasting that small tender moment to kiss your lips, to make you feel those things that you could only imagine months ago.

She smiled at you, sighing pleased at your receptiveness, at how sweet and romantic your kisses were. You smiled back at her, being dazzled by that bright, sincere eye, by that look that said how happy she was because her loneliness was over.

Not wanting to lose yourself in love again, you grabbed your backpack from the floor, making a gesture of effort. Donna laughed, helping you carry that weight, frowning.

“What are you carrying here?” she asked amused. You shrugged as you let the lady snoop around a bit. You didn't care, she was already part of your life, and she would be forever.

“My books,” you explained, amused, while your lover looked at those old covers worn by use, those words you believe one day your eyes would be able to erase.

“Oh, they are many of them, mm?” the lady murmured, reading the titles with curiosity.

“There is no place for them!” Angie screamed from the living room, to which you both smiled knowingly.

“(Y/N), don’t…”

“I don't pay attention to her, I know,” you whispered, finishing her sentence and winking at her, earning you another of her fascinating smiles.

“But, it's a shame...” Donna murmured, with an air of sadness that put all your senses on alert.

“What's wrong? If, if there really isn't a place for the books, I can, I can maybe...” you said, playing with your hands, which were starting to sweat.

You were always cautious, you were afraid of losing what you had worked so hard to get, you were afraid of losing her love.

Donna smiled, shaking her head, searching for something on a piece of furniture in the room, something wrapped up that she extended towards you.

“I say it's a shame, because my gift won't fascinate you as much as I thought,” she whispered romantically, while you took the package with trembling hands and raised eyebrows.

“A gift? For me?” you asked in an almost childish way, excited by those things you only believed happened in books.

“Of course,” she said, amused, looking expectantly at that mysterious package trembling in your hands.

“You, you shouldn't have…” you said, noticing how your heart was beating faster and faster.

“Sciocchezze,” she responded, making a gesture with her hands, downplaying it. “You have given me the happiness of being able to see you wake up every morning.”

Your cheeks were already turning dark red. 

You bit your lip as you unwrapped the gift. Not all the romanticism described in your books could overcome the softness of her voice declaring her love for you with phrases like that one. You were totally addicted to her.

“Love in the Time of Cholera,” you read the title of that new book, without marks of having been used, resplendent in your hands. Donna nodded with an excited expression.

“Don't tell me you've read it, because you'd make me buy another one,” she said amused, surrounding you, grabbing your waist from behind and kissing your shoulder. You shook your head, turning the pages, soaking in the smell of that new book, that magnificent gift.

“No, the truth is that it's the first time I've seen it,” you said sincerely, admiring that gift, a successful one. You didn't know when you stopped being a secret to Lady Beneviento. Well, there were still things she didn't know and they were the ones that made you strangely and uncomfortablely nervous.

Donna nodded, kissing you again romantically and pulling away slightly.

“You can start reading it now if you want, I still have one more surprise for you,” she whispered with a slightly dark, but happy look. You didn't see evil in her eyes, you had never seen it.

The stories the villagers told about her were very wrong, or so you liked to think.

“What one?” you asked, making small jumps on the wood, excited by this welcome, by this beginning of your new life.

“If I told you...” she murmured, turning elegantly to look at you, making her dress dance in a hypnotic way.

“It wouldn't be a surprise,” you finished, smiling. Your connection was so strong that you were even able to dare to interrupt her. Donna smiled, gesturing to her doll.

“Angie, do something useful and put those books in the shelves,” the lady ordered, which obviously led to the puppet's comical protest.

“What are you trying to achieve with this, huh?” Angie rebuked, making Donna roll her eye, ignoring those childish squeaks. –“(Y/N) is a fool, do you think she will spread her legs for you just because you prepare a…?”

Luckily, you were already engrossed in your reading. You couldn't know if you had really heard what you had heard.

“Angie! Taci!” Donna said, with a cold, almost furious look. “Stop talking nonsense and put the books in order before I get angry.”

“Stop talking nonsense, blah, blah, blah...” the doll mocked, imitating the voice of its owner in the most mocking way possible. “You forget that you are me and I am you, I know what you’re thinking.”

“Really? What I’m thinking now?” the lady said with her hands on her hips, while you turned page after page, not paying attention, or rather, ignoring that usual argument.

“Okay, okay, I give up,” the doll said, apparently scared. “Don't disable me, I'll be good,” she pleaded in a comical tone.

Donna nodded, looking at you strangely and sighing.

“The books, now,” she murmured, before disappearing down the elevator hallway.

The doll growled, mocking its owner again and prepared to obey.

You didn't know how much time had passed, since whenever you got into a book, it was hard to get out of it. Apparently, tranquility reigned again in the mansion, well, almost. Angie's murmurs and protests while she looked for a place for your books were the only thing separating you from absolute silence.

That promised surprise was a romantic dinner, one that Donna prepared in silence, trying not to disturb you.

The light of the candles, the taste of the food, the bitterness and fruitiness of the wine…

Everything was perfect, even your looks, even that strange shyness that was evident in the lady in black. You wanted to ask what the reason for her nervousness was, but you didn't want to, you didn't want to expose her psychosis, or the fragility of her mind. You wanted everything to be perfect, as perfect as in your books.

But since everything has an end, as uncertain as in most stories, that moment arrived, the time to spend the night with Donna, to sleep next to her. You didn't see anything wrong, you didn't see the brunette's possible intention, and of course, you didn't imagine that was the reason for her strange nervousness.

“Come to bed, my love,” Donna told you tenderly, pointing to the empty spot on the mattress. You, nervous about that step, about your first night sleeping with her, obeyed with your new favorite book in your hand. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile, while she adjusted the pillow, everything she could do to make you comfortable. She was so attentive, so kind. Sometimes it was difficult for you to believe that she was a Lord, that her name was synonymous with pure terror, with fear itself. “Thank you, Donna.”

She nodded, looking away, playing with the sheets, without removing that strange glow in her face she had during dinner.

“You don't mind if I want to read before going to sleep, right?” you asked, opening the book again, with an innocent smile. She looked at you and nodded, blinking nervously.

“Of course I don’t mind, read calmly,” she said, caressing your cheek. You smiled gratefully and immersed yourself again in that tragic and interesting story.

Time passed subtly. You didn't look up from the book, but something made you feel uncomfortable. It would probably be Donna's strange posture, with her gaze lost, as if she was waiting for something, maybe for you to turn off the light so she could sleep.

After a moment of her seeming to think about something, she cleared her throat, moving a little closer to you.

“Do you want to read with me?” you asked innocently, ignoring the soft caresses that ran down your hand. She, confused, nodded with a sinister smile, getting closer and closer.

At first everything seemed to be going well, but soon the kisses reached your neck, the caresses went down the sheets until they reached your legs. Your nerves were on edge, the book started to shake in your hands and your breathing quickened.

“Donna,” you said nervously, closing your eyes when that touch on your skin intensified, when her kiss silenced your protests, lying back on the mattress, without saying a word, but saying everything.

She didn't respond, she continued along your body, continued with her burning kisses, with her increasingly dangerous caresses. Your body could not withstand that pressure, and your hands released the book, stopping that hunger, that anxiety of the brunette with your hands on her chest.

“What's wrong, tesoro?” she asked, surprised, withdrawing from you with a confused look, as if she didn't understand your reaction.

“Oh, nothing, it's just...” you said nervously, moving away a little from her burning body, from the desire that was very evident in her bright eye, from her heavy breathing. “I'm, I'm a bit tired and...”

Donna withdrew as well, with a nervous laugh, lowering her gaze.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered with a sincerely apologetic tone. You caressed her face, turning that sudden rejection over in your head.

“No, nothing's wrong,” you said, also looking away from her. “I'm sleepy, that's all.”

“Okay,” she said, with an amused but confused gasp at the same time.

“Well, we should sleep,” you whispered, camouflaging your shame as you left the book on the nightstand, covering yourself with the sheets, as if they could protect you from one of your fears, from something you hadn't been able to assimilate.

“Yes, it will be the best,” she said, imitating your gesture, lying on her back, still breathing hard.

“Good night, Donna,” you said, kissing her quickly, as if you were afraid that this innocent contact would rekindle her intentions. Luckily, it didn't.

“Good, good night”

Yes, you were a true romantic, an artistic soul with a soft heart, wanting to feel everything you had read in love stories, an inveterate romantic, an expert in confessions, in declarations, in tender and affectionate gestures. But there was something in which you were not an expert, something that you had read countless times in stories, something you feared and looked askance at.

The moment of undressing, of giving way to a different phase, of demonstrating the love that was felt in a much more intense way, the moment of making love.

It didn't matter how many times you read it, you felt some anguish when that moment was close, or you thought it was close. You loved Donna. You really loved her, but your cowardly attitude, so different from the romanticism surrounding you, was something that embarrassed you. You were afraid of many things, you were afraid of not being enough, of being clumsy, you were afraid of loving completely, of giving yourself to her in a way you had only been able to read.

Of course, you never told her, you hoped she wouldn't pressure you and apparently she didn't, until that night. It was an innocent attempt, an approach that had nothing lascivious or rough about it, but it was reason enough for all your worries to come back to you that night, curled up next to the woman you loved, unable to love her the way she wanted, the way you knew she wanted.

Luckily, the tiredness acted as an assistant for sleep to free you from those thoughts and, after tossing and turning a few times, you fell asleep.

You woke up with the sensation of having had nightmares, those nightmares that didn’t talk about monsters, but rather about heartbreak, disappointment. Not even sleep was able to free you from your stupid worries.

Donna was sleeping peacefully next to you. Her soft breathing served as a small comfort to the tribulations of your mind. But, in a moment, she turned, unconsciously grabbing your body, dragging it against hers.

Romantic, yes, but also unexpected.

Your terrified body jumped when it made contact with hers. Something pressed against you, something you knew what it was, that you knew she had. Caprices of the Cadou, as she explained to you a long time ago. But feeling it that way, against you, with your back turned, feeling her arms surrounding you… It was too much for you, and you jumped on the mattress, uncomfortable.

“Donna, hey, Donna...” you said nervously, moving her body with your hand, making her grunt when she was woken up in that abrupt way.

“(Y/N)? What...” she stammered, her voice distorted by sleep. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” you said ironically, sitting on the bed, crossing your arms and turning on the light on the table. You were nervous and not thinking clearly, you thought that Donna had wanted to take what you denied her the night before.

The sleepy, confused look on her face should have told you that you were wrong, but you didn't want to see it.

“What... What's wrong, tesoro?” she asked, rubbing her eye, fighting with the sleep that your cowardice interrupted.

“Don't pretend nothing's wrong, Donna,” you said furiously, crossing your arms. As it could not be otherwise, she shook her head, yawning.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, reassuring you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Aren't you able to wait? Can't you wait until I'm ready? It has to be when you want, right? And since I rejected you last night, you have seen fit to take things into your own hands,” you said without thinking, believing in the worst possible scenario.

Donna blinked with a shocked look, opening her mouth to say something, but not being able to do so due to your baseless accusation.

“I don't know what I've done...” she murmured, shaking her head, with an innocent look of concern. “Last night? What…?”

“Don't play dumb, I know you're not,” you snapped, looking away from her, removing her comforting hand from your shoulder.

“Te, tesoro, I have no idea what...” she whispered, trying to calm herself, being completely sincere, something you should have noticed.

“That, what about that?” you said furiously, pointing to the lump that was between her legs, the one that you considered was harassing you.

She looked at the same spot, covering herself immediately, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, I... I, I'm sorry...” Donna said nervously, hiding her erection under the sheets with a nervous laugh.

“Was it really necessary to take advantage of me being asleep?” you asked irrationally, making her embarrassed look intensify.

“What have I done?” she asked, calmer, with a sad look.

“You know what you've done, you've... Tightened me against you, against your...” you murmured with the same shyness. She laughed nervously, shaking her head.

“Oh, have I? Well, I didn't realize, I was asleep,” she explained naturally, downplaying the importance.

“Yes, of course,” you said, suspicious.

“Hey, I... I don't know what you think I've done but... I promise you it wasn't my intention,” the doll maker told you, grabbing your shoulders to force you to look at her.

“It was your body’s,” you murmured with a tone of contempt. Donna sighed, shaking her head.

“I, I'm sorry, I...” she whispered, her voice soft, giving away her inner nervousness, desperate to reason with you. “Some, sometimes it gets hard when I sleep and I, well, I can't do anything. It's normal, it happens to me often. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, forgive me.”

Your thoughts relaxed at her sincerity, at her worry, one that you caused. You sighed, shaking your head, ashamed of your immature attitude, one that you only showed in situations that were overwhelming you.

“I don't mean to pressure you, amore mio,” Donna whispered, approaching you again, relaxing you with a soft kiss on your cheek, with her subtle caresses, with the soft and melodic tone of her voice. “If you're not ready, I understand. I'll wait as long as it takes, you hear me?”

You nodded, stopping shaking, feeling guilty for that disproportionate reaction to something that you knew was natural, but that your fears and your own worries took on with an attack.

“I'm sorry, Donna, I've been stupid,” you apologized, playing with her hand, staring into her bright eye, at the beauty of her gaze, one that you couldn't stop staring at.

“Don't apologize,” she said, cupping your face in her hands, giving you the warmth that your nervous body needed. “You know I love you, right?”

You nodded, more relaxed, letting yourself be consumed by the tenderness of her kisses, by the softness of her caresses.

Thus, the days passed, that coexistence went well, too well. You and Donna were meant to be together. Everything: the smiles, the kisses, the caresses... Everything became a routine that you no longer wanted to part with.

Afternoons in the workshop, learning to sew, abstract conversations about art, literature, with two steaming cups of tea, with soft words, with looks that said many more things than your words. Everything was perfect, or almost everything.

Donna promised to wait for you and, since that turbulent morning, the subject was not discussed again. It could be lucky, the relief of being understood, but you knew that haven of peace had an expiration date.

Her approaches came again to put you on the ropes. Subtle movements loaded with lust. No matter the place, or the circumstances, any pretext served for Donna to try to corrupt you, for her kisses to become disorderly and her caresses to wander through forbidden places.

You, in a pathetic and cowardly way, rejected the love that she wanted to give you, that display of intimate affection that was so important to her. It could be with a sudden gesture, with your hands stopping hers, scratching her skin so her hands wouldn't go higher than your knee. No matter how many times she tried, you always ran away.

During those two months, tension began to build in the old mansion. The looks began to be harder, with resentment, with ignorance of your thoughts, your fears. You couldn't confess your worries. You were a romantic, that fearful attitude towards sex couldn't be possible in someone like you. The disappointment began to show in her gestures, in the quick kisses that Donna gave you.

Your nervous state prevented you from even enjoying the romantic books that she gave you, from rereading over and over again the stories that you fantasized about so much. Your eyes always went from the words of love, to the romantic gestures, always the chapter you read was the one in which the lovers undressed, enjoying their bodies.

The pressure was getting stronger and the tension was getting more and more unbearable.

Donna's passivity was getting more and more evident. You would drive her crazy, you would drive her crazy.

“Ciao tesoro,” she said, with an elegant smile, when you went back up to the living room after a relaxing bath, one in which you couldn't stop thinking about what to do to solve your fears, your problems.

You smiled tiredly, sighing listlessly, walking slowly towards her desk, where she always worked on things you didn't want to know about, terrible things, according to her, things that an angel like you shouldn't see, or so she told you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, running a hand along her back, causing that smile she always had when she was with you, a smile that was becoming less and less frequent.

“Well, studying my plants, you know,” Donna explained, closing the notebook and looking at you. “Do you want something?”

“Yes, I...” you said, closing your eyes, taking in enough air and confidence, one that faded when you noticed all her attention was focused on you. “I wanted, I wanted to apologize for… Well, for being so distant lately.”

Donna sighed, taking your hand and standing up from the desk, hugging your waist and placing a strand of hair behind your ear with an affectionate look, tender as only she knew how.

“Don't worry, everything is fine, tesoro,” she whispered, kissing you slowly, holding your hands, swinging them together for your relief, for your comfort. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

You wanted to nod, you wanted to say so many things, talk about your fears, the contradiction that was fearing sex when you lived dreaming of love... A shame that your nerves acted against you again.

“No, well, maybe,” you said stammering, looking for an excuse for that sudden approach.

“I'll do anything,” she said, with an overly pleading tone, revealing she evidently knew that something was happening to you, that something was worrying you.

“Okay, well... That lasagna,” you said, faking a smile, leaving her puzzled.

“Lasagna,” she murmured, blinking, confused and frowning.

“Yes, well, it's just that it's so delicious... I, I'd like you to make it for dinner, you know, like on our first date,” you said, lying, being a coward again.

“Oh, sure. You just have to ask me, (Y/N),” she said amused, but confused at the same time. It wasn't the conversation she was expecting to have.

With a tired sigh, probably due to your reticent attitude, Donna kissed you again, looking into your eyes, smiling wistfully, but also with amusement.

“Please,” you joked, feeling more and more natural in lying. Well, lying for love wasn't bad, right?

“Okay, (Y/N). But I hope you prepare yourself because after eating you are going to want to suck...”

The alert went off again in your confused mind, imagining possible ways to finish that sentence, possible horrible words that would come out of her mouth, insinuations that weren't so horrible.

You believed her patience had ended, that her subtle actions no longer made sense. Just thinking about what she wanted you to suck made you burn with rage, an irrational rage, as always, one that made you act irrationally again.

With a furious growl, you moved your hand, slapping the lady in black hard, who remained glued to the floor, her eye wide open and her hand on her bruised cheek.

“But, but, (Y/N)...” she sighed open-mouthed, rubbing the sore part of it with her hand.

You were burning with rage. Your hand was burning from that unfair slap. Your fears, your problems, had overcome you.

“The subtleties are over, right? Did you really think being a creep was going to work for you, Donna?” you said, angry again, for no reason, making her look even more confused, making her gestures fearful.

Maybe you should have thought about it before, maybe not, sure. In the end, Donna Beneviento was fear itself. Maybe you would die screaming for help.

“Creep? But what the hell is wrong with you? What that was about?” she asked with a broken voice, moving away from you, revealing her red cheek due to your angry slap.

“What was that creepy thing about? What did you want me to suck, Donna?” you asked, approaching her, cornering her against her desk.

The lady in black shook her head, with a nervous laugh and a dangerous look.

“What…? Le, le, le dita, the, the fingers, (Y/N), you're going to suck your fingers... Seriously, what's wrong with you?” she said stuttering, being unable to control her language. Surely at that moment you were fear itself for her.

You, embarrassed, with your face red from shame, from your stupid mistake, were not able to respond. You simply let the tears roll down your cheeks, turning around to cowardly run away again, this time, rightfully so.

“No, no, no, I'm not going to let you leave,” she said, grabbing your wrist with a threatening tone, pulling your body, making you sob, unable to escape. “Hey, come on, what makes you think I would say something like that?”

“I don't know,” you whispered, avoiding her gaze, something impossible, since her fingers lifted your chin to keep your head up.

“You don't know...” she murmured, looking away, releasing you from her grip and crossing her arms.

“You don’t get it!” you screamed, clenching your fists tightly, surrendering to the truth of your thoughts, your fears. “I Can't!”

“You can’t? What you can't do, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a slightly softer tone.

“I've tried, okay? I've tried to get used to the idea, to think that maybe I would... But I can't, I can't, Donna,” you sobbed, throwing yourself into the comfort of her arms, a hug that she returned with an intense sigh, stroking your hair, kissing it understandingly.

“Hey, hey, come on, no, don't cry, it kills me to see you crying...” she whispered, comforting you without having to do it, without having to forgive that slap so unfair, so out of place. Maybe you were right and she wasn't the dangerous Lord that everyone thought she was.

“How can I not cry?” you protested, sinking into her chest, wetting the black fabric of her dress with your tears. “It's exasperating...”

“Okay, okay, listen to me, you're going to calm down and you're going to tell me what's worrying you,” she said, pulling you away, holding your gaze and your head, wiping away the tears that wandered aimlessly down your cheeks.

You nodded, regaining some composure, no longer seeing any reason to hide your concerns.

“I've spent my life reading romantic novels...” you began, playing with the buttons on her dress to calm your nerves. “Reading love stories that always ended in the same way and… No, I'm not able to…”

“Shh, relax... I'm here with you, your problems are mine,” she told you softly, relaxing you with her voice, with her caresses.

“I know, I know you want to make love to me,” you said, looking away from her, embarrassed by just saying it. She looked at you, with a sad look, knowing what the conversation was about.

“Of course I want to... I love you so much...” she whispered to you, studying your gaze, which diverted downwards again, towards the black fabric of the lady's dress.

“I want it too, Donna,” you acknowledged, letting that desire come out of your mouth, a desire that you were unable to verbalize, that fear prevented you from saying.

“Well, what's the problem then?” she asked, with the same calm tone.

“I don't... I can't, I... I just read about it in my books and I think about it and I want to feel the same with you but... But I'm afraid,” you finally admitted, embarrassed, dissolved into tears.

“You are afraid, what are you afraid of?” she asked more delicately, knowing that at any moment you could pathetically run away again.

“Everything, Donna...” you sighed pacing erratically from side to side. “I'm afraid of not fulfilling what you expect of me, I'm afraid that you don't like my body, that you'll reject me, that I'm clumsy and won't be able to make you feel the way you expect...”

“Oh, tesoro... What nonsense is that?” she said, with a kind smile, grabbing your waist so you would stop walking senselessly. “You are perfect for me. You will always be perfect for me.”

“That's not true,” you said, darkening your tone of voice. “No, I'm not good for that, besides...”

“Mm?” Donna hummed, letting you talk about what scared you most, what made you most ashamed.

“I'm, I'm afraid of...” you murmured, remembering all the books, remembering the pain those damsels felt when they were loved for the first time. “I, I'm afraid of the pain.”

“Oh,” she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, confused by not knowing how to get those thoughts out of you, knowing that she could comfort you in many ways, but that she couldn't avoid that specific fear. “Well, I…”

“It's stupid, I know, I'm a coward, I know, but, but I'm afraid of hurting myself and... You don't know what it's like to want something you're afraid of.”

“Hey, I would never hurt you, tesoro... Well, I would try not to...” she explained, a bit nervous, knowing that there was no solution for that.

“Leave it be, Donna, I know it wouldn't be your fault,” you said, moving away from her, a difficult task, since her hands clung to your waist.

“I didn't know you were so scared, (Y/N), I'm sorry if I pressured you. I repeat, I will wait as long as it takes, okay?” she said, caressing your cheek, getting rid of the last tears that ran down them.

Your crying was suffocated in a second, that confession moved something inside you, something that, when you felt freed from those chains that were your secrets, suddenly woke up. Looking at her face, at her understanding, at how bad she felt having pressured you like that, you realized that you didn't want to wait anymore.

“Donna,” you said, hugging her again, speaking in her ear as your body swayed with hers. “I want to do it, now.”

“What?” she asked, pulling you away from her and looking at you suspiciously. “But, tesoro, if you just said that…”

“I know what I said,” you interrupted with an angry growl, not letting fear stop you from giving in to your desires, to her desires. “And I also know that if I let this opportunity pass I don't know when I will feel this desire to, to love you....”

Donna nodded, looking around confusedly, taking your hand and walking slowly towards the elevator.

“Are you sure?” she murmured, closing the bedroom door, breaking that tense silence that had accompanied you all the way.

“Yes, I... I want, I want to do it,” you said with false confidence. The lady in black studied your gestures, looking for that insecurity that made you uncomfortable, not seeing it thanks to your art of lying and deception, one that you also learned from your books. She finally nodded, approaching slowly.

“We'll go at your pace, okay? I'm not in any hurry,” she whispered in your ear, making a cold current run through your body. Could it be the desire that had been dormant inside you for so long?

“Okay, I...  I guess I have to get naked,” you said confused, nervous again, but wanting to overcome that stupid cowardice. “Surely then you can regret loving me.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” she told you with a stern tone, putting her hands on your shoulders. “You are beautiful, and your body is too.”

“You don't know that,” you whispered, looking down at the floor, hands reaching for the ties of your dress, trembling. Donna laughed, shaking her head, pulling your hand, sitting on the bed, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, I guess there's only one way to find out,” she said amused, caressing your hand, kissing the back of it and leaving you free to act.

You tried to untie your dress, but your hands were shaking too much, your body was shaking too much. Donna noticed it and stood up from the bed, standing behind you, her slender fingers grasping the tie that kept your nakedness safe from onlookers.

“Do you want me to help you, tesoro?” she asked suggestively, speaking in your ear, making the rapid beating of your heart worse.

You, insecure and nervous, nodded slowly, receiving in response a soft kiss on your neck, which distracted you from her rapid movements, from the delicate and skillful way of releasing the ties and letting the dress fall elegantly down your body, rushing to the floor.

You had to suppress the logical impulse to bend down to pick it up, to cover your half-naked body. Once again, her kisses prevented you, dispelling your doubts with her caresses on your body, on your naked skin, with her soft lips admiring, adoring every exposed part of your body.

“Come, let me look how beautiful you are,” she whispered, slowly turning you around.

You, embarrassed, avoided her gaze, just before her lips silenced your fear, kissed yours while her hands calmed the trembling of your body, an involuntary tremor, which was no longer only due to fear, but also to desire, the one that you had read so many times in your books and that now you were feeling.

Slowly, Donna walked towards the bed, bringing your body with hers, kissing you relentlessly, focused on your comfort, on your wanting to continue despite your fears.

Your body fell against the mattress, as did your bra, which her mischievous fingers inadvertently unclasped. Your hands covered your now bare breasts, and she smiled tenderly, bringing her hands to the buttons of her dress.

“You don't have to be embarrassed with me, (Y/N), not anymore,” Donna whispered in a sensual voice, one you had been hearing for too long. “Tell me, do you want me to get naked first?”

“I, it's okay,” you said nervously, nodding, slowly separating your hands from your breasts, letting her look at them while her dress gave in to her movements, falling next to yours. Her eye rose to yours, not making you feel that your breasts were her target, her target was you, all of you.

Stroking your leg, wondering if she was somehow forcing you to give in to her desires, she looked at you again, seeing a shy smile on your face, a blush on your cheeks. Her smile reassured you again as her torso undressed with a loud “click.”

Her beauty was now the center of your thoughts, those pale breasts, with a shape so perfect that it seemed straight out of one of the idealized love stories. You had never stopped to think about what that black dress was hiding; the beauty that was hidden behind that annoying fabric. An almost divine figure, proportioned, some marks on her skin, standing out in the paleness that Donna always carried with her.

A perfect body, a perfect woman.

You couldn't think of anything else. At least until her fingers moved down her body with a sigh, grabbing the last cloth, also black, that hid the rest of her figure, one that you could sense, but that you couldn't see.

Donna sighed, thus revealing her own insecurities, that involuntary change that her eternal servitude to Mother Miranda entailed, a capricious change, but one that didn’t represent the slightest problem for you.

Her underwear went down her legs, thus revealing the last part of her divine figure. Her legs were slender, beautiful, they seemed soft, it seemed like she was made by the black Gods themselves. Between them, the cause of her embarrassment, her erection revealing her impatience, proportionate, like her entire body.

Her eye searched for disgust in your gaze, a sign that it was not what you were looking for, that the fear you felt was aggravated by its size, a little bigger than you imagined, but not enough for you to want to run away.

Proportion was the word, perfection was her body, love was Donna, it was you. It was both of you.

Encouraged by that vision, by that lack of shyness that seemed impossible in Donna, you did the same, breathing nervously, pulling down your panties with your fingers, letting her gaze focus on every detail that the fabric left free.

Two naked bodies, two souls in love. Like a love poem, like a romantic tragedy, two people about to become one. Fear had prevented you from thinking about that artistic way of looking at sex, that way you only believed was an exaggeration by some self-conscious writer.

“Bellisima,” she whispered, not for you, but for herself.

With an admiring sigh of pleasure at seeing your completely naked body, she climbed the bed until she was on top of you, caressing your frightened face. Yes, scared by the perfect beauty of her.

“Kiss me, Donna, please,” you said, feeling the heat of her body, her soft skin burning yours, making it hopelessly addicted. That pale glow, that softness, forced you to move your hands to her back, to her neck, pulling it so your lips met, so your bodies did the same.

Sighs, kisses, caresses... All you could feel was pleasure, desire, her desire and yours mixed in a wet dance of intense, messy, passionate kisses.

Your hips, also impatient, moved to the area of ​​hers. Donna was respectful, circling the places her hands caressed, not wanting to grab your skin like she would like, making you feel comfortable before gently squeezing one of your breasts, eliciting a moan from her lips, from yours.

“Donna,” you said at the pleasure of her grip, of the mischievous play of her fingers on your nipple, of the kisses that slowly descended down your neck.

Your hands, eager for contact, for that perfection that touched you, did the same, exploring, palpating, caressing her skin, causing her to moan, you moaning in response from the pleasure of feeling her body against yours.

Her kisses seemed tireless, especially when, with a frustrated growl, they left your mouth to go down your body, following the path her hands took minutes before. You gasped at that lack of her kisses, but also at the hands that were now traveling up your legs.

Her mouth rested on your breasts, your hands wandered aimlessly along her back, fingers confused, timid, not wanting to give in to the desire to reach other places, to fully explore that perfection.

You moaned again involuntarily, because of the heat that her body transmitted, because of that desire repressed for so long. Her lips caressed your belly, her tongue tested your skin as if it were something delicate, the greatest of delicatessen.

But her desire to kiss you didn’t diminish, nor did her kisses stop going down until they reached that forbidden place, making you sit up scared.

“Hey, calm down, tesoro... I just want to make you feel good, relax,” she said, caressing your belly, your chest, bending down again to fulfill her goal, the humidity that you hadn't noticed between your legs.

The warmth of her kisses on your folds, in uncharted, virgin territory, was so much more than you had imagined. Her saliva mixed with your arousal, her tongue surrounded your most sensitive spot. The pleasure was unimaginable. You hated books at the time. None of them really said how good it felt to be loved that way.

But impatience began to shake your hips. Your hands scratched her perfect skin, marking her, making her moan from your nervousness.

“Donna, please, I need you,” you said, letting your instincts speak for you, letting the game continue, letting your fears disappear. You wanted to be one, you wanted her body inside of yours. You wanted to merge with her in an eternal, hot, humid embrace.

“Yes, if you want me to stop just...” she said, returning to your lips, letting you enjoy your own essence before placing herself right where she wanted, with the tip of her shaft rubbing your entrance, a sensation that made you moan in delight.

“No, do it, please,” you interrupted, when you felt her fingers running through your wetness, when you noticed her erection pressing against it inevitably. The moment had come, and you wanted it to be that way.

“Okay, relax,” she whispered in a soft tone, studying your gestures again, looking for the insecurity in your erratic movements. “Close your eyes and think about how much I love you…”

You obeyed, gripping her sheets tightly, preparing to truly feel her, to feel what you feared that much.

“Ah...” you complained when you noticed that sting, that pain that scared you. Donna entered roughly, but relaxing you with her caresses.

Your body writhed with that intruder, the pain between your legs joined with that unmatched sensation of having her inside of you. Your walls stretched little by little as her erection slid through them.

Donna couldn't help but moan at the strong grip of your body against hers, at that slight resistance that prevented her from moving.

“Do you want me to stop, my love?” she asked, caressing your cheek, stopping that first intrusion, letting your body slowly adjust, to stop feeling that pain.

“No... It, it hurts a bit...” you whispered, shaking your head. A kiss on your lips helped you to stop squirming. It was a subtle delicacy, a kind and loving treatment. You didn't know what you thought of Donna, but it was the complete opposite.

“I know, calm down, tesoro, hold on a bit, it will pass soon, I promise you,” the lady said in your ear, entering further without stopping caressing you, grabbing the hand that was almost tearing the sheets, squeezing it so you could vent that brief discomfort.

Little by little, you stopped feeling bad. A new sensation began to overshadow that pain, the pleasure. Your body quickly adapted to her shaft, feeling waves of pleasure every time she try to move. Once without pain, only with love, only with that overwhelming feeling, you smiled, realizing that you wanted more.

“Mo, move, please,” you asked, biting your lip. Donna looked at you with a smile, controlling the pleasure she felt, worrying about you and not about herself.

She nodded, fulfilling your request slowly, moaning freely now, now that she knew she was only giving you pleasure.

Love, pleasure, desire, you couldn't feel anything else. Your hips stopped being shy and fell in step with her soft movements. The kisses returned from time to time to your lips, the whispers of love bathed your ears, her caresses made you tremble more and more, until you lost control.

With a surprised gasp, due to your body's reaction, to your muscles becoming hopelessly tense, you felt released, you felt your walls tighten, imprisoning Donna between them.

“Donna, Donna...” you repeated over and over again, feeling your legs trembling, your body surrendered to pure pleasure, to the lust that had no comparison.

She didn't respond, focused now on her own release, one that came unexpectedly, with one last thrust, with a high, timid moan.

The heat made you tense again, the sensation of being hers, of her seed conquering your depths was too much for you, stretching you again into a second orgasm, one that intensified the wet caress running through your walls.

“Was it like you imagined it?” Donna asked, after a few minutes of affection, of innocent hugs, of slow kisses. Your head rested on her chest and your mind screamed with regret for having been such a coward, for having deprived yourself of those incredible sensations.

“I think I'm going to write a book,” you commented amused, playing with her hand. Donna laughed confused.

“A book?” she asked, kissing you quickly, frowning.

You nodded, sighing, relaxing and closing your eyes.

“Yes... None of the books I have read can compare to how you have made me feel...”

[renthony]

Animation (specifically 2D animation) is my preferred TV/film medium. A piece of live-action has to go above and beyond to get over my personal bias of, "most things would be better if they were animated," but it's taken me a long time to figure out what, exactly, makes a piece of live-action really do it for me.

I think what it really comes down to, for me, is the little details. If your live-action doesn't have some level of nuanced physical acting, intense detailing in costuming and set design, a strong sense of visual storytelling, or kickass practical effects, I'm pretty much always going to come away thinking, "I'd like it better as a cartoon."

I think some of this is due to my issues with face blindness--I need characters to have distinct silhouette and costuming, or they will all blur together in my head. Animation tends to stress the importance of silhouette, so I have an easier time telling everyone apart and following who's who. That's not to say that this problem doesn't happen in animation, or that it always happens in live action, but I do think it contributes to my personal preferences.

Anyway, just for fun, a random shortlist of some live-action that I think uses its medium well:

Child's Play/Chucky. Half the appeal of Chucky (IMHO) is the incredible showcase of practical effects and animatronics. Each incarnation of the Chucky doll incorporates incredible advances in animatronic and puppeteering technology. I have on multiple occasions compared the Chucky puppeteer team to Muppet performers. That shit is its own art form, and it's incredible. The current Chucky show makes some use of CGI, but it's all to enhance the practical effects, and the puppeteers are all given the spotlight in the show's credits. I love that.

Killjoys. The incredible nuance to the actors' body and facial acting is mind-blowing. The set design and costuming are gorgeous, and there's a lot of very good detail worked into the visual space that would be hard to animate. They use their CGI well when they do use it, but a significant amount of the show seems to be practical effects and props. Additionally, Hannah John-Kamen's ability to flawlessly portray multiple characters is so good it's uncanny and makes you forget they're literally being played by the same woman. She changes her entire body language, and it's phenomenal.

Jordan Peele's entire body of horror. His films pack in so much symbolism and subtlety that I could probably watch them all a million times and still find new details. The nuance in the acting, the sheer detail packed into the costuming and set design, the use of color...god. It's unreal.

Crimson Peak, because the set design for that film...holy fuck. The costuming and set design in that film are pure gold. The acting is also phenomenal, but I could probably talk about the set design for hours. The house is a character in its own right.

Galavant and Our Flag Means Death, both for the same reason: both shows feel like I'm hanging out at a ren faire being goofy with my friends. They feel like I'm watching a LARP. They feel like they could easily exist in the same setting as Muppet Treasure Island, and at any second Kermit is going to show up and start singing, and it wouldn't be out of place at all. I think I'd also include Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves in this category, along with The Princess Bride and Labyrinth--all of which also include kickass practical effects, choreography, and costuming.

This isn't some sort of objective truth or anything. I just like that I've finally been able to nail down some reasons why I prefer animation, beyond just, "idk, cartoons are fun."

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Hi, I absolutely love the way you breakdown tswift songs, and I just wanted to clarify something, that's been bothering me. In 7 she mentions this part "we'll move to India forever" at first I was just like yeah, but the more I listened to it, the more I was like what kind of fucking colonist/white mindset is that? You'll never tour to India but you want to move here?? LIKE??? NO!!!! Don't!!! We've had enough of you white people exploiting us without ever actually ever caring for our country.

Feel free to vent about whatever Taylor Swift lyric you hate. I literally love it. :)

Because you're right, I always saw the line "we'll move to India forever" in the most charitable light. I remember thinking to myself, when I first heard it, that maybe she just loves India.

It made sense to me- because during the pandemic I fell into reading a BUNCH about India's culture, religion, food, anything. (My interest was mostly a result of linguistic interest into how India has shaped the English Language over time). Despite English only being present in the region due to colonialism, India has had a remarkable impact on shaping the Language itself! I emphasize post-colonial theory in my real job- and while I don't write much on India's relation to English Linguistics, I enjoy reading on the subject. So that's why I find it so interesting- because it really speaks to human ingenuity and perseverance. You know? The linguistic diversity present in India alone is so cool- and I really could talk about it forever.

So, I heard the line, and my first thought was like "yeah, okay maybe she just loves India?"

I think I was being too kind with that initial response.

But dude- she's never even toured in India? Like she just refused to go? She's never once talked about India in a positive light at all. So then why would she write that line? Like she will go to any random country in Europe, go to any random state in the USA, and go to couple of select places in Latin America, but it seems like she outright ignores Southern parts of Asia? Except Singapore- because they gave her a boatload of money, I guess. So, why write that line? Why write all of "Karma" is she has no genuine interest or respect for the people from which that philosophy comes?

In combination with her obvious pro-colonialist imagery in her other work, like the "Wildest Dreams" music video, the line in "Bejeweled" about reclaiming the land, and the latest line in "But Daddy I Love Him" about how she wants to win the West, I now believe her line about moving to India to be pure Orientalism.

Plus, the whole issue with the "Karma" song in which she is denigrating the philosophical concept of Karma and making it seem like nothing more than a shallow idiomatic ideal on revenge.

I think she's just an idiot who wants to mention "India" like it's some fantastical realm far away from "reality" (Eg), to her, the USA, as if India is not a real place with a real history and real culture. This is what I mean when I say she offers India no respect or appreciation- you can't liken a place to a mystical realm removed from reality without removing it from its history, culture, and people.

If the whole line is "Pack your dolls in a sweater/ We'll move to India forever/ Passed down like Folksongs" ("Seven" 2020).

She is intuitively linking the concept of moving to India with that of a childhood fantasy- with the word "dolls"- one childhood fantasy which will be ultimately unfulfilled. Thus, I support the argument that her line about moving to India is only in reference to the fact that it's like an unreal fantasy- worlds away from reality.

In literary theory, we call this process of subjective reality removal, and fetishization of the East as a fantasy realm, Orientalism. Orientalism is the act of creating a fantasy of the East, in this case India, that is often full of stereotypes or predicated solely on the myopic lens of western perspective.

Naturally, this facet of literature was mainly popular during the height of British Colonialism in India- in the 19th century. So why is Taylor Swift negotiating Orientalist attitudes in a song in the year of 2020? WHY! Uh- (because she's a fucking Racist with no respect for anyone who's not White and from USA). I've been blind- I fear.

It's such a rude oversimplification of such a diverse and interesting place- and all of her many nods towards Colonialism are so disgusting - I'm actually pissed off about it.

Anyway- That was my long-winded way of completely agreeing with you. You're right it's a shitty colonialist attitude and she should not be getting away with it.

[berrisweet]

SUMMER LOVE . . . suna rintarou

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intro : its the summer after graduation and you decide to confess your feelings to suna. you know you have to seperate, but will you fall in love anyway? you both promise to make it the summer of your lives.

rika 💬 : i'm craving angst fics so here i am providing one , this is gonna be a series ! :D

tw : right person, wrong time. hurt/slight comfort.

══════════════════════════════

you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling. today was your graduation ceremony. the day you confess your feelings to the one and only, suna rintarou. you liked him ever since you started high school, a mere first year. you sit up, shaking a feeling of nervousness. 'the worst he could say is no, right?' you ask yourself. you sit up grogilly, making your way over to your closet to go and get changed.

your morning routine went by quicker, or at least it felt like it, maybe due to the underlying nerves. you finish getting ready, checking your appearance and sighing softly. today was gonna be a big day.

you arrive at school, your friends greeting you by your class door. "(name)! i can't believe we're graduating today," one of them says, nudging your shoulder. "it feels unreal." you reply, nodding. you hadn't expected your last year to go by fast, especially since it was filled with endless amounts of projects and schoolwork.

you're snapped out of your thoughts as the bell rings. signaling that you should probably start unpacking and getting ready for the classes ahead.

the rest of the day went by in a blur. classes, schoolwork, breaks with friends. the graduation ceremony wasn't until later that night, so you still had time to prepare. you sigh softly, picking up your bag and joining your friends who're walking out. you planned to join them to get ready for the ceremony, hitching a ride as well.

"we're glad you could join us! we're gonna doll you up real pretty. especially since you're confessing to you know who tonight." one of your friends says, smiling warmly and wiggling their eyebrows. you wave them off, blushing slightly. they were a bit over the top sometimes, but you always found it endearing how much they cared for you.

you arrive at their house, getting out, along with the others. as soon as you enter, you're greeted by their mother. "oh (name)! how have you been, sweetheart?" she asks, wrapping you in a warm embrace. you smile, replying, "i'm good, thank you." she nods, releasing you from her grasp. you make your way to their bedroom, dropping your bag.

"let's get you ready, yeah?" one of them says, while the rest of them chime excitedly. you nod, grinning. after they finish dolling you up, you look in the mirror, admiring your appearance. your hair was as silky as ever, light makeup on your gorgeous features, jewelry adorning your body. you smile softly, very thankful for their help. "oh my gosh (name), you look stunning!" one of them exclaims. "i know! they're absolutely gorgeous." another one chimes in, staring at you in awe. "oh guys stop it, i couldn't have done it without you guys." you say, shaking your head. they all wrap you in a group hug, squeezing you tightly.

fast forward to the start of the ceremony, when you arrive. you step out of the car, smoothing out your clothes. you make your way over to the chairs, taking a seat whilst your friends sit beside you.

as the ceremony went along, the overwhelming feeling in your stomach hadn't settled in. you take a deep breath to try and ease your mind, but the thoughts in your mind didn't stop, and the ideas forming in your brain only caused your queasiness to intensify and your palms to sweat.

after what seemed like an eternity, the ceremony ended. you stand up, stretching your aching limbs. you walk over to find your friends in a group, talking. you approach them, a nervous smile on your face. one of them gives you a knowing look. "are you gonna talk to him?" they ask, clearly excited. you nod, your insides churning with uncertainty. "i'll be back. wish me luck." you say, smiling at them and walking over to him.

"suna?" you ask, gently tapping his shoulder. he turns around, smiling. "(name)! what's up?" he asks, tilting his head. "can we talk? it's nothing bad, i promise." you reassure, a nervous smile on your face. he nods, face full of curiosity. you both walk away from the crowds of students, finding a small bench under a pretty magnolia tree. the street was beautifully lit, with street lamps adorning the scenery. you take a deep breath, pushing the feelings of uncertainty down.

"take your time." he says, noticing how serious you were about whatever you were about to tell him. you nod, gratefully, inhaling again. "i like you, suna. i've liked you ever since we met at the camp, when i was a manager. well a soon to be manager." you start, smiling sheepishly. "i was scared to tell you how i felt because i didn't know how you would react- and i understand if you don't-"

he cuts you off with a firm kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. your eyes widen momentarily, before relaxing and melting into the kiss. he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. "you have your answer now?" he asks, caressing your cheek softly. you nod, your face a shade of pink.

══════════════════════════════

taglist ! @chloiyoomi , @kozuwhore , tba !

dedicated to my sweet sweet angel, mira, who was soso kind to let me use her plot and help me proofread and give me tips! thank you soso much lovey, ilysm! <3 having the honor of being mooties with you truly makes me so incredibly happy & lucky, I LUV YOU SOSO MUCH !!

(check out her blog! @mirailles )

[ancientannoyance]

there’s a post floating around with the girl from the ring next to margo robbie from barbie that says ‘the alecto we thought we were getting vs the alecto we got’. when i sent it to my best friend (i infected her with the tlt brain rot a while ago) she had an epiphany that i haven’t seen any one else talking about yet.

In Harrow, we get multiple descriptions of who Harrow calls The Body, and they sound like the girl from the ring. What if when Harrow went into the tomb, Anastasia, who we now know was also locked inside, was the one who bound herself to Harrow all revenant like and haunted her for all that time?

haven’t done a reread since this started percolating in my brain so it’s more than possible there’s something in the books somewhere that unequivocally disproves this theory, but what do you think? Is Harrows haunting actually Anastasia?

Firstly, the below answer contains spoilers for Nona the Ninth, so please don't read on if you haven't read that yet!

Before I answer this, I should point out that, at a certain point in the fandom (circa early 2021, iirc) this theory by tumblr user ac-ld - which postulates that John switched the bodies of Alecto and Anastasia in the ninth tomb, and that The Body that Harrow sees is actually Anastasia and that Alecto is actually buried in the First House - was the most popular theory in the TLT fandom hands down. I think it still probably holds the crown of most popular TLT theory, despite being disproved as of Nona the Ninth's publication.

If you read the above theory I linked, I think that your friend is thinking along similar, but not exactly the same, lines? Sorry if I'm wrong and misunderstood!

Full disclosure, before Nona the Ninth came out, I really thought this theory - that The Body is actually Anastasia- had a high chance of being correct, but (in my personal opinion!) I think Nona the Ninth has pretty much cemented in my head that the Body was Alecto. My reasons are:

If we look at the descriptions of The Body, Harrow - and Gideon when she sees the Body too - literally describes The Body as perfect ("Each limb was a carved representation of a perfect limb, each bloodless foot the lifeless and high-arched simulacrum of the perfect foot", etc). It thematically makes sense for this to describe Alecto, an unreal being who was literally created to resemble a Barbie doll by John, than for it to describe Anastasia, who was a real human and therefore inherently flawed. Plus, Gideon's description of The Body ("with a face so beautiful it almost went out the other side and became repellent") specifically jives with how Augustine described Alecto looking inhuman, whereas if Anastasia was so unnaturally beautifully as to be repellent, I think Augustine would have mentioned it, since he specifically mentions at one point that Harrow is "Anastasia come again."

Gideon describes The Body as "a woman with my eyes, dimmed dark yellow in death", while Harrow's POV mentions of her hair that "that long hair hanging wetly over her shoulders, that resinous colour that in death might have been brown or might have been gold or might have been anything" and of her eyes "in your youth her eyes had often been black, like yours were, but that ever since you had writhed in Lyctoral agony her eyes had turned a yellow that made you dizzy to behold" and of her voice "the voice—low, husky, musical—or its dry and uncanny echo of other voices you had known: your mother’s, Crux’s". So The Body had a certain unnaturally beautiful look but it's hair colour was not pinned down, and when it came to eye colour and voice it seemed to take on characteristics of other humans whom... Harrow had known? Who had died for Harrow? Thematically, it just makes sense to me that Alecto - the soul of Earth, the font of all the humans that were later reborn in the Ninth House and other houses - would be able to embody all the souls that Harrow ... loved? mourned? Instinctively, it makes sense to me why Alecto can embody all these souls that ultimately once came from her, while Anastasia - who was ultimately just a human - can't. While I'm here, Anastasia was most likely black-eyed and black-haired, as that is described by Harrow to be the overwhelming Ninth House look.

On a meta level, if you read Tamsyn Muir's other works such as the Deepwater Bride and Floralinda, you'll see that there are certain narrative themes she visits over and over again, but also certain aesthetic things, and one of the aesthetic things she visits again and again is of a very unnaturally beautiful golden-haired girl who turns out to actually be a "monster" (neutral). So, after reading her other works, I'm convinced on a meta as well as a narrative/thematic level that The Body and Alecto are the same.

Even if all the above weren't true, I think Nona the Ninth pretty much confirmed beyond doubt that The Body is Alecto. In NTN, Harrow looks upon Alecto and calls her "corse of the Locked Tomb" (corse being an archaic word for corpse). We know that The Body is the same as the corpse in the tomb because that is confirmed in Harrow the Ninth (HTN Act One Ch. 3), so if we put that together with the above quote, then there is no doubt that "the corse of the Locked Tomb" = "The Body" = "Alecto". Harrow also says in Nona the Ninth, looking upon Alecto's face "I have loved thee all my life, with mine whole soul, and with mine whole strength." To me, it wouldn't make sense for Harrow to say this looking upon Alecto's face, if Anastasia was The Body?

Therefore, given all the reasons above, I think Nona the Ninth has pretty much proven that The Body that Harrow is haunted by is Alecto, who somehow takes on the characteristics of other people that Harrow loves/mourns.

That being said, all of the above is just my personal opinion and observation! I'm not saying I'm right, and I fully welcome everything I said above being proved wrong in Alecto the Ninth!

[arch-obsessed]

Inside the Barbie Dreamhouse, a Fuchsia Fantasy Inspired by Palm Springs

Barbie’s Dreamhouse is no place for the bashful. “There are no walls and no doors,” says Greta Gerwig via email. “Dreamhouses assume that you never have anything you wish was private—there is no place to hide.” That layered domestic metaphor has proved rich fodder for the filmmaker, whose live-action homage to the iconic Mattel doll hits theaters July 21.

To translate this panopticon play world to the screen, Gerwig enlisted production designer Sarah Greenwood and set decorator Katie Spencer, the London-based team behind such period realms as Pride & Prejudice and Anna Karenina. The two took inspiration from Palm Springs midcentury modernism, including Richard Neutra’s 1946 Kaufmann House and other icons photographed by Slim Aarons. “Everything about that era was spot-on,” says Greenwood, who strove “to make Barbie real through this unreal world.”

Neither she nor Spencer had ever owned a Barbie before, so they ordered a Dreamhouse off Amazon to study. “The scale was quite strange,” recalls Spencer, explaining how they adjusted its rooms’ quirky proportions to 23 percent smaller than human size for the set. Says Gerwig: “The ceiling is actually quite close to one’s head, and it only takes a few paces to cross the room. It has the odd effect of making the actors seem big in the space but small overall.”

Erected at the Warner Bros. Studios lot outside London, Barbie’s cinematic home reinterprets Neutra’s work as a three-story fuchsia fantasy, with a slide that coils into a kidney-shaped pool. “I wanted to capture what was so ridiculously fun about the Dreamhouses,” says Gerwig, alluding to past incarnations like the bohemian 1970s model (outfitted with trompe l’oeil Tiffany lamps) and the 2000 Queen Anne Victorian manse, complete with Philippe Starck lounge chairs. “Why walk down stairs when you can slide into your pool? Why trudge up stairs when you take an elevator that matches your dress?” Her own references ranged from Pee-wee’s Big Adventure to Wayne Thiebaud’s paintings of pies to Gene Kelly’s tiny painter’s garret in An American in Paris.

For Barbie’s bedroom, the team paired a clamshell headboard upholstered in velvet with a sequined coverlet. Her closet, meanwhile, reveals coordinated outfits in toy-box vitrines. “It’s very definitely a house for a single woman,” says Greenwood, noting that when the first Dreamhouse (a cardboard foldout) was sold in 1962 it was rare for a woman to own her own home. Adds Spencer: “She is the ultimate feminist icon.”

In Barbie, as in previous films like Little Women and Lady Bird, Gerwig set out to realize a whole world. “We were literally creating the alternate universe of Barbie Land,” says the director, who aimed for “authentic artificiality” at every opportunity. As a case in point, she cites the use of a hand-painted backdrop rather than CGI to capture the sky and the San Jacinto Mountains. “Everything needed to be tactile, because toys are, above all, things you touch.”

Everything also needed to be pink. “Maintaining the ‘kid-ness’ was paramount,” Gerwig says. “I wanted the pinks to be very bright, and everything to be almost too much.” In other words, she continues, she didn’t want to “forget what made me love Barbie when I was a little girl.” Construction, Greenwood notes, caused an international run on the fluorescent shade of Rosco paint. “The world,” she laughs, “ran out of pink.”

[babyprime]

like 100% I love astarion so much its unreal, he is my little princess babygirl who i wanna tuck into a little american girl doll bed at night and feed him blood from one of those syringes like u nurse baby rescue kittens with

however. hes mid. hes so mid. hes a loser and hes annoying. women can and should do better and even he would tell them as much

[rustycottoncandy]

Why do I create characters?

Lately, there's been a couple of times that have gotten me asking myself why I do these sort of things. Today, I watched a movie (Grease, 1978) and got really invested on it, but why? Why do we watch movies or read books? What's so important about fiction? After all, it's all just made out of lies, right?

We humans have something called imagination. It goes beyond reality, and is able to create concepts, beings, or, gee, even universes that would never EVER take place in the world we live in. Hell, if we want, we can imagine a whole new world with new people and make them interact with each other. Isn't that cool? It's practically what happens when we make stories. In a way, we're basically playing with dolls inside our heads.

Imagination gives us the power to create. We can either use it for something useful, as would be designing the crochet pattern for a hat or a scarf, or for something that won't make our life any easier nor give us something material to work on. Creating a story falls in the second category, yet a lot of times is much more exciting. But why?

I think sometimes it kind of serves as a way to make reality less boring. If there's something you want but it's impossible for you to have, you can make it real inside of a fictional world. Perhaps you find the idea of going on adventures to defeat a dragon very appealing and fun, but you can't do that in real life, so you create characters that can bring to an unreal life your fantasy of going on adventures and having fun in a world very far away from the one we live in.

Sometimes, it might also be because we want to understand the world we live in better, if that makes sense? I'd say some of my stories fall here.

Something I've noticed throughout the years is that my characters always tend to have a little bit of me. There was a time where I was at my lowest point and everything that I felt, I put it into Henry. Sure, he's not a direct reflection of me and pretty much his entire life is made up, but I put that into him and I made him deal with stuff much more complicated than what I was dealing with. Even with what I put on his shoulders, he still lived, and if Henry had been able to live twenty four full years with poisonous vines around his neck (not literally), then so could I. Similarly, I made Ethan deal with anxiety the same way that I did before I got my diagnosis, although in this case, the one that got through it is me, so Ethan can too.

By creating stories, you can also create something that would be impossible in real life. You don't have to be limited by morals or logic. In your stories, everything that will or won't happen can only be decided by you, which gives you the opportunity to play outside the limits of reality.

Your characters can also reflect something you really want to happen. Raydel and Melanie (characters of mine), for example, have got a kind of friendship that I would love to have. Friendship can be really pretty. The concept of a bond that may sound even magical seems so beautiful to me, so I gave it to them.

Of course, these are only some of the reasons why somebody might want to create their own stories or characters, but these are not always the case. Some people may want to create a story just because, to have some fun, and that's perfectly fine too! Go nuts, it's your mind!

Fiction is not the same as real life. It's practically a lie, but that doesn't mean it's useless. We could say that fiction is, in a way, its own reality. It's not our lives and sometimes it's not even related to us, but it still exists inside its own little bubble in our minds, and even if it doesn't have a direct impact in real life, it still has a way of bringing emotions out of people, and may sometimes even help understand certain situations.

Those who create stories may feel proud of what they've created and a lot of times may build up emotions towards their creations. One may feel hate towards a character that damages another character towards which they feel affection, for example. Sure, the characters aren't real, but the emotions we feel when creating and playing with them are.

Those who read, watch, or generally consume stories that others have created may see some similarities between certain characters and themselves or associate things they have lived with situations the characters are being put through. Fiction can be kind of a parallel to reality sometimes.

Heck, fiction can be a lot of things and outside of what it may seem at first, it can actually be really useful. Isn't that beautiful?

I apologize if some things don't make sense; it's 1AM and I'm tired, but I really wanted to make this reflection.

Anyway, bye!

[gontagokuhara]

OKAY I FORGOR💀 TO MENTION THIS actually idk if I already said this but I LOVE the way you write kokichi? Like kokichi's jesterism clowncore energy is not talked about enough in this fandom, he's not just a lying troll, he can also be a corny little canned-bit filled jokester! He can be your angle! Or yuor devil! But he and Kaede give off such an "annoying little brother"/"exhausted oldest sister" vibe in pointy objects it never fails to make me laugh and also feel feelings!

Also ngl writing my lil (literally >2k) review gave me the energy to do my writing assignment so thank you for indirectly but also directly contributing to me not failing my class LMFAO

hi hello!! first of all thank u again for ur very sweet comments i keep rereading them . actively working on the next chapter and i reread them like an hour ago <3 also you are so me re: the writing thing literally i am writing this long ass response out as a warm up to getting started on the chapter again I SEE U. solidarity u got this class

as always below the cut because i like to yap (no spoilers butttttttt call it a small hint of what's to come next chapter)

ANYWAY !!! im glad people like that choice <3 his general silliness tends to get lost in canon in the midst of such a heavy fraught situation (where his dumbass is instigating fights constantly......) and so i feel it more natural to have it bleed into him in pointy objects you know? his backpack also offers just unreal opportunities for clownery and i can't help myself. i have issues with a lot of canon/fanon portrayals of kokichi so with him (as i do miu, and kiyo, and kaito, etc) i like to do the classic mogul move yoink & twist. i take character that needs fixer-uppering, mash 'em around like playdoh, and make them mostly the same but......better in my humble opinion. i feel like i do that pretty well with kokichi, and hearing those choices are appreciated makes me very happy <3

in that vein the kaede/kokichi dynamic is SOOOO important its one of my favorites ive worked into pointy objects i think. justice for my real protag kaede BUT her biting the dust so early both robbed canon content of what a friendship between them could look like. but it also gives me LOTS of room to pick up their barbie dolls and make them have good moments together. speaking of pointy objects canon, they arrived at camp within about a year of each other, before a lot of the other mainstay demigods began living there full time. gonta, miu, kaede, maki, and kokichi spent a lot of time as the only ones at camp; kids like kirumi/tenko/himiko/angie/kiyo are all summer-only, and full-timers ryoma, kaito, and kiibo came later (ages 14, 16, and within a few months of sonia giving them a soul [roughly the same stretch of time as ryoma's arrival], respectively).

all that lore TO say: kaede and kokichi grew up together in a lot of really important ways, and the dynamic that developed over the years very much is that exhausted older sister/exhausting little brother who are fiercely and kind of unexpectedly protective over one another. i could go on about all of the early full-time campers' dynamics because there's a lot within those five especially that i've like. developed in my brain? but havent fit into the 170k words 💀 the mind palace of spiderwebbing character relationships is very vast for how much has actually made it into the fic.....but wink wonk we WILL see a taste of it this next chapter

and finally, re edits: i did my one BIG edit fest back in may, and since then there haven't been any major changes. that said, i do reread the prior chapters quite often (checking details to make sure new writing doesn't have any discrepancies, getting myself back in the headspace to write shuuichi's voice, etc) and do occasionally find typos or phrasing or sentence flow i like changed, so i do fix those as i see them. that said, i DO know what you're talking about with chapter 3; that was a chapter i did pretty majorly redo in may, and there was definitely some redundant word use and odd sentence structure i went back and corrected. but i haven't made any changes that drastically alter the contents of the story; not more so than i did back in may, at least!

ok this as always got very long but it was as always very fun to answer!!!! thank you again for all your support MWAH MWAH and im sure we'll make contact again soon enough!!

[ngc-5194]

Hihihi Lemon Drop!!! Hope you're having a lovely day 💛💛💛 Answerer's choice Sora Kingdomhearts or Joshua Kiryu Twewy for the ask game mayhaps??? :0c

hihi happi!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm having a pretty good day, thank you!! and! as u comand <3333333

Sora:

Sexuality Headcanon: bi!! and aromantic sometimes when the moment strikes. he is just a little guy who loves his friends oh so much <3333

Gender Headcanon: transmasc! he can contain so much transmasc swag its unreal. also every kh character is trans because i say so thank you for your time

A ship I have with said character: sorikai is soooo cute. who doesn't love childhood friends to lovers, especially when they all have two hands <33

A BROTP I have with said character: i need him and vanitas to be friends somehow so badly you don't understand. but of the actual relationships he has already him and roxas are so Important to me it's not even funny

A NOTP I have with said character: i'm gonna be real i just don't really get the princess ships. that or like him with any of the wayfinder trio. or just anyone who knew him as small kid when they were grown up.

A random headcanon: i think sora was the first of the island kids to learn how to swim but pretended to not be able to until riku and kairi could as well. he didn't want to swim until they could all swim together.

General Opinion over said character: I LOVE HIMMMM. he's so silly and kind and loveely. i am holding him in the palm of my hand and showing him off to everyone like a cool bug. i am feeding him little treats .i am forcing him to stop sacrificing himself for once in his life

Joshua:

Sexuality Headcanon: look at him. that's a homosexual. a very annoying one in a boring outfit but a Homosexual nonetheless. however. specifically he's homoromantic asexual. to me.

Gender Headcanon: trans man who gets just a little spicy with it (he/they/it in general but He/Him when he's feeling Annoying and she/her on the occasions he feels like it)

A ship I have with said character: i'm BORING okay <- joshneku. however joshbeat is also very funny to me i am smashing them together like barbie dolls.

A BROTP I have with said character: i think josh and shiki would be an incredible duo if they do not kill each other in the first 20 minutes. rather, if she does not kill him. again. also this is probably just dream drop distance talking but joshua and rhyme's dynamic can be SO.

A NOTP I have with said character: i suppose i'm not the biggest enjoyer of him and haz, but honestly i don't really care that much.

A random headcanon: ok this is a pretty common one but that boy definitely killed himself. most dramatically ironic if he did it from falling or a gun but no matter what that boy died by his own hand before he tried doing it again through neku

General Opinion over said character: i hate his ass so much. if anyone insults him theyre right but they are also so so so wrong. no one understands him like i do. i don't understand him either. i would punch him immediately if given the chance. someone needs to drag his ass to therapy yesterday. he's (probably) my favourite twewy character. i hate his stupid gay ass.

[j2memories]

Nerds and Beyond article (January 12th 2022)

Interview: Keegan Allen on ‘Walker’ Midseason Return and Attending a ‘Supernatural’ Convention [EXCLUSIVE]

By Briar

January 12, 2022

Walker returns from its midseason break tomorrow, and we got the chance to catch up with Keegan Allen, who plays Liam Walker on the series. We talked about Liam’s repercussions after his very bad decision (calling in a fake police report), his contention with the Davidsons, and Keegan’s first experience at a Supernatural convention.

[...]

Nerds and Beyond: Lastly, you recently attended a Supernatural convention with Jared and it was kind of your first interaction in like a big way with Walker fans. How was that experience for you?

Keegan: It was incredible. First of all, it was life changing because I’ve done conventions before. You know, obviously for the last show I was on there were conventions all over the world where fans would show up, but seeing the Supernatural family and how accepting they were of Jared and Jensen’s … just their trajectory in their careers, the support there first and foremost, for you know, the end of a huge piece of Jared and Jensen’s life. And being there to support them on their next journeys … Jensen with The Boys and Jared with Walker. And being so accepting and inviting and inclusive to me. I went there honestly, just to see it and photograph it. And I couldn’t believe just how that family is just this wonderful … it’s almost like a fully formed body of like this almost amazing family that’s been created from Supernatural and so I loved how inclusive they were of Walker and how excited they were and how much they knew. I couldn’t believe it. [There’s] just so much information that they’ve taken in from Walker and … it’s just wonderful and Jensen’s just a doll. I mean, he’s just so charming and wonderful.

I get it like, after that weekend I turned to Jared when we were coming back home and I was like, ‘I get it.’ I totally get it. I understand it. And man, it’s a beautiful, beautiful thing, a wonderful partnership. And I’m just lucky to be able to play [Jared’s] brother [in] something else. I mean, he’s just, it’s unreal. What a wonderful… just a wonderful thing.

Link to the entire article

[rnalum]

yall ever just sit and be like “:) my blorbo” . thats me every day with leon