#Maybe then i wouldn't be suffering like this

[thefreakandthehair]

you could be bad, but I wanna find out.

written for @steddiemicrofic ‘guard’ | wc: 532 | rated: mature | tags: goalie!Steve Harrington, fan!Eddie Munson, alternate universe- no upside down, different first meeting, meet ugly (but it's still cute), bars, alcohol mention, description of sexual activity, humor, big mouth!Eddie Munson, long-suffering besties Gareth and Jeff

The bar is buzzing with excited fans, humming with an energy that makes Eddie feel looser and lighter than the Budweiser ever could. Surrounded by a sea of black and red jerseys that line the long, narrow bar, Jeff and Gareth laugh and shake their heads. 

Eddie hasn’t stopped rambling since the Blackhawks won, and he has no intentions of stopping anytime soon. 

Not after a win like that— a shutout win that tore the roof off of United Center. 

And certainly not after the Blackhawks goalie guarded the net like it was his treasure and he, its dragon. 

Sure, it helps that Steve Harrington is definitely the most beautiful man to ever grace an ice rink, but it’s the competence that gets him. Watching Harrington bend and stretch his limbs into pretzel-like shapes, coming up with the puck and an unhinged grin, really gets his motor running.

“I mean, did you see him?” Eddie asks for maybe the tenth time since sitting at the shiny, shellacked bar. “Jeff, you get it, right? You see what I’m seeing, right?” 

“I see a guy who’s really great at his job, and I see another guy who sounds insane. Guess which one you are?” Jeff snorts into his beer and takes a sip. 

“Gareth, buddy, surely you can understand where I’m coming from. Remember the first time you saw Lars Ulrich?” Eddie turns, knocking his shoulder against Gareth’s. 

“Duh, dude,” Gareth leans forward and yells in response, the bar erupting into cheers and more drunken celebrations. “The difference is that I wanted to be Lars Ulrich. You want to fuck Steve Harrington.” 

Eddie clutches his chest in feigned offense and feels himself being pushed against the bar as the building fills up with what must be the final wave of fans leaving the stadium. The bartender nods behind him with a knowing smile and passes a draft beer over Eddie’s shoulder into a large, veiny hand. 

“Okay, fine,” Eddie concedes, resting his own drink on the bar. “You’re right. The way I would fuck Steve Harrington is obscene. I’d let him violate whatever obscure, unknown Bible Belt laws he wanted. He's a ride I wouldn't survive. The wheels would come right off.”

“Uh, Eddie?” Jeff tries to interrupt but Eddie’s having none of it. 

“Nope, I’m not done. That split save? The way he guarded his crease? And for a fucking 36-save shutout? Holy shit.”

“Ed—” Gareth tries but Eddie steamrolls him, too. 

“What is it you call it, Gare? A competency kink? Well, sure. Fine. Call it what you want, but he’s so good at what he does. I need him in a way that would disappoint my grandmother, and not just because she was homophobic."

A hand— the same hand that had reached over him to grab the glass just a few minutes ago— pats him on the shoulder and when Eddie turns around to see who the fuck is touching him, he nearly falls off of the wobbly stool.

Steve Harrington grins, a drink in one hand and the other still resting on Eddie’s frozen frame. 

“I think your grandmother would’ve liked me,” he shrugs. “I have a way with families.” 

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Viktor... - Viktor x reader

Arcane Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Words: ~1100 TW: none

"Viktor!" you shouted, but the man never seemed to even consider stopping. "Viktor, wait!" Your desperation was growing stronger with every step, tears slowly blurring your vision.

Was this what he wanted? To disappear? Leaving you behind like you were nothing?

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice echoed as the man you once loved turned away, the dark cloak gracefully falling onto his new body. He wouldn't have even stopped to look at you if it wasn't for Jayce to tell you he was leaving. His body froze, his mind racing with the new sensations he felt. He slowly turned, strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

"No! I have to…" the hurt in his voice obvious. "I'm not…" he hesitated, not sure what to say next. Was he even alive? Was he even human? "I don't even know what I am anymore…"

You cautiously stepped towards him, taking in his features. He was suffering before, you knew that. He lost a lot of weight in the past years… His sickness was getting stronger, day by day, but now… Now he was standing in front of you, on his own legs. Now he was standing taller, the weakness you once saw in him gone.

Your hand pressed against his cheek, but he wasn't met with the warmth he once felt - it was something unusual. Peaceful, but not in a way he was able to understand. It was electrical, mechanical, not human-like. It was like a fire started underneath your palm, but it didn't hurt. His hand hesitantly touched yours, something that resembled a heartbeat seemingly getting stronger. Was it still his heart?

"I know what you are…" you said, the familiar brown eyes looking at you, their softness ever so unchanged.

"I killed Sky…" his voice trembled slightly, your heart skipping a beat. You were the first he ran to when this happened. The first to know everything he never let anyone know. You were the first to see him for who he really was. And now, thinking that you might be afraid of him, it made his body ache in unpleasant, strange ways. "I am murderer…" he eventually continued, his words quieter than they were in those many nights you spent together, hoping not to wake up anyone.

You just now realised the roughness of this new "skin", the coldness in it, a contrast to his gentle touches. Different from the way he used to worship you any chance he got. You were his only reason to continue fighting. His only reason to continue his research - because maybe, one day, your lives will be better. But the roughness was just on the surface... somehow, you could still feel the warmth. The kindness in his soul was as it always has been - unparalleled.

"No…" You softly said, cupping his cheeks. The touch sent a wave of energy coursing through him, not with the intensity of a shock, but with a steady, unyielding pull that reminded him of life itself. It felt like a promise, something soft yet grounding, pulling him back from the edge of despair. “You’re my Viktor…” The words hung in the air between you, their weight settling in the space around you both. Viktor didn’t move at first.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that you might be lying. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His breath came slower, almost as if he was afraid to exhale, fearful that the fragile connection you had could shatter with a single movement.

Viktor’s forehead found its peace against yours, just as it always did. But this time, there was a tremble in his touch, a hesitant pause before his lips parted to speak again. The gentle pulse of your shared breath seemed to reverberate through your bodies, and for a moment, the world outside of this fragile moment disappeared. You could feel the echo of his heartbeat, faint and distant, but still there, somehow keeping him tethered to you. "And nothing could make me not want to follow you until the end of the time…"

A small smile crept on his face, your words seemingly reassuring him, even if just a little, that maybe he was not as inhuman as he thought he was. "I can't ask you to follow me…" he told you, knowing that it would perhaps mean the end of your life. Knowing that it might bring you more pain than his disappearance would have.

"Of course you don't…" you chuckled. "But I will anyway. I always did as I pleased, right?" the sound of his soft laugh made your heart jump, your ears enlightened as you heard it.

His fingers intertwined with yours, the whole world becoming silent, almost nonexistent. In the stillness of the moment, this touch was a silent understanding, a bond that spoke louder than words ever could. Your souls were connected once again, just as they were always meant to be. Fighting to find each other, fighting to find peace once again and now… fulfilled that they were finally reunited.

"It's not gonna be easy…" he warned, pressing a light kiss on your temple before he moved away, the coldness of his absence making you shiver.

"It's never been… But we managed…"

He smiled and all of the stimulus he felt stopped. Something similar to peace conquered his form now. Something stronger than whatever the Hexcore was doing to him.

You pressed his hand against your chest, the vibrations of your heartbeat resonating through him. You could see his mouth slightly opening in fascination at the intensity of his senses.

"Can you feel it?" you asked. "Can you feel it beating under your touch?"

Viktor’s fingers tightened around your wrist, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, he said nothing. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, a mix of disbelief and awe flickering in his expression.

"I can't promise you I'm the same..." he whispered, his voice trembling as if uncertain whether this was real.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a powerful pain overcoming it at his words. "Whatever IT'll happen, I will face it with you. I know I want this, just please... Please don't push me away." He caressed your cheek, a weak smile on his face as he saw the determination in your eyes. The world became still. It was peaceful now. The past was a distant memory. The future - uncertain.

But the present felt just right.

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[agemmstone]

My father died when I was 14-ish, things with me being trans with him weren't great at all, I showed signs really early, he made me go outside and made me burn the makeshift skirts I made and pray the trans away, I was a child... I didn't have the words to express myself and say what I felt, all I said to get out of trouble is that it was just "curiosity".

He also did this thing about being stern with me, everything I did was wrong, I was weak, a cry baby, "salute with a firm hand, you're a man"...

He died by his own hand, the last person he saw was me, my mom found him after, he saw me in my bed and I looked at him, all I remember is that I didn't like his expression, that face that I interpreted as a face of disapproval at the time, maybe it was something else, but that's the signal he gave me...

Some years after his death I started to think that maybe things are better this way, I still think that, but I don't feel proud of that thought, it's just that I already suffered with my mother, my father would have been impossible, maybe I wouldn't even have a home...

I don't know how much of this is the anger of a ghost too, the how things should have been, the support that I should've had, or is it just a fucked up way to cope with trauma, to think that someone that close is better underground, dead...

My father chases ghosts.

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I once questioned my father on why he treated me with such cold detachment. Why his advice only ever seemed to come in the form of lecturing, and why he never hugged me, or even said he was proud of me. His words in that moment caused the small amount of respect I had for him to shake. He told me that he saw it as the mother's role to love a child, and that it was the father's role to keep the child on the straight and narrow. After some contemplation, I decided in that moment that I disliked him, not just as a parent, but as a person.

My father doesn't have a father. He was the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy between an interracial couple in the 60s... My grandmother was never willing to speak about what happened to my grandfather. I can only imagine he didn't stick around long, since my father never knew him, and grew up with only his mother. And it's always been clear to me that this bothered him. The man idolizes masculinity. Maybe desperate for a father figure, he found role models in his grandfather, whose portrait still hangs in his house and which he treats with great care, and his stepfather, whose surname he took (discarding his mother's last name) and passed on to me. Supposedly, his stepfather left his mother in a matter of years, so why my father idolizes him so, I don't understand. I've never met the man.

Perhaps similarly, my father left his mother's care the second he turned 18. Having lived with my grandmother for some years when I was in college, I can honestly understand why. She is prone to smothering the people she loves. In light of that experience, it maybe becomes easier to understand why my father would prefer a more distant form of parenting. Still, I don't agree with his philosophy on gender roles.

Some years after I transitioned, I had a conversation with my father that stuck with me. He said that he actually saw himself as rather unmasculine, a possibility that had never once occurred to me. With that in mind, I suppose he is somewhat short, and not especially muscular. He told me he had always felt insecure about it. But, unlike me, he had never once considered abandoning the pursuit of masculinity entirely. Rather, in his own words, he felt he needed to chase it even harder. To live up to the image he'd set for himself. The ghost of masculinity.

A lot became clear to me in that moment. My father is obsessed with chasing ghosts of how he thinks things Should Be. My mother once told me how he had this "plan" for where he wanted to be in life at each age. He wanted to live on his own by 20. He wanted to be married by 30. He wanted children by 40. When he found out my mother was pregnant, he married her as fast as he could. My mother didn't really care, but he said they HAD to be married before the baby was born. Things had to go in the right order. According to him, that was just how things Should Be.

He was chasing the ghost of the perfect nuclear family that was denied him.

They divorced when I was eight.

In light of all this, it becomes very clear why he acted the way he did when I was younger. I wasn't how his child Should Be. No matter how many things I was diagnosed with, he never bothered looking into what neurodivergency was, or how to deal with it, and simply held me to the standards of a neurotypical child. My mother tells me that when I was six, he yelled at me in a store for wanting to try on a dress. His child being autistic was something to be ignored until it went away. His child being transgender? Forget it.

In recent years, I think my father has started giving up on me. In a good way. Seeing me become happier as my transition progresses seems to have finally convinced him that he doesn't understand what's best for me, at least somewhat. I speak to him maybe once a month. But I often mourn the idea of a father I could've been closer to. A father with whom I could have had a relationship of love, and support. A father I never had.

Maybe I'm chasing a ghost too.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

maybe an insecure G!P donna x reader?

angie and reader have basically grown to be friends (bc reader has been working as donnas maid for a very long time) and angie brings up the idea of reader being with someone (a woman) with a penis and the reader gives an off reaction, so when reader comes onto donna, she sort of freaks and doesnt know what to do or say in response to readers advances.

(but it obviously ends good)

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

Fears

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, maid! Reader

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

Word count: 8,124

Summary: Why? Why she hides her feelings?

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

The silence, broken by the sound of cutlery, a dim light illuminating the table, that gloomy mansion... It could certainly seem that, like every night for some time now, you were having a romantic dinner with her. But even though all your senses, your feelings told you, whispered to you confirming that you were right, the reality was confusing and mysterious, as always.

There were no kisses, hugs or confessions; it was just you and her. It was a connection that was sometimes very visible and other times you couldn't even perceive.

You weren't a friend, a confidant, a lover, no. You were a maid looking for a way to stop being one, without finding a hidden corner, a secret passage to her feelings, to her heart.

Discreet, but at the same time endowed with a confusing joy for living, you spent the first years of your youth doing what all girls your age longed to do, looking for love. But your interests were far from those of a small majority, from what was expected of a villager, or rather, from what was the norm and not an exception.

Like the cliché of a romantic and dramatic novel, you fell in love with who you shouldn't have and you gave your first love to a stupid girl, thus becoming the worst mistake of your life.

Disappointment and deception were your first lessons, and you learned them too well. With a broken heart and a family on the brink of poverty, you decided to find a way to get away from it all. Being away from the village and at the same time earning some money seemed impossible.

Mother Miranda, the Lords, the Black Gods… they were your captors, the reminder that you would never get out of that place. The Duke, the village merchant, an entity somewhat kinder than the Gods or Mother Miranda seemed like a good solution to your problems.

For a 20-year-old girl like you, it wasn't difficult to aspire to any of the jobs that this extravagant man offered, but what you didn't know was that you wouldn't be an assistant or a merchant, but… a maid.

You were terrified, but you had to help your family. There was no time to think about fears, about what could happen, you simply accepted. Of course you would get away from the village, but the place you were going to was much worse than the memories of a failed love.

Nobody knew exactly who or what Donna Beneviento was. She was a Lord, descendant of the founders of the village, the youngest of her siblings, a doll maker... You didn't know anything else. You knew her mourning figure, the veil that covered her face, the sinister doll that always accompanied her, but the rest was just rumors.

They said she was a very sick, dangerous woman, who could make you suffer your worst nightmares without lifting a finger; they said that entering her territory was like death itself, a journey without return that no one could explain clearly. The reason? Just like the end of life, no one had ever returned to talk about it.

Barely speaking, she accepted your presence as a useful nuisance. You couldn’t hide your fear, the tremors of your body when you had her near. The rumors were present every day in your head and every night you wondered if it would be the last.

But time passed and nightmares didn’t haunt you. You couldn’t feel comfortable in her presence, in her elegant steps and glances through the black fabric, but you got used to it.

Donna was a strange woman, withdrawn, sick, and had no interest in you, in your presence or in your work, at least at first. Time was in your favor, as you began to stop shaking and accepted that you would continue to be in that place, that you wouldn’t disappear in that waterfall.

You did everything a maid did: clean, do the laundry, prepare your mistress a hot tea every afternoon... You did everything, except cook. You didn't know exactly why the lady in black was reticent in that regard, but you did know that you would never cook as well as she did.

Time again settled that strange coexistence, and conversations stopped being simple words or timid gestures, to let the words flow little by little. Of course, the attitude of the Angie doll was completely different from that of her owner, in fact, many times you prayed to the Gods for her to leave you alone.

Accustomed to your new life, you began to pass each of the challenges you set for yourself, knowing what to say to Donna to make her look at you or respond, and how to deal with that sinister puppet.

One afternoon, without warning, the lady in black pulled the veil from her face in front of you, leaving you pinned to an old chair. The people who said that a monster was hidden under that black cloth had never seen one in their lives. Donna was a truly beautiful woman, with a face damaged by selling her soul to the Gods.

Her face was damaged, yes, but not her beauty. Finally seeing the face of the mysterious woman laid the foundation for what was a chain of events that would continue until that very day.

She knew how to smile, she did it often. Her pale skin blushed with your compliments; her soft hands caressed yours from time to time, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

Your heart wasn’t oblivious to all of that, to those changes in your way of seeing things, in the way in which little by little, you began to see Donna.

That cowardly girl from the village abruptly left your thoughts, pushed by the constant image of the smile of the lady in black, by those timid and apparently innocent approaches. Denying it would be foolish; your heart had chosen, had chosen to fall in love with Donna Beneviento.

What could have been a new illusion in your life mutated unintentionally into a constant longing, into much more intentional approaches, into caresses that you began to provoke.

Donna seemed more than satisfied with your hands in hers, with a sweet smile, with a loving gaze staring into yours.

Again, it seemed like a love story worthy of a novel, but you should have already known that fiction was just that, fiction.

The tension was constant, the silences between you always seemed to precede a kiss, a confession, a confirmation that it was really happening, but it never did.

Donna, who at first seemed to want to get closer, moved further and further away. She seemed just as in love as you, but something told her to stop. When you were close to her, when you couldn't do anything but kiss her, she moved away with any stupid excuse.

Close, far, close, very close, and very far. She never said anything, never confessed the feelings you saw in her eye. You just settled for that special friendship, that tender relationship that maybe was just that.

The fear of misinterpreting things, of making a mistake and losing what it took you so long to achieve, made you deflate, but not give up.

If she was scared, if she needed you to wait for her to gain enough courage to tell you that you weren't fooling yourself, of course you would. You would wait for her until she was ready, whatever it took.

“It's delicious,” you said, blinking in pleasure at the food, earning her beautiful smile back with a slight nod.

“Grazie, (Y/N),” her hoarse voice replied. “But it's not the first time you've tried lasagna.”

“I know, but it's always delicious,” you said amused, shaking your head, searching your mind for the right way to stop silence from reigning again. “Someday I'd like to learn how to make it.”

Donna looked at you and smiled again, looking at you curiously.

“You... do you want me to teach you?” she asked in a cautious whisper, as if she didn't believe your words, as if deep down she knew that all you wanted was to hear her voice.

“Yes... well, if you want, of course,” you said, looking down to continue with dinner. “If you don't want to teach this clumsy maid how to cook...”

“No, no, no, um...” she said nervously, with the words coming out of her mouth with difficulty. “I didn't mean to seem rude. It's just that it surprised me. No one had ever asked me to teach them how to cook.”

“Well, I have,” you said jokingly, rolling your eyes adorably and making her nervous again, holding her gaze.

“Actually... I haven't gotten involved with many people so...” Donna murmured, wiping herself with a napkin. “I mean, with no one really and... Ugh...” she sighed nervously, looking down.

“Has no one ever told you that you cook wonderfully?” you asked curiously, to which she simply shook her head.

“I've always cooked for myself,” she explained. “You're the first person to try my dishes.”

“It's an honor,” you whispered, bowing shyly. “You're also the first person I've worked for as a maid, so it's a tie.”

“Yes,” she sighed, sipping some wine to hide her blush. “You're also very good at cleaning and… you leave clothes sparkling clean and…”

“The washing machine does that,” you joked, gesturing with your hand.

“Yes, but… I mean, you're a good maid and… Ugh, I better shut up,” Donna muttered, frowning.

“No, please, I like listening to you,” you said with a serious tone, making her smile discreetly.

“(Y/N), why did you decide to serve me?” she asked with a slightly different, distrustful voice. “I know your parents need the money but… Why me? You could have been more comfortable in the castle.”

“To be honest, the Duke offered me the job,” you whispered, with the demons of your past stalking you. “I'm not going to lie to you, Donna, at first I was a little scared with the idea of ​​coming here and…”

“With me,” Donna added, with a hurt sigh and a dark look.

“Well, yes,” you said sincerely, drinking from your glass. “But I couldn't refuse, I… needed to get out of the village and if I tell you the truth, I never believed in rumors.”

“Did you need to get out of the village?” the lady asked curiously, arching her eyebrow. “Perché?”

“It's a long story,” you murmured, relaxing your expression. “I don't want to be boring by telling you about my misfortunes.”

“Oh, no, please, tell me,” Donna said, blinking curiously, with a look that you couldn't deny anything to. “I'd like to know.”

“Okay…” you sighed, taking a breath and turning your eyes away from hers. “Well, it turns out I fell in love with a girl from the village,” you began, remembering worse times.

Donna nodded impatiently, giving her full attention.

“I thought she was wonderful, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen and, well, all those things you think about when you're in love,” you said, playing with the delicious food. “I'll just say that her family was very… traditional, they didn't look kindly on their little girl having anything to do with a poor girl like me, especially a with a girl.”

“I don't understand,” she said, shaking her head, not missing a detail of your sad story. “Why not?”

“Well, I guess there are people like that,” you sighed, controlling the sudden moisture in your eyes. “The issue wasn't what her family thought, I didn't care, but she did.”

“Oh,” Donna sighed, looking down, sensing the end of that story.

“Yes...” you said, shaking your head. “You know what? I thought love could overcome all that nonsense and prejudices. The truth is that knowing that wasn't the case was what hurt me the most.”

“Don't you believe in love?” the lady asked, innocently.

You couldn't help but smile, smile when you looked at her, seeing her bright eye giving off curiosity about what you felt about love.

“I thought I didn’t but... I was wrong,” you said, trying not to be too obvious.

“Have you found someone?” she asked abruptly, clenching her fists in a suspicious, nervous way. “Who?”

“I'm still not sure,” you whispered with melancholy, knowing that Donna would never, ever think that that someone was her. “I envy you.”

“Envy?” she asked, shaking her head with a strange look.

“You, the Lords,” you said, shrugging. “You aren’t judged, you can do whatever you want.”

“Um, well…” Donna murmured, frowning. “But that's not…”

“I wish Mother Miranda had adopted me too. It would be great to be completely free and also have powers. You're very lucky…”

“Lucky!?” the lady shrieked, hitting the table with her fist, scaring you with her abrupt attitude. “Lucky, you say?”

“That's the way I think,” you said confused, taking your hands off the table, noticing the trembling of her body. “You're a powerful woman, no one tells you what to do.”

“You have no idea, (Y/N),” Donna hissed, getting up slowly, threateningly. “You just talk nonsense. You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'm sorry, have I offended you? I thought that…” you said nervously, fearing for the tranquility of that night.

“Would you sell your soul to the Gods to feel free? Do you realize what you're saying?” she asked in an accusatory tone, pointing at you with her finger.

“You did it,” you said strangely, crossing your arms.

“Yes,” she said coldly, leaning towards you. “I paid the consequences. You don't know what she did to me…”

“She offered you a gift, one more chance, eternal life, that sounds good to me,” you answered sincerely, a grave mistake, since the lady was increasingly nervous, her body trembling with anger.

“A gift…” she sighed, with a nervous laugh. “Look at me!” she shouted, pointing at the deformity of her face. “Do you think this is a gift!?”

“Donna…” you sighed, moving your hands to try to calm her down. “I've told you many times that it doesn't matter, you're beautiful and…”

“Sei una stupida…” the brunette hissed, clenching her teeth. “You don't know what it's like to look like this, you don't know what that gift did to me, what it did to my body…”

“Body? What's wrong with your body?” you asked confused, looking her up and down. “You have a beautiful body, what…?”

“Nothing, forget it,” she whispered, controlling her breathing and closing her eye.

“Donna, what…?” you asked, getting up and bringing your hand to rest on her arm.

“I said forget it,” the lady growled, pulling away from your hold with an annoyed gasp.

“But…”

“Forget it! Porca puttana! Lasciami!” she shrieked angrily, kicking the floor and turning with a sob, disappearing down the elevator hallway.

“Donna…” you sighed, frustrated by that argument, one that you had unintentionally provoked. “But what did I say?”

“Nonsense, as always,” a shrill voice said, the Angie doll, who approached you with a comical step.

The puppet was always jealous of your presence, at least for a while. Little by little you managed to gain her trust. Sometimes you wished you had that complicit friendship with the lady and not with that rebellious mix of porcelain and wood.

“I haven't said anything bad, right?” you asked curiously, letting yourself fall into the chair and resting your hand on your forehead. “I just wanted to praise her.”

“Praise her? Well, you're really bad at it, silly,” Angie mocked. “Anyway, I hope you haven't forgotten our game session tomorrow.”

“What? How can you be thinking about that?” you asked annoyed, while you looked at the hallway. “I screwed up things with Donna, again, help me.”

“Help yourself, silly maid,” the doll snapped at you, tilting her head. “You can start by keeping that mouth shut.”

“What did I say? Angie, do you know what she meant?” you insisted, looking for an explanation for the lady's behavior. “Look, I know Donna is embarrassed by her looks, but I thought she was over that and…”

“She wears a damn veil every time she leaves the house. Do you think she's over it?” the puppet hummed. “Um, lasagna…”

“Well, she doesn't wear it with me,” you muttered thoughtfully, staring into space. “I don't understand what that was about, I thought…”

“Stop thinking so many things, silly girl, and pick this up, I'll deal with your mess,” Angie said, patting your back and getting off the table, walking towards the elevator. “Big mouth!”

“Hey! But…” you protested, shaking your head and growling in frustration. “Damn…”

With no other options, knowing that it was going to be a rough night for your lady, you decided to obey the doll, which mysteriously seemed to be the more rational part of the lady when she lost her mind.

You were never allowed to deal with those horrible crises and psychotic attacks, but you were convinced that you would eventually be able to, although that night didn't seem like progress at all.

In silence, mulling over what your unforgivable mistake could have been, you did your maid's work, cleaning the dishes in the kitchen under a deathly silence, a silence that betrayed a distant sob coming from the lady in black's room.

You knew Angie was with her and that you shouldn't worry too much, but a second sob prevented you from going up to your room and caused your legs to move on their own towards the bedroom.

“A-A-Angie... I can't take it anymore...” you heard the lady sobbing, whom you could see through a crack.

Donna was at her dressing table, her head buried in her hands, faithfully accompanied by the only friend she ever had, and that wasn't you.

“Come on, come on, she didn't mean any harm,” the doll said while you listened. “She has no way of knowing that…”

“That's the problem, Angie,” the lady said, raising her head a little. “Cazzo… she doesn't…”

“Hey, hey, Donna, relax… I'm convinced that if you tell her…”

“I can't tell her! Don't you realize? She would never understand, she would leave and I would… be alone again…” Donna said, making you frown, not knowing what they were talking about, but sensing that it had something to do with you.

“Well, I think she would understand. She's nice, I'm sure…” the doll said, with a petulant tone.

“No!” Donna shrieked again, with a completely broken voice. “No, Angie, I can't keep her away from me, I... she...”

“You're almost as stupid as she is. That's nonsense, Donna,” Angie said, in a mocking, dangerous tone. “Let me take care of that.”

“Cosa? You?” the lady asked, shaking her head. “Angie, don't you even dare to...”

“Leave it to me, my dear Donna, we’re friends,” the doll said.

You didn't want to risk listening any further and you disappeared with a subtle step, wondering over and over again what was going on.

Fantasizing, tossing and turning in bed, you imagined what that secret could be. Logic and your hopeful heart whispered dangerous theories in your ear, whispered that maybe, just maybe, she had feelings for you and that the mere fact of acknowledging it was a torment for her.

The reasons? You didn't know. It could be because of her status as a Lord, because of the irrational fear of a relationship, or because she considered you a silly maid who couldn't feel the same.

It was definitely nonsense. You were madly in love with Donna, nothing could change your mind, but there was something you could do to change hers.

The shy and slightly submissive attitude you always had with her wasn’t going to serve to get results, you would have to be more direct, subtly force her to stop being afraid, to say something you already knew, that she knew. But you would have to be cautious and not take hasty steps.

Everything you thought or believed was pure conjecture from a stupid girl in love. One wrong step and everything would end. You would lose that wonderful woman, that woman you were longing to love.

“Donna,” you said the next morning, entering the workshop with an innocent smile, pretending that nothing had happened.

“Mm,” she murmured, focused on an almost finished doll, without looking at you.

“How pretty,” you whispered tenderly, looking over her shoulder at the creation.

The lady couldn't help but smile, handing you the doll so you could see it closer, satisfied by your compliments.

“It's almost finished,” she said with a distracted look as you gave it back to her. “Do you want something, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, well…” you said somewhat nervously, trying to search in your mind for the strategy you had already rehearsed. “Hey, I was thinking about yesterday…”

Donna lowered her gaze, suddenly tensing her whole body and breathing with difficulty.

“I don't want to talk, go away,” she said, with a dangerous hiss, moving away from your proximity.

“Oh, wow,” you sighed in a sad tone, pouting. “I thought you were excited to teach me how to make lasagna…”

“Mm?” she murmured again, frowning and looking at you briefly.

“Don't you remember? It seemed like you wanted to teach me,” you insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder, one that she glanced at, but didn't move away. “Well, if you're not in the mood, I won't bother you anymore.”

“Un attimo, (Y/N),” she interrupted, getting up from the chair when you were about to leave the place, playing nervously with her hands. “I-I'd like to teach you.”

“Great,” you said with a bright smile, putting your hands on your hips.

She smiled back, nervously nodding.

“Um… let me finish this and…” Donna sighed, with a different glint in her eye, one that betrayed interest, almost excitement.

“Hey, not at all!” Angie shrieked, also entering the workshop. “Don't you know what time it is, you silly, silly girl?” she asked, demanding an explanation.

“Well…” you said, glancing at the clock.

“It's playtime, silly maid! Have you forgotten?” Angie told you, insistently hitting your shin.

“Angie, Iasciala estare,” Donna sighed, glaring at the doll. “I'm going to teach her how to cook.”

“That's fine,” the doll said, nodding and walking towards her owner. “But first things first, Donna, she has to play with me.”

“Angie…” the lady growled, with visible impatience.

“No, um… it doesn't matter, Angie is right, playtime is sacred,” you said amused, with a childish tone, bringing a bold hand to the lady's cheek, which trembled with the contact. “That way you can finish that pretty doll…”

Donna blinked when she lost contact with your skin and opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn't seem to want to come out of her lips, so she just nodded, bringing her own hand to the place where yours rested.

You smiled satisfied, turning around and leaving a petrified lady behind you as you walked with Angie through the basement.

“Let's see…” Angie whispered, rummaging through an old drawer where she kept her favorite games.

Throughout that year, playing with the doll had been just another part of your routine. You couldn't deny that it was fun deep down, and as loud and irreverent as Angie was, you considered her something very, very close to a friend, a special one, of course.

“How about chess?” you suggested, taking out the board as you sat on the floor.

“No!” Angie shrieked, destroying your ears. “Cards, cards...”

“Cards again?” you asked, rolling your eyes as the doll pulled out a deck of cards.

“Yes, but not just any cards...” Angie murmured in a mysterious tone. “Let's play Angie poker.”

“Angie poker? You just made that up, didn't you?” you joked, laughing amusedly.

“Shut up, you silly, silly,” the doll protested, placing the deck in front of you.

“How do you play?” you asked while shuffling.

“It's like normal poker, but…” she explained, sitting on the floor.

“But,” you whispered in an intriguing, curious tone.

“If I win, you'll have to answer a question, whatever it is, and you'll have to tell me the truth,” the doll commented, making you frown.

“A question?” you asked, distrustful.

“Yes, silly, a question. If I win, I'll ask you a question and you'll answer honestly,” the puppet said again while you sighed, somewhat nervous.

“What if I win?” you asked, shaking your head.

“That's not going to happen,” Angie mocked, hitting the floor with one hand. “Come on, come on, deal.”

As expected, the doll didn't take long to win you over, no matter how hard you tried, you would have to answer her.

“Okay, you win,” you said, throwing your cards reluctantly and crossing your arms. “Come on, ask.”

“Mm, well...” Angie whispered, rubbing her hands. “First question, silly, silly, have you only been with girls?”

“It's an easy question,” you murmured thoughtfully. “I had some boyfriends when I was a teenager, but you could say that I have,” you answered without hesitation.

“Interesting,” Angie commented, studying your gaze. “Well, (Y/N), come on, another round.”

You laughed, arching your eyebrows at that fun game. Well, it wasn't so fun when you had defeat in front of you again.

“I have the same,” you protested at the doll's sinister laughter.

“Yeah, but my card is higher,” Angie mocked. “You lost again, silly, next question.”

“Ugh,” you complained, shaking your head. “Go.”

“Well… you said you had a boyfriend…” Angie murmured, with a more discreet tone than usual. “Have you ever touched a penis?”

“What?” you said, eyes wide, heart completely stopped. “Angie, what kind of question is that?”

“It's my question, answer it, loser,” Angie said, unfazed by what she had asked.

“Hey, that…” you whispered discreetly, looking around for more ears in the room. “That's none of your business, I'm not going to answer.”

“Coward, huh? Those are the rules, silly,” the doll said in a dark voice.

“No, not a chance,” you said, refusing flatly. “Ask something else.”

“No, I want you to answer that,” Angie said impatiently. “Come on… we're friends, friends talk about those things.”

“Angie, I don't think…” you whispered nervously, biting your tongue.

“Answer, maid, or I'll tell Donna that you think her lasagna is crap,” the puppet threatened, looking at her hands cockily. “You don't want that, do you?”

“Oh, you wouldn't dare…” you hissed, narrowing your eyes.

“Try,” the doll crooned, making you refuse again, which caused Angie to get up and walk past you. “Donna! Look what she said…!”

“Shh!” you hissed nervously, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. “Shut up, damn,” you growled, knowing you had nothing to do against her.

“Answer me,” she demanded again, freeing herself from your grip.

You growled again, squeezing your eyes tightly and rubbing them with your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you said in a discreet whisper. “I'm not going to give you a concrete answer. I just say that I experimented.”

“Oh…” Angie murmured, laughing amused. “Did you like it?”

“That's another question,” you said in a dark tone, wanting to throw the irreverent puppet into the fireplace.

“Oh, come on, you'll never win,” Angie said, leaning towards you. “You know it, look, I have all the aces.”

“Damn…” you swore. “Angie, what did I say about cheating?”

“Silly,” she mocked, making you hiss again and look away. “Come on, answer, did you like it?”

“I'm not going to answer that, what are these questions about?” you said annoyed and embarrassed.

“Curiosity,” Angie said dryly. “Come on, yes or no?”

“Ugh…” you sighed, wishing time would pass faster. “Well, it was different, but I never got as far as…”

“Would you like to do it again?” Angie asked, with a less mocking tone, as if she was serious.

“Okay, that's enough, I've played with you, now...” you said, getting up from the floor, ready to flee to Donna's company, to a shelter without Angie.

“Donna! (Y/N) doesn't like your lasagna at all!” the doll shrieked, making you grab her roughly, covering her moving mouth.

“Will you shut up? What's all this about?” you asked nervously, unable to put the pieces together in your mind, you wish you had done it before.

“If you don't answer, face the consequences,” she threatened again, making you twist your hands, imagining that between them, there was a wooden neck.

“You're...” you hissed, crossing your arms and giving up. “Well, no, Angie, I don't like boys.”

“I don't talk about stupid boys, silly,” the doll corrected, signaling you to sit back down.

Reluctantly, you obeyed, letting yourself fall to the floor.

“No? So what are you talking about?” you asked in a cold, annoyed and slightly embarrassed tone.

“You know…” Angie whispered, getting closer to your ear with a childish giggle. “Penises…”

“Ugh,” you said blushing and shaking your head.

“What if…? I don't know. If it wasn't a man, but a woman… would you like her penis?” she asked again, making you blush even more and raise your eyebrows.

“But, Angie, that's not possible, unless it's some kind of voluntary change, I once met someone who…” you explained, trying to find some rationality in that absurd conversation.

“I'm not talking about that, silly,” the doll said, interrupting you. “I'm talking to you about... well, what if it was an involuntary change?”

“Okay, I don't understand anything, what are you trying to tell me?” you asked, losing patience, finding multiple explanations in your head, some of which you didn't pay the attention they required.

“I mean, silly, silly... I'd like to know what you would think if... well, if you were in love with a woman, but she had a penis, not by her own will, but because of... the Cadou...”

“Cadou? What is that?” you asked.

“That doesn't matter now, silly, what matters is your answer,” Angie said, as if she had said something she shouldn't.

“You haven't asked any questions.”

“Because you don’t let me talk,” protested Angie. “Well, if you were in love with her, what would you do? Would you reject her just because she has a penis?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t. If I loved that woman I wouldn't care about anything else,” you answered from the heart, without even thinking about what it would imply, the meaning of those strange questions. “Seriously, what is Cadou?”

“I'm the one who asks the questions,” Angie said, with a slightly more nervous tone.

“They are very strange questions,” you said nervously, looking at the clock from time to time to end that torture.

“Don't be a whiner, come on, the last one,” the doll said, giving you a strong slap on the back. “And tell the truth, silly... I know when you lie to me.”

“How scary,”

“Shut up and answer: You love my Donna, don't you?” she asked in a low, kind tone, very different from the rest of her impertinent questions.

Of course you got nervous. The doll's statement was true, terribly correct, but you didn't know that she could even sense your feelings.

It was clear, the conversation from the night before was about you, but… if Angie wanted to know, why beat around the bush? Why such strange questions if that was what she really wanted to ask? It didn't make sense, no sense at all, unless…

“Gods, Angie, is it true? Does Donna have a…?” you asked, open-mouthed, blinking in confusion. “Gods, that's why…”

“Hey, that's not my question,” the doll protested. “I didn't say anything, do you hear me? You’re just drawing your stupid conclusions.”

“Angie, but, but, but how is that possible?” you asked curiously, stopping the doll from running away by grabbing her by the arms. “I don't understand anything.”

“I've already told you, silly, silly, when Mother Miranda adopted my Donna, her face isn't the only thing that changed,” the doll explained, then covering her mouth. “Oh, shit, I shouldn't have said that…”

“Hey, hey, wait, wait!” you said chasing Angie, who naturally ran away terrified by her mistake. “Hey, I do, I love her and I don't care about…!”

Your screams were of no use, as your mind was occupied with your thoughts. Suddenly, everything started to make sense.

 The doll maker's insecurities went far beyond her face, and you had no idea. Slowly, memories of your encounters began to fall on you, encounters where Donna would always back away when your bodies got close.

It wasn't an easy issue to understand. Surely she did have feelings for you, but her insecurities were too big, how could she expect you to fall in love with her if she probably thought you wouldn't like her body?

Poor Donna, it must have been terrible for her to think that you would never love her, that all she could do was discreetly walk away when you pretended to do the opposite. How could she confess her feelings? She couldn't be hiding it from you forever and as long as you found out... well, she would think you would leave, that you would be disgusted.

The revelation was strange, yes, but it wasn't anything especially surprising in a place like that. You were totally honest with Angie, you didn't care at all. You loved her, with a scar, without a scar, with a penis or without it.

It was an important step to begin to understand her feelings, but your mind understood it as the last step, as the green signal that indicated you could run as much as you wanted, that the path was clear.

You had been wanting to declare your love for her for a long time, wanting to kiss her, to feel her. Surely that is why you decided to end the tension at that very moment, and act, to force her in a certain way to admit that she felt the same for you.

To do so you would need some improvised strategy, to rescue some of that extroverted and daring personality you once had and you knew was somewhere. In addition, you had a unique opportunity for it, a great cooking lesson.

“That's it... gently,” she indicated while you cut the dough to form some perfect lasagna sheets, with a tender smile and a subtle purr. “I know I can buy it ready-made, but I like to do it this way.”

“Mm, it's much better if you do it with your own hands, isn't it?” you asked as you shook the flour off. “I hope I'm a good student.”

“Of course you are,” Donna whispered, giving you a tender smile as she moved away from you a little, stirring the sauce. “But pasta isn't everything. The main thing for a good lasagna is the…”

The lady froze when you approached from behind, grabbing her waist to stand on tiptoe and look over her shoulder. She trembled, speechless, but she didn't move away, she didn't take your hands off her body, innocent hands with not so innocent intentions.

“Mm? What, Donna?” you asked in a honeyed voice, as she moved gracefully so your hands would move on their own, away from her.

“T-The sauce,” she said, looking away and nervously stirring the appetizing contents of the pan.

“Yeah, sure, the filling is the most important thing, isn't it?” you asked pretending to be distracted, making her blink again, nodding slowly.

“Y-Yes…” she sighed. “Look, come.”

You smiled more widely as the lady left you some space to stand next to her, pointing at the pan.

“Mm, it smells wonderful,” you sighed, getting a little closer, shamelessly invading her personal space, leaving her no room to back away. “Can I try it?”

She just nodded, watching how your body brushed against hers, how your breasts brushed her arm in an intentional movement, with the wooden spoon shaking in her hand.

“Here,” she whispered frowning and offering you the spoon.

“Can you give it to me?” you asked, blinking childishly, not looking away from her confused eye.

“Em… va bene,” she murmured, dipping the spoon into the sauce and bringing it to your mouth while you held her hands, moaning in pleasure at the taste of the meat.

“Delicious,” you whispered, licking your lips sensually and making poor Donna look away, nodding.

“Ti piace?” she asked, moving away again, pretending to look for something in a nearby cupboard.

“Mi piace, mi piace,” you answered amused, chasing her slowly, standing behind her again. “What are you looking for?”

“Um, spices, yes, spices,” she said nervously, rummaging through the drawers.

“Parsley? You've already put it, haven't you?” you asked, looking at the jar she picked up, turning her hand with yours and taking a step towards her body again, being terribly close.

“Yes, but, but…” Donna murmured, seeing how her defenses fell, how your proximity completely deactivated her, just as you expected. “It's just that…”

Without thinking twice, you acted, directly, forcefully, bringing your lips closer to hers, catching them in a sweet, but deep kiss, which made the lady in black drop the jar as your lips consumed hers.

You pulled away with a curious look, seeing how her eye was wide open and her jaw dropped. She wasn't able to say or do anything, it seemed like she had been paralyzed. You could take advantage of that.

“Donna, the parsley,” you said pointing to the floor and bending down in front of her to pick up the jar, going up slowly, very slowly. “Be more careful, it could have broken,” you whispered, with a smug smile, handing the parsley to the motionless lady and moving away to leave her alone, at least for a moment.

It was the best kiss of your life, but it was also one that got no response. You fought inside yourself not to kneel down and confess your love, not to repeat the wet actions of your lips again.

You decided to tone down the euphoria a bit and continue cooking as if nothing had happened. Donna was nervous, terribly nervous, but she tried by all means not to lose her composure.

That lunch was the most tense of your life.

Silence reigned as always, but the looks were different. A tender smile decorated your face as she watched you, trying to decipher your actions, the reason for that stolen, treacherous kiss.

She didn't say anything, but neither did you, at least until, after eating, you decided to continue with your approaches, taking advantage of the fact that the lady was trying to distract herself by reading on the sofa.

You sat very close to her, her dress brushing against yours and, comically, she cleared her throat, moving away a little, but being chased by you until she was cornered.

Suddenly Donna put her book aside and sighed, looking at you briefly and shaking her head.

“Why did you do it?” she asked with a hoarse voice, a nervous whisper.

“What?” you asked, pretending to be confused, playing seductively with your hair.

“You kissed me,” she murmured after a few seconds of silence, avoiding looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“You didn’t like it?” you asked, pouting. “Because I think you did…”

“I asked first, (Y/N),” Donna said, in a stern tone, frowning as she clenched the fabric of the couch in her fists.

“I don't know, I wanted to know how your lips felt,” you purred, resting your head on your hand. “I've been wondering that for a long time.”

“So, so... what's your verdict?” the lady asked shyly, slowly falling into your trap.

“Mm, I don't know. Maybe I'll have to give you another one to check it out,” you joked, getting closer again while she laughed shyly, with an obvious blush on her cheeks. “Unless you didn't like it.”

“I...” Donna murmured, shaking her head and closing her eye tightly. “I-I wouldn't mind if you kissed me again.”

“Mm, okay,” you said amused, getting closer to her lips, kissing them softly, letting her hands caress your face while she experimented, caressing you with her lips in a tender, but shaky way.

“W-Wait, (Y/N),” she said, slowly moving away and brushing your hair away from your face. “We shouldn't do this.”

“Why?” you asked in a more serious tone, far from joking. “Donna, I'm tired of enduring this tension between us... I know you feel the same way as I do... You can't refuse to admit it.”

“You're my maid, and it's not right,” she said, crossing her arms with a nervous gasp, looking at you comically out of the corner of her eye.

“It's not because of that, and you know it,” you said, taking her hand and pulling it towards you. “Donna, why do you insist on hiding?”

“(Y/N), look, maybe, maybe you're right and maybe I'm... madly in love with you, but it can't be possible,” Donna finally acknowledged, squeezing your hand in hers. “Don't ask why, tesoro, just... just accept it, okay?”

“No, I don't accept it,” you said seriously, with a brusque tone. “Stop hiding, my love… I, listen, I…”

“You don't understand, you're not capable of understanding it,” she hissed, moving away from you and passing a hand over her forehead.

“Kiss me again, Donna, please…” you begged, pushing away her fears, confusing her again with a deep kiss, one that she returned as you noticed how a tear ran down her cheek.

It was a different kiss, wilder, deeper, one that silenced the voices in her mind, that fear she had of not being loved, those insecurities. Your hands went to her face, to her hair; they went down her body slowly, not giving her time to think about what you were doing.

She stopped, but only for an instant, before continuing with those panting, hungry kisses, while your hand rested on her leg, moving up little by little.

“Basta, basta,” the doll maker said pulling away and placing a hand on your wrist. “Don't go on, per favore,”she sighed, embarrassed.

“Donna, stop... being afraid,” you whispered, wiping away one of her tears, hissing at the brunette's grip on your wrist. “Listen to me, I know everything, I know why you hide, I know why you ran away from me when I came near, I know why you deny yourself the desire you have to love me…”

“What? How do you…? Ugh, cazzo…” she hissed, pulling away and getting up from the couch. -Angie, vieni qui!”

“Shh, it's okay, Donna,” you said, lowering her back onto the couch little by little while she trembled in embarrassment. “She just wanted to help you.”

“Help me? But you, you know it and…” she stammered, breathing heavily.

“I'm here, kissing you, don't you see, darling?” you asked, caressing her cheek, guiding her to look at you. “Donna, I don't care, I love you just the way you are.”

“It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault!” she screamed furiously, while you fought against her demons.

“Shh, I know, I know,” you whispered affectionately, nodding slowly. “I know, Donna…”

“I didn't want this to happen to me… I just wanted to have someone, a family… to stop being the crazy Donna Beneviento but… I, I became a… a mons…”

“No, don't even think about saying that,” you cut her off abruptly. “You're a wonderful woman, Donna, you really are and I… I love you, I love you and nothing can change that, nothing, do you hear me?”

“But I'm not what you're looking for,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Mm, do you even know what I'm looking for?” you asked amused, making her laugh shyly. “No, right? Then… let's stop fooling around, stop holding back, stop being afraid and let us to love each other.”

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, unable to stop your lips, which silenced hers again while your hand returned to the desired place, caressing her leg slowly, following the rhythm of her kisses.

“Shh, don't talk. Let our bodies do it,” you purred in her ear, pushing her chest gently so that her back rested on the couch.

Everything was already said, everything was clear, she loves you, you loved her, there was only one last thing left to do: an act of love, an act that would demonstrate the reality of your words, of your feelings.

Kisses began to calm the silence, small gasps replaced her complaints and fears and her hands lost control, wandering over your dress, grabbing your back, pulling you closer, much closer.

Your legs climbed over her hips as you fought the gasps, her wandering hands clawing, clinging to your clothes. Your mischievous hand moved up her leg, making her breathing quicken as you approached her shame.

You laughed on her lips as your fingers ran over her covered, but very noticeable erection. There was no doubt that she wanted it, that she wanted you in a wild way, you didn't know to what extent she did.

“You're beautiful,” you whispered to calm her nerves, to let the caresses on her dress not be uncomfortable, but quite the opposite.

She didn't answer, she looked at your hand with doubts, but it didn't take long for her to kiss you again, to stop thinking, to let herself be carried away by all those longed-for sensations. Not afraid to go fast, to quench the thirst for love that your body had throughout that year, you continued to stimulate her little by little, grabbing her gently, causing terribly erotic moans to vibrate on your lips.

“Wait,” the lady said, nervous and excited, when your hand went inside her skirt to free her shaft and expose it to you. “Wait…”

“Shh, allow me,” you said putting a finger on her lips while your hand did its job, freeing her hard erection, making you feel her hot skin between your fingers. “I know I'm going fast, but I can't hold back the desire to love you… Oh, wow, not bad,” you said amused, looking down while your hand made soft movements up and down.

“Don't look at it,” she complained, looking away, closing her eyes to avoid seeing your lustful actions.

“Donna, you're perfect, your whole body is perfect and I want it,” you said sweetly, knowing that she wouldn't be able to complete that impure act and freeing yourself from your own underwear, climbing a further on her body.

“(Y/N), I…” Donna said, enduring the pleasure of your fingers caressing the tip, of the soft and inexperienced movements you made to align her erection with your wet entrance.

“Shh…” you moaned again, letting the heat of her shaft pass to your entrance, to rub against it, to play cruelly with it until you lowered your body slowly, introducing it inside you and closing your eyes at the sensation.

“Oddio…” the lady moaned as she felt how she slid into you, how your walls, so unaccustomed to it, adapted as you lowered yourself more and more, until she was completely inside. “Così buono…”

“Mm,” you moaned, enduring that discomfort you felt at the intrusion, dancing slowly, very slowly on her hips. “Oh, Donna… it's just perfect.”

“Can you move? Please,” she asked you, trembling with the pleasure of feeling your warmth, of being inside you in a unique and special way.

You nodded once your body got completely used to it, going up and down, feeling how it slid, how the hands of the shy and insecure Donna traveled to your hips, marking the rhythm of your movements.

“Yes, Donna…” you moaned, feeling an overwhelming heat, pleasurable and unmatched sensations, dancing, going up, going down, squeezing her erection with your slippery walls, accompanying those obscene sounds with soft moans.

You had wanted to do something like that for a long time, wanting to give yourself completely to Donna, no matter how. The pleasure you felt was shocking, unbearable at a certain point, especially when the soft movements of her hips began to get out of control.

Her shaft throbbed inside you, calling, demanding a release that you complied with by pulling back, trembling, squeezing her inside you with a moan that was going to traumatize the elusive Angie.

“(Y/N), I can't… hold it…” Donna moaned, her nails digging into your skin, just before her own release erupted inside you, warming you up, covering you with the wet caress of her seed. “Oh, cazzo…”

“Wow, that was fast,” you joked, moving with her still inside you, giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

“I'm sorry, I…” she said, visibly embarrassed.

“Don't worry, Donna, I was saying it to me too. I think we've been hiding what we felt for a long time,” you replied, caressing her cheek

“Yes, we have…”

[sandwitchstories]

Sweet Suffering

Hi guys! I'm back! I hope you all enjoy another adventure in Mouse's Mini-verse with your favorite pink haired, two year old menace!

For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Kenjaku makes a surprise visit and Mouse strikes again. Kids say the dandest things, don't they? (My alternate title for this fic was 'Mouse vs Kenjaku')

If you would prefer to read this story on AO3, click here !

WC: 1900

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' and 'Mother' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, family fluff, Uraume and Kenjaku (Heian era) are bothi n this one, there is 1 swear word, no one likes Kenjaku

Sukuna sat on the engawa having tea while Mouse roamed around the yard singing a song she made up as she went, picking flowers, piling up leaves and doing a jump occasionally that reminded him of a frog. He had no clue what the little jump was for, why she was doing it or where the hell she had learned it from, but it was keeping her happy and occupied so he said nothing. If he had learned anything thus far in the 2 years he had been a parent, it was to NOT try to make sense of toddlers.

Sukuna raised his head and narrowed his gaze as he felt a powerful curse energy approaching. This visit was unplanned. And you were not going to be a happy camper when you got home if the curse approaching was still here. Mouse apparently sensed the energy too as she froze and looked towards its direction before bolting to him. 

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” She squealed, racing across the yard as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her. He lifted her up when she reached him so she could stand on his thigh. She immediately leaned into him and tangled her hands in his clothes. 

“You're fine, Mouse,” he told her, putting a hand on her back to steady her and soothe her. 

Sukuna was glad you were not there as Kenjaku came into the yard whistling. You couldn't stand him. The nicest thing you had ever said about him was that he was a leech that had latched onto Sukuna’s power and wouldn't let go. He knew you were right, but Kenjaku had talents and knowledge that Sukuna required for his plans. 

“Who is that, Papa?” She asked as Kenjaku strode towards them in a new body. Old one must have served its purpose and been discarded already. 

“Why, Mouse! Don't you recognize me? It's Kenjaku,” the curse said in greeting.

“That him?” She asked in a loud whisper that sounded wholly suspicious. “Him face is different.”

“Yes, it is. That's his curse power,” Sukuna answered. She was a bit too young to know the full details just yet. Maybe in a year or two.

She looked at him and then Kenjaku. She leaned in and asked him yet another question in a loud whisper. “Is Kenjaku a friend, Papa? Mama said-”

“Mouse, go find Uraume so I can speak with Kenjaku. That’s not a request, by the way. I am not asking,” he said, not wanting to know which one of your opinions on Kenjaku she was about to come out of her mouth. You had many of them and none of them were favorable. Not that he cared about the curse’s feelings, but right now he had a need for him. He set her down on the engawa and gave her a little push. “Go. Inside.” 

She gave a hmmmph and walked inside with her little nose turned up and her arms crossed. He heard her pause at the doorway with his sharp hearing. “I know you are still there, Mouse. Go.”

Kenjaku gave it several moments and waited for Sukuna to nod before he spoke. “So how are things here in the world of domestic bliss?”

“What did you come here to speak to me about?” Sukuna replied. He was in no mood for Kenjaku’s bullshit. He was dealing with enough sass from the 2 year old he had just sent inside. 

“What? I can’t stop by to see an old friend?” Kenjaku asked as he poured himself a cup of tea. 

“It’s not your style. And we’re not friends. Lets not start lying to each other after all this time,” Sukuna said.

“Fine. Have it your way. I have figured out how to do what we spoke about,” Kenjaku said. “It is the reason for my taking control of this vessel.”

“Really?” Sukuna was weary. “And have you tried the process yet?”

“Not on a person,” Kenjaku said, he gave Sukuna a side eye. “But are you human? Or are you a curse?”

“A calamity. Come back when you’ve perfected it, and then we will talk seriously,” Sukuna said dryly. He could hear two sets of footsteps heading their way. “Don’t show up here uninvited again.” 

“I do long for the days we could speak freely and for longer. I never needed an invitation before,” Kenjaku almost sounded like he was sulking. 

“You’ve always needed an invitation,” Uraume in greeting as they came out to the engawa, kneeling in respect to Sukuna with a broom in their hand. “Master Sukuna. Mouse said that Kenjaku is here. I came to see if you require anything.” 

“Ura-rau! Use the broom! Use the broom!” Mouse jumped up and down, pumping her fists in the air, directly next to where they kneeled.

“Be quiet, Mouse,” Uraume snapped, still looking down. 

“But Urau-rau…”

“Not yet,” Sukuna answered. He would have to make sure to ask what that was about.

“We were trying to have a discussion,” Kenjaku gave the two new additions a side eye.

“I was picking flowers,” Mouse said, hands up in the air giving the curse a shrug.

“It’s a little different, Mouse,” Kenjaku answered. “This was important.”

Sukuna closed his eyes and shook his head. Was this guy seriously trying to reason with a two year old? Especially that two year old. 

“Mine imbordant too! My flowers were for Mama,” Mouse said emphatically with her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes on Kenjaku. Without taking her eyes off of the curse in front of her she asked, “Mmmmm, Papa? I can pick more flowers now, please and thank you?”

Sukuna smirked. There it was. Mouse’s famous audacity. He had been waiting for it. “Fine, go.”

“Yay!” she ran over to him and grabbed onto his arm, hugging it and kissing his bicep, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Papa!”

He held her arm and helped her off of the engawa before she skipped off but not before giving Kenjaku a quick victory smirk. The cursed looked at him and said, “She is her mother’s daughter, I see.”

Sukuna snorted in amusement. He couldn’t deny that nor would he want to. He had married someone incredible, one of a kind. Why wouldn’t he want her to be like you?

“And what of it?” Uraume asked, giving Kenjaku a disgusted side glare.

“Oh, not a thing!” Kenjauk said with a smile and wave of his palm. He looked at Sukuna. “You have changed. Don’t lose sight of our plan.”

“Did you need anything more?” Sukuna asked, not in the mood to discuss this further when Kenjaku hadn’t even perfected this technique. The curse needed to prove he could actually do it before Sukuna would discuss it further.  “If not, our business is concluded.”

“As you wish,” Kenjaku said, standing to leave. “I will return after I have confirmed results.”

You came through the gate at that moment, carrying goods from the market. Your smile faltered when you saw the curse standing next to him. Mouse ran to you and hugged your leg, looking up at you with a smile and holding up a handful of weeds. “Flowers for Mama!” 

“They are beautiful. Thank you, Mouse,” you said with a smile, rubbing the back of her head with your free hand.

“It’s okay, Mama. He leaving,” Mouse said, patting the back of your leg reassuringly. 

“Good,” you answered. 

“We will meet again soon,” Kenjaku said to Sukuna before heading out of the yard. He paused in front of you, “A pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” you answered with a fake smile.

Kenjaku looked down at Mouse and gave her a smile and a wave. “Bye bye, Mouse! I’ll be back soon!”

“The pleasure is all yours,” Mouse glared at him. 

“Enough, Mouse,” Sukuna said as Uraume choked while trying to suppress laughter behind him.” While he did feel a need to correct her attitude, he would rather his daughter hate Kenjaku than have anything to do with him.

The curse turned up his nose and exited the yard, closing the entrance behind him. Sukuna watched you and your daughter, both smiling and talking between the two of you, discussing what goods you had bought at the market. He was in no rush for his plans to come to fruition. He wanted to enjoy the little moments like these for as long as he possibly could.

“If you have no need of me, Master Sukuna, I would like to go start preparing for dinner. I have decided to make a dessert. Does mochi sound good?” Uraume asked.

He had a feeling they would be making some type of treats this evening as an unspoken thank you to Mouse for their treatment of the curse. “Sounds good to me. You may go.”

Mouse came running to him with you trailing behind. She had one left over flower in her hand as she ran to him. “Papa! Head down, please and thank you!”

He leaned down to her level, curious what she intended to do. He screwed up his face as she not so carefully put the flower behind his ear. 

“All done, Papa! Now you look pretty too!” She kissed his cheek and pulled back, giggling with a smile.

He sat up, the flower still in place and noticed each of you had a flower behind your ear too. He felt ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But the smiles on both of your faces made him roll his eyes and leave it alone. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, Papa!” Mouse preened before gasping and running away.

“Now what the hell is she doing?” Sukuna asked as he stood, giving you a gentle kiss and taking the bag of goods from your hand. 

“Apparently picking another flower,” you said, watching Mouse hunt for the perfect one for her needs. She found it, snatched it up and came running back. 

“I be right back,” she told the two of you, clambering up onto the engawa and taking off running yelling out at the top of her lungs, “Uraume? Where you go? I gonna find you!”

“Don’t,” came the equally loud reply.

“I’m guessing everyone is getting a flower adornment,” Sukuna said with forced disgust as he glanced down at you.

“It’s not so bad, besides,” you said, tilting your head back, a sign he had learned meant you wanted kisses. He obliged and brought his head down. You cupped his face and kiss him before moving to walk away and looking over your shoulder, “It suits you.” With that, you walked away.

He had every intention of drying and keeping the flower, but he would not let either of you know and he would not let that slide. A flower accessory suiting the King of Curses? And not even a fucking poisonous one? Ridiculous!

Giving in to the absurdity he recently found himself being faced with regularly these days, he stormed after you calling out, “The hell it does! Take that back!”

“No take backs!” you called over your shoulder with a smirk on your face.

“I’ll show you no take backs, brat,” he growled under his breath. He’d wipe that smirk right off your face. His suffering had no end in sight. But what sweet, sweet suffering it was.  

[outrunningthedark]

On Tina that mid season finale pissed you off 😭😭

As soon as the 'handcap' comment came out of that kid's mouth I probably should have changed the channel. 😶 I think I'm more frustrated than pissed, tbh. I'm frustrated that the fandom continues to mischaracterize Chris and misinterpret scenes that involve the grandparents because they remind people of their own parents or something idk. I'm frustrated that Tim had the plan to send Eddie to Texas since the start of the season and the father-son relationship had to suffer for it because if Eddie went to Texas "too early" there's not that ~suspense~ at the beginning of 8B as to whether he's really going and for how long. I'm frustrated that the show tried to be "funny" about a suicide attempt, and did so in front of Bobby, the guy who could have accidentally killed himself while under the influence. I'm frustrated that Madney has felt like they might as well not be there at times, and now the upcoming serial killer arc is probably going to the thing that sends them both (?) away to accommodate Jennifer's filming commitments. I'm frustrated that arcs were fast forwarded to make room for....Brad. I'm frustrated that the Brad arc was even able to be pushed to the mid-season finale because of Tim extending the plane emergency to one more episode, shortening the amount of time for everything else in an EIGHT EPISODE starter. Not 9. Not 10. 8. (As others have said) I'm frustrated that Buck is obviously going to "spiral" over Maddie, have to be without her for a bit - maybe Chimney, too - and also deal with his best friend wanting to relocate to another state, which is why any kind of serious relationship would not "make sense" right now anyway. Buck wouldn't be so quick to decline if he had someone to lean on every day, someone he trusted. (The fact that Tommy is gone while Taylor stayed through the struggle in s5 should show you the difference in how the two relationships impacted Buck's life, lol. Tommy was a positive influence. Taylor...not so much!) So, yeah. I'm frustrated. By a lot of things. But mostly? I'm frustrated that we're watching the show die in real time.

[badler1]

I'm not a Sainz hater. I don't hate any of them because they are just people doing their jobs and they are so far removed from me and all of us (everything F1 shows us is a PR stunt). But I really do love a lot of them, even if a lot of what we are shown of these drivers is filtered. I love Verstappen, I love Colapinto, I love Russell. And my favorite has always, always been LeClerc because I think he is a brilliant driver. He has been a solid driver since he started at Ferrari, even when he's been given a shit car and even shittier strategy. He is fighting for the vice championship right now and WCC, and honestly? If I was in his shoes I'd be pissed as hell too. He had an AMAZING start at yesterday's race and had the chance to make poll but because of his team and teammate's actions he couldn't make it. What Sainz did makes sense for him, yes, maybe, because he's leaving Ferrari. But he's still at Ferrari now. The opportunity for LeClerc to get second in the WDC (which is a pretty fucking big deal) would be amazing for Ferrari and for all those involved, including Sainz. Yes, he's leaving the team. But wouldn't it be better to go out with his team on a high? I think the switching opinions and everything makes this sport really complicated and the online community really shit sometimes. People hated Verstappen for the exact. same. thing. Leclerc did last night: calling out his teammates, calling out the team, calling out the car, being a PR nightmare...and now all those people are posting "M4x" and saying he's the next GOAT. All I'm saying is that I think that Charles didn't do anything that we haven't seen of drivers before. All these guys have an attitude (save for Piastri, maybe, that guy has a cool head on him). All of them want to do their best and get frustrated when they get undermined in doing that. LeClerc has been Ferrari's golden boy for years, championing the team time and time again even when they continually screw him over. Everyone has a breaking point. And if I was jet lagged, adrenaline high, tired, had not gained any positions, narrowly missed poll, suffered through bad Ferrari strategy all year, AND had my teammate ignore team orders when I was the one fighting for vice championship, not him? Yeah. I'd snap too. Honestly, maybe it was time. Maybe Charles anger towards Ferrari is not as misplaced as it seems---I mean, Sainz got screwed over by them too, did he not?

Also, I'm sorry. But the whole debate about the "Tell him in Spanish" thing everywhere is absolutely ridiculous. Carlos Sainz is from Spain and speaks Spanish and is also white. That was not racist; it was just fucking hilarious. Like the level of bitchiness LeClerc has is what I aspire to have. No one has any problems with people making fun of Charles for his English or for derogatory comments about the French. So just. Take it for what it is: a twenty-seven year old being a diva, and enjoy the drama.

so let me this straight, charles leclerc cannot, absolutely, for no reason, lash out ONE time at his team after being constantly screwed over by them, but another driver’s family member can like a degrading tweets about him and it’s all fine? we’re all supposed to forget about that and act like it never happened? fuck that honestly.

charles has always played the team game, always. singapore, australia, mexico, hell even japan because he’s supposed to have faith that the team and his teammate will follow through on what they discussed before hand. they are fighting for a wcc, personal results (getting one over on your teammate) matter less than team results. what was a potential p2-p3 for the team was ruined by a single decision one person made. he made the overtake, overtook verstappen but then couldn’t break the drs train and fucked over the teams overall results.

every single time charles has had the opportunity to fight against his teammate for the win THIS SEASON he’s been told to hold back. there were actual complaints in mexico from his teammate when there was a NINE SECOND gap. there was an agreement this weekend that the team came to that BOTH drivers were aware of. one driver was going to, assumably charles, get priority, over his teammate and his teammate disobeyed those orders. this isn’t the first time it’s happened, but it probably is the last considering his teammate is leaving at the end of the season. one can hope that after today charles won’t take anymore of this bullshit.

it’s hypocrisy, plain and simple. it’s hypocrisy from sainz and it’s hypocrisy from his teammates fans. mind you these are the same fans who threw a tantrum over arthur leclerc ALLEGEDLY driving car 55 in abu dhabi for fp1. they were calling it nepotism as if the call isn’t coming from inside the house. the constant hypocrisy from the other driver and his fans is what makes me glad he’s leaving the team. good fucking riddance.

if you ever, and i mean ever want to question why mercedes or red bull didn’t sign sainz it’s because of this. his actions today, and through out the season alone, have showed that no, he is NOT a team player despite whatever narrative he tried to push. he is only a team player when it is convenient to him, and even then he still find some shit to complain about.

[fiddler-on-the-starship]

Spoilers for Transformers One.

On the one hand, I do think Orion was right when he said "rebuilding Iacon cannot begin with an execution" (they'd just thoroughly trounced Sentinel in every way, he wasn't a threat anymore, there wasn't an immediate need to kill him beyond the desire for revenge).

On the other hand, on a purely visceral level I do not have a problem with Sentinel getting ripped in half because fuck that guy lmao. Get your revenge, Dee, you deserve it.

But on the other other hand, I do believe that Orion's actions were motivated not by any desire to save Sentinel, but by concern for Dee. (I think these posts make a good point about that; it doesn't seem that Orion was even deliberately trying to sacrifice himself when he got shot, I think he just wanted to get between Dee and Sentinel so he could talk to Dee.)

But on the other other other hand, Orion really did not choose his words well in that scene. "Don't be like Sentinel" was the WORST thing he could've possibly said, all things considered. A while ago I saw a post that described it as "telling a victim they're just as bad as their abuser" and yeah, I agree with that assessment. That probably wasn't how Orion intended that to come off, but there's no way it wouldn't have sounded like that to Dee. Maybe it wouldn't have been possible to talk Dee down from killing Sentinel in that moment, but if it had been at all possible, that was definitely not the way to do it.

However, while this leads to a horrible outcome for the characters, I'm not sure it's such a bad thing for the narrative. It's painfully realistic, actually. Sometimes, people who have nothing but good intentions will say stupid, hurtful things. Sometimes, when someone is in a state where all they can feel is pain and rage, they will lash out without thinking of the consequences, and in doing so they might hurt someone they love. Obviously in the real world this does not usually involve a giant robot shooting another giant robot with a laser cannon, but that's one of the great things about sci-fi and fantasy; a laser cannon can be a metaphor for the horrors we face in real life.

Also, based on Orion's behaviour up until that point in the movie, it's pretty in-character for him to say the worst possible thing at the worst possible time to someone who is clearly suffering. You can tell he has a lot of compassion and generally means well, but that doesn't stop him from being an insensitive dick at times. And I like that. I like it when characters have Layers. (Orion and Dee both have a lot of Layers, and I am fascinated by the way some of the same personality traits manifest very differently in each of them, but that's not what this post is about, perhaps I'll ramble about that another time.)

Basically what I'm saying is:

I think Orion was both right and wrong (right about it not being necessary to kill Sentinel, and right that a public execution was a bad fucking idea; very, very wrong in the way he expressed that to Dee),

I'm not going to say Dee did nothing wrong, but I completely understand where he is coming from (and I'd be lying if I said that when he killed Sentinel there wasn't a part of my brain screaming YEAAAAH, YOU GO GIRL, RIP THAT FUCKER APART),

I think that Optimus Prime should have flaws and fuck up sometimes, because that makes him more interesting as a character, and in the case of TF1, because having him inadvertently contribute to Dee's downward spiral adds to the tragedy of it all (and I do think this movie can rightly be called a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions),

and, above all,

FUCK Sentinel Prime. Seriously, fuck that guy SO much.

[misfit-among-the-angels]

I want pain.

[inkskinned]

the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.

capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.

now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.

and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.

and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.

and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".

it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"

[instantpansies]

#I DID NOT SEE THIS REBLOG WITH LOCO × CLARISSA AND OMG SJSJSJ#THIS IS SO COOL OP#YOUR BRAIN IS HUGE#i love the concept of the silver line being created by clarissa as an escape from her (probably) not so fun real life#and then becoming little by little a nightmare that she cant escape#UGHHH THIS IS BEAUTIFUL#“be careful of what you wish for” or something something#i can imagine the first time a child got trapped on the silver line#at first clarissa would be happy to have someone else#and maybe she would think that this child didnt have a happy life at home and Loco kinda save them by making them hope on the silver line#and she wouldn't think more of it#but then the child disappeared and a new wagon was suddenly here#she would ask Loco if he knew where the child went but he wouldnt say anything#hed juste smile ominously#and then more children would materialise only to disappear after some times#and more wagons or staff members would appear#and clarissa would finally accept what she had been thinking all this time deep down#but never wanted to actually believe it#that the silver line was now made of all of these children#and that her turn would soon come#AAAHHHH THIS IS SO COOL#I WOULD WATCH THAT MOVIE#okay im done rambling haha#shoot from the hip#strange noise from the hole in the wall

^ @marabout2772 PREVVVV YOUR TAGS THANK YOUUUI <333 I CANT PASS UP A CHANCE TO RAMBLE ABOUT MY STRANGE NOISES HCS!!!

aghghg you're so right, that first kid must have been such a shock. she would've been so excited to have some company - who knows how long it had been at that point - but she has to watch them realize they're trapped, or break the news herself (even if she doesn't know they'll become a part of the train, she knows there's no way to get off). and she sees them slowly slip into despair and maybe they start to hate her and loco and someday they just. disappear. and there's a new car on the train. AND AUGHH YOU'RE SO RIGHT SHE WOULD ASK LOCO AND HE WOULD JUST SMILE AND SAY NOTHING BUT SHE'D KNOW SHE'D KNOW!!! and when the next kid comes around she'd hope it was just an anomaly but the same thing happens again and again and finally she has to accept that it's her nightmare that's consuming them, it's her fault they're here, and she isn't even allowed to share their fate,,,,,,she just has to watch, helpless, as these people who start out so friendly and hopeful are made to suffer and then just become another forgotten part of the world. and she can't do a thing about it.

man. augh. what makes it worse is she's a CHILD a child who only wanted to escape from her boring or difficult or scary life. "be careful what you wish for", but she was just a little girl when she wished she could live in a magical world where she was never alone, where she was always making new friends. where the wonderful train ride never had to end. how could she possibly have known she'd end up trapped in that wish? living out countless lifetimes where she couldn't even see her old life change beyond recognition, only learning about the outside by the others who brought tales of unfamiliar machines and strange societies and music she couldn't have imagined. in the end they all disappear. maybe in a year, maybe in a decade, maybe she doesn't even keep track of time anymore. and she's alone again with her doomed dreams - and the being she unknowingly forced into the same world she'd trapped herself in. she was so young when she wished to escape, and now she is unbelievably old and doesn't know how she could ever have been so naive.

RHGHEGRGR AND SHE KNOWS THE SAME FATE WILL COME TO HER EVENTUALLY!!!! but it's arriving so slowly it feels cruel. every few years she wakes up and another joint has locked up. her voice sounds a bit more like a train whistle. her spine begins to curl inward - slowly, slowly, so slowly locomotion always looks confused when she brings it up. she almost believes she's imagining it. but someday loco will be the only one on the train - finally she will join the nightmare and loco will drive her and the hundreds of souls she trapped into that endless nothing. benjamin was supposed to be the last one, shoveling coal for eternity, feeding the silver line until he couldn't remember anything else. it was sheer luck that benjamin wasn't trying to escape his family. that they cared enough to follow him in and pull him out.

clarissa hasn't seen something so kind in thousands of years.

ANYWAYS UMMMM UHHH THANKS IM GLAD U LIKED MY POST!!! back to the corner i go

top sfth couples/ships bc it's 2:49am and im thinking about them again

oopsie daisies (marianne and jacques, oopsie daisy bulge). idk if anyone else calls them that but they're my oopsie daisies and i love them so much. if oopsie daisies have 100 fans im one of them if oopsie daisies have 1 fan it's me if oopsie daisies have 0 fans im dead. they make me ill. handsome butch mayor and her pretty scientist husband.....they love their town and their kraken and ethically dubious transhumanism!!!!! and i am patting them both on the head and tucking them in. i am making this post so i can ramble about them but it felt weird to just do that so i made it a list. they're childhood friends to lovers, marianne definitely got all embarrassed giving jacques flowers after school, they prob graduated and were friends for a while and then decided "wait duh of course we're gonna get married" so they dated for a while and then marianne ran for mayor so they waited on the wedding until after she won and then they honeymooned the next town over bc they couldn't bear to stay away from le bulge for more than two weeks and they bicker and marianne brags about being the mayor and pretends to know what jacques is talking about when he's explaining his genetics work. and they're always working together bc jacques' tech is their main line of defense and she sits on his lap during briefings and all 12 of the other residents are a little annoyed when they enter a room both bc marianne is kind of bossy and needs total focus when she's addressing a room and bc jacques is just staring at her and zoning out and thinking about cell division the whole time. and jacques probably only sustained mild injuries from that gunshot wound so he's fine. he's fine and he definitely didn't die. because that would be silly and pointless. but marianne THINKS he's dead or dying so she harnesses her grief and rage to literally snap the neck of the king of england and tbh i think that's very sexy of her. what am i talking about again

pergephone (persephone and geoff, wild wet and worrisome). i love their dynamic so much, the pining is both silly and very earnest, and i have a bunch of headcanons about what happens when geoff leaves but feels like there's something missing....i like them very much. especially if persephone has some monstrous stuff going on, like huge sea beast or fanged and clawed siren. that's the shit.

ditch (derek and titch, the unrelenting aubergine). derek i love you so much, never stop being yourself. it's requited unrequited, it's got drama and pacing, it's sweet and hits home. what more could u want (except maybe a half mime half giant octopus)? they're the most popular ship in this fandom for a reason. and i concur. titch struggling with his feelings, derek setting boundaries and giving titch time to work out his shit on his own, margaery doing her best to sort out their drama. wonderful

[dykedvonte]

I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.

I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?

The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.

[sygneth]

game of deduction

[mejomonster]

I am begging you, if your partner insults you, curses at you, screams at you, starts many conversations by accusing you of something (and if you two talk about this situation - you continue having arguments instead of just solving problems together), you feel in danger when near your partner, you feel safer when away from your partner, or your partner hits you, please please consider leaving them.

Just consider leaving the space they're in, and going to a friend's house or a family member's and staying for a day. Do you feel safer? Calmer?

You do not have to be friends with a person who disrespects or harasses you. You do not have to be friends with someone who hits you, who tells you you're stupid/ugly/annoying whatever, who screams at you when you spill food or forget to do the dishes instead of just asking "hey could you please clean this?", who doesn't accept a "no" from you such as "No I do not want to be touched right now." Please tell me you'd be kind enough to yourself to stop seeing a friend who hit you or told you you're worthless or screamed at you for not reading their mind (no one can read minds).

So if a partner does those things, you're allowed to stop seeing them too. You are allowed to love someone, to care about their wellbeing and want good things for them, and also REMOVE YOURSELF from their space and life. You're allowed to think "wow I love this guy, I am sad he's depressed, I hope he feels better" and also think "but he keeps calling me ugly and stupid, and every time I see him he insults me and screams and I get scared, I should stop visiting him and stop answering his calls and texts so I am no longer in situations where I could be insulted and screamed at." You are allowed to love someone, and ALSO protect yourself from them! You deserve to be safe! You deserve to protect yourself first, care about your own wellbeing first, care about if YOU are safe and content, even if it means upsetting someone else. Even if someone else would rather you were hurting, if it meant you kept seeing them.

You deserve to be respected. You deserve to be spoken to kindly, to feel you are safe from physical harm, to be talked to as a person with value. From strangers, friends, and lovers. If people are hurting you, if you feel worse being around them, you are ALLOWED to leave and put yourself in a place where you are no longer being hurt. You deserve to prioritize your own well being.

[4thegadiesandlentlemen]

I'm just going to throw out an idea here. Err

So, Cam's God. Does it mean heaven and hell exist in the universe?

Wayne knows God exists, he's experienced the divine presence. He's spoken to God face to face. He's lived with him. Cameron being God means he can see all. He knows how people act. But face to face, they may hide some of it to avoid consequences (but I think some of these characters are a bit too honest for that). Fear in the face of God and all that. Wayne doesn't have that fear. Wayne doesn't hesitate to sin and inflict harm on his roommate. He just disrespects his creator??? Death wish. So when it gets too far, Cameron Slaughters him.

Could Wayne's fear of death also stem from that fact he'd go to hell? When he died, I'd like to think he experienced hell. Not like "oh this feels like hell" I mean like he's burning in the afterlife with no one to save him.

So when he gets brought back, he'd see it as like God taking pity on him and giving him a second chance. But he doesn't understand why he went to hell so he just does the same things except now his pranks are less extreme or something. And I think he avoids doing it to cam? I forgot the timeline. Obviously, that won't change where he's going. But yeah, he meets Justin (I am always going to reuse the Justin case movie when talking about him) and now he's in captivity with more freaks and he's losing his mind.

So basically, I think he'd value his life a lot more the second time. So I'll snatch your escape idea. Wayne was so desperate to live because he knows that if he dies, he'll end up in the worst place Imaginable. He'll even risk escaping the guy who's prepared for EVERYTHING (except being gassed).

Maybe Justin only showed the people trying to escape how the cloning process works to kill spirits and show the gravity of the situation as punishment. If he showed people who didn't attempt to leave, I feel like they'd try harder. But that could also be the possibility for those trying to escape. Justin could also just not show them. What if they actually escape and know how Justin's doing this. Wouldn't he get into even more trouble (he doesn't. Canonically, man just stops. Like, that's it. Hilarious)

And "God's Favourite"?? Oh what a painful thought. Like, obviously, Cameron hates Wayne. But the way he keeps being brought back only to suffer?? Wayne is God's favourite to punish. He's going to put Wayne through the same shit he went through. But God's favourite is such a ughhh get out of my skin get out of my skin get out of my skin get out of my skin get out of my skin get out of my skin get out of my ski

I feel so sigma !

AAAAAAAAA JUSTIN CASE UPDATE??? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE JUST POST RHE SPOILERS TO THE NEXT INSTALLEMENT OF THE STROY RIGHT THERE INSREA DOF BEING LIKE YEAH IM DOING IT IM KILLING CAM RN FUCK ME (ron intended)

anywayssssss

nathaniel is dead, not very skibidi sigma of him at all but i’m not too surprised, cam’s been trying to get rid of ol’ nathan for a WHILE (besides, look at his last name. it was inevitable)

cam added a mary sue self insert oc that’s basically a god into the cgcu who’s summoned by racism and sexual jokes. damn.

i get the ending and it’s alright, but also seems anticlimactic. like cam shows up and tells justin “dude you’re a fictional made up character on the internet you’re already immortal 💀” and justin’s like “oh fr then ig i’ll stop” which isn’t that satisfying at all. i don’t like that ending the discord’s ending (ask me for an invite link if ur interested in the server, we’re all very cool) is much better since yk. it has actual character development.

personally? i don’t like this ending much and i am unsatisfied. it might be better if he actually posts it but i still don’t like it much. if only…….i finished the goddamn animation……..ughhh

also……….max? whipping it out? right there? cam you better film this part or else /hj