#God forbid she be flawed and make mistakes

[quaggyday]

Being a Yukari Takeba fan at least to me means thinking "God forbid women do anything" numerous times.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

i love your donnaxreader oneshots 🥲❤️‍🩹 may i request some angst?

the reader has been friends with Donna since childhood, and they're so close that they know each other's deepest secrets. when donna's parents die, the reader tries to stay with her but her family forbids her to do so, and donna ends up all alone.

not knowing her reasons, donna kept to herself all those years despite wanting to reach out to reader. donna's in love with her still, she never did forget her.

fast forward years later, donna went to the duke's to buy expensive pieces of cloth for her dolls, you know, the usual. but that time, reader was there too and donna grabbed the opportunity to talk to her.

when they chatted, donna was caught off-guard having found out reader was getting married to someone else soon.

donna doesn't want that, so, ehem, smut happens. but make it fluffy thoughhh and like donna was so gentle to reader because she doesn't want to hurt her, yet she's very possessive because she doesn't want reader to leave her for the second time.

please, make it happy ending 🥲

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your words and for your request!!! I'm sorry, I think it's maybe too long :S I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Come back to me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: smut, Minors DNI, angst, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 9,422 (Again, I'm sorry for it being too long)

Summary:  After 18 years, she came back to you...

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

“Look at me! I'm the undisputed queen of the place!” you said amused, dangerously climbing a tree.

“(Y/N), Get… Get down from there, you, you'll hurt yourself,” your friend said, holding her doll in an adorable way, looking at you worriedly.

“I'm invincible, Donna, didn't you know that? I'm… Ah!” you said embarrassedly, interrupted by a branch that creaked under your feet, making you fall into the snow and proving your best friend right.

“So… Invincible, huh?” she said, looking down at you with a mocking smile, extending a hand to help you up.

You took it and brushed the snow off your dress, with a bright blush on your cheeks.

“I'm sure the tree was bewitched by the enemy…” you murmured, making your friend laugh amusedly, shaking her head.

You had always heard that village was the least suitable place for a ten-year-old girl like you, but you never found a reason to take that mantra for granted.

Daughter of farmers, from a family devoted to Mother Miranda, the Black Gods and the three Lords, your life had not been very different from that of the rest of the children of your age. But, by chance, one day you went into the forest, due to your constant thirst for adventure, meeting the one who would be your best friend forever, Donna Beneviento.

She was two years older than you, but she was completely alone. Her family was important in the village, the makers of those porcelain dolls that even you had. Even so, her daughter was a complete mystery.

Rumors said she had been born with a deformity, that she had two faces, four arms, absurd legends. Donna was a normal girl, with the only flaw being the lack of her right eye, according to what she told you, due to an accident.

Her family seemed to be cursed, even her little sister, Claudia, passed away a couple of years ago due to a strange illness.

There were no secrets between you, even when you were younger, you forged a bond that you thought was inseparable. You dared to leave aside your friends from the village, those boring and normal children, to cross that dangerous bridge and spend afternoons and afternoons with your friend Donna, with your best friend.

Your parents did not look favorably on that friendship, since they were convinced that poor girl was mentally ill. It could be true, you checked it several times, you knew that the doll that her father made her, Angie, was her only means of communication with others, well, with anyone other than you.

But after checking that every night you came back safe and sound, they decided to stop worrying about you, at least not that much.

“One day you're going to hurt yourself, (Y/N)…” the young Beneviento sighed, shaking her head. “I, I wouldn't like anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” you said, calmer, rubbing your back due to that resounding fall. “What do you say, Angie?” you asked amused, looking at the doll that Donna was holding, her most faithful companion.

“Sure, (Y/N) is invincible!” Donna replied in a squeaky voice, pretending to speak for the doll, pretending that the two of them were completely different, something that fascinated you.

“See?” you said in an amused whisper, approaching a small cliff, which bordered Donna's family's land. “Come on, Donna, let's play to see who can throw the rocks the farthest.”

“It's, it's dangerous,” the young girl murmured, hiding her fear behind Angie, approaching you with an unsure step. You scolded and made a gesture with your hand to downplay it, throwing the first rock.

“Look, Donna, look how far I threw it,” you said excitedly, comically hitting the shoulder of the older girl, who smiled shyly, bending down to get another rock.

“I think I won,” she said satisfied, thus beginning another of your usual competitions.

“We'll see about that,” you challenged, putting all your strength into that childish rock throwing, thus spending another fun time, another day that was supposed to be boring.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” Beneviento murmured, with a more serious tone “What, what are you going to do when you're older?”

“Oh, well…” you sighed, a bit confused by that question. “My parents say that I'll have to get married and… Well, I guess I'll follow the family tradition and take care of the farm.”

Donna opened her mouth moving her doll and nodded, sighing in a melancholic way.

“What about you?” you asked, relaxing your throwing and sitting on the ground, where your friend joined you. “I guess you won't have to work, right? Your parents have a lot of money.”

“My father is teaching me to make dolls like him,” the brunette explained, playing with a bunch of grass that the snow took pity on. “He says that when I grow up, I will take his place.”

“Oh…”you said, open-mouthed, listening attentively to your friend, who seemed increasingly sad. “How cool, so you can continue living in that big house.”

“I, I don't think it's cool, (Y/N)…” she murmured, with some resentment in her voice, stopping moving the doll, as if she didn't even want to include it in the conversation.

“Your house is amazing, and it has a very cool waterfall, we could play throwing ourselves down it,” you said amused, giving her a little nudge.

“We would die horribly, (Y/N),” she answered with a dark voice. “I, I don't know, if, if I could, I would… I would leave this village.”

“The village? Why?” you asked a bit surprised. You had always known that world. You didn't seem as uncomfortable as your friend living there.

“Everyone in the village thinks that… That I'm a monster… I, I'd like to wake up one day and see… The, the sun shining on the horizon and… Hear the, the sea waves,” she said, as if she wasn't talking to you, but to herself.

“You're not a monster, you're my friend,” you said, saddened by those words. “Hey, you, you're Italian, aren't you?”

She nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“My, my family is Italian,” she whispered, angrily pulling out several of those herbs.

“That, that's great because, because there's sun there, and it has a lot of sea…” you said trying to cheer her up, trying to keep her from being taken away by her demons again. “I'm sure that when you're older, you'll have so much money that you'll be able to go wherever you want.”

“I don't know but… But I'd be alone again,” she said, looking at the ground again. You answered her with a smile and a bright face, getting up from the snow.

“Okay, would you take me with you?”  you asked with a satisfied voice. “That way you wouldn't be alone.”

Donna stood up too, with a distrustful look, hugging the doll.

“Would you... Would you want to come with me?” Donna asked unsure, with a shy smile forming on her face.

“Of course, you're my friend, I would never leave you alone,” you said, nodding. She laughed happily and nodded enthusiastically.

“Really?” she asked, getting a little closer to you. “I would love to take you with me everywhere. Sure, it’s going to be quite funny.”

“Yes, we could play pirates in the sea and... And we could have everything we wanted. It would be great,” you fantasized, moving your arms in an exaggerated way.

“Yes, I... It would be great...” the young girl said, in a small voice.

“Mistress, Mistress Donna!” a male voice interrupted that endearing moment.

Josef, the family gardener ran towards you. He seemed nervous, upset, panting and putting his hands on your friend's shoulders.

“Josef, what's wrong? It's not dinner time yet,” Donna protested, speaking, as always, through her doll.

“Mistress Donna, I... I'm, I'm so sorry... Your, your parents have... They have...” the man said, bending down in front of the little girl, looking at her with deep sadness.

“My parents? What's wrong with them?” the doll asked.

The man looked at you and growled, looking back at his young mistress.

“Gods, Donna... They, they have...” he whispered, giving her the worst news she could have.

Totally unexpectedly, confirming the rumors of that cursed family, Lord and Lady Beneviento had decided to end their lives, throwing themselves down the estate's waterfall.

Poor Donna was left in shock, looking at the ground as the three of you returned to the house, while the gardener tried by all means to cheer up the young girl, without success.

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to either.

Your friend sobbed, hugging Angie in that gloomy mansion while Josef did what he could to comfort her.

“Why did they do it?” she sighed through tears, looking at you, who discreetly put a hand on her back, trying not to cry too. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“I, I don't know, Donna,” you whispered in a small voice, lost in your friend's sadness, guilty for having said that waterfall was the coolest thing in the world.

 “I know, I'm sure it was my fault... They, they hated me,” the young Beneviento sobbed, leaning on your shoulder, pulling on your clothes desperately. “They hated me because I wasn't as perfect as Claudia.”

“Don't say that, Mistress,” -the gardener intervened, separating her from you so she wouldn't accidentally hurt you. “Your parents loved you very much.”

“Now, now I'm alone,” she murmured after a few moments of heartbreaking crying. That was a good time to do something for her. “They've left me alone...”

“You're not alone, Donna, I'm here with you,” you said with a voice more mature than your age indicated, with the tireless desire to make her feel good, to see a smile on your best friend's face again.

The clock struck the time in a sinister way. You couldn't miss dinner, your parents would be angry.

“You’re going to leave me too,” the girl whispered, hugging her doll and moving away from your comfort.

“No, I will never leave you,” you said in a firm voice. “Now, now I have to go but, but I promise you that tomorrow I will come to see you, and the day after, and the next day too, every day.”

“Really?” Donna asked, with tears in her only eye, with the hope of her soul still burning. “Will you come every day?”

“Yes, yes every day, every day. I told you that I would never leave you alone,” you repeated excited to be able to see some light in her eye.

“Promise me,” she said, now with a voice that emanated a deep darkness. “You have to promise me.”

“I promise you,” you said smiling, hugging your best friend for the last time, leaving her alone in her pain.

“Come on, little one…” Josef said, putting a hand on your back to guide you towards the door, leaving Donna crying inconsolably again. “Mistress Donna is very lucky to have you, (Y/N).”

“She is my best friend, sir,” you murmured, taking one last look at that mess of tears and increasingly unhinged screams.

You didn't know it, but that would be the last time you would see her, the last time you would walk through those woods.

“Mm, it was to be expected,” your father murmured during dinner. “Those two freaks…”

“Poor girl…” your mother sighed, of course, joining your father's monologue about what had happened. “First it was her sister and then…”

“Don't pity her, Rose, I've always told you that family is cursed,” the man interrupted.

You didn't say anything. You just looked at your food, not hungry, not wanting to do anything other than being with your friend in those horrible moments.

“Let's hope the Black Gods take pity on their souls,” your mother said in a solemn tone, joining her hands to emphasize her devotion.

“Nonsense, those Beneviento have never had the favor of the Gods, I’m sure, I knew Giuseppe,” your father said, remembering that brief friendship with the family patriarch, that conversation he had with him the day you got lost in the woods and met Donna.

“You only spoke to him once, Dimitri,” your mother corrected, always being a little more sensible.

“Enough to realize that he was totally out of his mind,” he said, haughtily, drinking from his glass of wine. “And the same will happen to his daughter, you'll see…”

“Where are you going, (Y/N)?” your father asked when you, fed up with that horrible conversation, got up from the table. “You haven't had dinner.”

“I'm not hungry, father,” you whispered, with a tear in your eyes threatening to betray your sadness.

That night, you could only think about Donna, only about her sad look, about her desire to be better than her parents, to leave the village, a feeling she had and you didn't. Maybe if you hadn't distracted her, they could... No, you couldn't think that way. At that moment the most important thing was to take care of her, to keep your promise.

“I'll come at dinner time,” you said the next day, picking up your backpack, ready to see your friend, to spend the day with her, something that normally wasn't a problem for your parents. That day, the smiles turned into silence.

“Hey, hey, young lady, where do you think you're going?” your father asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Donna's house, father,” you said sincerely. He put on a cold look and shook his head.

“No, no way, (Y/N),” he said in a stern voice, closing the door with a loud bang. “You will not go to that house again.”

“But, but father...” you protested incredulously at that strange attitude.

“Don't protest, young lady. I forbid it,” he insisted, abruptly removing your backpack from your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

“Dimitri, what harm can a little company do to that poor girl?” your mother protested, unsuccessfully trying to change his mind.

“That little nutcase brat doesn't worry me, I worry about (Y/N), what will happen if she loses her mind and hurts her?” your father said, raising his tone.

“She won't hurt me, father, she's my friend!” you shrieked in a childish way, desperate for that unexpected prohibition. –

“Your friend? Ha, she's a crazy, sick girl and she's not a good company for you,” he said, with a slightly calmer tone.

“Come on, darling, they've been friends for a long time and they've never…” your mother said, discreetly taking your side.

“Her parents didn't seem to pose any threat either, did they Rose? And look where they are now, at the bottom of the river. No, no, those things are inherited and I'm not going to allow that brat to hurt our daughter.”

“But father, I promised her, I promised her that I would be with her!” you protested again.

“There's nothing to say, (Y/N), forget about that Beneviento and start being what is expected of you,” your father whispered, moving away from you.

“Mom…” you whispered, pulling at your mother's dress.

She sighed and shook her head, with a different look.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N), but your father is right. That girl is not right in the head, honey…” your mother said, making you open your eyes in surprise at that change of mind.

“She is not right because she is alone, she needs me,” you pleaded, with tears already running down your cheeks.

“Nonsense,” your father muttered, ending that conversation, the worst of your life. “What she needs is to be locked up with that horrible doll. I'm not going to argue anymore, (Y/N), obey or there will be consequences.”

You couldn't do anything. It didn't matter how many times you cried, how many times you screamed, how many slaps you received for your insistence. You couldn't keep your promise.

Donna was left alone, you stopped being her friend involuntarily, forced to be with your mother and learn things that a good villager should know. You didn't want to play with anyone, the excitement typical of a girl your age faded after a few days, when you realized that, in truth, you would never see your friend again.

But you saw her, years later.

Accustomed to the idea of ​​having lost her, your life continued. You continued to grow. You continued to make your parents proud. Only an old photograph, taken by the old gardener, reminded you that you once had a friend, the best friend, and that you, you had failed her.

Being already a teenager, you discovered something disturbing, something that made you remember again what your sin had been, what had been the promise you could not keep.

Apparently, Mother Miranda had adopted a new daughter, one who would sit next to the rest of the Lords, as powerful as them, as fearsome as them. It didn't seem like something that interested you, until you heard her name: Donna Beneviento.

Your old friend was now in church, dressed entirely in black, with a veil covering her face, always accompanied by Angie, who seemed more alive than before.

She was no longer a child, she was a woman, like you, and you watched her every day, every time there was a mass, every time her dark gaze seemed to penetrate your insides. The years passed like a painful clock that never stopped counting the seconds, the hours that passed since that involuntary betrayal.

You could have apologized. You could have begged her to believe you, to be friends again. You didn't, you couldn't do it.

She was now a Lord, you were still a simple villager. The difference in power was overwhelming. Your attendance at mass was discreet, always trying to escape from her nonexistent gaze, sitting in the back row to avoid being recognized.

You knew she was watching you, you could feel it. But you, you didn't do anything. You didn't feel strong enough to do it, you felt ashamed, hurt for not being there for her when she needed you. The reasons didn't matter, what mattered was that you were her only friend, and you left her alone.

That shame for your past mistakes haunted you every day, every time you saw her black figure, her elegant walk, every time Donna Beneviento was present and you pretended not to be.

18 years after the fall of Beneviento…

“Don't let him fool you, (Y/N),” your tired mother said, sending you on errands as usual. You rolled your eyes and smiled, shaking your head.

“Not even someone like the Duke would be able to fool me,” you joked, picking up the list of items your parents wanted, frowning when you read one of them. “White fabric with ruffles? Mom…”

“It's the best, you'll look beautiful with that,” the woman said, with a tender smile, running her hand over your cheek, which you pushed away when you remembered the only thing you tried to forget day by day and that was getting closer and closer.

“I'd be prettier if you'd just leave me alone,” you hissed furiously, changing your happy face to a dark one, to one that indicated that your stomach was turning at the thought of it.

“It's for your own sake, darling, for the sake of...” she said, knowing that this horrible decision didn't make you the slightest bit happy.

“Yes, yes... For the sake of the family, I know,” you whispered with irony. “Like everything you do, right? It's all for my own sake.”

“(Y/N)...” your mother sighed, with an understanding look.

“Forget it, I have to go,” you said, trying not to argue again, not to make known your opinion about what your family wanted, what they thought, wrongly, was the best for you.

The village had long since ceased to be comfortable for you, a peaceful place to live. With your head now mature, with your feelings constantly battered, you remembered those desires to flee that your old friend had. Now, you understood why she wanted to leave and not look back.

 “(Y/N),” a voice distracted you from your complaints, a girl you knew, and that you didn't want to see.

“Mihaela,” you said listlessly, stopping in your tracks. “I'm a bit busy right now.”

“Yes, well I... I wanted, I wanted you to know that my husband isn't home this afternoon and that... I, I'd like you to come,” she said shyly.

You laughed, thinking about it, but finally, you shook your head.

“I can't go this afternoon,” you lied, fleeing from one of the many sexual encounters you had with the young woman.

“Oh, well, but…” the young woman insisted, getting a little closer to you.

“I said no, I can't,” you said abruptly, regretting it instantly. “We, we'll see each other another day,” you finished, fleeing from the insane obsession that girl had for you.

Yes, you may have been an ordinary village girl, but your tastes were not ordinary. Nothing you could feel was tied to a man. The more you grew, the more your interest in women did, an interest that would be definitive.

You had lovers, one-night stands with girls from the village, but, for some reason, none of them made you feel loved, none of them managed to make you fall in love. Because of the situation you were in, that feeling of helplessness was almost unbearable.

“Miss (Y/N), it's a pleasure to see you in my humble shop,” the village merchant, the Duke said, when you approached that sinister carriage.

You smiled at him in a false way and threw the list at him in an unpleasant way.

“Oh... Very well,” the merchant murmured, looking at you over that sheet of paper. “I suppose you're nervous about the great day, aren't you?”

You laughed mockingly.

“Yes, look at my excited face,” you joked, pointing at yourself. “Do you have it or not?”

“Take a look back there,” he murmured, indicating the back of the carriage, where you walked slowly, running your hand over the fabrics he used to sell that were neither white nor ruffled.

“Oh... Lady Beneviento...” the Duke said, causing you to immediately raise your head and your body to stiffen.

“Duke, Duke!” a shrill voice disturbed your ears. It wasn't Donna's voice, it was… It was Angie's voice.

You, with your whole body trembling, looked out. Indeed, the lady in black was in front of the merchant, holding a rickety Angie in her arms.

It had been so long since you had been so close to her that your first move was to hide, to avoid her seeing you, recognizing you. No, anything before having to face your own betrayal, a Lord, who you knew what she was capable of and who, surely, hated you.

“Do you have fabrics?” Angie asked, with a darker voice.

“Of course I have,” the Duke said, amused. “The best ones for you, my lady.”

“We'll see about that,” the doll mocked in a scornful tone.

The lady began to look around too close to you. Her pale hands gently touched the fabrics on the counter, checking their quality. Your eyes followed them, followed those hands that seemed soft, that delicate touch.

Donna was your friend, you betrayed her. She was your friend and because of you now, now she was... A monster.

“Don't you have anything better?” the puppet asked again, following the gestures of its owner, who was looking at the merchant through that disturbing black veil.

“Try back there,” he said, disinterested, counting a pile of coins that the lady handed him, pointing with his head to the worst possible place, the place where you were.

“Shit,” you whispered, running to hide behind the carriage, with such bad luck that you tripped on one of the Duke's absurd trinkets, crashing to the ground.

A sinister laugh sounded behind you.

“Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy, clumsy village girl,” the Angie doll pointed at you, humming mockingly. You groaned in defeat, trying to get up clumsily.

A hand grabbed your arms, pulling you up. The lavender scent intoxicated your senses and in front of you, you could only see a black figure, Donna. She had helped you up and now, now she was in front of you.

“Th, thanks,” you said, looking away, turning around to flee from that horrible situation. You couldn't, a hand grabbed your arm, preventing you from continuing to walk.

“(Y/N)…” a hoarse whisper came from the black veil, forcing your body to turn slowly, forcing you to lower your gaze further. “Is it…? Is it you?”

“I don't... I think, I think you’ve mistaken me with someone else, my lady,” you said nervously, playing with your gaze not to match hers. Her hand didn't let you go, gently pulling you when you tried to run away again.

“Non mi mentire...” she whispered, with a melodic voice, one that had changed a bit, but was still recognizable, taking you back to your childhood.

“I, I don't lie, my lady,” you said without thinking, closing your eyes for having fallen into that little trap. “Oh, fu...”

“Yes, it's you,” the lady in black whispered, with a slightly happier voice, with a tone a bit higher than a simple and almost inaudible whisper. “You understood me.”

“I... I...” you stammered, unable to flee, to escape, to deny again and again something that she already knew, that it was you, her friend, the friend who betrayed her. “I...”

“(Y/N), don’t, don't you remember me?” she asked out of place, with a tremor in her hand that you already knew.

“I remember you, Donna,” you whispered, embarrassed, looking away from the lady, subtly removing her warm hand from your arms.

“It’s, it's been a long time, hasn't it?” she stammered, with the Angie doll looking at you suspiciously. “How long has it been?”

“18 years,” you whispered, trapped in that horrible conversation, one that you never wanted to have again, that you would never be able to have again.

“Yes, I…” she murmured, nervous, also looking everywhere. “You're always, always so far away in the sermons that… I, I wasn't sure if it was really you.”

“I guess it was me,” you said shyly, with your body shaking at the same time as hers. “I, I'm sorry but… I have things to do and…” you murmured, making a second attempt to flee, one frustrated again by a strong grip on your arm.

“No, no, please don't go,” the lady in black said, approaching you again with a pleading, nervous tone. “Wait, please.”

“Donna I…” you said quietly, repressing a sob, a cry you wanted to release for having met her again and being unable to say anything but vague things. “I, I'm glad to see you but… I have, I have, I have to…”

“Please, (Y/N), it's, it's been so many years,” she insisted, her voice getting weaker. “Don't go away again now that I've found you.”

Well, that was a good argument, which made you sigh, rub your eyes and nod reluctantly.

“Okay, okay,” you whispered, breathing hard, but giving up trying to separate yourself from her, who let you go and started playing with her hands.

“I, I'd like to talk to you... I have, I have a lot of things to tell you...” she sighed, her voice becoming less and less clear, saying with her words what her hidden gaze couldn't. “I know you're busy but please... I...”

“Well, well, I guess it wouldn't be a problem if...” you murmured unsurely, running a hand over your neck, searching for some sanity in your attitude, some of the courage you lacked when you left her alone.

“Ahem,” the Duke interrupted, clearing his throat in an exaggerated way, drawing  your attention.

“I don't think this is the best place for it,” you said with a subtle smile, narrowing your eyes at the merchant, who laughed mockingly.

“No, certo, I... Do you want...? Do you want to come to my house? We can, we can have tea, a real one,” Donna said, clenching her hands tighter, her knuckles white from the pressure.

“Come, come home, silly, you'll have fun…” the doll said, pulling your dress in a comical way, something that made you shudder. That doll was alive, just as the rumors said.

“I… Um… Okay, okay,” you finally said, giving up.

A tender laugh came from that horrible black veil at the same time that the lady turned around, picking up the doll from the ground and leaving the Duke's shop.

The walk was tense, terribly tense. Going through those doors, that bridge, made all the memories of your childhood assault you at the same time. That place didn't seem the same, it seemed much wilder, neglected, surely due to the lack of that gardener, who was rumored to have been murdered by Lady Beneviento.

The weeds covered the gates, the paths, there was nothing left of that cozy atmosphere, of those perfectly cared plants, there was only a landscape that became more gloomy as you advanced, making you even consider running away, fearing that her anger would be directed at you, and rightly so.

The old mansion was still there, just like the rest of the landscape, eaten away by time, by the years, like a reflection of Donna herself, a neglected and dark being, a sinister place for a sinister woman.

“Come, come in,” the woman said, kindly opening the door for you.

The smell of humidity penetrated your nose immediately, a familiar smell enhanced by all those years of neglect. The mansion wasn’t as you remembered it, the curtains prevented the light from illuminating the place, mold grew freely in the corners. Pieces of cloth, disordered books, the house of a sick woman, Donna's house.

“Sorry, (Y/N), this is a bit… Messy,” she said, noticing your pitiful look at that place, how it had changed in your memories. “I, I don’t get many visitors. No visitors, actually.”

“Am I the first?” you asked in a small voice, something that made your friend laugh again, in that shy way you knew.

“Yes, you are,” she said amused, guiding you towards a small corner, the corner where you used to play tea when you were little girls, now covered by that same sinister darkness. “Get, get comfortable, please. I’m going, I’m going to make the tea.”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the sofa, raising a cloud of dust that made you cough, something that, apparently, amused that sinister doll.

“(Y/N), huh?” the puppet asked, looking at you from too close, making you even more uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you…”

“Have you?” you asked confused, shifting on the couch to get away from that sinister gaze. “It's funny, don't you remember me?”

“You? No,” Angie said simply. “I only see you in Donna's memories.”

“Well, you used to be part of our adventures,” you said, trying by all means to be nice, not to disturb the calm of that demonic doll. Angie simply shrugged.

“Here, here is the tea,” Donna said, appearing shortly after, leaving a tray on the table and sitting in front of you, as she did before.

Everything seemed so the same and so different at the same time that your nerves didn’t allow your hands to stop shaking, bringing your cup to your mouth with distrust.

“Is it to your liking? Is it too hot?” the lady asked, worried when she saw your cold expression. You faked a smile and shook your head.

“It's, it's okay,” you said with another fake smile, leaving the cup back on the table, enduring another moment of uncertain silence, of nervous breathing.

With your hands now free, you looked for something to touch, something to start a conversation that you hoped would end soon.

A porcelain doll, leaning on the side of the sofa, caught your attention and you slowly picked it up, observing every detail.

“I see that you finally followed in your father's footsteps,” you commented quietly, putting that doll back in its place. “I thought you would leave.”

“I couldn't,” she whispered abruptly, clenching her fists again. “When I was old enough I... I wanted to, I wanted to leave but... Mother Miranda took pity on me and adopted me, naming me Lord. Besides, I... I couldn't leave without...  Well, it doesn't matter.”

“I see,” you sighed, increasingly uncomfortable. “Well, Lord sounds much better than doll maker,” you said amused.

“At least now I'm part of something,” Donna said, with a serious tone, as if she was looking away, something that made you notice her black veil again.

“Why are you covering your face?” you asked suddenly, wanting to satisfy the curiosity that contradicted your desire to leave that place. “There's nothing wrong with not having an…”

Donna sighed, lowering her head and bringing her trembling hands to the black cloth, removing it with an elegant movement.

You were a bit shocked by what you saw. Donna Beneviento had become a really beautiful woman, but that scar, that part of her face she was ashamed of had suffered a horrible transformation, turning into a bulging abscess that covered part of her right side.

“The Black Gods don't give gifts in exchange for nothing, (Y/N),” she murmured, embarrassed by her new appearance, nervously wringing the black cloth in her hands.

“Well, it’s, it's not that bad,” you said, calming an impending nervous breakdown by doing the same thing you did when you were little, pushing away her fears with an amused smile. “Look, you can hardly tell.”

The lady pushed your hands away when they approached her hair, trying to hide her scar under it. You stepped back, biting your lip. It didn't really matter what her appearance was, she was still a terribly beautiful woman.

She smiled more calmly, fixing the hair you moved, shaking her head.

“You haven't changed at all, (Y/N),” she murmured, without looking at your face, leaving the black veil on the table, sighing sadly but with the emotion of nostalgia in her gaze.

“Well, I don't climb trees now,” you joked, drinking some more tea, relaxed by being able to look at her face, by being able to see your friend again, at least a shadow of what she was.

“Now you climb women,” she whispered with a different voice. You gulped at that comment, your cheeks flushed.

“I see a Lord knows everything,” you said with a broken, nervous voice.

“Only what I want to know,” she corrected abruptly, blinking erratically.

After that somewhat sinister statement, silence came again to that disturbing place. You, nervous, tried not to make any comment but, as always, your curiosity spoke for you. You wish it hadn't.

“They say you killed Josef,” you commented, looking away from her pale skin, from her beauty that was screaming to be admired.

“I did,” she answered without any problem, with a cold look that pierced your soul.

“Why, Donna?” you asked disappointed by that statement, by the legend that stopped being one with a few cold words. “He was good to you.”

“It's none of your business, (Y/N),” she hissed, almost breaking her cup with the grip of her hands. Shortly after, she closed her eye, as if trying to control her nerves. “I had to do it, that's all.”

“Of course,” you said with a slightly ironic tone, with one that was dying to leave your lips. “Everything that happens to you stopped being my business 18 years ago, Donna.”

“You were the one who abandoned me,” she reproached you, giving light to a resentment that you were sure she felt. It was the moment of truth. “You were the one who stopped being interested in me.”

“Well, then why didn't you kill me too?” you said, getting up from the couch, waving your arms, letting your own guilt consume your insides, speaking in that way to the one who was once your best friend.

“Why would I do that?” the lady asked, standing up as well, in a furious tone, kicking the small table, causing the cups to shake dangerously.

“You said it, I abandoned you. I left you alone when you needed me, I... I failed you, Donna,” you said furiously too, letting the tears run down your cheeks, losing your nerves just like her. “Don't pretend you don't hold a grudge against me, I see it in your gaze.”

“I can't blame you for not wanting to be with a monster like me,” she whispered, also with her eye full of tears.

“Do you think it's about that? Do you think I would abandon you because of what people said about you?” you asked back, leaving the small corner and looking for calm in your thoughts. You didn't find it.

“I don't know what it could be about then,” she commented calmer, but with the same marked accent, one that revealed her internal rage.

“Oh, it, it wasn't my fault,” you said, shaking your head, running a hand through your hair. “My, my parents, they, they forbade me to see you, they told me that I was in danger by your side.”

“They weren't wrong,” Donna said, whispering dangerously, with a haughty posture.

“Of course they were wrong! You, you were my best friend, Donna…” you sighed, biting your tongue to avoid saying anything else against yourself, to avoid saying that you could have looked for her, but you didn't.

“You were my only friend, (Y/N),” the doll maker said, without removing that dark look from her face.

“Oh, Donna,” you sighed sobbing and doing something that you had wanted to do for years, throwing yourself into her arms, hugging her, feeling her with you again.

The lady was surprised, but she didn't take long to return that hug, holding you tightly against her body, letting your tears wet your dresses without saying anything, just crying, letting out those feelings that neither of you knew how to express.

“Donna…” you sighed again, soaking in her essence, letting her hands embrace you as she trembled, hugged you tightly, sobbed the same way you did. “I've missed you so much…”

“Me, me too,” she answered. “I, I haven't stopped thinking about you all this time… I…”

“Good, good!” the doll squealed, clapping comically. “Hug, hug!”

The two of you looked at each other and laughed, separating, letting your hands join slowly, swinging between your bodies. You caressed hers with your thumb, losing yourself in the softness of her skin, in her warmth, the one you hadn't forgotten.

“Forgive me, Donna, please. I shouldn't have left you alone, I should have been with you,”  you said pleadingly, with a sincere voice, with sincere feelings.

“That doesn't matter anymore, (Y/N),” she whispered, letting your hands go and running one of them over your cheek, making you cry even more, with a splendid smile. “What, what matters is that you're back, you're back by my side.”

You, perhaps too excited by that encounter, by the return of your childhood memories, did something crazy, approaching Donna and kissing her quickly on the lips, the fruit of joy, of being with the only person who understood you again.

She didn't react. She just smiled more widely, blinking confusedly.

“I'm sorry, I got too excited,” you said nervously, biting your lip and trying to control your breathing.

Donna laughed again, with a wider smile, caressing your cheek again.

“You were always so fiery…” she whispered amused, slowly moving her hand away, moving away from you.

“I guess I haven't changed that much,” you said, nervous by that unexpected kiss, by that softness that you didn't imagine, by that act that came from the depths of your heart. “But I think those days of fieryness are over for me.”

You, sighing, letting your duties come back to haunt you, walked through the mansion, shaking your head.

“Why do you say that?” the lady asked, chasing you nervously, turning you slowly, with an intriguing look.

“Well, I...” you murmured, showing your left hand, where a tacky ring decorated your finger. “I'm engaged.”

“Fi, fi, fidanzata...” she murmured confusedly, stammering, as if a jar of ice water had suddenly fallen on her.

“Yes, I'm afraid so,” you sighed, nodding with a sad look, letting yourself fall on the sofa again.

Donna frowned, unable to control the new trembling of her body, approaching you as if she were stalking you.

“Are you getting married?” she asked abruptly, squeezing her hands on either side of her hips, looking at you with an irrational hatred that you were unable to perceive.

“Yes, with Ivan, the boy from the weaver family. He's a jerk, but deep down he's a good boy,” you explained sighing, looking at that cheap jewel on your finger, wishing it would disappear from there by magic.

“With a boy?” Donna asked with that same distrustful tone, with a slow step and a dark air in her gaze.

“Oh, well yes, it's a marriage of convenience,” you said passively, standing up again when you saw the brunette's nervous attitude. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me?” she asked with a look of hatred. “You're getting married?”

“It's not my thing, Donna, it was my parents' idea,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. She laughed nervously, with irony adorning that sardonic smile.

“It's always your parents, isn't it? They are to blame for everything,” she hissed, shaking her head, as if that happiness had suddenly vanished, as if it had never existed.

“Yes, that is a pretty accurate statement,” you said arrogantly, frowning. “What do you care?”

“That, that's not fair,” Donna murmured, shaking her head, controlling the trembling of her hand with the other, preventing madness from taking over her again. “You, you can't.”

“Of course it's unfair, that's life,” you whispered, letting all the air out of your lungs.

“No, no, no, you can't, you can't do this to me…” she said, talking to herself, her hands pulling at her hair. “You can't!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, annoyed by her attitude, by not understanding the reason for her anger. “Now you worry about me? You could have done it 10 years ago, don't you think?” you said unintentionally, blaming Donna for your misfortune, blaming her for not going to save you, for not taking you with her to Italy, as she promised, as you promised before everything got out of control.

“Cazzo, (Y/N)!” she shouted furiously, kicking the dining table hard, knocking over several chairs in an outburst of fury that you watched in astonishment. “You can't marry someone you don't love!”

“But…” you hissed, now with rage controlling your words, your cocky pose, your irrational hatred for the lady in black, your hatred for not having been rescued when you could have been, when you broke your promise, and she broke hers. “What do you know, Donna? What do you know about love?”

“I know more than you think!” she shrieked, approaching you in a threatening manner, grabbing you firmly by the collar of your dress, with a furious eye, bloodshot, with hatred. “I know what it's like to spend years dreaming of seeing you knock on my door. I know what it's like to see you in sermons, to see how you run away from me, how you don't even dare to look at my face, I know what it's like to cry because I know that you will never feel for me the same as I have felt for you for so long… I know what it's like to love you, (Y/N).”

You were left speechless at that unexpected declaration. Tears spoke for you again, running down your cheeks. Your breathing stopped, your heart stopped beating, writhing in pain, stirring for you to hear it, for you to hear those same feelings you had repressed for so long.

But that revelation didn't really matter, that sea of ​​feelings you had kept inside for so long, hers, the love she said she felt for you. You already suffered for her once, you thought about her every day, you sat in the back row, but your eyes always went to her. A lost friendship that became a subtle obsession, an abyss full of guilt and things you didn't think you could feel for another person.

Once again, it was too late, no matter who was to blame.

“I'm so glad to see you again, Donna,” you whispered, turning around, trying not to look at the lady in black, who was crying inconsolably, controlling her anger, shaking her head as if she wanted to wake up from a nightmare. “I guess we'll see each other around here.”

She didn't answer, she simply sobbed, closing her eye and nodding, not wanting to see you leave her again.

You walked slowly towards the exit, with your mind torturing each of your steps, with your heart hurt by the reality of your feelings, your attitude. You were never able to love, to feel love for anyone, you didn't know why. But, after that argument, you began to see your problem clearly.

Donna was always in your dreams, when you grew up, she began to be like a ghost that you wanted to chase. When you were a child, you wanted to play with her, to be her best friend. When you grew up, that wasn't enough for you.

The guilt of having abandoned her joined with a feeling of anxiety and obsession that began to consume you little by little. You didn't care that she was a Lord, that a black veil covered her face. She was still Donna, your best friend, a friend who stopped being one, and with whom you fell in love little by little, for the simple fact of not being able to have her by your side.

The door creaked open and the cold cut your face. Furious and tired, you turned around to look at her once more, to be able to remember her as she was, and not as the village said. It was a bad decision, but a good one at the same time.

“Gods, what... What am I doing?” you asked yourself, slamming the door and running back through the entrance.

With a firm step, you reached the lady in black, throwing yourself at her lips, letting yourself be invaded by your feelings, by her kisses, by that improvised act that your body and your heart were dying to see you doing.

“(Y/N)…” Donna interrupted, not letting your kisses continue, the salty taste of your tears continue to mix on your lips. “Please, don’t, don't get married…”

“Ask me again, come on,” you said, gently hitting her chest, demanding to hear that request again, demanding that her feelings allow you to commit a madness.

“Don't get married,” Donna repeated, resting her forehead against yours, cupping your face in her hands.

You grabbed her wrists, letting more tears flow, losing yourself in the lavender.

“Again,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “Again.”

“Don't get married, stay with me…” she said, sobbing, as if the revelation had also clouded her senses. Her words were barely whispers, but they sounded like uncontrolled screams in your heart.

“I don't want to get married,” you sobbed, kissing her again, with your wild, wandering lips, with your hands running over her waist, pulling her, barely letting her breathe.

“Then don't do it,” she said with a slightly more serious voice, with her cold gaze penetrating yours.

You didn't answer, the kisses simply returned, they became hungry and messy. You could feel her hands traveling through your hair, your waist, your legs. It was an uncontrolled dance, without brakes, that went faster and faster.

The gasps replaced the sobs, the tears. Your bodies moved on their own, driven only by a blinding passion, by intense, immortal, eternal feelings. Kisses, caresses, love…

A trio of words that vaguely defined what was happening, how your steps began to crash against the walls, how her neck became your target, your playground, your safe place.

Donna accepted those kisses with a satisfied moan, with an anxious sigh as she searched for some corner, a crack in your dress so she could have the honor of touching your skin, of taking you to those same sensations you provoked.

There were no words, there was nothing, only gasps, only passion, only the sound of her back hitting the wall, her nervous movements when your leg was placed between hers and your skillful fingers began an unfair battle against the buttons of her dress.

Her slender fingers scratched your covered back, her hips danced discreetly against your leg, the gasps became more intense, the kisses wilder. Growling like an animal, you grabbed one of her legs, running your nails along the soft skin of her thighs, cursing that horrible black fabric for hiding such a brilliant beauty.

Donna pulled away, taking your hand and desperately guiding you towards the sofa, leaving her chest uncovered by your mischievous hands, lying down, dragging you on top of her while your own dress gave way to her discreet hands.

“(Y/N)…” the lady in black moaned, letting you push aside the fabric that separated you from her skin, that deprived your lips of the addictive taste of her body.

Neck, collarbone, breasts, everything was delicious for your lips, for your desire. She panted nervously, looking for something to entertain herself with, some part of your body that was just as attractive to her. Kisses, she only wanted some crazy kisses, kisses from you, from that girl who abandoned her, who threatened to do it again.

There was more and more clothing on the floor, and less on your body. Her hands were less careful, focusing on forbidden places, on parts of your legs that seemed unreachable.

For you, there was nothing else, there had been nothing else in over 16 years, Donna, just Donna.

Her skin, her sighs, her gasps, those little moans she let out were like fuel for your body, like gasoline so you could move how you wanted, where you wanted.

Soon there were no clothes, just sweat, just your lips moving down her body, worshiping the beautiful woman she had become, worshiping Donna, always Donna.

Her hand in your hair signaled for you to continue, you weren't going to stop, there would be nothing that could stop you, not even your stupid parents.

Her wetness betrayed her own desire. The taste of her arousal was sweet, intense, just as addictive as her kisses. Her body moved confused by your actions, confused by a naughty finger that slowly played with her clit, making her close her eye in shame.

More fuel for your lust. Dazzled by her caresses, by her soft hands in your hair, by those sounds she made, you immersed yourself in her wetness, caressing her with your tongue, making her shudder at your touch, at your not-so-innocent kisses. Your fingers took over from your mouth, entering inside of her, taking refuge in her excited heat.

You had never felt such intense pleasure just by touching a woman, there was nothing in that dirty village that resembled the perfection of her body, her moans, the perfection of Donna Beneviento.

Her back arched and her moans turned into high-pitched screams. Your hands comforted her, helped her to release keeping her close, as if your body was begging you to never leave again.

But that wasn't the end, just the beginning.

If you had to speak without knowing, you would say that Donna would be clumsy, even too rough in her actions, in making you hers, hers forever. Quite the opposite, she wasn't like that. You didn't know if you were the first, you didn't know if there had been other women before, you didn't want to know, just thinking about it made you want to scream with rage.

None of that mattered, only that sweetness mattered, those kisses, those tender words in Italian that watered your ears, that moved your body while she adored yours. You would never have imagined that delicacy, those fingers trying not to hurt you, not to run, trying to feel your whole body without fear of you leaving.

Her slow kisses were almost ardent, the movement of her hips was hypnotic, her fingers danced softly inside of you, her eye looked into yours with desire, with love, true love that you never believed possible.

Sex, moans, hips coming together, a thousand and one ways to give each other pleasure. For a moment, your life was reduced only to that and, in your madness, in your unbridled passion, you wished it would never end.

Her hands went wild, her arms wrapped around you tightly as your wetness rubbed together.

You could see, for a moment, that darkness in her gaze again, that desire to hold you in the strength of her embrace, of the scratches on your back, marking you, claiming you as hers forever, bringing out that possessiveness, that attitude of not wanting to lose what was already hers.

After an uncertain time, it ended, and the gasps and moans were replaced by nervous breathing, by Donna's strong and unbreakable embrace of your naked body, so you would stay on her chest, so the lavender would also be part of you.

Like a cruel return to the past, the clock rang with a shrill tone, alerting you to the worst moment of your life, when you were nothing but a child: the horrible moment of returning home.

“Donna…”you sighed sadly, releasing yourself from her embrace, struggling with her, who protested with a moan. “I have, I have to go.”

“You're leaving me again,” she sighed, wetting her cheeks again, struggling unsuccessfully to regain your warmth in hers.

“I wouldn't do it if I could,” you murmured, looking for your clothes and dressing slowly. She nodded, covering herself timidly, with a lost look.

“You can, but you don't want to,” Donna sighed, stabbing your heart.

“Are you going to explain to my parents that I'm not going to get married?” you said frustrated, putting on your dress. “That I'm leaving my life, my duties to stay with you, with a Lord?”

She shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Marry me then,” she whispered, making you turn your head quickly, surprised by those words.

“What? Have you gone crazy?” you said confused, rubbing your eyes. “Donna…”

“If your parents care that much about you getting married… Do it with me,” she explained, with a desperate tone.

You sighed, running a hand over the back of your neck. You might think it was a joke but you knew Donna, you knew she was completely serious.

“It's not… That easy,” you whispered, letting yourself fall on the couch, exhausted, tired and hopelessly in love.

“Let them dare to oppose, (Y/N), we are not two little girls anymore, no one could do anything to stop us…. From loving each other. Please, (Y/N), sposami…”

“Donna, I… I, I don't know what to say… It’s, it's been so long and… And now…” you stammered, your heartbeat getting stronger, your heart already having the answer.

“It may have been a while, (Y/N), but, but I love you, I have never, never stopped and I will never stop loving you… I, I couldn't bear to lose you again without doing something about it,” she said, taking your hand, looking with disgust at that annoying ring.

“Will you take me to Italy?” you asked in a murmur, with an involuntary smile appearing on your face.

“I can't, I can't get out of…” she said, confused, silenced by a finger on her lips.

“I know, but… Would you do it if you were able to?” you asked again, slowly taking the ring off your finger, throwing it away, through the mansion.

She nodded with tears in her eye, with a sincere, beautiful smile.

“I would take you wherever you wanted, as… As long as you were with me,” she whispered, approaching your lips again, kissing them slowly, passionately, with love. “I would do anything for you.”

“Would you buy me a ring?” you asked amused, forgetting your fears, with the most important decision of your life already made. “One better than that trinket…”

“So…? So you, you want…?” Donna stammered nervously, squeezing your hands tightly.

“Yes, Donna, I can't think of a better company for the rest of my life…”

[branwinged]

not to gotpost but my god they hated catelyn. like it was quite obvious they were not comfortable adapting a mother character who was emotionally abusive to one of the children in the household, and they either didn't have the time or didn't care enough to talk about the systemic prejudice bastards suffer in westeros and how that intersects with the disenfranchised status of noblewomen and the fundamental inequality of marriage, which obviously doesn't excuse catelyn's behaviour towards jon but gives you context to understand why she is like that. instead they framed it as an exclusively interpersonal conflict wherein catelyn was sort of made to look like the only one in the blasted continent who took issue with bastards and then this was turned into half of her personality which is how we got that incredible monologue about everything bad that has ever happened to the starks is because she 'couldn't love a motherless child'. now the really insidious thing about this is i'm certain the writers thought they were doing her character a favour, making her more likeable by having her expound on her flaws, because to them nothing was more discomfiting than a woman who would go to her grave completely unrepentant about being an inadequate mother, and i think this is also why they made her out to be so passive, constantly wanting to leave robb so she can return home to her youngest, because isn't that what a good, devoted mother would do? having littlefinger trick her into releasing jaime instead of it being a conscious and risky gamble because god forbid she exhibited any agency, even the agency to make mistakes in a tragedy. they turned her into a poor helpless woman who exists largely in the background for some audience sympathy, which is arguably the genre expectation her character is intentionally set up to fly in the face of in the books. because the northern war effort in books 1-3 was never robb's story, it was catelyn's. and they didn't get it. they didn't get it.

[audiblehush]

Listen, Polin has been my Roman Empire for months now, but this fandom is WILDIN’.

Chunks of this fandom who claim to be Polin fans seem to hate either Colin or Penelope and I’m just like… why are you here, then, if you refuse to empathize or even TRY to understand either critical half of the pairing?

“Colin can’t see what’s in front of him and he insulted her in front of his peers!! GROVEL; I hope Pen moves onto Debling!!!”

First of all, you’re not a Polin fan if you hate Colin so much you want her to move on to someone else. Second of all: yeah, no. Yes,Colin put his foot in his mouth, arguably in a big way because of status, but plenty of people in real life have experienced saying something that came off poorly to a group of people. Everything we know about Colin’s character tells us he is going to feel horrible about it; he’ll apologize, MEAN IT, and she’ll forgive him. She has her own apologies to make.

Believe it or, it is NORMAL for people to grow into romantic feelings slowly. Stop punishing Colin for discovering who he is by experiencing his own character arc with his own mistakes. He’s allowed to have flaws; he’s allowed to work through his insecurities!

Tbh, most of the criticisms I see of Colin are pretty surface-level and petty, so I don’t give them much real estate in my brain because they’re just… bad, lol.

On the flip side -

“Penelope feels entitled to Colin’s feelings; she’s selfish and the fucking worst!!”

S3 Penelope: *overhears Colin say he would never court her; BELIEVES him - decides she’s going to stop wasting her time, move on, and look for a serious suitor and marriage prospect a) as is expected of her in this era and b) so that she has security, especially considering her family’s dire financial straits.*

“Oh my GOD, this is so anti-Polin, how could she POSSIBLY even THINK about accepting a proposal from anyone but Colin?! GTFO”

SIGH, 1) we have NO IDEA how this plot line is going to pan out: Lord Debling may or may not be serious about her, we don’t know what that even looks like, or for how long. The show synopsis historically likes to play with the fandom expectations a lot. He may possibly propose… and if he does, it would clearly exist as a sort of parallel to S1…. but 2) GOD FORBID Penelope entertain the idea, despite very real fears and evidence that would lead her thinking it would likely be her ONLY proposal… or that even if Colin proposed post heavy-petting session, how on EARTH could she think that he would be doing it out of honor-bound obligation and not love. 🙄 Her potentially considering a proposal isn’t anti-Polin; it’s a realistic response and consideration to two (and likely an additional half) seasons worth of external and internal stressors that are tying into her character development.

Penelope’s heart is fragile for a multitude of reasons due to her home life, her prior experiences with Colin and Eloise AND the rest of the ton - it’s incredibly frustrating for people to ignore why she would potentially not believe Colin even if he DID confess / give her a marriage proposal, just like it’s frustrating when people don’t try to understand why Colin might struggle with his own feelings.

Some of y’all really don’t understand people like Penelope who have been told their entire lives that they are not enough, are terrified of putting themselves out there by being emotionally vulnerable and potentially rejected for the fundamental aspects of who they are… even though some of y’all claim to identify with Colin when he has his OWN STRUGGLES WITH SOME OF THESE SAME FEARS. And it’s almost worse because Pen is painfully SHY: You don’t just magically become confident one day because you decided to be; it is a constant battle against negativity that eventually becomes heavily internalized… it takes years of work unlearn those thought patterns, especially when you’re surrounded by people insulting and rejecting your to your face (her family) or behind your back (the way the ton talks about her family… it’s likely Pen heard gossip about herself, whether individually or as an extension of her family PLENTY)… with an added dose of also being ignored when not actively insulted.

It would not shock me at ALL if Penelope genuinely considers a Debling proposal. All of Colin’s actions in S1 and S2 have ultimately taught her that he is never going to return her feelings; she is likely going to be pretty oblivious to his own romantic realizations this season because why would she look for or entertain those hopes again? Some of y’all complain that she is selfish about Colin’s romantic feelings (which lol, I disagree strongly, but sure hypothetically, I’ll allow it) … so then when she tries to move on by listening to him and his actions she’s suddenly… punishing him and undeserving of him?? When she would have every reason to be skeptical of these feelings coming from seemingly nowhere when he starts of the season trying to find her a husband? NAH fam, she’s doing what anyone with any sense of emotional self-preservation would do: move on and try to be content, even if she knows she’ll always love Colin in her heart.

AND even if Penelope develops potentially fond feelings for Debling… do you really think it’s unrealistic for a 19 year old young woman who has done nothing but pine over a man who is oblivious to it (or worse, finds a romantic relationship with you laughable… in her eyes), who has not had ANYONE be romantically interested her… to maybe get a little fluttery around someone who is reasonably nice looking and shows her genuine interest right off the bat? Spoiler Alert: that is probably exactly what would happen because it’s a heady feeling!!!

This entire plotline is either a parallel to the Marina situation, or a reference to the book line that basically has Colin going “Oh shit, what if I had never realized Pen is the love of my life?? What if someone else had seen how amazing she was and snatched her up??” - Maybe it’s even both! Deep breath: it’s a just plot device for Polin to realize they’re made for each other.

Colin and Pen are going to be on their own journeys this season that fly in the face of what the other is going through. Colin is grappling with newfound romantic feelings for Penelope (while likely struggling to trust them because he thought he loved Marina but lol no he didn’t, so how is he supposed to know???) while also battling against former (and potentially current) impulsive actions… and Penelope is fighting for her LIFE trying to bury her feelings and move on because she’s trying to protect her heart because Colin literally said out loud he’d never want her AND she’s likely thinking of her security. They are both grappling with internal conflicts that oppose the other and THAT is what is going to make the tension and development so good… and that’s without even addressing all the LW stuff that needs to get worked through!

I need y’all to flex that empathy muscle a little and realize that this isn’t about fucking fan-service, or you projecting your own experiences onto these characters (or even the weird self-insert “I am/want to be this character” or “I want to fuck this character”) - you can relate to these characters but ultimately it’s about the STORY - it’s about exploring these characters realistically in how they would react to their own traumas and lived experiences, and how what they think they want/need comes into conflicts with their counterparts.

This is a romantic DRAMA, and these characters are going to have their ups and downs… and it’s a Shondaland drama for better or worse, so you KNOW it’s going to get messy (good lord just look at S2 and how far that “love” triangle went… I’m hopeful for the new show runner because she’s a fan).

Polin will be canon because they unreservedly CHOOSE the other and it will be glorious, so everybody chill the fuck out and stop shitting on my imperfect, emotionally fragile yet beautifully relatable, evolving lovers. They are the BEST fucking ship, but most of this fandom doesn’t deserve them tbh. They’re both messes in their own ways, and honestly? If they were real, neither Colin nor Penelope would tolerate this slander y’all are throwing at the other.

LEAVE COLIN AND PENELOPE ALONE AND LET THEM MUDDLE THEIR WAY TO TRUE LOVE. 🤬

[showtoonzfan]

SPOILERS for Across the Spiderverse, ganna rant about Gwen’s character and the unnecessary hate she gets. 💀

After finally seeing Spiderverse, yeah…I don’t trust Gwen haters. Like holy shit, I have seen SO many people get on her ass. And I get it. She lied to Miles, she let him down, she screwed up. I think what just ticks me off is that people today just love making everything so fucking black and white. This film isn’t one note, it’s complex. You feel for BOTH sides, not just Miles. I never thought some people would need to have it spelled out but….Miles wasn’t the only character going through something. Gwen does too, and this film explores that, like it legit makes me wonder if people just…turned their brains off whenever the film focused on her, which was legit most of the first half.

Not only was she still carrying the weight of her friend’s death while also feeling guilt of leaving him, but her own father is a cop who is out to get spider woman, believing that she is a criminal who let Peter die. It isn’t easy on Gwen, the opening scene of her trying to get lost in playing the drums and shutting down her band mates shows that she wants to avoid her feelings. Miles was the ONLY friend she had, she didn’t make any other close friends other than Peter. She felt alone, she felt trapped, and once her identity was revealed to her father, the moment he tries to arrest her is her breaking point, it’s why she joined Miguel and the others. She had nowhere to go, she felt like she couldn’t go back and was utterly alone until the spider crew accepted her.

When it comes to Gwen and some of the other characters, some of y’all need to see their perspective. They all lost someone they loved, someone they cared about, and Miguel comes to them and tells them that their trauma happened for a reason. It made them stronger, it made them move forward and created who they are today. They all felt alone at one point, only to realize that they weren’t. They also know that you can’t save everyone, and wether Miguel’s point of view is morally corrupt or not, everyone felt they were doing what was right.

In Gwen’s case, she WANTED to see Miles, and she DID see Miles. She wanted to hang out with him so badly but couldn’t, and you eventually see her guilt for not telling Miles the full story, how he wasn’t supposed to be here, how his dad is going to die and he can’t do anything about it. She felt like she had no choice, Jessica was strict on her (for good reason) and Gwen knew she had a job to do, she like everyone else wanted to save the multiverse and protect everyone, even if it meant breaking Miles, and his dad’s death. I don’t want to make it sound like I’m excusing Gwen, but I find it so funny that people beg for complex and flawed characters, and then when we actually get them, they’re targeted for making mistakes. Cause yeah, god forbid a teenage girl feels alone, doesn’t know what to do, and makes a mistake.

And what’s even more insulting is that Gwen actually REALIZED her mistake. She knows she fucked up, she KNOWS she hurt Miles and let him down, her line of “we’re supposed to be the good guys”- is important because that’s her realizing just how far Miguel took it to a bad level. We all see how utterly broken she is when Miles tells her he should have never come, and broke her web off. In the end, she switches sides and decides to GO AFTER Miles. That’s her making a choice, realizing she was wrong and doing the right thing. Gwen is still a good person guys. She cares for Miles, she’s not a snake or malicious. She’s a troubled teen who wants to be a hero, but was split between two sides, along with the weight on her back regarding her father and her friend. This movie begs the question of saving one person or making sacrifices to safe others. You understand BOTH sides even if Miguel went about it the wrong way.

Speaking of Miguel, the last thing I want to talk about is the obvious sexism going on, cause I feel like that mostly stems from why so many people hate Gwen, cause MAN do people lose brain cells when they’re horny. Like…let me get this straight, y’all get on Gwen, a teenage girl btw….call her a bitch, a snake who doesn’t deserve Miles and a horrible person, but praise a grown man who ridiculed, chased down, clawed, and body slammed a 15 year old kid, calling him a mistake over and over again all because he wanted to save his father???? Yeah okay, if you’re someone who doesn’t like Gwen, fine…but if you hate on her and praise Miguel, a dude who needs therapy and beefed with a 15 year old……then you’re just sexist…I don’t know what to tell you. Same goes for Jessica Drew. Like so many people are quick to say Miguel is complex and that they get where he’s coming from, but when it’s Gwen or Jessica?? They’re just bitches apparently. 🫤

So yeah, regardless of if you like her character or not, Gwen deserves better fr. I for one can’t wait for the next film and to see her mend her relationship with Miles, because they do genuinely have a good relationship, they just need to fix it. That’s all I wanted to say…oh, and one more thing, the way the animators on the movie got treated was NOT okay and the film better be delayed. No way in hell is it coming out next year. Do better Sony/Phil Lord ect, treat your animators right. Kay bye.

[imwritingthesewords]

If feyre can get over it, I’m sure you can too. We are 5 books down the line and it feels like Nesta is always the one that gets bad mouthed on because she has a sharper tongue. We need more women like Nesta and more women like Feyre and hell even more woman like Elain.

Not one of the sisters is perfect. They all have their flaws and marks. They are different scopes of different women in real life.

If feyre can look past it and move on and be happy with her sister I’m sure you can too or apparently not because god forbid a woman makes a mistake and cannot make up for it and better herself.

[bonefall]

Warrior cats finds new ways to be misogynistic every day, I swear. We can't even get a full on "this relationship was abusive," we get a handwavey "[it was] problematic to say the least." And we only get THAT much in the context of laying the blame on Yellowfang for Ashfur's presence in StarClan. Her "pRoBleMaTic" relationship was only acknowledged because they directly connected it to Ashfur and letting him into StarClan, because poor Yellowfang and her skewed idea of what constitutes health love are to blame for why Ashfur was in the position he was in StarClan... MAYBE??? Because this article WRITTEN BY THE "STORY TEAM" is written like it's by a fan just throwing out theories! Just before the Yellowfang section is a part where they basically blame him being in StarClan on Hollyleaf for killing him! "The manner of his death MAY have been what clinched his place among the stars" and "PERHAPS StarClan took the deceitful circumstances surrounding his death into account and felt he deserved to live on in StarClan, despite his faults."

It really feels like they looked at this question of "how could such a violent, hateful man be let into StarClan where he could then become the main antagonist of a whole other arc later on" and answered it with "lol. Idk. But maybe these two individual women are to blame because they fucked up? StarClan isn't infallible and all, but we're gonna spend a few paragraphs specifically focusing on these two individual women being to blame before we start questioning StarClan's decisions as a whole."

SO TRUE GO OFF

God forbid we ask bigger questions about StarClan being flawed, ZOOM IN on these two women! Maybe it's his ATTEMPTED MURDER VICTIM'S fault he's in heaven because she successfully killed him!

I realized the article was from a few years ago, which feels even worse honestly. How the hell can you write this and then end your stupid arc on a cutesy StarClan oopsie, "Even we make mistakes sometimes 8)" while coming down so hard on Dark Forest redemptions in the same breath? Does SC believe in redemptions like the article says or not?

[scorpio-karma]

I honestly really don't get it, why after all these years, are people still obsessed and invested in TVD or with the cast? That show nothing but a complete shit show and dumpster fire garbage from start to finish (though the first few seasons did a better job in hiding it, because the show had promise and potential). Nothing  but one problematic thing after another and just so much negativity and toxicity surrounding it. And a lot of your stances raise a lot of questions and put a lot of things into perspective for me. 

First, it's so funny to me that you single out Nina for being a mediocre actress and using that as a reason to say her career after TVD flopped, or that she hasn't done anything since leaving the show. Because the majority of the TVD/TO cast (with the exception of only a few select), were also mediocre and not particularly good either. And honestly, what did you expect from a CW show, of all things? Also, the other cast members haven't done anything or gotten jobs after TVD either. 

Second, only singling out Nina for being problematic and doing shady things, when all of the TVD cast, including your dear and lovely Kat Graham, have done a lot of fucked up, problematic, and shady shit as well. Absolutely none of them are innocent or saints. Ian acted like a straight up, petty, and bitter manchild after he and Nina broke up and he got with Nikki Reed, while Nina handled that whole situation with grace and maturity, even with how shitty both Ian and Nikki treated her. On top of that, he's a fucking abuser who threw away Nikki's birth control pills, coerced her into pregnancy, and bragged about it publicly on a podcast as if it was something to be proud of. 

Third, singling out Nina for supposedly being racist (which to my knowledge, I've never seen her make any racist posts or comments), but say fuck all about Matt Davis, the biggest racist piece of shit in the whole show. Or Nate Buzolic, who on top of being racist, is also a raging homophobic and anti abortion rights. Most of the men on the show have done way worse than Nina or any of the girls, yet I don't see any posts from you calling them out on their shit behavior. Because as always, men can do the most abhorrent shit, they can be racist, homophobic, sexist, misogynistic, they can abuse, rape, or even kill somoene, and still have people defend and support them. But god forbid women aren't perfect and have flaws or make mistakes and fuck up. 

And you all wonder why the TVD fandom had such a bad rep back then, and still continue to have such a bad rep now. The very definition of toxic. 

First of all sweetie, you seem to be responding to some old ass posts from like 2019, so you the one that's still obsessed. Second of all, if you searched my Tumblr thoroughly (which I know is hard given Tumblr piss poor searching system) you'd find posts critical of all cast members. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only one I'm not critical of is Trevino because he knows when to stay quiet. And lastly, I'm definitely only skimming that whole message because you're clearly an unhinged Nina fan who went searching for shit to be mad at since they're tagged as "anti" meaning your not the audience for these opinions. Maybe find more recent and relevant criticisms before blowing up someone's inbox anonymously with a dissertation as to why they're wrong. In fact, maybe put this in an actual response to that post so they know what the fuck you're going on about.

[piperslovebot]

When someone is overall selfish and a bad person it stands out when they do something good once in a while, whereas if someone is overall a good person it stands out when they make a mistake. That's why people prefer the asshole characters over the nice characters. It also works like this in real life where when someone is a notorious asshole, other people around him are often told to be "the bigger person"- kind of like Donna is repeatedly with Jackie and Serena is with Blair

The reply I was typing got taken off 😭😭😭😭

I definitely agree and it’s very annoying how a kind yet flawed character is depicted as ‘fake’ but when a character who are mean 98% of the time is considered ‘iconic’. Like they’re allowed to be as mean as they want but god forbid a kind character make a few mistakes and they’re the villain.

Like here. Jackie literally starts off being a dillhole but her stans act like DONNA is the bad guy for retaliating. And in general, people call her the bad friend and baby the fuck out of Jackie Burkhart like she’s gods gift to the universe

Same with Blair and Serena. There are definitely times where S isn’t perfect, but Blair is way worse. I mean, Blair literally told the Yale guy Serena’s biggest shame just to hurt her. She knew how traumatized Serena was, even hugged her while she cried. And when people say “oh but S started it by going to Yale” “S started it by telling B off at the fashion show” Liek are you gonna ignore the fact that Blair is a deep pool of insecurity all because Serena is herself. And even blames her for the bad on Blair’s life. Like when Blair was all ‘you take everything from me’ when S was bonding with Eleanor. I get her pov and feel bad about her insecurities, but Blair has no fucking right to blame Serena for her problems and just needs to get over her goddamn self.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey! 😊 I’ve had this idea for a while now but kept putting off typing it out. Here it goes!

Donna and reader have been dating for some time, and everything has been going great. They’ve managed to keep their relationship a secret because Donna wants to protect reader from the other lords and believes that discretion is the best way to keep them safe.

One day, while they’re making out (or doing something else that clearly shows they're in a relationship), Mother Miranda unexpectedly appears and catches them. She becomes furious, telling reader that she'll only distract Donna and hinder her ability to oversee the village and do her job. The confrontation gets really intense and angsty, and as a punishment, Miranda sends reader to Castle Dimitrescu, forbidding Donna from seeing her ever again.

However, during a visit to the castle to see Alcina, reader manages to convince Miranda to allow her to be with Donna again. When reader finally returns to Donna’s house, she finds Donna completely broken. The moment Donna sees reader, she rushes in for a tight hug, breaking down into tears and declaring that she will never let anyone take her away again.

Thank you! 💖

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

Forbidden love

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

Word count: 8,055

Summary: Your love is a secret, but it can't keep being anymore...

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

The mansion was dark, gloomy even during the day but… For some time now, you stopped seeing it that way. The cracked walls slowly became a refuge for you, a place that protected you, where you felt safe.

The sound of the waterfall penetrated your ears, relaxing you, taking you away from any strange thoughts, from any worries. Love, you could only feel love, you could only think of her, of the warm atmosphere that surrounded you.

There was no longer fear in that dark place, there were no more cries, no more laments; only laughter, kisses, caresses, soft words that served to remind you where you were, why you wanted to be there.

The soft caresses of her hands on your hair, the relaxing sound of her breathing, her perfume impregnated in your clothes, her presence captivating your soul, everything was like a dream come true, like the conquest of an impossible goal, a utopian and unattainable objective. At least that's what you thought when you started to fall in love with her, that it was impossible.

Donna Beneviento, Lord, sick and dangerous woman, the lady of fear, of sinister dolls... It didn't seem like falling in love with a woman like her could have a happy ending, a fairy tale ending. You were wrong.

Your eyes had met several times; sighs had left your lips at the same time. So close, but so far. Nothing could make you, a simple villager, with no greater talent than your blind faith in the Black Gods, manage to attract her attention.

But again, being wrong was one of your greatest flaws, or one of your greatest virtues, you weren't sure.

Soon you began to get closer, to maintain that gaze you couldn't see, to focus on every detail of her dress, on the pale skin that could be distinguished on her hands. You would never take the first step. You would never even be able to hear her voice.

Mistake after mistake, prejudice after prejudice, those teenage dreams of that lady in black falling in love with you took shape little by little, almost without you realizing it.

A shy greeting, a tea, a conversation… Feats that fate granted you when you saw yourself lost in your own thoughts, in the love you felt irrationally for that mysterious lady, and after too much time, the kiss came.

A chaste, almost cold, innocent kiss she gave you for simply saying what you thought, for seeing the face that hid that black veil and discovering a beauty that you already knew existed. It could have been a reflex action, an involuntary movement of her dark soul when she heard that someone in that village didn’t say she was a monster, that she was beautiful.

Her intentions or thoughts didn’t matter to you, you only cared about that kiss, her soft lips on yours, her hands on your skin, the fact that you stopped dreaming, to live the reality, one that made you not want to sleep, that made your dreams mediocre compared to her kisses, with her whispers of love, with that smile when she saw you every morning… To hell with dreams.

You had become the girlfriend of fear, of death, of darkness, but… Did that matter to you? Not at all.

Moving to that mansion was the best of your decisions, the best of your compulsive behavior, the greatest success of your life. You never believed it was a mistake, not even for a second.

“You said you wanted to read with me,” her soft voice took you out of your own memories, her smile entered your soul to caress it gently, to remind you again and again that it was not a dream.

You smiled back, settling into her lap, lying on her just to enjoy that company you believed would be eternal.

“I'm fine,” you said with a sweet voice, with your hands traveling towards her, caressing her imperfect, but perfect for you, face. “Besides, I don't understand what it says.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, lowering her head to kiss you, to mitigate the voracious hunger your lips had with hers. “Maybe you'd like to do something different.”

“No, no, I'm fine,” you said with a nervous smile, sighing, closing your eyes so her soft caresses on your hair would intensify, so nothing else existed in that mansion, just Donna.

“We could do something together,” the lady said, leaving the book aside, focusing all her attention on you, only on you. “How about making some cookies?”

You pretended to think about it, but you shook your head, smiling mischievously.

“I'd like to take a walk with you, you know, walk hand in hand through the forest…” you murmured, looking at her from below with bright, pleading eyes.

Her tender gaze faded, her eye separated from yours for a moment and a sad sigh came out of her lips.

“You know we can't, tesoro,” she whispered softly, with an apologetic look.

Your heart beat confused, hurt by the truth of her words.

“Um…” you protested, sitting with your arms crossed, frustrated by hearing the same answer over and over again. “Don't get me wrong. Being here with you is wonderful but… I wish I could go for a walk with you from time to time, you know, a romantic dinner in the moonlight… ”

“I know, amore mio, I know,” she said, with the same sad tone, pinching your cheek affectionately, turning so she could take your hand, as if hers felt the same addiction to your skin that yours had. “But we…”

“Yeah, I know, we can't,” you completed her sentence, that terrible mantra that took you out of your dream life. “I don't understand it, Donna.”

Your words were tinged with rage, with unfulfilled desires that blurred the happiness you lived in, that reminded you of what your parents repeated so many times: You can't have everything.

Yes, you could have Donna, she had you, you kissed her, you caressed her, you gave her all the love your little heart could hold but... You couldn't leave that house.

At first you thought that maybe it was due to her understandable fear of losing you, her jealousy, her sick possessiveness. Well, you weren't completely wrong but, there was something else, there was something that prevented you from living that relationship fully.

For Donna you were like a miracle, a fragile possession that could break at any moment, something to protect, something to fight for. That romantic feeling could be good, and it was, but it was just a small part of her absurd fears.

Lady Beneviento was a Lord, a powerful one. You were a stupid, love-struck villager who gave up the boring path young girls like you had. No one could, no one would ever dare to question the lady in black, and you knew it. The village was sinister, but among its rules there was nothing about the prohibition of loving whoever you wanted.

No, that was not the problem, it never was. Problems had names. They were in the form of a dark raven: Mother Miranda, the Lords.

Donna's siblings, Mother Miranda, those were the risks, the real dangers in your relationship.

According to the lady in black, someone like you would be like leaving a piece of meat near a lycan. You would be in danger, everyone would envy her because, in her own words: everyone would want to take you away from her.

You thought they were nothing but absurd worries of her wounded mind, that it was just jealousy, even fear that one of them would steal the heart that already belonged to her. It didn't seem that way, she was truly afraid of them.

And so your relationship was hidden, camouflaged by the sound of the wind. Your kisses and caresses, the nights of passion, were hidden behind the sound of the waterfall. You were like two ghosts who loved each other in the shadows.

Ghosts or not, you got used to living that way, but little by little, the delusions and desires of a young girl like you were overshadowing the pleasure of that tranquility, of that feeling of security that Donna felt by keeping you as a secret.

Those feelings began to bring out the worst in you, your selfishness, your own absurd jealousy. When Donna was at home you existed, when she wasn't, you didn't.

“We've talked about this many times, tesoro...” she sighed, shaking her head, her radiant face darkening at your words. “I'm sorry it has to be this way but…”

“Yes, yes, it's the best for us…” you said tiredly, bringing out your capricious side again, getting angry in a childish way.

“(Y/N),” Donna murmured, cupping your face in her hands, staring at you, fighting your stupid attempts to push her away. “If I lost you…”

“It's not about that, Donna,” you interrupted again, sighing, playing with the fabric of your dress. “I know it's to protect me, but what harm can it do to walk around with you? It's your land, no one will see us.”

“You can never know, (Y/N), the Black Gods are watching,” the lady commented, running her thumb over your skin, silencing your protests with her soft caresses.

“You mean Mother Miranda is watching,” you corrected with a mocking smile, relaxing the tension in your body. “You should tell her, Donna, I'm sure…”

“Hey, you dirty villager! Let my Donna go!” the Angie doll, inevitable guardian of your secret, approached you, climbing onto the sofa and waving her limbs.

“Angie, lasciala stare,” Donna ordered, angry at her doll's mocking attitude, at her constant attacks on you, ones that you knew weren't serious. To tell the truth, you got along quite well.

“You cheesy, clingy Donna!” the puppet scolded her, causing the lady to laugh shyly as she quickly kissed you. “Disgusting Donna!”

“Hey, come on, Angie, don't be jealous,” you said with a mocking purr, kissing the lady again just to annoy that sinister puppet.

“Me, jealous!? Please…” the doll protested, just as you wanted it to do. “Let her go, let her go, she has work to do.”

“Work?” you asked curiously, letting Angie comically untie your fingers. “I thought you were done with your dolls for today,” you said, looking at Donna, who frowned, drawing the puppet back with a gesture of her hand.

“And it's true, I don't have any more work,” she murmured, a little confused. “Angie,cosa vuoi dire?”

“Are you deaf? Didn't you hear the phone?” the doll asked.

Donna and you looked at each other confused, smiling mischievously. No, there were better things to do than to keep an eye on that thing.

“Yeah, I guess you didn’t,” the doll murmured, walking across the couch and pushing Donna by the shoulders with ridiculous force. “Meeting! There's a meeting, silly Donna!”

“Meeting?” Donna asked, shaking off the doll's annoying movements. “When?”

“Exactly…” the doll said, pretending to look at a non-existent wristwatch. “Half an hour ago.”

“What?!” the lady shrieked nervously, getting up from the couch immediately, ignoring your pleading look. “Cavolo, Angie, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn't you say you were busy?” the puppet mocked, causing the lady to growl in annoyance. “You're going to be late again,” she sang.

“If you told me before, I'd never be late,” the woman in black protested, searching the entire room for her black veil.

“If you weren't making out with (Y/N) all day long, I could tell you,” Angie replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head towards you.

“She's right, I think I'm taking up too much of your time,” you commented amused, getting up as well and taking the veil she was almost desperately looking for. “Here, darling.”

“Oh, grazie…” she said with a relieved smile, playing with the black fabric in her hands. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“You'd probably be later because you wouldn't find anything,” you joked, kissing her wounded cheek, which she was ashamed of. “Go, honey, I'll wait for you here.”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing her dress, ready to cover her face again. “Don't worry, I won't be long.”

“Wait,” you said with a frown, grabbing Donna by the wrist. “Let, let me go with you.”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed, shaking her head. “You know that…”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted hastily, with a nervous smile on your face. “I want, I mean I can walk with you to the door.”

“Mm?” she murmured curious about your proposal, forgetting that hurry she was in a few seconds ago. You always managed that. If there was someone to blame for her continuous delays, it was you.

“That way I could walk with you through the woods, even if it was just a few minutes.”

“Tesoro… What if…?” she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, letting your hands gently grip her waist.

“It's a very short walk, so I won't complain about you not taking me anywhere,” you joked with a childish, expectant smile. She rolled her eye and sighed, capturing your lips in a wet, short, but intense kiss.

“Mm, okay,” she finally said, walking with you towards the exit. “But just to the door.”

You nodded profusely, stealing one last kiss from her before leaving the mansion for the first time in months.

Walking with her hand in hand clouded almost all of your fears, your worries. It was a silent, peaceful, relaxing walk. The snow crunched under your feet while your hands played at caressing each other. It was perfect, a pity that the wooden door was the end of that romantic walk.

“Come back soon, okay?” you said in a soft voice, your hands swinging with hers. A beautiful smile came to your eyes again, that loving smile you only thought you saw when you looked in the mirror, that you never thought you would see on her face.

“Sure, tesoro…” she sighed, running one of her hands over your cheek. “We could watch a movie when I get back, what do you think?”

“Only if you make dinner,” you joked, laughing with her, giving her a tight goodbye hug.

“Okay,” she said, laughing, without taking her gaze off yours.

“Hey, Donna,” you said when the warmth of her body left yours. “Won't you give me a goodbye kiss?”

The lady approached again, pulling your waist in a romantic, chivalrous way.

“Just one?” she asked with a hoarse voice, whispering in your ear before fulfilling your request, kissing you deeply, not wanting to let you go.

“Ahem,” a different voice, one that was not Angie's, bounced off the trees in the forest, startling you.

“Who's there?” the lady asked, looking around scared, just like you.

A shadowy figure, with golden claws, appeared in a dark cloud. The priestess of the Black Gods, the owner and mistress of the village, Mother Miranda.

The lady in black opened her eyes wide, moving her arms to hide you behind her body. You could hear her heart beating fast, similar to yours.

“Mother Miranda,” she whispered with a broken voice. “What are…?”

“Shut up,” the witch interrupted. “Well, well, what do we have here? You, come out,” she ordered, forcing you to look out and walk next to Donna, with your head down and your hands together in a sign of respect.

“M-Mother Miranda,” you whispered, feeling completely unprotected if it weren't for Donna keeping you by her side, with a hand on your shoulder.

“How curious… I've been wondering for months why my youngest daughter was neglecting her tasks… She was late for meetings, she didn't seem to be in this world… Well, more than usual,” Miranda commented, with a mocking tone that put your nerves on edge.

“It's not what it seems,” Donna whispered, with a dangerous tone, but inevitably scared.

“No? And what is it?” the witch joked, slowly approaching you, lifting your chin with one of her golden claws, looking at you with feigned interest. “Because I think you were kissing this beauty.”

“Le, leave her alone,” Donna murmured, with a dark look, annoyed by the priestess's touch on your face. “She h-hasn't done anything wrong.”

“Oh, you defend her, that gives you away even more, dear,” Miranda said, laughing mockingly, letting you go, letting the dollmaker's arms surround your body, keeping it safe. “Look…”

“(Y/N) is… Is… My girlfriend,” Donna said, keeping you close to her, diverting your head with her hand so you wouldn't look at her, so it rested on her shoulder.

“Girlfriend? You? Don't make me laugh,” Miranda said with a more mocking, unpleasant laugh, pointing her claws at you. “What a surprise... I thought you could only love your dolls...”

“You, you're wrong,” the lady hissed, still hugging you, thus evidencing the trembling of her body, the fear she felt from the woman who gave her a second chance when she had already given up, when she wanted to die. “(Y/N) is...”

“What is she? Apart from a stupid girl...” Miranda mocked again, making your insides burn. But that wasn't enough of a reason for the words to dare to leave your lips.

“Don't insult her!” Donna shrieked, enraged, terribly nervous. “She's not stupid.”

“No? What's wrong with her? What's her problem then?” the witch asked, pulling your arm to separate you, something she achieved due to her strength. “What are you, (Y/N)?”

“Please, Mother Miranda, I don't…” you stammered, hissing in pain as her golden nails dug into your skin.

“You're stupid, Donna,” the priestess said, ignoring your words. “Have you been fooled again? How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?”

“She hasn't fooled me,” Donna protested, struggling with her Goddess's grip, trying to free you from it. “She's my girlfriend, mine.”

“Yours? Please... Look, (Y/N), she's crazy about you,” Miranda said, separating you from Donna definitively, grabbing you from behind, holding your head up. “That's what you wanted, right?”

“I don't know what are you talking about,” you said shyly, nervous, scared but determined to protect the woman you loved.

“Oh, yes you do,” the witch hissed, very close to your ear. “It's not right to take advantage of someone like Donna, don't you think?”

“Mother Miranda, please, if I could explain…” Donna said, clasping her hands together, her eye wet from her imminent tears.

“Silence, Donna,” Miranda snapped, hardening her expression. “You're a stupid lunatic, how can you let yourself be fooled by these tender eyes?”

“Fooled? No, no, you’re wrong…” you protested, suddenly falling silent when you felt a strong tug on your hair. “Ah!”

“Lasciala!” the lady shouted, approaching furiously, trying to free you again from the grip of the priestess, who simply shook her head, moving away from her attempts to grab you.

“Shhh, be still, dear, if you want me not to hurt her,” the blonde threatened, putting one of her claws on your neck, exposing it in an unpleasant way.

Donna moved away, shaking her head, pulling her hair, suffering a terrible nervous breakdown that you could not relieve.

“No, no, no, no, no…” she murmured, walking erratically, out of her mind. Not even Angie could help her, she was not present, she had fled from the fury of her Goddess. “No! No! Cazzo!”

“Donna…” you sobbed, trying to get out of that fierce grip, watching how the lady in black knelt in the snow, babbling things without sense, completely losing her mind.

“You are pathetic, Beneviento… A naive woman,” the blonde hissed, with a calmer tone. “Did you really think someone could feel something for you?”

A heartbroken cry interrupted that horrible moment. The lady moved nervously, hitting the snow with her fists, babbling, cursing, screaming without any kind of control.

“You're making her nervous!” you shrieked, trying to free yourself from those golden claws. “She's having a crisis! Don't you see it?”

“How dare you to talk to me like that?” Miranda whispered, fighting your impulses to help your beloved, to comfort her.

“Let me go! I have to help her!” you screamed, with a furious push towards the priestess who finally let you go.

“Donna, Donna, my love…” you whispered, throwing yourself to the ground next to her, tightly grabbing her wrists, preventing her from hurting herself, like other times. “Don’t, don't do that… Don't hurt yourself, my love…”

“Tu mi ami!” she screamed among sobs, moving on herself desperately. You nodded, lowering her wrists, broken. “You, you don't want to hut… Hurt… Hurt me.”

“Of course not, baby… My sweet Donna, please, please stop, stop doing that,” you begged, feeling the cold snow on your knees, with your face wet from your helpless tears. “Donna…”

Miranda watched the scene with disdain, slowly approaching where you were, without saying anything, without intervening, just watching.

“Shhh, stop, stop please, my love…” you whispered, holding her head, resting her forehead against yours, breathing as calmly as possible. “Donna… Relax…”

“You're not evil…” the lady in black whispered, fighting with her demons, with the voices in her head. Her nerves had betrayed her. They had forced the woman you loved to lose control. “You're not evil… I love you…”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” you said, shaking your head, hugging Donna tightly, letting her tears soak your dress. “Don't pay attention to her, my love… She doesn't know how much I love you…”

Your crying also got out of control when you thought about how you had gotten to that situation. Your capricious and selfish side had provoked the worst of her fears: that your relationship would be discovered, by the worst possible person.

“Gods… I, I'm so sorry… It, it was my fault,” you lamented, melting into the deranged woman in an intense hug, controlling the terrible tremors of her body, the curse she carried with her since she was born, her madness.

“You're not going to leave me… You love me…” Donna stammered, a bit calmer thanks to your well-learned breathing exercises.

“Yes, yes darling, I love you, you're the love of my life,” you repeated in a low voice, keeping her gaze with yours, relieved to see that little by little, the madness disappeared from her eye.

“Mm, it seems I was wrong about you, (Y/N),” Miranda murmured, bending down to observe the situation, how your words were the best of relaxants for the lady in black. “You seem to know Donna very well.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” you said without paying attention to her, wiping the tears from the brunette's face. “Her well-being is the only thing that concerns me.”

“I see,” the witch sighed. “Lift her up.”

You nodded, obeying carefully, holding Donna by the arms, standing up.

“That's it my love... You're so good, Donna,” you said in a comforting tone, holding the lady in place, checking how her body relaxed, something her breathing was unable to do. “Calmati, amore mio…”

“You're good at it,” the witch commented, brushing the brunette's hair away, who growled at her touch. “Not any stupid villager would put up with someone like her.”

“Don't talk that way about her,” you hissed, clenching your fists tightly as the bird woman smoothed your lover's dress.

“Maybe you are stupid,” Miranda said, with a sardonic smile. “Don't you know who you're talking to?”

“Mother Miranda… Don’t, don't hurt her, I beg you…” Donna murmured, in a hoarse tone, broken by tears, her gaze fixed on the snow. You, seeing that she had already woken up from that terrible attack, approached her, holding her hand tightly. “(Y/N) is the most important thing in my life.”

“Mm, I see…” the witch said, with an amused tone that unhinged you even more. “More important than your duties as a Lord?”

“More important than my own life,” the lady in black hissed, adopting a protective pose again, not wanting to let your hand go.

“How romantic…” Miranda sighed, rolling her eyes camouflaged in a horrible mask. “Look, my terrible daughter is capable of love. I would never have imagined it.”

“Basta,” Donna said.

“No, no, I'm the one who says basta, dear…” the priestess said, walking around you like what she was, a carrion bird. “How many times have you been late to meetings? How many times have you ignored masses to the Gods? Do you know how many stupid monster hunters have come to the village?”

“I don't know,” the lady said, defeated, embarrassed by her words, keeping you close to her.

“Oh, you don't know,” Miranda said, crossing her arms haughtily, giving a soft slap to Donna, a mocking one, one that didn't mean to hurt her, but to humiliate her. “Stupida…”

“I'm sorry,” Donna said, totally helpless, avoiding looking at her Goddess, her Mother.

“I'm sorry…” the blonde mocked, with an expression that feigned surprise. “Save your apologies, Donna. You have neglected your duties, your position as a Lord. Tell me, what will the villagers think if they realize that my fearsome daughter, Lady Beneviento, no longer behaves like one?”

“Please, Mother Miranda,” you interrupted, catching her attention when she grabbed Donna by her chin, squeezing her face tightly. “Leave her alone, please.”

She let your beloved go, approaching you again with a dangerous step, with a sinister laugh.

“It's all, it's all my fault, Mother Miranda. I, I have distracted her…” you confessed, trying to free Donna from a severe punishment, from the fury of the Black Gods.

“You… Of course it was you, what else could it be?” Miranda murmured, laughing mockingly again. “You are the one to blame, of course.”

“No!” Donna shrieked, shaking her head, putting herself between you and her Goddess to try to protect you from her wrath. “It's not her fault!”

“She said it was, and look… I believe her,” the blonde said, unfazed by Donna's aggressive gesture. “What do we do with you now?”

“Please don't hurt her, please, Mother Miranda,” Donna hissed, with darkness in her voice, but also a desperate plea. “Please…”

“You've got her crazy, huh?” the witch said, looking at you. “Well, okay… I feel merciful today.”

The two of you looked at each other with a smile of relief, believing that the danger had passed. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Get Alcina,” the witch whispered to a nearby crow, which made an ominous sound after flying away.

You didn't hear it, and neither did Donna. The two of you were hugging each other, whispering to each other that everything would be okay, how much you loved each other, how much you would be able to fight for your love.

“Say goodbye to her, Donna,” Miranda said, interrupting those soft and fearful kisses, those intense caresses.

“What?” the lady in black said, moving away from your hold and looking at the priestess with a frightened expression.

“You don't expect me to let that silly girl distract you anymore, do you, dear?” Miranda murmured, with a passive gesture with her golden hands.

“What?” you asked, confused, protected again by the arms of your beloved.

“You have me fed up, Donna, I'm fed up with you not being able to maintain your status as Lord because of a stupid girl,” the witch hissed. “You should thank me. I'm not going to hurt her.”

“What are you going to...?” the lady asked, backing away from something you still couldn't see, quickly putting on the black veil that rested in the snow.

“How fast,” Miranda said, amused, as a long shadow appeared next to you.

“I wasn't far from here.” A sensual voice, a huge size, an elegant step, a snow-white dress. The first Lord, the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu, appeared behind the wooden door, staring at you.

“Her,” the witch said, pointing at you. “Take her.”

“What?!” Donna protested, hugging you tighter, angrily looking for a place to escape. There wasn't one. “No, no!”

“Yes, yes, and yes, Donna,” Miranda mocked. “(Y/N) is not good for you.”

“No, please...” you begged, noticing how the lady of the castle had put her interest in you.

“Enough of your complaints. The girl will serve in the castle as punishment for your incompetence, Beneviento.”

“No!” Donna shrieked again, interrupted by a strong grip on her shoulder, which almost made her let you go.

“Did I miss something?” Alcina asked, clearing her throat to get your attention.

“This girl will be your new maid,” Miranda said, sighing, pointing at you with her finger. “I trust there will be no objections.”

“None, Mother Miranda,” Alcina murmured, reaching out to grab you.

“Don’t touch her! Don’t touch her!” Donna protested. “She’s mine!”

“Yours?” Alcina asked, looking curiously at the lady in black.

“No, not anymore…” Miranda sighed, shaking her head. “Take her away at once.”

“No, I won’t let you! You can’t take her away from me!” Donna shouted angrily, holding you tightly against her, something Miranda prevented with a strong tug on your hair.

“Do you prefer that I take her life? Because that's what I'm going to do if I hear you say one more word,” the priestess threatened, pushing you hard against the lady in white, who was still confused by the situation.

Donna shook her head, crying again, trying to reach you without success, the witch prevented her.

“You will not see her again, do you hear me? I forbid it,” Miranda hissed, holding the furious Lady Beneviento, who was unable to say anything but curses or insults in Italian.

“No, Donna!” you shouted, grabbed by the waist by the lady of the castle, reaching out your hand to hers while she did the same.

The tips of your fingers touched, as a last attempt at farewell. You growled to be able to touch her, to be able to enjoy the softness of her hands one last time.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Donna shrieked, being dragged away from you by Miranda. “No!”

“Donna!” you screamed with all your might, lowering the hand that was unable to touch hers, retreating from the grip of the lady in white, who pulled you. “Donna!”

It was over.

There would be no more kisses, no hugs, no caresses. Your whole life, that dream you were living became a nightmare. You couldn't go back to her, you couldn't love her, you couldn't even see her. All because of you.

Your absurd desires and your lack of understanding of the danger had taken you to hell, to a place far from her. You couldn't imagine something so unfair, you couldn't imagine waking up and not seeing Donna by your side.

“Do you want anything else, my lady?” you said in a sad voice, after having spent entire nights crying, longing for her kisses, her hands, serving the Dimitrescu family for a couple of horrible weeks, the worst of your life.

“Mm, no,” said Alcina, your mistress since that fateful day.

The phone rang, startling you as you were about to leave the room, ready for another day of nightmares, of memories that would never return

“Yes, stay,” the lady in white said, pointing to a place in front of her while impatiently expelling the smoke from her cigarette. “There.”

You nodded, head down. You couldn't ignore her orders. She was your new owner, owner of your presence, maybe one day of your body. But if there was something Alcina could never possess, your heart.

“Hello, dear…” Alcina murmured, picking up the phone with a tired sigh. “Stop crying, I don't understand you,” she protested, under your confused gaze. “Donna, stop, speak in my language, Gods…”

Donna, it was she who spoke on the other end of the phone. Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks flushed, and your body began to tremble. You didn't know if you didn't want to be there, or if you wanted to leave to forget her presence, to force your mind, and your soul to forget that love you felt and that you could never experience again.

“Mm, thank you, Angie,” Alcina said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, yes, she's here…” she said in a seductive tone, guiding her gaze to you. “Mm, well, she's wearing the uniform that maids wear… Gods, Donna, no, it’s not about that I haven’t touch her,” she squealed, annoyed by something.

“My, my lady,” you stammered, looking at the floor, too blinded by your feelings, by the desire you had to hear her voice again. “Please, let me talk to her.”

“Wait a moment,” ​​Alcina said disinterestedly, covering the phone and sighing sadly. “I can't do that, dear.”

“Please,” you sobbed, reaching out your hand towards that phone, towards the only way you could communicate to her.

“Don't, yell, Donna!” the lady in white protested with a furious growl. “You know what will happen if I do.”

“Please…” you repeated again, your voice cracking from crying, from helplessness.

“Oh…” Alcina murmured, rubbing her eyes with a tired sigh. “I'll give you a minute,” she finally said, gesturing for you to come closer, but moving the device away when your impatient hands went to grab it. “On one condition.”

You nodded nervously.

“You're going to tell me what the hell is going on between you and my sister,” Alcina said, with an amused look.

“Yes, my lady,” you said with a sigh, picking up the phone, your whole body shaking. “Donna, it's me…”

“(Y/N), amore mio, tesoro…” the lady in black said, sobbing, just like you. “I'm so glad to hear your voice.”

“Me, me too,” you said with a radiant smile, enjoying the soft melody of her words. “Donna, I miss you so much…”

“The house is so empty without you… I can't stand it anymore…” she said, her voice breaking. “I can't…”

“Donna…” you murmured, with a tear falling on the wooden dresser. “It’s, it's all my fault…”

“No, don't say that… Don't say that, amore mio… Just, just tell me that… That… That… That you still love me as much as I love you…” the doll maker begged, with a voice increasingly broken by tears.

“I could never stop loving you, Donna, never,” you said with an angry voice, clenching your fist tightly, almost hurting yourself. “I love you, my love.”

“(Y/N), I think about you every day, every hour… I love you, I will always love you…”

“Donna…” you sobbed unable to say another word different than her name, the name of your love. “Donna…”

“(Y/N)…”

“Okay, that's enough,” Alcina said, taking the phone from your hand and hanging it up abruptly, ending that conversation.

“No!” you screamed, picking it up again, knowing that the love of your life was no longer on the other end. “Donna…”

“Well,” the lady of the castle sighed, crossing her arms and nodding to a place for you to stand. “Start talking, dear, I'm listening.”

“I love her.” You were able to say, wiping away your tears. She was now your mistress, you couldn't forget that.

“Mm, that seems obvious,” the vampire commented, offering you a cigarette that you refused. “If before I met you they told me that my dear sister has a girlfriend, well, I probably wouldn't have believed them.”

“With all due respect, my lady, but that's none of your business,” you hissed, without thinking about your words, forgetting again the dangers that surrounded you.

“Mm, how bold,” the lady in white joked, tilting her head mockingly. “It turns out that you're here for that reason. It’s my business. You're clumsy and you can't stop crying. That vase over there is a better maid than you.”

“That's because I don't want to be here,” you replied wittily, crossing your arms. “It's not fair.”

“Life isn't fair, my dear…” she murmured, shaking her head, ignoring your scorn.

“Then kill me,” you said angrily, helpless, unable to contain that burning in your chest, that lack of her heart beating against yours. “If I'm not fit to be a maid, finish me off. I have nothing left.”

“And take away poor Donna's toy? Mm, I don't think she'll take it well,” Alcina joked, with a sinister laugh. “You must be very important to her. She keeps calling me day after day, asking about you.”

“I only know how important she is to me and that… I, I've lost her,” you said, with a more confident tone, with tears threatening to run down your face again. “I'm not her toy, nor her girlfriend, I'm nothing.”

“You'd have to ask her, wouldn't you? She's very... Insistent,” the lady joked again, confusing you. “Look, dear, I'd like to let you leave my property and return to her, but...”

“You can't do it. I've heard that before,” you finished, lowering your head.

“I'd like to, dear,” Alcina said, with a softer tone, as if she were really being sincere. But even if your heart harbored that slight hope, you knew it wouldn't be possible. “You've angered Mother Miranda.”

“She's the one who's angry!” you shouted nervously. “We've done nothing but love each other! Is that now bad too? Doesn't Donna having the right to be loved? Just because she's a Lord mean she doesn't have the right to be loved?”

“Relax, little bird…” Alcina whispered, with a threatening voice. “Mother Miranda wants the best for her children.”

“Mother Miranda has no idea what's best for Donna, she only cares about this stupid village,” you growled, forgetting what you were doing, who was listening to your desperate complaints.

“And I suppose you do know, don't you?” she asked, with a soft smile, not bothered by her attitude.

“Donna has to be with me… I, I have to be with her…” you stammered, shaking your head.

Alcina sighed, putting out her cigarette.

“Mother Miranda is a woman who likes to have everything controlled, (Y/N),” the lady began, crossing her legs, with her eyes fixed on yours. “You and I know the problems Donna has. I'm not going to tell you anything you don't know.”

“That never mattered to me,” you said firmly.

“Mm… Love does those things, doesn't it?” she commented amused. “Now think: if Donna stopped paying attention to her duties because she is drawn to you like a fly to the light… How do you think that would mean to someone like Miranda?”

“Donna doesn't get distracted, it's my fault,” you confessed, remembering the many occasions in which your affection, your hugs, made a dent in the duties of the Lord.

“Of course it’s yours… I don't blame her for going towards the light of your smile,” Alcina murmured, with a seductive tone, one that caused an embarrassed smile to stand out on your face. “Well, I don't like to agree with one of my maids but… Look, I wouldn't have to tell you this but… Donna is not well.”

“I already know that,” you hissed, imagining what the hell your absence had caused must be like, the times she would have screamed, that she would have lost control. “Me neither.”

“Mm, you have no idea, dear…” Alcina whispered, with a darker tone. “Donna has not attended the meetings for two weeks, coincidence? I doubt it… Gods, I know she is alive because she doesn’t stop harassing me with her stupid calls.”

“Is Miranda's fault, she is to blame for everything,” you said, hurt by the truth of those words, by the descent that the brunette made towards the darkness again.

“You won’t hear me say something like that,” Alcina laughed, shaking her head. “You said it.”

“Then… Then do something, let me go with her,” you begged again, joining your hands.

“You are a very stubborn girl, of course you are made for each other,” the lady sighed, rolling her eyes. “I can't do anything… But you can.”

“Me? What? I'll do anything,” you said excitedly, knowing that the light inside you was shining brighter and brighter.

“Mother Miranda has a habit of having tea with me every month…” Lady Dimitrescu explained. “What a coincidence, that day is today.”

Your smile faded when you realized the situation. It didn't matter what you said, she would never give in.

“I won't be able to do anything to convince her,” you whispered furiously. “She'll never let someone like me get away with it.”

“You can't know if you don't try, dear…”

The rest of the day passed as always, sad, grey, empty. In the hallways you heard Alcina's daughters screaming, laughing out loud. You remembered Angie, you remembered those afternoons when her sinister laughter was always there to bother you. Miranda's visit would be soon…

“Enough,” the witch said while you served her tea with trembling hands. You were sure that someone like you would not have that privilege, was it Alcina's doing?

“Go away, dear,” murmured your lady, to which you nodded with your head down, standing to one side of the door.

“Did Donna call this morning?” Miranda asked with disinterest.

Your body stirred at hearing her name, but you didn’t give yourself away, you remained rooted to the spot.

“Like every day, Mother,” Alcina said, with a tired tone. “She's getting worse.”

“Mm, I suppose that... Damn stupid girl...” the witch muttered, with a look of contempt towards you. “She'll never learn.”

Alcina sighed, but nodded, agreeing with the priestess. Both Alcina and you knew she wasn’t right.

“Don't be hard on her, you know she's not right in the head,” the lady in white said. Your hands were shaking more and more.

“Mm, believe me, I know, but this is too much. She hasn't picked up the phone for days, ignoring her chores,” the witch said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “I suppose it's the whims of a stupid child... By the way, how is your new acquisition doing?”

“She's a pain in the ass, Mother Miranda,” your lady answered, looking at you in the same way as the priestess, studying you with her eyes. “She's clumsy, she doesn't know how to do anything and besides, my maids can't sleep because of her.”

“How is that?” Miranda asked, horribly amused.

“She don't stop crying,” Alcina said, bringing her teacup to her lips, looking at you intensely.

“I can't believe it... Come here,” the priestess said, pointing at you unpleasantly. Your body burned with fury, but you obeyed reluctantly, walking slowly, denying her the look she asked for.

“Mother Miranda,” you whispered elegantly, but revealing a certain mockery.

“I still don't understand what Donna could see in you,” she commented with a serious look, looking you up and down in a contemptuous way. “You are a simple villager.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda, I’m a stupid villager,” you repeated through clenched teeth, making the witch raise her eyebrows, with a sinister smile.

“I see that you have been taught manners,” she commented amused, settling down on the sofa. “I want you to answer my questions, (Y/N).”

You nodded slowly, looking for Alcina's help with your gaze, which came in the form of a slight nod.

“What exactly did you do to Donna to make her completely lose her mind?” she asked in a passive tone, one that did not reflect any emotion. “Answer me.”

“I don't know, Mother Miranda,” you answered sincerely, remembering that smile, the one you didn't want to forget.

“Are you comfortable here?” she asked again, nodding slightly after your stammering answer.

“Y-Yes, Mother Miranda,” you lied, earning a dark look.

“Oh, so you don't feel like going back to your dear Donna, do you?” Miranda joked, looking away to pick up her cup of tea.

“I dying to do it, Mother Miranda,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“Mm,” she murmured, taking a sip from her cup, tasting the tea you made and which unfortunately wasn't poisoned. “Love makes people stupid… I thought that taking my little daughter away from you would be a good punishment for having been ignoring her chores but… I see that I've only made it worse.”

“Mother Miranda, please, I beg you…” you interrupted closing your eyes, kneeling down pathetically. “Allow me to return to her side.”

“Here we go again…” Miranda murmured, shaking her head. “If I let you go… How do I know that Donna will fulfill her chores?”

“Mother Miranda, I must intervene,” Alcina interrupted, gesturing for you to stand up. “That girl may seem stupid, but she is not, believe me, I know her. I think there may be a solution that pleases us all.”

“I hear you,” the priestess said, looking away from you.

“The girl will be in charge of ensuring that Donna fulfills her obligations. It is a good idea, don't you think? If that is the only thing she responds to… Well, she will surely listen to her, if she loves her as much as she says…”

“Mm, interesting…” Miranda sighed, looking at you with interest. “There is only one way to check it. Well, (Y/N), you heard me. Go with Donna but… If she misses one more mass, one single meeting, well… I won’t be so pious anymore.”

Your face could only sketch a smile, your legs were already moving to leave through the door, but not before nodding to the lady in white, you knew that without her, nothing would have been possible.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” you said happily, leaving definitively through the door.

You ran out of the castle, forgetting about the cold, the snow, any stupid obstacle that interrupted your way back, back home.

“Donna?”  you said as soon as you entered the estate again.

The landscape was desolate. Battered furniture, broken plates, shattered dolls... The darkness of that place was soaked with suffering, with pain. Donna had destroyed everything, she had directed her anger towards anything that was on her way.

“Donna...” you sighed, horrified by what you saw, by being able to feel her madness through the broken glass, the dismembered dolls.

You walked stepping on the result of her fury, looking for some remains of the brunette anywhere. A dark shape in the corner indicated her position. Sitting on the floor, her head buried in her knees, was Donna.

“D-Donna,” you called again, walking quickly towards her. She didn't seem to see you. She didn't seem to hear you, to know you were there. It was a terrible sight for your fragile heart.

“Silly!” Angie shrieked, appearing behind you while you tried to move her frozen arms, to lift her head so she could see you. “You're back!”

“Of course I'm back, I couldn't…” you murmured, unable to make the Lord react, who stammered a constant mantra.

“Don't leave me, don't forget me…” she whispered with a hoarse voice, torn by her tears.

“Angie, help me,” you ordered the doll, trying to lift the lady in black off the floor, who struggled with you, pushing you away as if you were one of her demons.

“Donna, Donna! The fool is back!” Angie shrieked, tugging at her dress when you finally managed to get her to her feet.

“Donna, my love… It's me… I'm here,” you said in a soft voice, stopping her head from moving erratically.

“No…” she growled, pushing you unpleasantly. “You're not here… You're not here!”

“Honey, my love… I'm, I'm here, Mi, Miranda has released me, please, darling, react, I beg you,” you said nervously, managing to grab her hands, holding them tightly in yours.

“(Y/N),” she sighed, once her skin made contact with yours, slowly raising her gaze, her eye reddened by suffering. “(Y/N)!”

Her reaction was overwhelming. She threw herself into your arms, holding you tightly against her, kissing you desperately, almost without letting you breathe.

“Amore mio… You're back…” she whispered crying, with a romantic smile, not leaving an inch of your face unkissed. “But… But how?”

“It's known that you can't live without me,” you joked, elated, happy to have returned to the arms of your beloved. “She has allowed me to come back.”

“Oh, I… Gods… I… I'm, I'm sorry,” Donna said, nervous, caressing you, assuring herself that you weren't a hallucination.

“No, don't apologize”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed again, hugging you, pulling your dress with her hands, clinging to you to never let you go. “I will never, ever let anyone else take you away from me… I, I promise you… I love you, I love you, I love you…”

[puzzlekinq]

i keep trying to find a review of the fabelmans or a tropes page or a video review or fucking anything that is nice to mitzi... but nobody is. why are they all so mean to her. god forbid women do anything.

its the mysogyny!!!! nobody likes a flawed female character. people favor burt over her so they villainize her to make burt look like the good guy who got hurt by his evil awful bitch wife. but burt is heavily flawed as well and theyre just hypocrites!!!! i'll bet if burt was the one who cheated people would defend him with their lives. but since its a complex female character that made a mistake shes made out to be a malicious monster.

and i know her slapping sammy is another reason people hate her, but they look over the fact that sam said an incredibly hurtful thing to her while she was already in distress AND he had been treating her horribly for weeks, its understandable that she snapped. and like she said, she only hit him once in his entire life!! and she immediately regretted it!! she hated herself for it!! she apologized!! but nobody is willing to forgive female characters when they make a mistake.

look at mabel pines. shes a 13 year old girl, she doesnt have the maturity level of an adult!! shes going to be a little selfish and childish and make mistakes!! because shes a kid!! but people hate her with their whole chests because they cant FATHOM the idea of a female character doing something even slightly wrong. do you ever see people criticizing dipper? nope!! wonder why that is. hmm.

but anyway back to my point. nobody likes a flawed, complex character if theyre a woman, because they paint her out to be an irredeemable bitch every single time, and they always favor the male character and make him out to be the victim or the good guy even if hes done something wrong as well. they just dont acknowledge his mistakes. but they'll pick out every single thing wrong with a female character to make her look evil and ignore her other qualities regardless of if shes a genuinely good person who did one wrong thing.

mitzi is loving and passionate, shes full of light and whimsy, she adores her children and yes, even burt. she has a creative and intensely emotional personality!! but nobody sees it and that makes me so sad.

[candyheartedchy]

So, apparently there is a LOUD minority of entitled fans who think Molly McGee is out of character so far in season 2. I don’t see it. She’s 13, she’s growing up, she’s making decisions that fit her journey as a character. This is reminding me of when people hated Mabel because god forbid she made human mistakes. Fans who hate characters for their flaws need to dickride somewhere else.

I never noticed Molly being out of character once in the new season, but that’s just me. I thought her character was written fine and made sense giving the type of circumstances that were thrown her way this season.

[shipcestuous]

The bit about Loki accusing Freyr and Freya of incest comes from Lokasenna, one of the poems in the Poetic Edda:

"Loki spake: 32. "Be silent, Freyja! | thou foulest witch, And steeped full sore in sin; In the arms of thy brother | the bright gods caught thee When Freyja her wind set free."

Njorth spake: 33. "Small ill does it work | though a woman may have A lord or a lover or both; But a wonder it is | that this womanish god Comes hither, though babes he has borne.""

(https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe10.htm)

Lokasenna is a poem in the "senna" genre, essentially an exchange of insults in poetic form, where Loki gets drunk and insults all the other gods, one by one, at a feast before being driven away by Thor. It has indeed been questioned how much of what Loki says in it was accepted as part of this or that mythical tradition, or if all if his accusations are made-up wholesome as part of a satirical poetic exercise. However, it's also been read as an expression of Loki as an ambiguous figure (as a jotun who was welcomed among the gods as Odin's blood-brother and friend but may act either for or against the gods and bringing positive or negative changes to their world depending on the myth) able to weave in and out of the gods' in-group, knowing it intimately but also offering an outsider's perspective on it at the same time, thus being able to bring up and expose uncomfortable and harsh truths, and highlighting what can be read as the hypocrisy of the gods, who are held as shining, dignified authorities in certain contexts but have plenty of flaws and make plenty of mistakes in others.

Also, we know for sure that at least SOME things Loki are true, which does cast some level of doubt *on* the doubt we might cast on the others: he accuses Odin of being unmanly (we know that's true because we know he is associated with a type of magic that's always regarded as "womanly" or "unmanly") and Frigg of having slept with both of Odin's brothers (an idea also reported elsewhere, together with the idea of her generally being an adulterer), mocks Tyr for having had his hand bitten off by Fenrir (that's the most important Tyr myth that survived after the Viking Age) and Freyr for giving up his sword (and the advantage it would have given him during Ragnarok) to gain Gerd as a bride (also an attested myth) then Heimdall for his unlucky position as the eternally-watchful sentinel of the gods (his main role in the myths), and claims to have slept with Sif (not *technically* attested, but fits well with Harbardsljod, another senna-type poem, where Thor is told in no uncertain terms that his wife has a lover that she has fun with while he's away from home, and also with Sif having a son, Ullr, who's on record as a *stepson* to Thor). He even admits to killing Balder (true... at the least in the version of the events the poem references) and foretells his own binding.

Then, there's also the fact that, for as many insults as Loki shoots at the gods, the gods fire just as many back, and the majority of those are also true: he's accused of being unmanly (true in many different ways), of having given birth (just look at the myth of the building of the wall of Asgard and how Odin got his horse Sleipnir), and of being unpleasant and sowing discord (... hard to argue with that, especially in context).

A point that should also be considered is that we do know from at least two pieces of writing that the Vanir gods (unlike the Aesir, who forbid it) practice incestuous relationships and even marriages. Specifically, brother/sister ones.

Again from the Lokasenna:

"Njorth spake: 35. "Great was my gain, | though long was I gone, To the gods as a hostage given; The son did I have | whom no man hates, And foremost of gods is found."

Loki spake: 36. "Give heed now, Njorth, | nor boast too high, No longer I hold it hid; With thy sister hadst thou | so fair a son, Thus hadst thou no worse a hope.""

From the Ynglinga Saga, in the context of an euhemerized account of the gods as kings and heroes of old:

"While Njord was with the Vanaland people he had taken his own sister in marriage, for that was allowed by their law; and their children were Frey and Freya. But among the Asaland people it was forbidden to intermarry with such near relations."

(https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/heim/02ynglga.htm)

Personally, I tend not to give too much credit to people who look at the Norse gods doing weird/uncomfortable/gross/very sexual/kinky things and say "oh, but SURELY that must be a satire! A later invention that could NEVER be referencing some older tradition! A slanderous invention! The Christians putting their grubby little hands all over the myths to make the heathen gods look bad, even in the case of authors we know were just trying to preserve their people's history as they knew it or their traditional poetry and were actually more likely to try and ennoble or at least normalize them!" It's true that Germanic people did hold their gods in high regard and pray and sacrifice to them like any other culture, but that doesn't mean they thought of them as perfect, or were never wary of them, or never told stories about them doing things that they themselves wouldn't do.

There is a chance that Freyr and Freya weren't actually thought of as incestuous, and there is a chance they weren't even born out of an incestuous relationship (not only but chiefly due to wonky timelines/topics not being presented in the order we'd normally expect in a certain section of the Prose Edda ... which was written by Snorri Sturluson, the same guy who wrote the Ynglinga Saga, but make of that what you will), but honestly, I just don't see enough evidence to dismiss the material presented in the Lokasenna. Freya is also known as a very proud and headstrong character as well as overly lustful (like in the Hyndluljod poem, where she's accused of having allowed plenty of men under her skirts, or in the late Sorla thattr story, where she agrees to spend one night with each of the four dwarves working on a necklace for her, or in her association with love poetry, which was actually considered so powerful and dangerous, it was sometimes outlawed) so following her desires without caring for a law that's not even really her own doesn't strike me as particularly weird of her.

That's just my opinion, of course! Although, I would argue that, taken at face value and without digging into whatever mythological and literary nuances we might theorize, they ARE canon.

Please forgive the rant, I've always been really into Norse mythology and I actually had a lot of fun doing this little write-up! ^^

[x]

Thank you so much for this! It was wonderful to get a description of the facts from someone who is clearly very knowledgeable on the topic. I think we're all very inclined to agree with your conclusions.

I didn't realize that Loki's accusation against Freya was part of a series of accusations, at least some of which are "confirmed", so to speak. That's very promising indeed.

I only did a tiny bit of research but I did find at least a couple of sources that seemed very biased against Vanir incest, straining to disprove and such. A more open-minded approach might see Frey/Freya considered canon more often.

[showtoonzfan]

Every time I get reminded that Viv loves Bojack Horseman and states that she loves drama and messy characters, I’m just like……..who’s ganna tell her that all the horrible actions Bojack did in the show was all HIS personal doing and not a bunch of flat Saturday morning cartoon villains around him? Because yeah, Bojack had baggage and trauma, he had a shitty childhood and horrible parents, but not once did the show pin all of his horrible actions in the present onto his past. That’s why Todd’s line about how the problem is him and him alone hits so hard, because he’s right.

Meanwhile Stolas is never the problem, because god forbid a tortured uwu gay man who takes anti depressant pills and is stuck in an unhappy marriage be painted in a negative light completely and make mistakes. The way fans jump at his defense because he’s an abuse victim as well is just……the worst part, because ever since we’ve known he’s a victim of abuse by his cartoon evil wife, we now apparently can’t critique him and call him a bad person, because no one can fathom the fact that people who are abused still can be BAD people and be flawed.

But of course in Viv’s case, it’s not the fact that Stolas is a horn-dog in over his head and can’t separate fantasy from reality, it’s not that he can’t respect boundaries, it’s not that he has no idea how genuine and real love works, it’s not that he can’t provide effort for his daughter or family because of how distracted he is by said fantasies, it’s not because he’s a prejudice rich asshole, but it’s ALL because of his evil bitchy wife, his shitty brother in law, his bad father, his DAUGHTER, and the horrible discriminating world that hell is apparently, despite the Goetia family and the rules never even being explored regarding that. Still, BELIEVE IT because he’s gay and sad and depressed and people like that can never be in the wrong or face the consequences of their actions. 🥺

[blaintism]

I just need to vent about something. I saw someone on reddit (hellsite) express how they thought it was awful and wrong for Blaine for accepting to go on that date with Rachel in BIOTA, when she and Kurt were rivals. Istg like…why does so many people immediatly assume the worst in Blaine🙄. Maybe consider that Kurt just never actually told Blaine the spesifics of his «rivalry» with Rachel when he was in ND. I’m pretty sure Blaine just didn’t know, and was excited to explore his sexuality and somehow people have gripes with even that😒😒. And the person also said Blaine was wrong for not noticing Kurts crush on him…autism… not but actually; why does these Blaine antis shame him for not having some allknowing godpowers that makes him read the thoughts of every person he interacts with😀. Being oblivious and/or unknowing is literally a normal human reaction

i mean you hit the nail on the head. so much of the blaine haters are mad that he’s just a regular person. they like kurt so much they just… think the love interest written for him should not have a mind of their own i think. but both blaine and kurt make mistakes! god forbid kurt was oblivious to the ways he was hurtful to blaine as well. look at biota itself, or dance with somebody. blaine’s really deeply hurt.

and i’m sure it sucks to see someone you have a crush on go on a date with someone else but i think it’s important to point out: kurt doesn’t own blaine. when they’re not dating he doesn’t really have a say in blaine seeing other people at all (yes i think this about later plotlines too…). and at this point it’s not like kurt hates rachel? season two starts developing their friendship already. and honestly, if the episode had focused on kurt being jealous especially because last week he admitted his crush, that would’ve been more interesting than what we got! and if we think for a second it’s clear blaine wasn’t malicious like you said. and hey maybe he accepted rachel’s date and not kurt because it’s more intimidating. i think in some ways he knows that being with kurt would be the real thing. and he doesn’t want to mess that up!!!!!

like that’s the thing!! blaine is a flawed kid and he’s AWARE. HE DOESN’T WANT TO MESS IT UP!!!! and on the point of obliviousness. there is no prevention for that if you don’t know about something you don’t know about it 😭 and this is a consistent trait throughout his relationships. he’s not victimizing kurt by being the same guy he always is (autistic)

uhhh basically people who hate blaine make it impossible to take them seriously in the slightest <3

[cangelgifs]

Saw some really bad anti-Cordelia/anti-Cangel opinions but I’m being so brave about it. In all seriousness though, what do you say to people who think Season 3 regresses on cordelia’s development for the sake of the romance plot? I think it’s an unbelievably wrong take that clearly has no appreciation for her character whatsoever but I’d like to hear your takes.

So, I do think we lose some of Cordy’s POV in the second half of S3 once she becomes a ‘romance interest’ but I don’t see this as a flaw on Cangel’s part. Moreover, I see it as a flaw of the show itself AKA having too many male writers in the writers room.

However, I don’t think her character is regressed at all. S3 has some of the most amazing growth for her character in the show. "So - demonize me already” is one of the best Cordelia moments across both series.

I'm going to quote Nika_83 here because she said it better than I could:

"I say they also don't know the meaning of the word regression. Which is to go backwards. At no point in season 3 does cordy slide back in to season 1 btvs behavior. So that's pattently wrong. Rather she is way more selfless and giving. This all makes sense given what she has seen and experienced. She literally feels the pain of the visions. She wants to help those people. And selfishly she wants to be important to angel and the cause. And she still maintains that "materialism' she always had with loving nice things, being bought out by clothes, loving being pylea princess, etc. Which is a part of her as a character and can be a flaw but that doesn't override her need to save others, or herself."

I don’t know the posts your referring to specifically but common arguments I see for S3 are:

She’s become a Mary-Sue/Saint Cordy. 

Angel on Top has a good response to that: “She's in this relationship with Groo that we already discussed as being, like, flawed in various ways and has a certain amount of denial baked into it. Like that is imperfect. And she also tries to read what is going on with Gunn and is completely wrong as well. Like, she’s also, like, there’s human error happening still with her. Like I don’t think she is—god forbid I use the Mary Sue word–she’s like not doing that kind of stuff. I do think Cordelia would be inherently less interesting if she was suddenly perfect and never did anything wrong ever in her life. But, you know, she’s still Cordelia. She’s still, like, making some mistakes and being a little too abrasive every once in a while. Like, I don’t subscribe to that.”

“Angel's feelings are the only ones I care about” - The Price; ‘she’s become too focused on Angel’

I think saying ‘oh, all she cares about is Angel’ is oversimplifying it greatly and missing the point. Yes, she cares about Angel and always has (see 1x22 when she buys him art supplies to make him feel better and “Well, he's gonna have to start wanting things from life, whether he wants to or not!”). This is nothing new. I think in the overall context of what’s going on in S3 at that time, it makes sense. I think she is prioritizing Angel and focusing on Angel’s grief over losing Connor to protect herself from her own grief. If she keeps busy taking care of Angel, she won’t have to feel the pain/loss herself. Also we know Cordy is guilty of downplaying her own pain to her own detriment (her hiding that the visions were literally killing her!) so sadly this is in character for her.

Thanks for the ask!

--whatisyourchildhoodtrauma

I also wanna hop in here and say that I completely agree with everything that has been said and I also wanna add that even if you completely strip away the romantic subtext of s3, Cordelia would be the same person that she was in that season because two things are very true. One, that her life would still be very much intertwined with Angel's because that's the nature of him being the protagonist--similar to how Cordy's life was very much intertwined with Buffy's on BTVS--and two, her growth over the last seasons (and arguably since BTVS) would still lead her to the place that she wound up. She didn't grow to the kind hearted, loving person who cares more about the mission than money that we see in s3 because of Angel or for Angel. She grew because she was presented time and time again with a worldview and a mission that was bigger and more important than herself and it shaped her and facilitated her growth into the person she became.

I also gotta point out that the argument in itself feels kind of sexist as if a woman can’t have positive growth unless it’s attributed to shipping her with a man. Not to mention that the "Saint Cordy" moniker also feels sexist because it both diminishes her growth and patronizes her. Essentially it paints her as this super perfect saint of a person instead of talking about how much she's grown or the sacrifices that she's had to make in order to get where she is in canon or even talking about the mistakes she does make/flaws she does have in the back half of s3. Not to mention it also is used to not talk about the real issues of the back part of s3 and how that twisted into the narrative of s4 (which is a very sexist narrative with many flaws). It's just is like "oh she's saint cordelia now" and doesn't leave much, if any, room for deeper discussions. Not to mention it also paints this narrative of "a woman has to be suffering constantly or tormented in order to be viewed as a flawed, complex person" which is both gross and incorrect.

Again, super agree with everything that has been said and this was a very good question, thank you for the ask!

-- someonefantastic