#its not a coincidence i refuse to believe its a coincidence

[lovezbrownies]

Machinery (Yandere!M!BioMechanic x Gn!Reader.)

Masterlist

Another character you might like...

Synopsis: You've worked your ass off to get to where you are today. And watching the guy who was naturally gifted intelligence, you can't help but admire him and he seemed to have noticed and lends you a helping hand.

Inspired by Viktor from Arcane :3. A random burst of inspiration came upon me to write this i looveve Viktor :3

The university was a place of perpetual twilight, where the sunlight above barely reached. Instead, a faint glow emanated from etherlamps scattered throughout the sprawling maze of stone corridors and mechanical apparatuses, their flickering light casting shifting shadows across the damp walls. It was here, amidst the hum of ancient machinery and the scent of oil and damp stone, that Elias thrived—a figure both enigmatic and unavoidable.

You had always noticed him in passing. How could you not? He was the kind of presence that demanded attention despite his unassuming appearance. Elias moved with a subtle grace, his shoes tapping softly against the stone floor as he navigated the labyrinthine workshop spaces. His amber eyes, sharp and unyielding, seemed to pierce through every surface, every person, as though searching for something beyond their physical form.

You’d admired his intellect from afar, envying the quiet precision with which he worked. His projects were always on the cutting edge—clockwork automata imbued with eerie lifelike movements, and crystalline contraptions that seemed to pulse with raw energy. But there was an intensity to him, a kind of fervor that made others keep their distance. You weren’t entirely sure why he had chosen you to notice.

It started as a flicker on the edge of your awareness—a glance here, a lingering moment there. You’d look up from your own work to find his eyes on you, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle. He didn’t look away when caught; instead, he would offer a faint, almost imperceptible smile, as though he was pleased you’d noticed him too. At first, you brushed it off as coincidence, but the frequency of these moments made that harder to believe.

Then came the night when you found yourself hunched over your workbench, your frustration mounting as you struggled with a stubborn gear assembly. The machinery before you was intricate, its interlocking pieces refusing to align no matter how many adjustments you made. The air was heavy with the scent of burnt metal, your fingers aching from hours of effort.

“That’s not the way to do it,” came a soft voice from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

You turned, your breath catching as you found Elias standing there, closer than you had realized. His amber eyes were luminous in the dim light, their intensity softened only slightly by the faint smile playing at his lips. Before you could respond, he stepped forward, his movements deliberate yet quiet, and reached for the wrench in your hand.

“May I?” he asked, though he was already taking the tool from your grasp. His fingers brushed yours in the process, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver up your spine.

He leaned in as he worked, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, his voice low as he explained the mechanics in a tone more suited to a secret than an instruction. “This mechanism… it’s delicate, but not fragile. You need to coax it into place, not force it.” His hands moved with precision, adjusting the gears with a practiced ease that made you feel clumsy in comparison.

“You’re very focused,” he murmured after a moment, his gaze flicking toward you. “It’s admirable, really. Most people here are… careless.” The way he said the word made it sound like a personal offense, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

You weren’t sure how to respond. His praise felt heavy, almost intimate, like it carried more weight than it should. But before you could dwell on it, Elias finished the adjustment and stepped back, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed the wrench back to you.

“There,” he said, his voice softer now. “Try it again.”

You did, and the mechanism slid into place with an ease that made you blink in surprise. You turned to thank him, but the words faltered as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he was looking at you—something that made your chest tighten.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly, his eyes not leaving yours. “You shouldn’t stay here alone.”

“I’m used to it,” you replied, though his concern was unexpected.

Elias tilted his head, studying you for a moment before he took a step closer. “That doesn’t mean you should. The city isn’t always safe.”

Before you could protest, he reached out, his hand grazing the small of your back as he gestured toward the corridor. “Come. I’ll walk you.”

His touch was light, fleeting, but it lingered in your mind long after he’d pulled away. The walk to your quarters was quiet, his shoes tapping softly against the stone as he kept pace with you. He stayed close, too close, his shoulder brushing yours with every other step.

“You’re too kind to people,” he said quietly as you neared your door. His tone was gentle, but there was something beneath it—an edge you couldn’t quite place. “Not everyone deserves that from you.”

You glanced at him, startled by the sudden comment, but his expression was unreadable. He reached out then, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was tender, almost reverent, and it made your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re remarkable,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

The moment felt suspended in time, his hand lingering near your face as his amber eyes searched yours. And then, just as quickly as it began, he stepped back, offering a faint smile before turning to leave.

But as you closed your door behind you, your heart still pounding, a quiet realization crept into your mind: Elias didn’t just notice you. He was watching you.

[writer-room]

Oh, you have a new name but sometimes dickhead people and your parents call you by your other name? Always an outcast in the society you grew up in? Not fitting in line with what was deemed acceptable in the standard norms? Choosing found family over a blood family that still refuses to see you as you are, who call you too young and delusional to know whats best for yourself? Pink, white and blue color schemes? Are you Sora from Ninjago or are you trans? Answer quickly

[mercutio-escalator]

hey conspiracy theorists

[spiralshipper]

does anyone else think that Williams name is a bit of a reference to billy the puppet?? AND IF WILLIAM ISNT EVEN HIS REAL NAME IT WOULD MAKE EVEN MORE SENSE. LIKE bcs billy is a creation of johns just like william wouldn’t really be william without the actions of john. the ideals of Kramer have shaped him into william just like john shaped billy the puppet!!!! (idk if this is really obvious and im a dumbass but I’ll say it anyways lol)

[burritowitch]

there's a black label blue beetle book in my head that will not ever ever leave now i don't think

[themindelectricdemo4]

Okay sorry I thought my heart fucking exploded this morning and I literally felt it was swish around and shit oh yeah did I forget to mention I haven't slept in 2 full days and eaten in 24 (this has since been fixed)

[ms-dead-inside]

Okay, but hear me out:

Murder baby Damian, but for whatever reason, his first attempt at Tim's life is put on pause, so they never have that interaction. Instead, before Damian can come up with a new plan, Tim (who's kinda excited he now isn't the baby of the family) offers to train him in detective work for when Damian finally gets the mantle of 'Robin' as a way to bond with him.

"Why train your enemy, Drake?"

"We're brothers, not enemies. Besides, Robin has always been a mantle to pass down. I'm certainly not going to keep it in my twenties or thirties. And other than Bruce, I'm the best detective in the family."

"Very well, Drake, I shall accept your tutelage for the time being."

Damian accepts, of course. Not only can he study Drake for his weaknesses, he will also improve his own skill set. It's worth the wait for Robin. By the time Damian's done, there will be no doubt that he is the superior bat.

Unfortunately, he actually grows fond of Timothy. While he will inevitably get close with Richard, just like in canon, Timothy is a breath of fresh air for when Richard is being too overbearing, especially when it comes to things like 'socializing,' and 'making friends.'

When his father dies, and Timothy declared him actually lost to time, Richard doesn't believe him, can't believe him, because the hope is too painful. Timothy still gives Damian Robin, because, "I'm barely holding on as Batman as it is. I can't handle Robin being gone for potentially months at a time, halfway around the world."

During his partnership with Richard, truly becoming his brother-son, Richard introduces the ideas of pets to him. Damian loves animals, and having and taking care of a creature that could potentially survive on its own, but will have a much better quality of life under his care, speaks to him. He has Alfred and Titus and about half a dozen other stray animals that usually stay for about a week while he nurses them to health at any given moment, but he feels like he should officially have another pet.

Que the whole thing with his grandfather, and Timothy getting kicked out of the top of a skyscraper. He comes home with proof, and the Justice League brings his father home. And as Dick basically refuses to let anyone leave the mansion for the foreseeable future, Damian realizes several facts:

1.) Timothy is a human, and humans are animals.

2.) While Timothy has somehow survived until now, he wouldn't recognize self-care if it slapped him in the face.

3.) Timothy's quality of life will improve if someone is taking care of him because he cannot be trusted to do it for himself. (Is it a coincidence that he loses organs when he is away from the family? Damian thinks not.)

4.) Damian has gotten good at taking care of animals.

Ergo, Timothy is now Damian's pet. Tim doesn't know what to do and simply humors him. Besides, it's nice when someone actually bothers to give him a plate of foods that he likes when he gets hyper focused on work and forgets to eat. That, and while he is exasperated every time Damian tranqs him, those are still the best sleeps of his life.

Jason finds it hilarious. Damian doesn't understand Richard or his father's reactions.

"Damian, Tim can take care of himself."

"Barely. Father, now that I am in charge of his sleep schedule, there aren't as many dark circles under his eyes. Even Alfred has commented that Timothy consumes less caffeine."

"Damian, he can't be your pet."

"Why not?"

"Tim's your brother; he's family."

"So are you saying that Alfred and Titus aren't family?"

[firefly-fez]

Interesting that you feel this way, OP.

I always thought Plo’s conduct in this arc was exemplary, to be honest.

His compassion for Boba is remarkable. Even though he tried to kill a Jedi, Plo only wants Boba to be rehabilitated and put out of danger. He wants Boba to recognise the danger he is putting himself in. I don’t see “we are justice” as a statement of arrogance, I see it as a statement of “we are the help you are looking for, please accept it”.

Boba’s being misguided by Aurra Sing, he’s just a child, and he doesn’t really understand the consequences of what he’s doing or the danger he’s putting himself in. Plo Koon just sees a lost, scared kid and is trying to help him get on a better path in life. He recognises Hondo as someone who can persuade Boba to do the right thing. He’s always trying to save as many lives as possible, keeping calm while the hostages are in danger and he never treats Boba like he’s expendable or a threat, he very much treats Boba like another person in this dangerous situation that he is trying to save.

He makes a comment about Anakin having a “lack of subtlety” - which is fair, he doesn’t do stealth well - not to disparage Anakin’s character, but to try and mentor Ahsoka and have her improve on casework that requires stealth. He’s tongue-in-cheek and sassy about it, yes, because that’s very much Plo Koon’s character.

There’s also a moment where he meets someone on the lower levels of Coruscang who complains about the Jedi being too preoccupied with the war to care for the people of Coruscant, and he says something to the effect of “We are never too busy to help the people of the Republic”.

I think different characters in the SW universe are supposed to represent different things. In my opinion, the Jedi who most represents the flaws of the Jedi Order is Obi Wan. He’s very much out of his element almost all of the time, perpetually roped into a mess he didn’t create but is no less responsible for resolving, and always, always defending someone who arguably doesn’t deserve it, be it his cleaning up after Anakin or his careful diplomacy in navigating the demands of the Senate or other politicians who are just never going to come around to his side, dealite his valiant efforts. I think Obi Wan serves as the archetype of the Jedi, and his fish-out-of-water character arc represents how completely unsuited the Jedi are to serve as a military force.

The Jedi are flawed. The Order is flawed. Those flaws and their inability to reconcile with them play a part in their fate, in how easy it was for the public eye to come to reject the Jedi and accept Chancellor Palpatine’s propaganda.

However; the Jedi were good people. They were trying. I think Plo represents the effort of the Jedi to do good despite it all.

He faces his men while they say to him that they don’t believe their lives are valuable. “We’re just clones. We’re meant to be expendable.” What does Plo say? “Not to me.” To others, yes. To our world, yes. There are many that see you that way and I am sorry. It is true. But I don’t and I never will. You matter to me, I promise you.

“We are justice”. I can help you. I am the help you are looking for. You are one of the people I am trying to save.

“We’re never too busy to help the people of the republic.” No matter how busy I am with the war effort I will stil help you. I am here. I am always here.

He’s persistently faithful in what he says and does even in the face of evidence directly contradicting what he’s saying. He’s compassionate and kind.

The clone wars is a show that puts contex to Anakin’s fall. Context to the flaws of the Jedi.

But in all that tragedy, it introduces to us a kindly Jedi Master who reminds the audience that despite everything, the Jedi were good.

They weren’t perfect. They made mistakes. Big mistakes. Mistakes that made people justifiably lose their faith in the Order.

But they were good. They were trying. And they certainly didn’t deserve their fate. And throughout everything, their legacy, a legacy they had themselves at times forgotten, will go on.

Is it really so bad that to see that in Plo Koon?

Apart from this line being sick as heck, it stood out to me rewatching this episode - because how is it that I've never, ever seen anybody use it to paint the Jedi as arrogant, or as fanatic vigilantes who only answer to themselves?

Yoda gets a lot of flak for admitting that some Jedi have grown arrogant in AotC and this is the episode that people use to tear Mace apart for supposedly being mean to Boba, but Plo gets nothing? Not an ounce of criticism for saying something as harsh and uncompromising? For calling the Order justice itself?

And he freaking disses Anakin in front of Ahsoka in this very episode! He acts like a cop in the lower levels! The fandom loves to nitpick every single thing Jedi like Mace, Luminara, Yoda or Ki-Adi do - now imagine if one of them had said this line. They'd be called "everything wrong with the Order" and "the embodiment of the arrogance of the Jedi." But Plo is "everything they should have been."

Could it be - and I'm just going out on a limb here - that Plo being a fan favorite - not in small part because of his fatherly relationship with Ahsoka - is the only reason why he's considered 'better' and 'different' even when he says and does things other Jedi are getting skewered for? Love the Jedi (I do) or hate them, but he's the same as all of them.

[honeyflashbang]

My theory on Sampo's true identity...

(Minor Spoilers for 2.4) (also, I’m no expert in… anything, really, but these are just my ramblings).

So, this has probably been mentioned before, but I have a teeny-tiny theory about Sampo’s true identity, and it relates to Finnish mythology.

So, “Sampo” in and of itself doesn’t have a set meaning, but it has its roots in Finnish mythology, particularly the “Kalevala” which is a 19th-century compilation of epic poetry. In it, a blacksmith god by the name of Seppo Ilmari(nen) forges the mythical device known as “The Sampo”. It’s never quite explained what The Sampo really is; some versions depict it as a mill, others as a cornucopia from which bountiful creations flow from, and some even have it as being a world tree/world pillar, so what The Sampo really is, isn’t entirely known. But, what is known, is that it brought riches and good fortune to its holder (again, the same as the cornucopia from Greek mythology).

But why am I mentioning all of this? Why bring up the Kalevala? It could be that Hoyo just chose the name “Sampo” for some flavour—befitting of a character who magics up relics from seemingly thin air and is trying to create riches—and yeah, it’s a possibility…

Until I saw these two screenshots from the 2.4 story:

You know what this means, right? 

Kalevala is a real planet in Hoyo’s Star Rail universe, and I find it awfully coincidental that they would use this name for a planet and not have it related to a certain blue haired conman, especially since The Sampo is such a pivotal element in the plot of the Kalevala—there is no way this is a coincidence (I refuse to believe it).

This leads me to believe that Kalevala is Sampo’s real home world, and is where he originates from.

Now, this is all well and good, knowing where “The Sampo” hails from, but I want to focus on its creator—Seppo Ilmari(nen)—and his parallels to a certain blue haired conman. For one, Ilmari(nen)’s name is quite interesting as the ‘Ilma’ part is Finnish for ‘air’ or ‘weather’, and as we know, Sampo’s element is that of ‘wind’ (And also the fact that Ilmari(nen) is credited as “Godlike smith-hero and creator of the sky”. I could go into a whole spiel about Ilmari(nen) and Qlipoth swinging their giant hammers in tandem together for all eternity (Go Sampard! Geppie is Qlipoth's true heir, you can't convince me otherwise!), but that’s for another conspiracy theory lol).

So, ‘Ilma’ means ‘air’, and Sampo wields ‘wind’.

Cool.

If the parallels ended there, I’d just say I was being crazy… but there’s more.

Sampo’s 4th (and arguably best) eidolon is called “The Deeper the Love, the Stronger the Hate”. Two out of his six eidolons refer to 'love', whilst the other 4 are to do with wealth and riches. The wealth and richest aspect leans towards The Sampo of mythology, whilst the ‘love’ aspect, well…

According to the story, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is the unluckiest bastard alive when it comes to love. Like, seriously. His whole storyline is that he can’t find a woman. For one, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is double crossed by his so called buddy, Väinämöinen, into creating The Sampo for the evil witch Louhi of Pohjola in exchange for her daughter’s hand in marriage (which, Ilmari didn’t even want in the beginning), but when the poor guy actually sees the daughter and falls in love with her (and subsequently creates the Sampo—after failing miserably a number of times, mind you—he creates a crossbow, a boat, a cow(wtf?) and a plough, all which are somehow either evil or flawed), she ups and just leaves him hanging! (in the original runes, however, he is successful in gaining a wife, as his ‘unlucky in love’ spiel was later added by Lönnrot in compiling the Kalevala).

As with any mythology and re-telling of it, there’s so many different versions of the same event. In “The Maiden of the North”, a 1898 opera written by Oskar Merikanto, both Ilmarinen and Väinämöinen compete for the chance to marry Louhi’s daughter, who is then mentioned as being “Ilmari(nen)’s first wife” and who later dies to Kullervo’s curse (apparently she was a bit of a bitch to Kullervo by taunting and tormenting the poor boy—who was a child slave mind you!). Distraught, Ilmari(nen) forges himself a wife of gold and silver, but he finds her to be too cold and callous—he forges her out of love but only finds hate—so he tries to gift her to Väinämöinen (who doesn’t want her either, lol), and suggests he cast her back into the furnace and to “forge from her a thousand trinkets”.

Here’s the accompanying poem:

Never, youths, however wretched,

Nor in future, upgrown heroes,

Whether you have large possessions,

Or are poor in your possessions,

In the course of all your lifetime,

While the golden moon is shining,

May you woo a golden woman,

Or distress yourselves for silver,

For the gleam of gold is freezing,

Only frost is breathed by silver.

It is apparently your standard Aesop’s fable of “money can’t buy happiness”, which is something else I see in our dear old Sampo Koski. During our time in Belobog, we see how different he acts with the Underworld and Overworlders. To the poor, he actually seems approachable (albeit a bit of a nuisance), going so far as to help the Underworlders (an example being the questline “Survival Wisdom” in which he and Peak set up a business together renting out his tools to help the miners make a decent wage to support their families). In contrast, we actively see Sampo being very hostile towards the Overworlders, scamming them and putting the nobles in their place or setting them up to be caught by the Silvermane Guards (an example being during the museum questline where you discover his identity as “Mr Cold Feet”. Sampo clearly states to who he thinks is his mark that ‘we are not friends’ in a very hostile manner, something which we’ve not seen from Sampo before as he is usually quite amicable). 

For all Sampo’s showboating and flashing his money around, he helps where it counts. He wants to make money, sure, but not at the detriment of the people who need it the most, only to those with excess.

Anyway, back to him being unlucky in love…

In another rune entitled “Kosinta”, Ilmari(nen) goes on a journey to compete for Hiisi’s daughter, and wins by completing various feats, one of them being “ploughing a field full of snakes”:

And as we know, Sampo is very heavy on the snake motifs (the head of the snake on his shoulders, the spine wrapped around him, the daggers are its fangs…etc.)

So that’s another interesting link between Seppo Ilmari(nen) and Sampo Koski.

So, why have I gone on this long winded tangent about Seppo Ilmari(nen) when I’m supposed to be talking about Sampo Koski?

Well, that’s because I think Sampo Koski’s real name is (or a variant of) Ilmarinen.

In the Hoyo universe, I believe Ilmarinen came from the planet Kalevala and ‘created’ the persona of Sampo Koski, much like how in the Kalevala, Seppo Ilmari(nen) forged The Sampo.

As I’ve listed above, there’s so many links between the two:

“Air” as a name and “Wind” as an element.

Seppo Ilmari(nen) ploughed a field of snakes to win Hiisi’s daughter’s hand in marriage, whilst Sampo Koski relies heavily on snake motifs for his attire.

Sampo’s two eidolon names that relate to love (which are completely different from the other 4 eidolon names), whilst Seppo Ilmari(nen) is known to be unlucky in love.

I’m pretty damn sure Sampo creates his own bombs and tinkers with the old relics to bring them back to life, whereas Seppo Ilmari(nen) is a smith who created the dome of the sky! They’re both artificers!

And now the revelation that a planet by the name of “Kalevala” exists is no mere coincidence.

So, either Sampo is Ilmari(nen) - or! - Sampo is a puppet (like Herta) created by someone called Ilmari(nen). 

(I would love if his 5* version is him with this name).

Right, I’m finished rambling. Gonna go huff some copium...

[sannylity]

Listen. We need to put emphasis and appreciate Charlie’s characterization of his QSMP character because holy shit, on top of being silly, today has provided so much depth to Q!Charlie as a whole.

It’s heart wrenching outside humor when you think about it.

“Your marriage is not strengthened by good nights, or good sex, it is tested by people like me, who come to cause problems.”

This dialogue to Roier puts Mariana’s cheating allegations into perspective. Whether it’s canon that he did or didn’t, it tells us how much Charlie has forgiven and given him a chance.

People like me, is such a heavy emphasis on his self-awareness that he is toxic and problematic and insanity. Subtle self-deprecating at its finest, just to emotionally scar us further.

Charlie always being a willing participant to cause problems on purpose is an effect of not having anything to lose anymore. Juanaflippa is gone, and he hasn’t seen Mariana in a while. He has been severely lonely and isolated since his exile, and he is numb to it that he “doesn’t feel anything”, according to what he told Foolish.

“Necesito amor.” [I need love.]

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need or want love. He desperately does, by all means necessary, even if it’s by being a willing participant to cause problems to others. He’ll take what he can get because he hasn’t moved on and won’t let go of his daughter being gone.

He did once believe that Mariana could fix him, I think he said this to Jaiden after the trial was over and done with. He believed this because Mariana is someone who can ground him and keep him from doing something incredibly stupid.

They ground each other. It’s evident during the funeral, with Mariana offering that they kill themselves and Charlie saying no, and then vice versa. It’s not a coincidence that he is more “tamed” when Mariana’s with him.

Things that happen when Charlie is by himself: makes a deal with Satan to get his daughter a gun, attempting to slaughter all the eggs, refuses to resurface back up in the mines during exile, suggesting the gegg idea to Quackity and executing it, and now this.

Without Mariana, Charlie is out there by himself, not knowing how to deal and handle his grief, his loneliness and isolation, his desperation for love.

—

And to think none of this would’ve happened if Cellbit just kept his fucking mouth shut and didn’t remind him of their kiss LMAOOO

We can all say Charlie is being a menace, but y’all gotta be reminded that the man is a D&D player. He sprinkles such hard hitting dialogues in between the laughs.

Charlie is killing me with the potential angst he just brought to the table. I am going insane NSJDJSJDJS

[sibylsleaves]

The Billy Boils Breakup Anthem

rated G | 2.4k | read on ao3 “Buck thinks that dead cowboy corpse cursed him,” Eddie explains. “But I keep telling him he’s having a stress reaction.” “A stress reaction to being cursed!” Buck exclaims, turning to Chim and Hen. “Listen, this is real, okay? I did some research—Billy Boils was a real life outlaw, and he was double-crossed by his posse and left for dead. And then every single member of his posse died horrible, untimely deaths. Every single one of them! And now I’m doing to die, and I’m going to die alone just like Billy Boils!” Buck gets dumped. Then he gets cursed.

It really is just Buck’s rotten luck that he would get dumped and then cursed in the same week.

The Firehouse Haunt Fest has been such a good distraction, too. Instead of moping around and wondering what is it about him that makes both men and women want to flee, Buck had poured all his energy into making the fire station the spookiest, scariest haunted house in the city.

He should’ve known it would backfire.

“Hey, so, doc says you should be able to come back to work next shift,” Eddie says, taking his seat at Buck’s bedside. “That’s good news, right?”

“For the moment,” Buck grumbles.

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie,” Buck says emphatically. “Come on. I ripped the arm off that—that cowboy corpse and then on our very next call, my arm gets popped out of its socket. The same arm. Don’t you see what’s going on here?”

Eddie blows out a breath. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say—”

“It’s a curse!”

Eddie slaps his magazine down, craning his head back toward the ceiling. “Please, please do not start with this curse stuff.”

“Eddie, you heard what Athena said on the phone! The novelty shop burned down, the carnival was wiped out by a hurricane, and the rodeo ended after a stampede! That can’t all just be a coincidence.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure it can.”

“No way. This is all his doing—Billy Boils. I’m telling you—once he gets you in his sights…he finishes the job.”

Eddie snorts.

There’s a very short list of things that annoy Buck about Eddie. At the top of that list: his obstinate refusal to believe in curses even when they’re clearly happening right in front of his face.

(continue on ao3)

[indigovigilance]

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

[thevoidstaredback]

I should be sleeping, but I'm not, so here's a thing based on a thing I just saw!

Pre ID reveal (I do a lot of these, but that's because the comedy is endless)

The JL and JLD especially, as well as all the protege teams treat the Bats with Fae or Vampire or Cryptid rules. The Batfam figured it out after the third time the others turned down the invite into Gotham, and they all started rolling with it. Nothing really comes of it, though, until someone does accept the invite to Gotham.

I'm thinking it's gotta be Clark, Diana, or Oliver. Clark could be there for an interview with Bruce Wayne (probably shortly after he buys The Daily Planet) and Tim Drake. Diana could be there for any number of reasons, but I think she's there for a new art exhibit that opened up in the Greek part of Gotham museum where she bumps into Damian Wayne and Dick Grayson. Oliver could be there on business, strictly speaking, but he hasn't talked to Bruce in person since just after their senior year of high school, so is it really a coincidence that he meets up with Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd (who was revealed to have been in witness protection for a time)?

Dealer's Choice on who's there. Could be one, could be all three. Could be someone else entirely! (Though, I can really only see Barry as having a good excuse of working with the GCPD on a case and meeting Dick that way if you really wanted to not use the other three)

Anyway. We're gonna use Clark here because he'd be extra cautious around magic, seeing as it's one of like...2 weaknesses he has.

Clark is sent to Gotham for an interview with the head of Wayne Enterprises. Ownership didn't change, but stuff got mixed up around last year, so he could either be meeting with Bruce Wayne or Time Drake-Wayne. Either way, Clark doesn't want to be here. Lois was supposed to be here, but she got sick, so he got stuck traveling across the harbour to the Crime Capitol of the Country.

He'd normally be ecstatic about potentially running into any of his JL coworkers in their natural habitat home cities, but Gotham was different. Batman, for all that he is Superman's best friend, doesn't let anyone into Gotham. There had been speculation for a while as to why that was, but no one had really been able to confirm it.

Kal-El didn't make it a habit, but he had, admittedly, tried to find out who Batman is under the cowl. He couldn't help it! He and Diana had told both each other and Batman who they were, but Bats had refused. He and Diana were understanding, of course, but that didn't stop the journalist side of him from slipping into the forefront of his mind.

At first, Kal thought he was sick. But he can't get sick. It's not like he could just ask B if his cowl was lined with lead or magic or kryptonite or something!

God, he hoped it was magic that was preventing Kal from seeing through Batman's cowl. It couldn't be kryptonite because Kal would've known it the second he got too close. Lead was the only thing he couldn't see through (that wasn't magic) but that brought up the issue of B's health how heavy the cowl was.

Magic, believe it or not, was the most logical explanation. Batman's cowl and cape are connected, so any magic on one would be on the other. With the way that Batman's cape seems to move on its own, somehow pull him deeper into shadows, and is able to hide at least four humans at any given moment, well, it's not a stretch to say magic was being used. Ignoring the fact that Batman hates magic.

That's a lie. He hates what he doesn't understand. And, try as he might, the man can't get a handle on magic.

Off topic.

Clark got off the train at exactly fifteen-hundred hours. Fourth-five minutes before he had to be at Wayne Tower (who named it that? surely not Mr. Wayne himself?) to meet whoever he was interviewing today.

Not knowing the layout of the city was what probably made Clark on obvious target. He should've memorized a map of the city before coming here.

He knows that there are three parties at work. Red Hood, who not even Batman pushes the boundaries of; Signal, who covers the entire city during the day; and Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Spoiler, Black Bat, and Oracle who cover the night shift. Sometimes, Nightwing joins them from Bludhaven, but that's only sometimes. It's safe to assume, though, that Red Hood and Nightwing are the two outliers. So long as Clark doesn't draw the attention of those two or Signal, he should be fine. A quick in and out and he'll be home free!

"Mister Kent?" the receptionist asks when he approaches her desk.

"Yes," he clears his throat, nervous for some reason he can't place, "That's me." What's wrong with him? It's just a routine interview! He's done hundreds like it before!

The receptionist smiles at him. "Misters Wayne are both waiting for you in Mister Wayne's office on the tenth floor."

He nods his thanks and goes to the elevator. Doesn't this building have like...thirty floors, though? Wouldn't the CEO's office be on the top floor?

Regardless, Clark uses the short elevator ride (complete with smooth jazz as the provided white noise) to calm himself down. He's met hundreds of big shots. Mister Wayne, whichever (or both?) he's meeting with today will be no different.

Maybe.

Probably.

Hopefully.

The elevator dings, the sound an odd harmony of several notes on the C Major scale instead of the single tone bell that is common through everywhere else. He gets off on the tenth floor and finds exactly four offices. He knocks on the door labeled 'Bruce Wayne'.

"Come in!" is called from inside, though the voice sounds too young to be Bruce.

Clark opens the door with an easy smile, taking in stride the fact that he is meeting with both Bruce and Tim Wayne. Oh, dear. "Good afternoon, Mister Wayne, Mister Drake-Wayne."

"Please," Mister Wayne has on the smile he always wears for the public. "Call me Bruce."

"And call me Tim," Tim shakes Clark's hand after he stands from his seat. The door clocks shut behind Clark.

Ah. Now he knows why he's so nervous. Batman usually only has bad things to say about Bruce Wayne. On the other hand, Tim Drake is a complete mystery to him.

Clark takes a seat on the couch opposite the two men when he's prompted. They go through pleasantries they all know are ingenuine before Clark opens up the notepad he brought with him. "Now, Mister Wayne, Mister Drake-Wayne, what made you decide to buy The Daily Planet?

Storyboard Part 2

[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...”

[purpledemonlilyposting]

I didn’t know whether to send this ask on the lorch blog or the main, but re: why people view Dios as a villain from your last stream, I think there’s 2 main reasons:

- his entire portrayal at the end of adolescence where he’s taunting Anthy and begging her to come back to Ohtori as she & utena are riding away

- when he’s shown on the carousel after Utena gets stabbed. It’s the same carousel that’s shown before Akio goes to unlock the gate, and I’ve seen a few people claim that his speech to Utena is almost mocking her for her efforts

I’m not trying to be a lorch here, just wanted to give my 2 cents on this topic

It's best for Utena asks to go here I'd rather not clutter up my main blog XD

That's Akio at the end of the film. Dios is only seen once in the film when Anthy has a vision of him in Utena's place during Juri's duel.

(Edit: And like a couple glimpses of him by Juri and Miki which don't even ask me wtf it means the movie is nuts.)

The second argument is the one that really drives me crazy. If you've paid attention at all to Utena's symbolic language: when you see a character who is a dark silhouette you're not seeing the truth.

The "Dios" mocking Utena on the carousel whose sentences Akio finishes is not the real spirit of Dios. Akio has been trying to convince Utena that he and Dios are still the same person in order to get Utena to do what he wants.

But far, far away from the carousel with the mocking false version of Dios another Dios appears, one whose face we can see, one who seems to be the same one that came to Utena in her coffin. The one that exists because of Anthy. I don't think it's a coincidence that Utena meets him once again in a space between life and death.

This Dios says to her: "Don't look so sad. You've tried so hard until now. Don't blame yourself. You've treasured the Rose Crest ring until now. A kiss, to show my appreciation".

He then leans down to kiss her ring. The ring that is, remember, a promise that Utena will retain her childhood nobility and free Anthy from her eternal suffering.

Unlike the false puppet Dios this one is laying there crumpled on the ground with her. They're both far away from the carousel in a quiet, intimate moment. Akio is unaware this is happening. I see the true spirit of Dios kissing the ring the same as Anthy blessing the sword.

And he blesses her ring as the chorus in the background swells with the words: "I have vanished yet I still live. I exist. I am here. I exist. I am here."

And then in one of the most badass moments in anime Utena slams her fist into the ground and lifts herself back up. Refusing to give up on saving Anthy from this. She's only been stabbed once, Anthy is being stabbed a million times.

Now what seems to have happened is some people have gotten it in their head that Utena slamming her fist with the ring on it into the ground is her rejecting Dios. You know, cause they desperately want this to be "feminist" in the way that Utena don't NEED no man to help her! Despite the fact its more sexist to act like you can't be inspired to act by someone of the opposite sex.

Utena embodies Dios' spirit. She has since the beginning. Dios has been her ally throughout the entire show. That's why Anthy's heart has been moving to her instead of her memories of what Akio used to be. How is anyone possibly reading it as a rejection other than a willful misinterpretation based on what they WANT the show to be rather than what the actual text is communicating.

I even had someone try to tell me the ring is smashed to pieces here which uh... no?

The ring is a symbol of the promise to Anthy. The promise to become like the prince Anthy once loved and believed in for HER sake.

We see this true spirit of Dios two more times in the final episode. First he's lounging around listening to Akio brag about how Utena is going to lose. To me it seems like he's just waiting for Akio's defeat now that he has passed his purpose on to Utena. A purpose he's known he can no longer fulfill, because Akio exists and he no longer does outside of Anthy's wish and will that he could.

Akio doesn't notice Dios at all in this scene. He's just monologuing to himself about how Utena, the one who embodies the spirit of the Prince he once was, whose power he is hungry to regain, is a fool for being so persistent. And that's why Akio will never change the world. Because this twisted world and system only exists due to the hold he has on Anthy and his efforts to fully control every piece of her.

And then my final piece of evidence that Dios is Utena's ally: he vanishes behind the drink Akio is sucking up that represents Utena's remaining lifeforce. Dios quietly disappears forever behind that glass. And it's that exact moment that Utena opens the way to Anthy.

It's also worth noting that the fake puppet Dios peaces out when this happens too.

So anyone saying "Utena rejected Dios in the end" I have to assume is hearing this through 2nd or 3rd hand information from someone who has never experienced the actual show as anything beyond a "sword lesbians" mood board on Tumblr.

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Portal: Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Ford must talk Y/n down from making a rash decision. Both must face their tormentor head on.

Pairing(s): Stan x reader (platonic present, romantic past), Ford x reader, Dipper x best friend!reader, Mabel x best friend!reader Bill x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of hopelessness, torture, mental manipulation, PTSD, unrequited love, flashbacks.

A/N: The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm.

“What!? Are you crazy? I would never even think about doing that to you!” Ford was frantic, he really couldn’t believe I just blurted that out so casually.

“Using the memory gun and erasing the thoughts of Bill, and what I saw and went through in the Night Realm, it might just work. I’m willing to make that sacrifice if it means keeping the rift safe.”

“No! That’s not even an option on my radar.”

“I’m aware, that’s why I’m making it an option.”

“No. I’m not doing that. I care about you too much to erase your memories all willy-nilly like that.”

“It’s not willy-nilly, Ford. I know what I’m asking of you and I know it’s a hard decision but…”

“A hard decision!? It’s an impossible decision that I am refusing to make. I’m not gonna do it, and neither are you. End of discussion.”

I sigh, “may I ask why?”

“Because, if I erased your memory of your time in there and your memories of Bill…you’d forget who I am.”

His words struck me. Was this Ford’s weird way of hinting at something? I shook the thoughts away. Ford and I had been through a lot when it came to Bill, and maybe he finally felt like someone truly understood him fully. He wouldn’t come out and say it, but he was scared of being the outcast he felt he always was.

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay. As long as you promise never ask me to do that again.”

I nod, “is there anything else you need from me?”

Ford shook his head, “you can head back upstairs. I just felt like you should know what I found. You and I are of like minds and we both know how evil Bill truly is.”

I nod, “okay, if you need anything from me, you know where to find me.”

We shared an understanding look for each other before I walked back upstairs where the twins started to bombard me with questions and stories again. It felt nice that they were accepting of me into their life.

The next couple of weeks were interesting. Dipper and Ford told me about their adventure playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons that was then brought to life because Stan had thrown their dice, making the infinity sided die to roll out of its case. I enjoyed them sharing their adventure with me as I tried to make sense of my night terrors as Mabel called them.

The following week I helped the twins help Stan run for Mayor of Gravity Falls. I supported him 100% as the Stan I knew back in 1973 would have made a great mayor. I didn’t realise how much he had changed, or what little knowledge he had on politics. Still, I was happy to support him no matter what. After saving the kids, he was elected mayor by getting the birdly kiss from the mayor picking eagle. Little did I know Stan had a very extensive criminal record. I guess people do really change more than you realize.

I knew the adventure this week, though, was going to be interesting. I was fast asleep when all of a sudden I was in the middle of the nightmare realm. I feared it was another nightmare, then suddenly it morphed to where I was standing in the middle of a field.

“Y/n?” I heard Ford’s voice call out.

I turned around and saw him standing there, “Ford?”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

That’s when we heard the malicious laugh of Bill Cipher. It was no coincidence Ford and I were here. Bill had a plan for us. Big plans.

“Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eye. Stanford Filbrick Pines, my ol’ pal. And, could this be, my sweetheart? Y/n? I think it is.”

“Bill Cipher. What do you want from us?” Ford asked, pulling me behind him.

“Oh quit playing dumb, IQ. You two knew I’d be back. You think shutting down that portal can stop what I have planned. I’ve been making deals, chatting with old friends, preparing for the big day. You can’t keep that rift safe forever. You’ll slip up and when you do…” Bill then shows us a tear leading from our world to the nightmare realm, and I feel like I’m gonna puke.

“Get out of here! You have no dominion in our world!” Ford yelled at Bill, keeping a protective hand on me.”

“Maybe not right now, but things change, Stanford Pines,” Bill’s voice morphs into a creepy deep one, “things change.” He then rises into the tears laughing maniacally.

I shoot up screaming. Scared out of my mind. Bill was coming, and I was utterly terrified. The thought of actually facing Bill scared the shit out of me. Bill was someone I never wanted to actually face ever again. The fact that he appeared to Ford and I meant he was growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. That was the thing that scared me the most.

The next morning I could barely get out of bed. I sat there lost in thought, I was unable to fall back asleep after our meeting with Bill. I heard Ford call for a family meeting and I gathered all the courage I could muster and walked downstairs.

“Y-Y/n? Are you alright?” Ford asked, looking at me concerned.

“I’m scared, worried, I didn’t go back to sleep last night if that’s what you mean.” I stated.

Ford felt terrible I had gotten dragged into this, but little does he know I did it to myself. Bill’s infatuation with us was no coincidence.

“Ooh, mysterious scrolls and potions. Are you going to tell us we’re finally of age to go to wizard school? Is there an owl in this bag?” Mabel asked hopping in a chair and started to go through the bag Ford had on the table.

“No, I assure you if there is an owl in this bag, he’s long dead.” Ford took the bag from her.

Dipper and her sat down as I stood behind Ford. He pulled out a scroll paper and showed it to the kids, “Now, tell me children, do any of you recognize this symbol?” He holds up a scroll with Bill on it.

They both gasp before Dipper speaks, “Bill.”

“Y-You know him?” Ford was shocked, and so was I.

“Know him!? He’s been terrorizing us all summer. I have so many questions and theories.” Dipper spoke frantically.

“Dipper’s been pretty paranoid since Bill turned him into a living sock puppet.” Mabel added.

“The important thing is, we defeated him twice.” Dipper interjected.

“Once with kittens, and once with tickles.”

“It was a lot more heroic than it sounds.”

I looked at Ford concerned about the kids. This was serious, the fact they have faced Bill. It means he now has access to their minds, especially Dipper. Ford looked back at me with the same concerned look.

“The fact you have dealt with Bill is gravely serious.” Ford spoke up.

“So, how do you know Bill?” Dipper questioned. I knew I wasn’t ready to talk about that yet, and I knew Ford wasn’t ready either.

“Y/n and I have encountered many dark beings in our time, Dipper. What matters now is, his powers are growing stronger, and if he pulls off his plans, no one in this family will be safe.”

I wanted to punch Ford for confirming my suspicions. He was never good at comforting, so I don’t blame him entirely, but I didn’t want those to be confirmed. Neither did the kids as they gasped at what Ford just stated.

“Fortunately there should be a way to shield us from his mental tricks.” He unrolls a map onto the table, and grabs a marker, “a way to Bill-proof the shack. All I have to do is place moonstones here, here, here, and here, “he draws circles on the map, “sprinkle some mercury, and let’s see. I always forget the last ingredient.” He flips through Journal 1, “ugh. unicorn hair.”

“That’s not, like, rare, is it?” Dipper asks.

“It’s hopeless. Unicorns reside deep within an enchanted glade, and their hairs can only be obtained by a pure, good-hearted person who goes on a magical quest to find them.”

Mabel began screaming at the top of her lungs. She begged Ford to let her go on this quest to get the hair. Naming everything she has done that proves that she is obsessed with unicorns. Then she mentions that she is probably the most good-hearted person in the room. No one argues with her about that. Ford agrees to let her go, giving her the journal and a crossbow.

“Y/n, you wanna come with me and the girls on this quest?”

“I actually need Y/n here with Dipper and I.” Ford answers before I can say anything.

Mabel shrugs and calls her friends and sets off on the quest for unicorn hair. Ford leads Dipper and I down to the second floor of the basement. A place neither of us have seen yet.

“If we can’t Bill-proof the shack, we’re going to have to do the next best thing. We’re gonna have to Bill-proof our minds.” Ford pulls out a device that strangely looks like a torture device.

Ford begins to turn the machine on and places the metal helmet on Dipper’s head. This must have been the device Ford wanted to use on me a couple weeks ago, but worried my mind would still be vulnerable to his torment because of my dreams.

“So, what is Bill exactly?” Dipper questions.

“No one knows for sure. Accounts differ of his true motivations and origins. I know he is older than our galaxy, and far more twisted.”

“No kidding…” I mumble, still traumatized from my extra time with him in the nightmare realm.

Ford gives a sympathetic look before he continues, “not a physical form, he can only project himself through our thoughts through the mindscape. That’s why he wants this.” Ford holds up the rift, “I dismantled the portal, but with this tear, Bill still has a way into our reality. To get his hands on this rift, he would trick or possess anyone.”

“So how do we keep Bill out of our minds?” Dipper inquired.

“There are a number of ways I personally had a metal plate installed in my head.” Dipper doesn’t believe him, so Ford taps his head proving he does, “but this machine is safer. It will scan your mind, biologically encrypting your thoughts so Bill can’t read them.” Ford switches the screen on, “now, say hello to your thoughts.”

Dipper thoughts play across the screen. Some are interesting, others are utterly embarrassing. I felt bad that his poor thoughts were on display for us.

“By the way, you two never told me what your history with Bill was.”

“Dipper, do you trust us?” Ford asks, and he nods, “then you’ll trust that’s not important. Now, focus. It's time to strengthen your mind.”

The three of us sit there for hours as the machine slowly encrypts Dipper’s thoughts. I look over at Ford who has fallen asleep at his desk. “Must be nice to be able to sleep anywhere…or at all…”

“What’s been going on with you lately by the way? You’re more distant and paranoid, especially today.”

“It’s Bill. He scares the heck out of me. The thought of coming face to face with him in a physical form terrifies me.”

“S-so you had a bad experience with Bill too, huh?”

“I-it wasn’t always like that, Dipper…Bill and I were actually very close…then I got a true peak at what he really wanted…on the other side of my portal…he tortured me…Ford and Stan won’t be happy I am telling you this, but you and Mabel were going to find out eventually…”

“W-Wait, your portal? Y-you didn’t go through with Great Uncle Ford?”

I shake my head, “no…I had made my own. I found an old book in my parents' attic. They used to be Anti-Cipherites, or descendants of some. A group looking to take down Bill. It had an encryption on how to summon him. I did, and that night he appeared to me. He showed me his equation, he tricked me with his flattery, saying I didn’t need school or friends. Helping him would give me everything I ever wanted. Including helping my friend so he could finally go home before his brother left for college….that friend was your Uncle Stan…”

Dipper's eyes widened, “h-how old are you then?”

“Technically 61, but the place I was stuck in has no concept of time, so I never really aged…”

Dipper’s jaw dropped, “s-so you knew Grunkle Stan before he was banned from New Jersey?”

I nodded, “Stan lived with me.”