#Then why don't they have the money to buy it?

[joelliies]

Was looking up how to start an economy for the story I'm making and saw this on Reddit, decide to share it!

David Montgomery on Reddit

Everything about your economy will flow from one basic principle: everyone has to eat.

Food is the most basic need, and people will either produce it themselves or produce something else they can exchange for food. (That "something else" could be "soldiers who go and take other people's food by force," by the way.) In most medieval economies, food production is sufficiently inefficient that a majority of the population will be directly engaged in food production. More advanced technology, organization or magic could change this, freeing up more people to do other economic activities — but it's important to know the rules before you break them, and medieval levels of technology will likely lead to widespread subsistence farming.

That said, if the land is decently fertile, farmers will produce more food than they can eat themselves. This food will either be sold (for currency or goods) or confiscated in taxes, tribute, etc., or both. This creates two questions to answer: A) who is acquiring the surplus food from the peasants, and B) how did they get the means to get the peasants to give them this food?

Answers to A could be a nearby city, a far-away city (much of Rome's food supply was shipped across the sea from Egypt, Sicily or other areas), a temple, an established local lord, tribute-demanding warlords or bandits, a powerful wizard, wasteland nomads, etc.

Answers to B divide basically into force and wealth. If it's force (and most farmers will be forced to pay taxes to someone), that raises interesting military and political questions for your world. Do these force-wielders rely solely on exploiting farmers to eat, or do they produce food of their own and rely on raiding to supplement their diet? (They could also raid for treasure and then sell that treasure to buy food.) Those people forcibly extracting food, whether local nobles collecting taxes, temples overawing the people into making offerings or marauding invaders plundering the countryside, will then either eat it themselves or sell it to someone with wealth. So what kind of wealth are people creating that they are exchanging for food? The answer could be anything — what do the people looking to sell their food want? It could be other types of food, precious metals, useful metals, craft goods, arms, military protection, magical resources, divine favor, ships, whatever.

Now you're spiraling upward and outward from your base farmers. Asking yourself more questions will help flesh out your world: Who are these people who have enough disposable resources that they are trading it for food? Why are they importing food instead of producing it themselves? Why do the food-sellars want what they're selling? How dependent on this imported food are they?

There's a lot of ways to create disposable wealth that can be traded for food. Making goods higher up the resource tree from food can be one of them: furniture, swords, alcohol, magic crystals, etc. So can mining, logging, or other resource extraction. Another way to get wealth can be trade: some goods cost a lot more in one place than another, and the person who carries those goods from point A to point B can make a lot of money. Medieval merchant republics and fair towns were centers of this.

Again, as long as food production is inefficient (as it was in the middle ages), these people who are not directly engaged in food production will be a distinct minority. So big cities should be relatively rare without explicit mechanisms set up to get enough food imported to feed all these non-farmers. It can be done — look at Rome, again, or Constantinople later on — but it takes concerted and sustained effort to extract the narrow food surplus from a wide region and to secure the trade lanes to transport it safely to the city.

Don't assume that you have to base your economy on impoverished medieval Europe, though. Regions elsewhere in the world, and both immediately before and after the medieval period in Europe, saw more productive economies with highly specialized divisions of labor.

Farming sucks, and sometimes REALLY sucks. Most farmers, given the chance, would rather do something else. So why aren't they given the chance? Is it necessity or tradition that keeps them on the farm, or are they bound to the land as serfs or slaves?

There are political/military implications if your merchant city-state or underground dwarven kingdom require regular food imports in order to survive — what happens if the food imports get cut off?

How does magic play a role? My advice — not the only way to go about this — is to figure out your normal state of affairs, then add your magic to the picture and figure out how that would change things.

If food production is more efficient, then it takes fewer workers to produce the same amount of food, or the same amount of workers can produce way more food. The former enables more of the population to become craftsmen, priests, bureaucrats, etc. The latter produces more exports for the farmers or their oppressors, and thus potentially more wealth to support craftsmen, priests, bureaucrats, etc. — or more luxuries for the upper crust.

A nobility or other economic elite that manages to extract a large share of the surplus for themselves will then be able to spend that money on things they don't need. This will likely create a sub-economy around satisfying the needs of the wealthy — servants, jewelers, luxury craftsmen, diviners, mercenaries, etc. Whatever the people with surplus money or food want, someone will likely emerge to provide it.

More productive farming will produce more resources. How are those resources distributed? Are they all confiscated by a tiny elite who build sumptuous palaces while their serfs toil in squalor? Or does a supplementary economy build up with crafts, workshops, trade, etc., that enriches everyone?

If food production is less efficient than normal, then things get really interesting. This will likely mean the land can't support all the people who live on it, forcing some people off the land to become soldiers, bandits, priests, wanderers, immigrants, poachers or whatever. Life will likely not go well for anyone in this scenario. You can also have a situation where the land can't support everyone living on it if taxes or extortion become too high, not letting the peasants keep enough food to feed everyone.

Even if people can NORMALLY produce enough food to sustain themselves and exchange a surplus for goods or services, there will likely be periodic famines that upset everything.

Don't underestimate the importance of peace and stability for your economy. If there's a central government or alliance ensuring peace, then profitable long-distance trade becomes more possible. Farmers get more options for exporting their food and can perhaps secure a better price for it. People who don't want to produce food are more likely to be able to find something else to do. Stable governments also produce coinage, as u/GeraldVanHeer emphasized. Stable coinage makes commerce more fluid, since anyone can exchange a coin for anything instead of requiring someone to have a good you want to barter for, and generally promotes accelerating wealth.

Another political implication: the less economic surplus you have, the less ability societies will have to construct great works.

There are a lot of good books that get at what economies were like in historical periods. Barbara Tuchman's "A Distant Mirror" is a good overall look at 14th Century Europe. One book I found particularly helpful is the second half of "The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization" by Bryan Ward-Perkins. The back half of that book is a look at how the economy of western Europe changed when the Roman Empire collapsed under successive Germanic invasions, setting the stage for the Dark Ages and then the medieval era. This uses data from archaeology to show both what a high-productivity ancient economy looked like under Rome, and what a devastated low-productivity economy looked like after Roman authority collapsed

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God 6

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Chapter 2

*Grian's pov*

It was Mumbo to suggest putting Ariana Griande online, something about the internet having more reach. He even offered to provide you with equipment... you know he's hoping to use your income to fund his villany... you don't really care for money but you find it weird he's investing so much on your "career", did the song you sang to him really entranced him that much?

Technically you know how it works, the internet is ripe for your domain. Phisically though? You are the god of chaos ...not technology and you never really cared to learn too much about it before this moment... You though it would be like making that meme of HotGuy but no... Video and Audio Editing is so extremely tedious.

You also finally build the persona of Ariana Griande, by telling Mumbo you are her you have limited your form to a variation of "Grian" ... Still you have fun with it and Mumbo looks like he's having a great time looking at her too.

Your first video as Ariana is nothing worth talking about, just the cover of soldier poet king that you have already sung to Mumbo a few days ago... It gets 5 views by the end of the day... You could push it along with a bit of divinity but that's not nearly as fun as letting the channel grow organically. You do get one comment: "Oh lord, your voice is divine!" which is very ironic... And amusing.

Your second Ariana Griande video is another cover, at this point an orginal song wouldn't make sense. It doesn't do much better but Mumbo seems to enjoy it... Perhaps you did put too much divinity in it because Mumbo takes a minute to recover after listening in... hopefully the effects will be less intense when viewing the video at a later date.

You distract yourself from the channel for a moment as Mumbo interrupts you. He is as anxious as ever and stumbles on his words but you can understand the gist of what he's trying to say. He's going somewhere and was wondering if you wanted to join in, you don't have much to do right now anyway so you easily accept.

The coffe shop he brings you is pretty small but it surely has a certain cosiness to it... It isn't that which attracts your attention though. There is a familiar presence here, you can feel it. Hotguy is here, what are the chances?

You get up under the excuse of going to the bathroom and walk toward the man that your divinity tells you is Hotguy... without his uniform yes, but it's him nonetheless. You approach and- he turns suddenly and accidentally spills his coffee on you...

...

...

..Calm down, Grian. Do not smite the mortal. Do not smite the mortal. Do not-

"Oh! I'm so so sorry! Are you ok?!"

"I- *breathe in breathe out* yes. Just didn't expect it"

And that is true, you didn't... somehow.

"Do you need something to clean yourself with-"

"No no, calm down, It's fine"

You say it to Hotguy as much as you say it to yourself...

"Are you sure -uh...?"

"It's... Grian" Then you remember about human identity, you are leaning. "... He/Him"

"Oh! Well Uh I'm so sorry about this Grian, uh wait, I should introduce myself too! I'm Scar! Uh- He/Him Nice to meet you... Well not nice since I dropped my coffee on you but-"

Oh you can't stay angry at him if he's going to act like that. You just can't.

"It's not your fault...and It's nice to meet you too"

This too isn't a lie, after all you still don't know how you managed to not notice the coffee was going to fall on you.

You turn to Mumbo, he must have seen what happened because he looks like he doesn't know wether he should get up and help or to stay in place and mind his own buisness...he's just kind of half standing?

You'll have to cut this meeting short but perhaps...

"I have to go now but if you really want to make it up to me you can buy me coffee sometime in the future"

You put your hand in your pocket and generate a piece of paper with your number on it. You then take it out and offer it to him before going back to Mumbo.

"Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you fllirt with the guy who spilled coffee on you?"

Uh? Did you? You don't think so at least.

"I have no idea what you are talking about mister Mumbo Jumbolio"

"... That isn't my full name??"

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah???"

"If you say so Mimbo Jimbo."

[arcane-ish]

Stealing conversation from @blood-starved-beast

I think the Vander comparison comes from the fact that Jinx's actions specifically benefit the people. She is taking shots at Piltover, she's winning. She's hitting them where they hurt and they're scrambling.

Silco, for all his talk of the Nation of Zaun, never in his reign gets to that. He makes a deal with the Enforcers, floods the Lanes with Shimmer, and buddies up with the Chembarons. The average folk are still struggling, more stronger people are still bullying them, and the exceptionally poor are addicts. This is not a man of the people, this is a bully, a dictator even (hence the Caitlyn parallels go here). And he even got powers on high with support seeing as he buddied with Marcus to get the Top Spot.

I just feel like we still know so little about what Vander's revolution actually looked like, what he actually did. Like when I picture it, because of all the references to the mines, I tend to picture him maybe organizing a miner's strike as a way to getting his feet wet organizing people.

And we know he presumably at some point collected a crowd that marched on the bridge which went terribly.

So what exactly is his positive reputation based on?

After Vander stopped revolution-izing, he did more community building, more like Ekko really. But that's exactly the non-revolution behavior that got Sevika to turn on him.

At the same time, we know that Vander collected protection money, just like Silco. Something that Ekko presumably doesn't do.

It doesn't look like Vander was particularly lining his pockets, so maybe his positive reputation is based on that he collected the money and spread it around, very redistribution or take from the richer and give to the poorer. while Silco used the money more to buy weapons, build up infrastructure like Remi's factory.

I've been really thinking a lot about something Christian Linke said (btw, it cracks me up that his name is literally "The Left", there's even a political in germany by that name) recently about Sevika and Jinx teaming it. It appears that they want the undercity to do well but Silco stood in the way of that (?).

Source

But that kind of goes into how both Vander and Silco stopped their immediate violent revolution goals and made deals with the cops, presumably in the interest of their children.

In the end we don't know still what Silco's plan really was, why he abandoned what seemed to be his original plan to produce a lot of Shimmer beasts.

Now I think there is value in both their approaches, in Vander creating maybe a community that inspires affection and idealism (into the extent that it still carries the Firelights) and in Silco building up infrastructure.

In the end, Remi creates the chem tech goons that can put up a fight against hextech (which wasn't even around back then) even if they likely come at the cost of not just child labor but also child experiments.

I also read some interesting speculation that maybe Silco had a deal with Noxus and that's why he pushed Jinx so hard to weaponize hextech, maybe he wanted forge a better deal with the Noxians. Or maybe his plan shifted from violent overthrowing to a diplomatic and economic victory. Become good enough at business/capitalism that you can squeeze Piltover economically and force them to give you independence.

Basically, I get why Silco might not inspire the kind of admiration that Vander did. Even if he might have laid important ground work. I just feel still kind of fuzzy on what Vander did to inspire this positive image in his revolution times when the writers say over and over that he used to do violent shit.

Like we can guess he might have been a pit fighter too and gotten his nickname like that. And he probably risked people's lives by sending them to the bridge fight. But what else?

That's why I kind of love the idea that maybe Vander and Silco also fucked with the ventilation system and that's what Sevika referred to when she talks about fighting in the fissures.

BTW, shoutout to my girl Sevika, who has the right ideals, is super capable, but it appears that she apparently forever lacks the people skills to lead the revolution herself and that's why she's stuck trying to follow around and cheerlead other people who do the whole inspire the masses thing only to have them end up dawdling.

(and it would be pure irony if Jinx gets put in the same situation, okay, I should be leading this revolution, but I got this kid now that depends on me ...)

[snigepippi]

I don't know

But there are a lot of kitchen tools I don't know, because my mom never wasted money on kitchen appliances, if you could do the same with a spoon or a bowl. Why buy a shaker when you have an empty marmalade jar?

[fvckhxpe]

scenes from a mixtape

(originally published in Juked magazine, January 2007)

I slide the mixtape into the stereo and press play.  She takes off her low-cut socks and throws them at me, humming along to the Gin Blossoms.  The loneliness leaks from me in slow drips until it disappears.

She thinks I'm crazy and she loves me.  Two of the same and we're poisoning each other, unhealthy decomposition losing its heartbeat.  Talking, together, copulating, her arms circling a torso, any waistline, but now it's mine.  Anyone would do, as long as they're bent/broken, so she and I continue on borrowed time.  And love comes in waves, small packages, coffins, a gesture, the way she mixes her fingers into mine when she grabs for my hand.  I know her well.  Sweet when tongues taste her, she's reminiscent of an old flower, the small yellow blossoms mothers teach children to behead and suck from the bottom, all the honeysuckle, a strange taste.  There must be a mathematical theory for her body, from the curve of her ass up to her perfect neck—her lips that are shamans when she speaks in the low-pitched rasp that soothes and shakes everything.  And to be there as she exists, to hear her sing in the shower, to watch her stir sugar into her coffee.  To feel tense, waiting for her to yell over:

      "Your goddamn typing is driving me crazy!"

And I keep pounding intricate diagonals of confessional bullshit (c-o-n-f-e-s-s-i-o-n-a-l SPACE b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t).  Up from the typewriter at the kitchen table, spying her form hanging in the doorframe of the bathroom, pouring drain cleaner into the sink.  Long looks across the room—we're fifteen feet apart and we miss each other.  We're killing each other.  She's walking to the bed.  I'm still typing.  "New Day Rising" kicks in quiet on the stereo—a barely audible gurgling, complete with tape hissssss.  I count one thousand and twenty-six words and I've got nothing more to say, but I don't want to stop.  I type ellipses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . until she calls over to me.

      "Your goddamn typing is driving me crazy!"

The tape pops and the tape's over, a loss of lo-fi noise, the songs slept to in younger years, the songs of the local college radio, the alternative, the rock and grunge and post-rock and post-grunge—flipping the cassette over and readying it for side two—play—and the buzzing starts, crackling from the dust and age of the carbon.  I remember the tape, I remember not having the money for a proper blank one, so it reads as a collection of Christmas traditionals erased over, small wads of paper still jammed in the top to fool the tape deck 'record' button.

      "Today is the greatest day I've ever known, can't wait for tomorrooooow . . ."

      She remembers this song, she sings along.  I leave the typewriter for her, I abandon and slither under the covers.  We sing the song together.

She's a knife cutting into me, in a way I won't comprehend until the pain is no longer there.  Long stretches of nothingness with her head on my chest, waiting for the sun to rise.  Early:  she doesn't inhale, she lets air come to her.  She stands on the heels of her feet, leaning into it, smiling with her eyes closed as if waking up is an endless pit into which she falls.  She lets her chest extend out and she yaaaaaaaaaawns and falls back to the mattress.

      "Do you think McDonald's is still serving breakfast?"

      The clock reads seven twenty-four a.m.

      "Is it really that early?"

      Seven twenty-five a.m.

      "I'm going back to sleep."

It goes wrong somewhere deep and patterned, the way she would run her thumb along the paper of a thick book she was thinking of buying as we stood in the downtown bookstore, the pages fluttering in a blow.  She and I, we had built swift and perfect on the downhill and were imploding like a dying sun with nothing more than a sliver of why it had all started.  It becomes open range barbwire and we never stop running, and when a love like that catches your skin, it shreds you and you bleed out right there, exactly where you fall.  We feel our timeline freefall:  I'm ordered to get a job; she stares in disgust at the typewriter; I spend more time at the labor office.  The air between us is white noise, bottoming out with frost as a blanket.  We're numb.  And one night Hüsker Dü kicks in on the tape deck and we're sitting on opposite sides of the apartment—not out of anger, simply necessity.  Neither of us sings along, and she stops telling me my goddamn typing is driving her crazy.

Days pass and I miss them, right past me, forgetting the clock, forgetting the shades are down.  I hardly sleep, the dreams aren't pleasant.  I sit at the edge of the mattress most nights; she sleeps through the sound of creaking boxsprings.  We keep on, the borrowed time decays.  And one day while I'm downtown pawning videos and selling blood for rent money, she realizes we're tearing each other apart with our separate young madnesses, and there's no disappearing act like the one that leaves me wondering how she took all her things in one trip.  We fall from orbit and burn up on reentry.  She leaves, things devolve, become simpler.  And the loneliness crawls back inside my stomach and drills into my spine.  It stays.  She's found a new waistline for her arms.

And I make a new mixtape.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello blusy!

I would like to request something about Donna dating reader and everything going great but reader's family is hesitant about the relationship and that makes reader sad. Donna sensing how important family is to reader decides to get out of her comfort zone and tries to make reader's family more comfortable around her like making toys for readers little nieces and nephews after seeing their parents don't have much money to buy them a lot of toys. and ironically the little ones of the family are the ones more comfortable around donna and angie. Maybe one day reader gets sick and her family witness how donna is there for her and taking care of her and that makes them change their mind like "okay, maybe she is not that bad like they say".

Thank you!

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

Opening their eyes

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a bit of angst

Word count: 8,543

Summary: You can't choose between Donna and your family...

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

“Ugh, mom,” you protested while your mother hugged you as if she hadn't seen you in years.

“(Y/N), you don't know how happy I am to see you,” the woman said, with shining eyes, as if she really thought that for a moment she had lost you. “I thought I would never…”

“It's not that big of a deal,” you said with an amused smile, downplaying it while you made a gesture with your hands.

“Young lady,” your father whispered, crossing his arms as you entered the house. “We were really worried about you. You didn't come last week.”

“Oh, well, I had a terrible cold,” you explained, accompanying your parents to the living room. “I was too tired to come.”

“It was definitely a cold,” your father said with a certain irony that made you roll your eyes. “You could have called.”

“Sorry, dad, I was too busy with the fever,” you said amused, relaxing in what was once your home. “I've told you a thousand times that I'm fine.”

They both looked at each other with a strange expression, sitting next to you and bringing you a cup of tea.

“I know those looks,” you said suspiciously, frowning. “What's wrong? Did something happen with Mihaela? Oh, don't tell me she's pregnant again.”

“Your sister is perfectly fine, (Y/N),” your mother said with a serious tone.

“Great,” you said nodding, blowing on your cup. “Me too.”

“Allow me to doubt it,” your father murmured, with his eyebrows raised.

“Look at me, I’m fine,” you said spreading your arms in an exaggerated way. “I've never been better,” you said the last sentence with a slightly darker tone, knowing what they really meant. “(Y/N), honey, why don't you come home?” your mother finally asked, giving vent to something you knew she was holding back. “You'd be better off with your parents.”

“Mm, I see,” you said, huffing again, leaning your back on the couch as you shook your head. “There's no way I'm coming to visit you without you trying to drag me back into your shelter, huh?”

“We only want the best for you,” your mother said, with a worried expression.

“What about Mihaela? You don't demand that she come back to live with you,” you protested, in a somewhat childish way.

“Mihaela has formed a wonderful family, (Y/N),” your father asserted. “A completely normal one.”

“Oh, of course, I'm not normal,” you said in a mocking tone, narrowing your eyes. “I've heard this before.”

“What your father means, (Y/N),” your mother interrupted, giving her husband a fiery look. “It's that your sister doesn't give us any reason to worry about.”

“Doesn’t she?” you said, blinking petulantly. “So, according to you, I should be married and giving you lots of grandchildren, right?”

“Sometimes I dream that's true, (Y/N),” the man said, with a satisfied look. “At least she doesn't live with a dangerous crazy woman.”

“Hey,” you sighed annoyed, shaking your head. “You've set a new record, dad, it didn't take you even 5 minutes to mess with Donna, fabulous.”

“Donna…” he whispered, with a fake smile. “Of course, I should have guessed that my youngest daughter would get involved with the freakiest freak in the village.”

“Marcus… Don't say things like that, what if she can hear you?” your mother said, looking around.

At that comment you couldn't help but laugh ironically, swallowing the words that wanted to come out of your mouth, reflecting before starting another argument with your parents, another argument about your girlfriend.

“Can't you understand that I love her?” you said annoyed. “Besides, Donna is a Lord, I couldn't be more protected with anyone.”

“We, (Y/N), we are the ones who need to be protected from them,” your father said, always finding a scathing answer for everything you said. “Protectors of the village… well, they're just a bunch of heartless monsters. Sorry for worrying that one of them seduced my daughter.”

“Seduced?” you asked, leaning forward, starting to get nervous. “There are at least two things wrong with what you said. First, Donna isn't a monster, and second… to be fair, I seduced her.”

“Gods…” your mother sighed, probably imagining horrible things in her head. “Couldn't you notice someone normal, like your sister did?”

“You know that my tastes are special,” you said haughtily, looking at your nails. “Hey, I understand that you have doubts, but I assure you that Donna is a nice soul, she takes care of me, loves me and protects me.”

“She's crazy, (Y/N), everyone knows it, you knew it since you were little,” your mother said, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. “It's just a matter of time before she hurts you.”

“Ugh, how many times do I have to say it? Donna isn't crazy, she's sick,” you said, defending your girlfriend, as always. “If I had lived in isolation, enduring the mockery of children, my sister would have died and my parents would have thrown themselves into the void in front of me, I wouldn't be right in the head either.”

“I see she has taught you well to defend her,” your father whispered, darkening his gaze. “What else has she taught you, (Y/N)?”

“Do you really want to know?” you challenged with a sharp tone, internally trying to calm your words.

“(Y/N),” your mother protested at your rudeness. “It doesn't matter what you say, we are older, we have known Lady Beneviento since long before you were born and we know the horrible things she has done.”

“You know how to judge others, don't you? You seem good at it,” you said with a slightly childish tone. “Look, I'm 22 years old. I'm old enough to judge for myself.”

“You're a brat, (Y/N),” your father said, pointing at you with his finger. “Your mother also thought she was old enough at your age, and what a coincidence, Mihaela was born shortly after.”

“Well, don't worry, I'm not pregnant,” you said mockingly, looking away from your parents. “Hey... I know Donna seems terrible and that she's... a little scary, but I assure you that she's a kind, loving and sensitive woman. She has nothing to do with what those stupid rumors say.”

“A rumor can be false, (Y/N), but hundreds of them are closer to the truth,” your mother commented, with that tone of false wisdom that got on your nerves. “You're in love, you probably have her idealized, and when you realize your mistake we won't be able to save you.”

“Save me? That was a good one,” you said, shaking your head, moving your legs nervously. “I don't need anyone to save me, mom. Donna isn't like they say, but I care less and less that you don't believe me.”

“You should care, young lady,” your father said with the same smug tone. “Don't you understand that we're doing this for your own sake?”

“And you don't understand that Donna is good for me?” you counterattacked, with a harsher tone. “If you're going to be messing with Donna every time I come to see you, maybe I have to stop coming.”

“Lady Beneviento is a sinister and dangerous woman, I can't sleep peacefully knowing that you live with someone like that,” your mother said, making your anger increase.

“If you knew her you wouldn't say those things,” you murmured with an indignant pose, thinking coldly about your words.

“No, thank you, I'm proud that none of those abominations have ever entered my house,” the man said with a sarcastic smile. “That woman is not welcome here, (Y/N).”

“Wait, Marcus...” your mother whispered, thoughtfully. “What if the girl is right? Maybe we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Svetlana, don't be condescending, a brat like her doesn't have the right to the benefit of the doubt,” your father growled. “Keep that freak away from this house, (Y/N), and away from you.”

“Insult her again, come on,” you said, standing up threateningly. “If you don't accept Donna it means you don't accept me, so I don't want to waste my time in this house anymore,” you said angrily, walking to grab your coat and walk out the door.

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed, chasing you, while your father didn't move, staying on the couch with a mocking laugh. “(Y/N), wait…”

“No, mom, you're always judging me, I've been living with Donna for a year and I've never given you any reason to worry about, but you don't understand, you still don't understand,” you said, opening the door. “My sister married an idiot and you've never said anything to her, is it because Donna's a woman?”

“No, honey, it's because of who that woman is,” your mother said, closing the door a little behind you.

“It doesn't matter how many times I tell you that the rumors are wrong, right? Why bother to keep insisting? I'm leaving, we'll see each other later,” you said, turning around abruptly, ready to go back home.

“Wait, (Y/N),” your mother interrupted with a hand on your arm. “Wait, my girl. Listen, next week your nephews are coming to eat at home, and I would like you to come too.

“I, of course,” you hissed, blinking impatiently. “I'll think about it.”

“Maybe you could... I don't know, maybe it would be a good time for us to meet... Lady Beneviento,” your mother hinted, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Mm, do you want to meet Donna? It's funny, you just said that she's a dangerous crazy woman,” you said suspiciously.

“I honestly don't have any desire to meet... that woman, but maybe I could feel relieved if I saw for myself that she's not a danger to you,” the woman explained, making you think.

“Donna doesn't leave the house, I doubt it's possible,” you muttered to yourself, scratching the back of your neck. “Can't you just trust my word?”

“We trust your sister's word and now we have two grandchildren,” your mother joked, which caused you to give a slight smile to her. “Sometimes you have to see it to believe it, (Y/N).”

“I don't promise you anything,” you whispered, really thinking about that possibility. “Besides, dad doesn't want her to enter his house.”

“Oh, let me convince your father, you know that he softens a lot when he's with the kids,” she said amused, putting your clothes back on in a motherly way.

“I assure you that it is much easier to convince that stubborn old man than Donna, but well, I will try,” you said, walking back home.

Visits to your parents always had a bitter taste, an almost unbearable tension that you had to go through. For you, your family was important, really important, and your new circumstances didn’t prevent you from continuing to maintain contact.

You were a simple villager, born into a humble family, with no outstanding features beyond a certain ease with words. Your destiny was never written, it was always a messy scribble written with erasable ink. One day, the day when, by chance, you met Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, the words were finally written permanently, indelible.

Donna was a strange woman, yes, sick and tormented by her past. She had been alone for years, fulfilling her duties to the village, protecting it, keeping it under the protection of the Black Gods. You were no stranger to the rumors, to the terrible things she did in the past. You never gave importance to those acts of self-defense or desperate moves.

She was… cultured, sensitive, tremendously intelligent and she was longing to have someone who really understood her, someone who would brutally end her loneliness, forever. Of course you didn't think that it was you.

Her beauty hidden by a horrible veil, the sale of her soul to the Gods, her worries, her complexes, her insecurities, soon became discoveries for you, things that made the lady in black more and more interesting.

Falling in love with her was not difficult, her falling in love with you was just a matter of days. Contrary to what anyone might think, your life wasn’t a torment of hallucinations and nightmares, but quite the opposite, it was a valley full of light and affection, of kisses, hugs, words of love, strong and unbreakable feelings.

Of course you remember the day when you had no choice but to tell your parents who was occupying your thoughts, with whom you would spend the rest of your life. To say that they were surprised would be to understate it. You argued with them, your mother cried, your father cried for revenge…

During that whole year you did nothing but show off the Italian's goodness to them, beg them to stop worrying and pay attention to partially false rumors. They never believed you, every time you went to visit them it was the same story. Worry, fear, childish strategies to get you to return to them…

No one, not even your family could get you to stop loving Donna, no one, never, but sometimes, just sometimes, you wished the situation would change, that your parents would accept your decisions and stop thinking you were just an immature brat.

You had found the love of your life and, having clear where you wanted to be, your next goal became to achieve that pleasant coexistence between the two most important things in your life, Donna and your family.

“Tesoro, are you okay? You haven't tried the lasagna, don't you like it?” the lady in black asked, while you were having dinner in silence, as always.

You shook your head as you played with your food, submerged in a sea of ​​thoughts and helplessness that threatened to disturb your happiness.

“I love your lasagna, really,” you said sighing, starting to eat your dinner so as not to worry your girlfriend absurdly.

“Is something wrong, (Y/N)? Are you feeling sick again?” the lady asked again, with that worried glint in her eye that you adored.

Seriously, how could your parents doubt her? The hard thing was getting her to let you breathe.

“Mm? No, no, I'm fine,” you said with a confident tone, nodding confidently.

“You shouldn't leave the house yet, you could suffer a relapse,” Donna said, with a dark look.

“Nonsense, I'm fine,” you said amused, suppressing a cough that revealed that perhaps you hadn't fully recovered. “I need some wine.”

Donna smiled tenderly, serving you a glass in an elegant manner.

“Prego…” she whispered, leaving the bottle on the table and studying you with her gaze. “Is anything worrying you?”

“No, nothing,” you lied, with a sigh that revealed your true thoughts.

As expected, the lady in black wasn’t the most versed in interpreting gestures or typical human behavior. Poor thing, she spent too much time alone.

“Donna,” you said, drawing her attention with a frown at her involuntary indifference. “Hey, look at me. It's obvious that something is worrying me.”

“Oh, um... is something wrong?” she asked confused, stopping eating. “You told me you were fine.”

“Please, it was obviously a lie,” you joked, shaking your head. “Come on, try again, darling.”

“I... Is something wrong?” she asked  nervously, confused by your much more casual attitude, by your heart's attempt to give back to the brunette all the years that cruel fate had taken from her.

“Yes,” you sighed, finishing your dinner and taking a sip of wine. “I argued with my parents again,” you finally said, with a sad tone.

“I'm so sorry,” Donna said, reaching out her hand to caress yours tenderly. “It was my fault, right?”

“No, well…” you said, unsure if it was the right answer. “It's not your fault, darling, it's just that they are… stubborn,” you said with a slightly more relaxed tone. “They are incapable of accepting what we have.”

“It’s my fault then,” she murmured, wiping her face with a napkin and lowering her gaze. “They must think I'm a monster.”

“No,” you lied again, playing with her hand, caressing it gently so she wouldn't get too nervous.

A crisis was the last thing you needed that day.

“It's not your fault, Donna, it's them who... Ugh, they think I don't have enough judgment to decide who I want to spend the rest of my life with,” you commented, rolling your eyes. “What nonsense, my sister's husband is a jerk and they never told her anything.”

“He wasn't a Lord,” the lady whispered, shaking her head. “They just want to protect you... from me.”

“No, no, no, Donna, don't start with your super-powerful-Lord complex” you said moving your other hand and studying her nervous gestures, the trembling of her hand in yours. “I love you just the way you are, my love, I don't care if you're a Lord or...”

“Or a nutcase,” she finished, lowering her gaze again.

“Well, they can say whatever they want,” you finally sighed, finishing your glass of wine. “I don't care what they think of you, I know it's not like that. Damn it, they judge me when both my mother and my sister got pregnant by two stupid oafs, do they really think I would do the same?”

The lady choked on her drink at your joking tone, taking everything you said seriously again.

“(Y/N)..., n-no, I don't think…” she said somewhat nervously, with a fake laugh.

“I'm just saying it's unfair,” you said, rolling your eyes again at her innocence.

“Yes, but don't worry, tesoro, I don't care what they think of me,” she said, downplaying it.

“I do care, Donna. They're just stupid rumors,” you protested, crossing your arms.

“Not everything is rumors,” the lady whispered, looking away, embarrassed. “You know that, (Y/N)”

“W-Well, what does it matter? We've all made mistakes in the past, or killed someone, or… well, not that but…”

Donna shook her head, with a mix of pain and amusement at your stupid way of excusing the Lord for… well, being a Lord.

“(Y/N), vieni,” she said, gesturing for you to get up, a gesture you obeyed, letting her sit you on her lap with an elegant movement. “Amore mio… don't give it any importance, everything is fine.”

You sighed, letting her lips rest on yours slowly, in one of those kisses that melted you completely.

“Yes, Donna, but… it's frustrating, they say those horrible things because they don't know you,” you murmured, playing playfully with her black hair, pouting. “That no one is able to see the wonderful woman you are makes me angry.”

“The only thing I care about is that you think that way, even if you're wrong,” your girlfriend whispered, kissing you again, giving you that tenderness you needed at that moment. “Mm, let's go pick this up, okay? It's been a long day.”

The time finally came for the sheets to warm your body a little. You were exhausted, still recovering from the flu you had a week ago, and with everything that had happened, you just wanted to rest.

Donna was reading beside you as always, stroking your head distractedly while you daydreamed suddenly remembering something important, something you had to try.

“Donna,” you said, getting her attention, making her put the book down and nod for you to talk. “Next week I have to go to have lunch with my parents, my nephews are coming and…”

“Mm, well, I guess I can't do anything to stop you from leaving me alone,” she whispered in a sad tone.

Yes, it had been hard for you to fight her madness, her jealousy, her reluctance to stay alone in that mansion again.

“Yes, well…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, keeping her gaze, something difficult to do due to the spark of jealousy in her eye. “I-I want to ask you a favor.”

“If it's in my hands, I'll do it,” she said in a stoic, confident tone.

“Yes, um…” you stammered, regretting the proposal you were going to make her. “My nephews, Niko and Olga, you know that their family doesn't have much money and…”

“How much do they need?” Donna offered immediately, without thinking.

“No, no, it's not that,” you stammered, juggling in your mind to avoid that awkward moment. “What I mean is that their parents can't buy them many toys and they have to share them.”

“What's the point, tesoro?” the lady asked, impatient with your stammering.

“Well, you make dolls so… I thought that if you don't have much work, you could make them some toys, you know…” you asked uncertainly.

She nodded without hesitation, looking for a notebook on her table, where she used to write down orders.

“Sure, of course,” she said with a smile, opening the notebook. “It's my job. Tell me, what do your nephews like?”

“Niko is a fan of racing cars and Olga… Well, it's not hard to please her, one of those cheesy dolls you make will do, Oh, I mean… one of your fantastic dolls,” you said amused.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, writing things down in the notebook and laughing at your innocent mistake. “Una macchina… va bene. I'll need to ask the Duke for some materials, but it's no problem.”

“See? You're wonderful, my love,” you said, stealing a deep kiss from her while she laughed at your attack of affection.

“I would do anything to see you happy, you know that,” the lady whispered, kissing you again, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I know,” you whispered confused, thinking about what you really wanted to tell her. “Good night, Donna,” you said romantically, kissing her for the last time and turning off the light.

You weren't able to sleep, because your mother's offer was still in your head. Maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to try to get Donna to meet your family, although you knew it was a bit complicated.

“Um, Donna…” you said after a few minutes, turning the light back on and making the lady grunt.

“Cosa…?”

“I have to ask you another favor,” you said sitting on the bed, playing with your hands. “I would like you to come with me.”

“Dove?” she asked, rubbing her eye, with a hoarse voice.

“To my house, to my parents' house,” you said cautiously.

 “No,” Donna said dryly, with a suddenly cold expression.

“I was expecting that answer…” you whispered to yourself. “Come on, darling, it could be a perfect occasion to prove they’re wrong, for them to get to know you.”

“I don't want them to know me, I don't need them to know me, (Y/N), no,” she repeated again, crossing her arms with childish arrogance.

“But I do,” you sighed, bringing your hands together. “Donna, please, it would be very important for me.”

“I'm sorry, no,” the brunette insisted, making you growl.

“I thought my parents were stubborn…” you murmured, squeezing your eyes with your fingers. “It's not a trap, I promise, I just want my parents to see how you really are, that you love and care for me.”

“I know I love you, you know I love you. That's enough,” she said, looking away with a sharp gesture.

“Ugh, Donna,” you said, crossing your arms with another groan. “Come on, my nephews are going, I'm sure they'll...”

“Nephews?” a shrill voice burst into the bedroom.

The Angie doll appeared, comically walking and climbing the bed while you both followed her with your eyes.

“Hey, were you spying?” you asked as the doll climbed towards her owner. “You shouldn't listen to other people's conversations.”

“I wasn't spying, silly, silly, you just talk too loud,” Angie said, with her hands on her hips.

“Oh,” you said blinking with a cocky smile. “Since when do you dedicate yourself to listening behind the door? Do you always do it?”

“Unfortunately,” the puppet murmured, letting herself fall between you two. “Let's see, let's see, have I heard anything about some nephews?”

“My nephews, next week I'll eat with my parents and them,” you explained, having no reason to lie to the rebellious and shameless counterpart of the doll maker.

“Oh, oh, are they children?” Angie asked, getting too close to you.

“Yes, they are 7 and 8 years old,” you said amused.

“Oh, interesting...”

You definitely couldn't waste that unique opportunity.

“Do you like children, Angie?” you asked curiously, while the lady stared at her, also annoyed with her unwanted intrusion.

“Of course I like children. They are the only ones who want to play with me, not like you, boring, clingy fools,” the doll said, pointing at you mockingly.

“You would like to play with them, wouldn't you?” you asked in a sweet tone, making the brunette turn her head towards you abruptly, knowing, surely, what you intended.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the doll said, excited.

“It's a shame,” you sighed, pretending sadness. “I've told Donna to come with me, but she doesn't want to.”

“Why? Silly Donna…” Angie said, growling comically at her owner, now harassing her.

-Angie, don't get involved in our affairs –the lady hissed, pushing her away from her body. –I said no, and that's no.

“You say you'd do anything to make me happy…” you said in a low tone, a little sadder, bordering on disappointment. “This would make me very happy.”

“(Y/N), I wouldn't…” Donna said, shaking her head.

“Silly Donna, listen to the other silly, it would make her very happy…” Angie sang, tilting her head in an impossible way.

“I said no! Cazzo!” the lady shrieked, making the doll flee to your lap, scared by the irrational anger of her owner.

“Leave it be Angie,” you said, sad, disappointed. “It's not worth it.”

“You stupid, stubborn spaghetti,” the doll accused, pulling even harder on her patience. “You're going to make the fool cry.”

“All you want is to scare those children,” Donna said, with a stern but somewhat calmer tone.

“No, I want to play, (Y/N) wants you to go with her and you want to make her happy, what's the problem? Are you afraid that people will stop thinking that you are a monster without feelings?” the puppet mocked without fearing the wrath of its owner.

Donna didn't say anything, she just sighed, running a hand through her hair and glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, watching how you curled up in bed, turning your back on her, suppressing a sob.

Your family was important to you, Donna was important to you. You couldn't, you simply couldn't choose between the two things, you couldn't stand it anymore.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry I yelled,” the brunette apologized, putting a hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

“Donna, you know how important my family is to me,” you sighed, wiping a tear that ran down your cheek. “I can't stand the idea of ​​them thinking you're a danger, of them thinking you don't love me, because it's not true. But don't worry, just keep on with your dolls and your stupid isolation, I'll figure out how to continue without your help.”

“Cavolo…” the doll maker growled, crossing her arms and looking at the Angie doll, who looked at her expectantly.

“You made her cry, Donna, you fool,” Angie hissed. “Fix it.”

“I…” the lady murmured, thinking carefully about her words. “Okay, I'll do it. I'll do it for you, (Y/N). I would die without thinking that I wouldn't be able to do anything for you.”

Finally the lady accepted the offer, and you couldn't be happier, but as the date of the meeting approached, nerves mercilessly invaded your entire body. You knew that Donna was nice; you knew that she had sacrificed her comfort zone for you, but you weren't sure if your parents would change their minds. You hoped so.

As expected, your parents' faces paled when they saw the woman with the veil. Your father remained cold, your mother trembled, but you tried to ignore those dangerous signs.

“Well, I guess you already know Donna,” you said nervously, watching the children hide because of that imposing presence. “Look, honey, this is my mother, Svetlana,” you said, guiding the brunette towards the frightened woman, who bowed her head in respect.

“It's an honor, Lady Beneviento,” she said in a helpful tone, without looking at the lady, who nodded slowly, without showing any emotion.

“Um, and this... this is Marcus, my father,” you said a little more nervously, pointing at your father, who looked at Donna with distrust, giving her a reluctant greeting.

“Grandma, what is that?” Niko, your nephew asked tugging at your mother's dress and pointing shamelessly at Angie, who pointed at herself.

“That? That?” the doll asked, breaking free from her owner's grip. “I'm not that, my little friend, I'm the fabulous, the unique, the fantastic Angie.”

Both children backed away as the doll approached.

“Hey, leave them alone,” your father said, protecting your nephews, making clumsy gestures towards Angie.

“No, no, it's not okay, she won't hurt them,” you said, grabbing your father's arm, who growled as he watched the doll chase your nephews.

“Oh, you little cowards…” Angie crooned. “Very well, then I won't show you my magic tricks.”

“Magic?” your niece asked, peeking timidly.

“Yes, magic,” the doll said, nodding proudly. “Tell me, have you ever seen a doll that does this?” she shouted amused, twisting her head comically, instantly gaining the attention of the children.

“Wow…” they sighed at the same time, dazzled by Angie's charisma.

“What else can you do?” Niko asked, shyly approaching the doll.

“Mm, I'm the world champion of hide and seek, you scumbags,” the doll commented, before your attentive gaze.

“That's a lie, I'm better,” Olga said, protesting amused.

“Dear…we'll have to prove it…”

Surprisingly, the children didn't take long to gain confidence with Angie, and with Donna, as she timidly handed them the gifts she had made. Of course, that woman in black, veiled and silent, scared them, but they soon lost fear when they saw their new toys, jumping for joy and thanking your girlfriend effusively.

Your parents barely spoke. They limited themselves to watching your nephews when they dared to approach Donna to give her a tender hug for their gifts. The children were wonderful, they were immune to rumors. They soon felt totally comfortable with the presence of that mysterious woman.

“What is this?” your father asked, sitting at the table while the children had fun with the doll and their new toys.

“It's lasagna, dad, Donna made it,” you said, serving him a portion of the dish that the lady had prepared.

“Lasagna,” your mother murmured, observing the plate with curiosity.

You nodded, glancing at the lady in black, who, to no one's surprise, didn't say a single word, just nodded slightly, remaining silent, which increased the tension of the meal even more.

“Mm, how do I know it's not poisoned?” your father asked, dipping his cutlery into the plate, distrustful.

“Dad,” you protested at his rudeness. “You just... eat and shut up.”

“Marcus, please...” your mother said, trying to save the situation.

It was a silent, tense, heavy lunch. The glances flew like constant knives between you.

“It's delicious, Lady Beneviento,” your mother said with a fake smile, making the lady look at her and nod reluctantly. “It looks like complicated to make.”

“Oh, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Donna is an excellent cook,” you commented. “Isn't that right, darling?”

The lady didn't move, she continued eating in silence, moving her veil a bit aside.

“Does she never take that thing off?” your father asked in an unpleasant tone, finishing his meal, which he seemed to have liked. “Hey, I'm talking to you.”

“Marcus, please,” your mother said, terribly scared by the way her husband addressed the Lord. “Show some respect.”

“Respect? Svetlana, that woman has taken our daughter,” your father growled, hitting the table with his fist, drawing the attention of everyone present. “You may be very powerful, Beneviento, but you're in my territory now.”

“Dad,” you said, scared by his attitude as the lady in black slowly raised her gaze, dropping her cutlery. “Don't talk to her like that.”

“Don't talk to her like that?” the man said, pointing at the lady with a fork. “What's wrong with you? Can't you talk?”

“Leave her alone,” you insisted, terribly nervous. “She doesn't talk to strangers.”

“Oh, um... the tomato sauce is homemade, right?” your mother asked, trying by all means to divert the conversation.

Donna looked at her and nodded slowly, but unable to suppress the trembling of her hands.

“You like my daughter, you like her body, how beautiful she is...” your father murmured, crossing his arms, with a look of absolute contempt. “You the Lords think you can do whatever you want why anyone, don't you? Even with an innocent girl.”

“Dad!” you shouted on the verge of a heart attack, and tears.

“Enough, Marcus,” your mother demanded, also hitting the table. “Lady Beneviento, I beg your forgiveness for my husband's attitude, it's just that…”

“Excuse me? She should be asking me for forgiveness. He sleeps with our daughter, Svetlana,” your father said, dragging his words. “What do you think will happen when she gets tired of her?”

“Can't you stop acting like an orangutan?” you said nervously. “She hasn't done anything for you to treat her like that.”

“She hasn't done anything,” your father said, with a mocking smile. “Come on, Beneviento, defend yourself, tell me I'm lying, say something, damn it, do you even know how to talk? Or do you only know how to screw up the life of a girl like (Y/N)?”

Donna reacted, abruptly getting up from the table, looking at your father, without saying anything, but clenching her fists, repressing her rage.

“No, no, no, Donna, honey, calm down,” you said nervously, grabbing the brunette by the shoulders. “Shh, calm down…”

“Stop it!” your mother shouted, standing up too. “Marcus, apologize! You're being unfair to her. We don't know what can happen to us if…”

“Mom!” you shrieked, not accepting the cautious attitude of the woman, who seemed to fear her, she was terribly afraid of Donna. “I'm starting to realize that it was a mistake to come here,” you hissed, throwing the napkin on the table and shaking your head.

“That woman is the mistake,” your father growled, making Donna turn around again, with a furious gasp.

“Let's go, Donna,” you said, taking the brunette by the arm and walking towards the exit.

“Hey! Are we leaving?” Angie protested, still playing with the children. “I want to stay a little longer.”

“Vai, Angie!” Donna squealed making the children back off with the first words the lady said.

The doll said goodbye to the children happily and walked next to you.

“Wait, (Y/N), you should stay,” Donna said, already outside the house.

“No, I'm not going to stay after what they did to you,” you said frowning. “Donna, I'm so sorry…”

“I'm used to this, tesoro… don't worry about me, stay with your family, I need to go home, I have to… relax…” the lady said, lifting your chin, giving you a quick kiss through her veil, walking away without letting you protest any further.

“Donna…” you said with a sob, letting your shoulders fall as your girlfriend walked away from you with a quick step. “Shit, shit…”

You stormed back into your house, slamming the door shut, scaring the kids even more.

“Are you happy?” you asked nervously, on the verge of tears. “Look what you’ve achieved!”

“That crazy bitch has left my house, I’m satisfied,” your father said in a cocky tone. “It’s over, (Y/N), she’s never coming back to that house again, do you hear me?”

“You haven’t even given her a chance!” you shouted, ignoring those banal threats. “You’re… Ugh!”

“Please, calm down, both of you,” your mother said, standing between the two of you before the shouting could escalate. “Marcus, you should be ashamed.”

“I don’t regret anything, Svetlana, I won’t tolerate that disgusting monster continuing to grope my daughter,” your father said, approaching threateningly.

“You’re a disgusting monster,” you muttered in childish rage.

“For Gods’ sake, that's enough,” your mother pleaded. “Please, let's talk things over, Marcus.”

“Leave me alone,” your father said, walking out the door, angry and furious.

You, silent, stunned just like your nephews, let yourself be seated on a chair, putting a hand on your forehead.

“Damn it...” you whispered, being comforted by the two children, who sat next to you and rubbed your back.

“I like her, I like your girlfriend, Aunt (Y/N),” Olga said, touching her new doll. “Grandpa has been mean to her.”

“Yes, Angie is great too, she hasn't tired of playing with us,” her brother said, excited about his racing car. “Do you think we can play with her again?”

“I don't know, Niko,” you sighed, letting yourself be carried away by the innocence of children, crying subtly.

“Children, go to your room,” your mother said with a serious gesture, pointing to a door.

The children nodded and obeyed with a sad look.

“I can't believe it, mom,” you whispered after a few seconds of silence.  “Was it so hard for you to behave like normal people for once?”

“Honey...” your mother sighed, coming a little closer. “You have to understand that for us it is a very complicated situation.”

“Complicated? Dad has been insulting Donna all the time for no reason,” you said angrily, arching your eyebrows. “And you did nothing but grovel before her because she terrifies you. If your plan is to ruin our relationship, you are on the right track.”

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed. “We care about you.”

“Cut the crap, mom, you haven't even given her the chance to prove that she is nice, that she takes care of me and…” you said, suddenly feeling terrible dizziness and intense chills.

“Are you okay?” your mother asked, scared by your immediate paleness. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“I-I don't know… I…” you said with a sudden tiredness, a terrible one along with a stabbing pain in your joints. “I…”

You couldn't say anything else, because everything went black.

“Stop talking nonsense, Marcus,” you heard your mother say when you were able to open your eyes.

Your whole body was weak, burning, you could barely move. You were tucked into your old bed and your father, nervous, paced from one side of the house to the other.

“I'm telling you that it's all that monster's fault, she must have poisoned her,” the man said, nervous, furious.

The darkness that could be seen through the window told you that it was already night, you don't know how long you had been unconscious.

“Mom…” you whispered with a weak voice, putting an end to those horrible insinuations. “What…? What happened to me?”

“Oh, (Y/N), you're awake,” she said, taking your burning hand. “Gosh, you have a high fever, you fainted.”

“Damn it…” you complained, realizing that Donna was right, you still hadn't recovered from the flu. “I-I have to…”

Before you could continue, the door sounded with a thunderous bang, causing your father to be on alert, grabbing a nearby shotgun.

“Marcus, what's wrong?” your mother asked, also scared.

“Stay here,” he said, approaching the door and taking a quick look. “You… Go away!”

“D-Donna…” you murmured when you saw the lady in black behind the door, making an impulse to move, which your mother stopped. “Donna…”

“Didn't you hear me? We don't want you here. Get out or... or...!” your father shrieked, closing the door in her face.

“Dad... no,” you complained, reaching out your hand towards the open door of your room. “Donna...”

With a kick that could be comical, the lady in black didn’t accept the answer, opening the door abruptly, making your father step back and point the shotgun at her.

“D-Don't move...” the man said, trembling as Donna approached, grabbing the barrel of the gun and bending it without difficulty. “No, don't hurt me,” he said cowardly afterwards.

The lady ignored him, looking for something with her eye, looking for you. When she found, she didn't waste a second in running to your side, almost throwing herself onto the bed.

“(Y/N), tesoro,” she gasped nervously as your mother cautiously moved away. “Amore mio, what's happening? You didn't come home and…”

“She has a high fever,” your mother said dryly while your girlfriend checked it, caressing your forehead. “She has fainted.”

“What?” Donna asked. “Oddio… you're burning up…” she whispered.

“Wow, you sure know how to talk,” your father said, crossing his arms behind the door frame. “What have you done to my daughter, you psychopath?”

“Dad…” you moaned desperately at Marcus's inflexible attitude.

“We don't know what to do, my lady, the doctor is not in the village and we don't have money for…” your mother said, clasping her hands, with a look, not of terror, but of pity, of fear that something would happen to you.

“Telefono” the lady hissed, glancing at your mother through that dark veil.

Your mother shook her head, unable to understand her words, nervous, and now, frightened.

“Telefono! Porca puttana! A telephone!” the Lord demanded, causing the woman to instinctively protect herself, nodding and pointing to the required device.

Donna stepped aside, hitting your mother on the shoulder as she walked, dialing a number, the only possible one, the Duke’s.

Soon the merchant arrived with the medicines, but they would take a while to take effect. Your longed-for return home would have to wait a bit, but luckily, Donna and your mother took care of you in the meantime.

Tiredness made you fall asleep, with your hand held by the lady in black, who didn’t move from your side while she caressed you. At one point you woke up, but you decided not to open your eyes, you were very tired, weak.

“Excuse me, my lady,” your mother's voice interrupted that quiet moment, along with her footsteps on the old wood. “It's a very cold night, you could use some tea.”

“Grazie,” Donna whispered, nodding gratefully, or so you saw with your half-open eyes.

“(Y/N) sister's room is free, the children are gone... if you want you can rest,” the woman said, lowering her head and passing a hand over your forehead.

“No,” the lady said, coldly, turning her head back to you.

Your mother nodded, sitting down in another chair and letting a tense atmosphere of silence cover you completely. Your eyes danced with the temptation to close completely again, but you were alert, you had to be.

“(Y/N) is right, you are a woman of few words,” your mother said after a few minutes that seemed eternal.

Donna turned slowly to look at her, but only briefly.

“I-I don't mean it's a bad thing, it's wise to be cautious with words,” she said again in the absence of a verbal response from the hierarch, who sighed annoyed by the situation. “I-I've prepared some hot soup for when (Y/N) recovers, perhaps you would like some.”

“No,” Donna repeated, with a dark hiss, almost begging for your mother to leave you alone.

Your mother lowered her head, nodding slowly, obeying in a submissive way.

“My lady, I beg your pardon for our behavior. My husband and I are very sorry,” Svetlana said, forcing you to stop pretending and intervene.

“Come on,” you said, groaning and opening your eyes, hurt, but completely conscious.

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, caressing your cheek. “Don't get up, per favore,” she whispered to you in a tender voice, laying you back down on the bed.

“Mom, who are you trying to fool? Dad has pointed a damn shotgun at my girlfriend,” you protested, fighting against the lady's attempts to cover you well with the sheets.

“Shh, taci, amore mio,” Donna said in a sweet voice, not caring that a villager like your mother heard her. “It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to me is that you recover so we can go home.”

“Home…” you gasped, giving in and letting her take care of you in bed. “For a moment I thought I had dreamed it all, that you weren't here.”

“Of course I'm here, tesoro,” your girlfriend said, getting a little closer while you reached out your hand clumsily, brushing the veil.

“I ​​hate seeing you with that on,” you commented amused, making a shy laugh come out of her black veil as well.

“Shh, don't talk, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, caressing your cheek and checking that your clumsy caresses hadn't uncovered her face. “You've already taken the medicine, now you have to rest so that the fever goes down completely.”

“Mm…” you murmured, glancing sideways at your mother. “Mom…”

“Hi honey… I'm here,” the woman said, bringing her hand closer to yours. “Thank Gods you feel better…”

“Your mother has prepared a soup for you, I think you should have some,” Donna said, with an irresistible voice that would melt any metal.

“My lady, would you be so kind as to take care of…?” your mother asked with a trembling voice, bringing the plate closer to the lady in black, who took it without hesitation, nodding. “I better… leave you two alone…” she said after, making a ridiculous bow and leaving the room.

“Are you comfortable?” Donna asked, helping you to sit up and bringing you a spoonful. “It smells very good.”

“My mother cooks well, although not as well as you,” you joked a little, letting the soup soothe your throat. “I'm convinced that she's dying to ask you for the lasagna recipe.”

“Mm,” she murmured, helping you to eat. “She's dying for me to disappear from your life, (Y/N).”

“Donna…” you sighed with a sad voice. “You don't know how sorry I am.”

“I've already told you that it doesn't matter,” she answered, cleaning you lovingly with a napkin. “The prejudices in this village are strong, it's not their fault.”

“No, my love,” you corrected, with tears in your eyes. “I'm so sorry I asked you to come. I should have known it was a bad idea.”

“Don't apologize. I know how important your family is to you. It hurts me to say it, but Angie was right. Just because it was a mistake doesn't mean it wasn't the right thing to do, (Y/N)” she said, while continuing to take care of you.

“You always do the right thing, don't you?” she asked, letting you fall back onto the mattress, pleasantly warmed by that soup. “Donna, it makes me so helpless that people don't know what you're really like…”

“I'm not a good person, (Y/N), I've done horrible things, I've killed, I've spread terror with my siblings. I don't deserve for you to try to make others see me the same way you do,” Donna said, settling you down again.

“But it's just that…” you sighed, taking her hand, squeezing it with all the strength you had. “I see you, Donna, and I see you are not that horrible person you think you are. I see you as you really are, your way of loving… I see the person you want to be, what you are when you are with me and…”

“You left (Y/N) alone, with her!” your father's screams interrupted that romantic moment, bouncing off the walls.

“Marcus, please! You've caused enough trouble!” your mother shouted, making you both look at each other in silence, listening. “Do you know how much that medicine cost? We could never have afforded it.”

“Svetlana, I can't believe you're so impressed with a Lord’s money,” Marcus growled. “She wants the girl alive, she needs her alive…”

“Stop talking nonsense and behave like what you are!” your mother responded, catching your attention even more. “You're her father, Marcus. Her happiness is what should matter to you, not nonsense about monstrous Lords.”

“She's a monster!” he shrieked, making Donna move, squeezing your hand as she trembled from the pain of those words. “She's…!”

“Sometimes you are unbearable, Marcus, she is your daughter's girlfriend, and you better go in there and apologize to Lady Beneviento, and thank her for taking care of your daughter like we were never able to do,” your mother demanded, making you smile.

“But...”

“Do it! Or we will lose our daughter forever. Open your eyes, dear. You have seen that this woman is not as the rumors say. Fix things, Marcus, or your daughter won’t be the only thing you lose tonight,” your mother threatened, leaving behind her words an uncomfortable halo of silence.

Donna lowered her gaze, shaking her head softly at hearing those insults, those words that were only based on opinions, unfounded or not, about a completely different woman, about a Donna Beneviento who didn’t know what love was.

A few seconds later, the door opened and your father entered the room, head down, scratching the back of his neck. Donna, startled, stood up from her chair, ready to fight your father's ignorance again.

“Lady Beneviento,” your father whispered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, relieved to see you awake. “I have one question, just one, and I demand…I want you to answer me.”

The lady nodded slowly, keeping her composure.

“Do you love my daughter? Do you really love (Y/N)? Will you take care of her?” the man asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, that's a lot of questions,” you interrupted.

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed, gesturing for you to remain silent.

“I do,” Donna answered, dryly, but self-assured.

Your father sighed, glancing at your mother out of the corner of his eye and taking a breath, slowly extending his hand towards the brunette, with a look of distrust.

“(Y/N) loves you, and it seems that you have managed to convince my wife, but be clear about one thing, Beneviento, it will take me a while to trust you. But I may change my mind if you give me, right now, your word,” your father said, challenging Donna with his gaze, who was surely doing the same.

The brunette didn’t hesitate and extended her hand towards his, shaking it silently, slowly moving it away and maintaining that defiant look that you knew wasn’t threatening at all.

“Good,” he said, nodding satisfied. “I hope your status as a Lord will serve to keep my girl away from all the evils of this village. My home is your home, my lady.”

“Dad, you are great,” you said amused. “Hey, Donna, he did the best he could, really.”

The lady looked at you and nodded, sitting back down in her chair and taking your hand. You breathed easily for the first time.

You knew it was a temporary truce, but Donna would know how to handle it, how to convince your father, without needing any words, that she was the best thing that could happen to you, that she deserved you. Besides, your nephews seemed to take a liking to her, to her and to Angie, as your mother did.

Ahead of you, there was a promising future.

“Tomorrow morning we will return home, okay, my love?”  you whispered, proud of Donna’s composure, of her integrity, of not being able to hurt anyone, your family, even if they thought she was a monster.

“Well, everything is settled,” your mother said, with the same relieved smile. “My lady, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions about that… lasagna…”

[jtl-fics]

idk what your au is doing to me but i was unable to go to sleep (at 2 am while i was beyond exhausted!!) until i read some weird names for FF cause in my mind he must have a crazy, difficult and probably old as heck name so that's why they all use his last name... i need this au somewhere besides Tumblr so it's easier to read over and over again

Lol sorry to keep you up! Unfortunately for now Tumblr is where this fic is going to be. I am leaning more and more towards it going onto Ao3 once I finish the kinda sorta rough draft here, clean it up, and flesh it out a little more.

[hisredvelvetqueen]

Written by the 18 year old me on a P.F. Chang's Napkin

Falling in love is deadly. One of lives biggest mistakes because the heart and mind will become confused. The mind will tell it's not okay while your heart will scream that this is it! "Don't miss out!" you heart will say. Yet your mind knows better. People say not to trust other people. When the truth is NEVER trust your heart. It lies, deceives, misleads, and cheats you out of true happiness. Think hard about how many times the mind and heart have competed and caused the question of who is right to arise.

Comforted by the possibility that your heart could be right this one time. Family and friends give no comfort or answers in great times of confusion. In fact, it becomes worse once you receive opinions and input from them. Then your mind becomes even more unfocused and confused. This often pushes people to side with their heart and make the tragic mistake of letting someone in. The first step to losing your innocence. True words written now for the world to read. Many may misunderstand, not comprehend, even just not care. Then they will be faced with the great ordeal of having to decide who is right. The greatest battle in the world is the one within yourself.

Truth be told that is where world peace begins, within one's self. Still because of people's confusion, insecurities, selfish thoughts, and beliefs, we are stuck in a cycle. Fly into the past and realize that times are not very different.

Fighting, hate, death, crime, natural disasters, and illness are still alive and just as bad as before. Some places much worse than others.

Still it makes sense once you take the time to think. When love does not exist, or at least allowed to bloom within your mind, how could love blossom around the world.

Can money buy true love? What really decides if what you are feeling is true love?

Toss and turn while your mind continuously wonders what is okay and if changes should be made.

People say that dreams do and can come true. So than why are mine not coming true?

Maybe its because man-kind as a whole is not capable or worthy of such a large task. To love and be loved. Be respectful and kind. Knowing that things will improve.

Now that I truly think about it maybe evil makes the world go round. Then again if I am the one to start another great movement would this time before to change the world? Only time will tell and only my ancestors know.

One thing I know I am 100% positive of is that I want to and am more than willing to ensure it happens.

PEACE OF THE WORLD!!

33 years of life experience reflection......the 18 year old me was fucking right!! When I finally found true love, I was afraid and broken and made so many mistakes. I love this many with ALL OF ME, because of that I had to learn to love ALL OF ME, so I could give to our goals and desires endlessly.

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[senselessalchemist]

Bow problems (+ other nonsense)

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[swissmissing]

Why are fanfics better than mainstream published books? - You already have an emotional connection to the characters. You are reading with a positive bias. - You are choosing stories that match your likes. You look at the tags and filter out tags that contain topics you aren't interested in or actively dislike. - I'm sure there are also "booktok romances" that you would enjoy, but you're not getting shown those in your feed. You're just seeing those that are being promoted by the algorithm for other reasons, so it is a false comparison. - Publishers are (mostly) in it for the money. They publish things that they are pretty sure will sell. This means they are working with formulas. Those formulas can feel unsatisfactory, maybe because you're bored of them, they seem unrealistic to you, etc. Fan fiction authors are not bound by formulas. They can do things which a mainstream publisher would never take a risk on. Those things happen to match your likes. - Your opinion, perspective, biases, and preferences may not align with the majority of the mainstream (or even fandom) population.

Why are they not published works? - The BBC characters are under copyright. It is illegal to publish (i.e. for sale through a publishing house) Johnlock (BBC) and Sherlolly fics as such. - Many authors have "scraped" their popular fics and published them, giving the characters different names and changing other details so as not to infringe on the BBC copyright. I have compiled a bunch of them here. - Publishers are (mostly) in it for the money. They publish things that they are pretty sure will sell well. This means they are working with formulas. Whatever has sold well in the past, will continue to sell. Whatever the current trend is, will sell. The fics you like may not fit those formulas or match the trends. - People who like fanfiction-style stories are consuming them for free online, rather than buying them. If more people bought the scraped fics, or fully original stories that are similar, publishers would adjust their formulas.

You can "publish" your favorite fics yourself for private use. - The easiest way is to go to your local copy shop with a PDF and have them print out and bind the fic for you. - There are also online self-publishing sites where you can have books printed in a more professional looking format. Although it may be a gray area when you do this with someone else's fic because I think they do ask if it's your own when you upload something. Best probably to ask the author first. - If you are craftsy or interested in learning a new skill, you can learn to bind a book yourself. I've seen many examples of fans doing this as well.

Always download and save fics that you like. Authors can and do delete their fics at any time, without notice. Published books also disappear, go out of print or circulation, get removed from libraries, etc. Especially nowadays with e-books, unless you are able to download a file to read offline, you don't actually own it and the provider can remove your access at any time. If you like it, buy a physical copy.

sorry not sorry but some of these johnlock and sherlolly fics are so much better than those trashy booktok romances out there in the market.

like why are they not published works? why are they not in paperback and hardcover? why do i have to worry about them getting lost and deleted someday?

[sergle]

Is this dress kind of slappy or is it kind of stupid

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[otiksimr]

Desperately.. trying.. to complete- the pokedex as much as I can without having to trade for version exclusives.

[rimyrionette]

All I ask for bluepoch is to give sonetto another skin plsplsplspls give my daughter another cute garment plsplsplsplspls