#Unconditional Guarantee

[alwaysbewoke]

[uncanny-tranny]

r u chill w non transitioning ppl?

Why wouldn't I be? At one point, every trans person who is transitioning was once someone who wasn't (whether or not that was a choice or their need is a separate discussion).

Hatred of any kind of trans person is not a Righteous or Good Thing - every single trans person has their place, their entitlement to safety, community, and respect of who they are

[frogs-in3-hills]

anyways it’s funny that i say i prefer stories that work with themes on a bigger scale meanwhile my favorite piece of fiction in the entire world is nana by ai yazawa, which is so deeply embedded in its characters perspectives that it almost becomes apolitical. like i don’t know if ai yazawa fully realizes that nana k is a csa victim or that ren manipulates nana o with sex or that shin & reira’s relationship is unhealthy. she might or she might not.. it doesn’t matter what she thinks because she’s just fully uninterested in passing judgement on these things, instead focusing on portraying them and the characters’ experiences extremely authentically & leaving the viewer to interpret what it is and what it means. which counterintuitively makes them more compelling to me (the themes enjoyer…) only because she’s so fucking good at doing that. truly i have seen some very well-written characters but i have never seen anything like the characters in nana……..

[windor-truffle]

Having Graces meta thoughts again, mostly about Asbel >:) not quite sure what direction this is gonna go or for how long so I'll put it under a cut:

Guess I'll start my ramble with the inciting incident: I was re-reading a beloved Graces fic (laudatory post to come out abt it and other fics sometime soon) and was struck by a line where Cheria notes that Asbel, to paraphrase, has always been empathetic, but also too damn stubborn. Mentally I tacked on that he's also generally oblivious and tends to act without thinking things through, which can hinder his ability to act compassionately too. It fascinates me that a character whose whole thing is reaching out to and believing in others is often impaired by his inability to notice that something's wrong in the first place--- I suppose if he noticed too quickly the plot would be over too soon! 😂 But from there I got caught up thinking about these core traits, and how they, like his foil Richard, can be both a blessing and a curse.

I know I've mused on Richard's hyper-awareness before, how it helps him by detecting threats early or enables him to notice and help a friend with their problems before they worsen. But it also is the source of his mistrust, anxiety, and pessimism, and keeps him from believing in others the way that Asbel can. And I've DEFINITELY mulled on Asbel's blind faith before, how it kept him from helping Richard sooner but of course also saved Richard in the end. But Asbel is almost a bit of a one-trick pony in that regard--- he is VERY good at believing in others, even at their lowest points when neither they nor anyone else can believe in them, but that's kinda all he does 😅 His belief in others is a hammer, and everything else looks like a nail.

It is very fortunate for him then to be in the kind of narrative that he is, that the people he saves this way were truly in need of that kind of help. Because sometimes people need support BEYOND faith and trust and love and general good vibes. Sometimes they need a shoulder to cry on, or a confidant to share their worries with, or a grin to cheer them up, or a lecture to slap some sense into them. And while Asbel is sometimes capable of doing these things on his own, they aren't his go-to response, and are in fact more likely to be suggested to him by his friends when he comes for advice. But that's exactly what those friends are for--- for everything he can't do, every problem he fails to notice, someone else in his group can step up and fill the gap, knowing that their own impediments are covered in return. It's almost like friendship is one of the themes of the game 😅

Idk, maybe it's a somewhat obvious conclusion to come to, but these musings have given me a new appreciation for Asbel's assertions that if they all work together, they can accomplish anything. Maybe he's not actually so blindly trusting if he's witnessed firsthand where cooperation can take them, and maybe he's not so oblivious if he noticed this simple truth.

[ivygorgon]

Let the choir say amend!!

[pumkinzee]

DATING JASON GRACE

request: ˋˋ Hey! I love your Jason Grace post sm!! I was wondering if you could maybe do like headcanons for Jason Grace dating a Hades/Pluto kid? Maybe sprinkle in some nsfw if you’re okay with it? if not don’t even worry i will happily take what i can get!! thank you sm!!! ˊˊ

pairing: Jason Grace x gn!Hades!reader

a/n: I said it in the Percy post, PENDEJO ENOUGH TO DELET ACCIDENTLY

⌑ - English isn't my first language so I'm using a translator and my basic knowledge of the language!

𝐑equest 𝐨pens! + 𝐫ules!

The first thing he felt was fear, all his life he was raised to be in control of the situation, and he thought he was slowly getting it when he was with you, he just didn't have it programmed in that he couldn't control his heart rate when you approached, or the way his hands sweated on the handle of his sword when you looked at him, he was being clumsy and that scared him. When he finally realized that being in love was not synonymous with being weak, he started planning how to approach you, every move, learning your expressions, how you reacted, how you fought, how to flirt, he really studied you and planned how to make you his.

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it, this man is too much of a gentleman, for his own good, he pulls your chair up to the table, sits after you, gives you his jacket, helps you jump over mud puddles, puts his hand on the corner of the table when you bend over, walks down the street, pays for all your dinners, there's nothing he won't do for you, I've said it here before

So, you are a child of Hades. Let's start with that he has respect for you, he knows your place and how powerful you are being a child of the big three, since he is one, he knows what it's like to have the pressure of everyone, he gives you your space and his unconditional support, whenever you need him you are guaranteed to have him with open arms.

He's a little scared of your father, we all know what Hades and Zeus' relationship is like, I often think about how he tries to make you feel fantastic not only because of how much he loves you (and that you are literally his world) but to impress your father a little. He doesn't succeed, but at least he means well.

Your styles are quite opposite, especially in clothing, he will wear white sweaters, button down shirts or anything that looks fancy outside of camp, at the same time he gets used to seeing you in leather jackets, boots or black makeup because he thinks you look cool. He confirms this.

He is very patient, more than any of us here are, he is calculating and usually takes things slowly, but he knows how to work under pressure, if you ever need to make a quick decision without time to analyze the environment, I assure you that he is already three steps ahead of you. He likes cuddles, just like anyone else, only he is... complicated. He is very rigid, he is not always ready to hug you back, sometimes spontaneous hugs make him react slightly violent, like a slap or turning around faster than he should, all thanks to his camp, but as soon as he realizes it's you, he softens up. It's hard enough for you to break his shell and he'll let you hug him.

If you are similar to Nico, meaning both in personality and in having lost someone, he is a very good listener, he will take a few seconds to analyze what you said and think of a response, he is not a psychologist, but he knows how to make you feel that you fit in, at least with him.

If your powers leave you constantly exhausted, he is there to hold you up if your legs get weak, sometimes scolding you when you overexert yourself and end up even more exhausted.

I write this thinking of Hades and not Pluto (although you can consider him as outside) so he likes you to be in his cabin, he likes to be with you cuddled up in your cold cabin if it wasn't for Nico, so when Nico is, you're usually in various places but not your cabin, too cold and gloomy, almost looks like depression factory.

The military badges with your initials, when he trains, jingle against his sweaty chest and he remembers that, even when he is exhausted training, he knows you are there.

His protective instinct is very high, he doesn't want anything to happen to you, he is always on the lookout for you, like a police dog that gets upset when he hears a branch break near where you are.

nsfw cut!

He is careful, let's put it that way. I have mentioned this section before, but he almost always knows what he is doing, he is careful and delicate, he memorizes every part of your body before even laying a hand on you, he would take his time to find out what you like and what you don't like.

Limits are the most important thing to him, even when he gets lost in pleasure, he is aware of what you like and what you don't, your pleasure is his priority.

I'm not good at doing sex fics, BUT, I'm not going to let it go unnoticed that this man has a huge dick. Son of the big three, huh, son of Zeus. My gods.

His hands are always either on your waist or on your wrists, holding them above your head, he only does this when he's desperate and having a hard time being a gentleman. He digs his nails into the flesh of your waist, leaving bruises he'd apologize for and take care of, but in the moment, he's lost, hitting you hard enough to leave you with a sore hip the next day.

He spreads his legs and sits you on his thigh, his hands on your waist, under your shirt, leaning down and devouring your neck, whispering to you everything from the most romantic to the dirtiest things that even I can't think of. He leaves you a kiss on the back of your neck and lets you go, because he's busy.

Sex in public? Dream on. He wants to do things right, public sex equals quickies, and he's conflicted about this.

He puts his hand between your thighs when they're in public, he doesn't go past that, he takes it upon himself to move it up to your intimate part and throw little sparks with his fingers. Don't wait any longer.

©pumkinzee

[porterdavis]

From a man who knows

Your Excellency, Mr. President,

We watched the report of your conversation with the President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky, with fear and distaste. We find it insulting that you expect Ukraine to show respect and gratitude for the material assistance provided by the United States in its fight against russia. Gratitude is owed to the heroic Ukrainian soldiers who shed their blood in defense of the values of the free world. They have been dying on the front lines for more than 11 years in the name of these values and the independence of their homeland, which was attacked by Putin’s russia.

We do not understand how the leader of a country that symbolizes the free world cannot recognize this.

Our alarm was also heightened by the atmosphere in the Oval Office during this conversation, which reminded us of the interrogations we endured at the hands of the Security Services and the debates in Communist courts. Prosecutors and judges, acting on behalf of the all-powerful communist political police, would explain to us that they held all the power while we held none. They demanded that we cease our activities, arguing that thousands of innocent people suffered because of us. They stripped us of our freedoms and civil rights because we refused to cooperate with the government or express gratitude for our oppression. We are shocked that President Volodymyr Zelensky was treated in the same manner.

The history of the 20th century shows that whenever the United States sought to distance itself from democratic values and its European allies, it ultimately became a threat to itself. President Woodrow Wilson understood this when he decided in 1917 that the United States must join World War I. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt understood this when, after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, he resolved that the war to defend America must be fought not only in the Pacific but also in Europe, in alliance with the nations under attack by the Third Reich.

We remember that without President Ronald Reagan and America’s financial commitment, the collapse of the Soviet empire would not have been possible. President Reagan recognized that millions of enslaved people suffered in Soviet russia and the countries it had subjugated, including thousands of political prisoners who paid for their defense of democratic values with their freedom. His greatness lay, among other things, in his unwavering decision to call the USSR an “Empire of Evil” and to fight it decisively. We won, and today, the statue of President Ronald Reagan stands in Warsaw, facing the U.S. Embassy.

Mr. President, material aid—military and financial—can never be equated with the blood shed in the name of Ukraine’s independence and the freedom of Europe and the entire free world. Human life is priceless; its value cannot be measured in money. Gratitude is due to those who sacrifice their blood and their freedom. This is self-evident to us, the people of Solidarity, former political prisoners of the communist regime under Soviet russia.

We call on the United States to uphold the guarantees made alongside Great Britain in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, which established a direct obligation to defend Ukraine’s territorial integrity in exchange for its relinquishment of nuclear weapons. These guarantees are unconditional—there is no mention of treating such assistance as an economic transaction.

Signed,

Lech Wałęsa, former political prisoner, President of Poland

[popponn]

boyfriend hcs | isagi yoichi.

notes: im done pretending to be sane. "things and hcs about isagi yoichi" post because world hard and cold isagi yoichi soft and warm. this time, really mean it when saying no brain just isagi big love. please don't look at this too closely, other than that: no warning.

the "natural rizz" type who is honestly not really good at being purposefully suave. if he tries, it will either go boyfailure route or cute babygirl route. if he doesn't, it's a full package bf who will get your whole family & friends' approval.

at first, he tries really hard, but the moment you get him to calm down and kick the nervousness away, you will get: casual affection, unconditional support, a cuddly & clingy bf on weekends, etc.

looks at matching keychains once and the metavision is telling him it will be cute if you two have that.

he seems like the type who is not obvious when he is in love. at first. the moment his friends accidentally stumble upon your dates and see his smile, his smile is fooling no one.

somehow could make the most mundane unromantic activity cute as long he does it with you. accidentally. somehow.

when he starts dating you, his clothes will reflect your taste because: 1) he will shop for those clothes with you and ask for your opinion; 2) if you are a sane human with a bare minimum level of taste you should know his fashion sense level is in minus already—please do a favor to mankind and get him away from that neon orange trousers and bright green jumper; 3) he just wants to see you happy; 4) despite his humble look and usual demeanor, he likes showing off that he has you and you have him.

doesn't mean he can pick your clothes. do yourself a favor and think thrice or ten times if he suggests clothing or god forbid a mix match. love makes people dumb but it has to have a limit. your man is not trustworthy in the style department.

getting his parents' approval should be the least of your worries. his blue lock fellows and noel fucking noa should be your concern. good luck, high chance you have to verbally fight people like michael kaiser and barou shohei.

your phone is guaranteed to have at least 5 country clocks in it because yoichi is an international sensation. and when he is not busy practicing, you barely leave his mind at all.

it ranges from "oh, they will like this as a gift" to longingly gazing at his phone because while he is an understanding & secure attachment-style boyfriend, it doesn't mean he can bear with you not contacting him for three days. call your man. text him.

his favorite songs will be that cm song and whatever you often listen to around him—"it just sticks". his favorite movie will be totoro and your favorite movie. attachment and fond memories are the main driving force for his favorite stuff.

is pretty independent and self-sufficient that is not clingy most of the time. unless when he is sleepy. he hugs his pillow when he sleeps, now that he has you get ready.

if your main love language are acts of service and words of affirmation, it will be an instant match. "i do this for you, you do this for me" without any talking needs to be done, just like second nature. and he likes to be praised.

in case of quality time and physical touch, it will take some time to get used to, most probably. while he clearly enjoys time with his closest ones, isagi also enjoys his alone time and thinking time too. and he used to be a shy boy who doesn't share touches with people much. but believe in his adaptability, as long as the parties involved are willing to figure this out it will get figured out.

made a whole post about this once like a besotted fool, but is a really good listener who likes listening to you. it's like you "giving him a piece of you"—especially if it is a part of you that you don't share much.

please do listen and try to figure him out though. moving on soon and focusing on the present's solution is good but in some cases, it really might lead to what people call "pent-up emotions". isagi doesn't enjoy looking or being "weak", but really understanding the emotions he doesn't say out loud will benefit both of you in the long run.

keep the balance in everything—because isagi as understanding and adaptable as he is, still sometimes has a lapse in judgment.

before this gets into angst territory let's stop here. moving on.

is canonly described as poetic in one of exhib dialogues—which means this man is scientifically proven to be cheesy as hell.

sheepish, boyish, cute, sometimes nervous, very boy next door yes. but when he is in the moment, aka the romance flow is kicking, get ready for the most heartfelt, the most sincere profession of love under the sunset. an "i'm glad you are in my life", an "i will happily choose you again", etc.

learn to kick a soccer ball if you can't. 1) good for self-defense; 2) he sometimes brings the ball to sleep and if you don't want it, really think of it as self-defense. (not kidding, check his PWC sprite and that one sleeping anime official art merch)

at first gets bashful at pet names, but if someone makes fun of him—especially during a match—that's just asking for it.

remember his habit of being unable to say "no"? In a very loving manner, it comes back in full force with you. he will spoil the hell out of you even when you don't ask him to. what you want, isagi will get.

you have to be his #1 supporter. because he is yours. sometimes he can give advice and help for you, sometimes he can't. but if anything, he will always be there.

has a soft spot for you smiling while hugging something. in other words, while his gallery is full of your photo with plushies, animals, etc—the number of mirror selfies with the two of you hugging each other is enough to make anyone blink in astonishment.

if someone badmouths you or tries to harrass you, oresagi aka on field persona comes out without any hesitation. and while isagi's appearance doesn't come in the most intimidating form—we have seen him. hold him back, please.

even after everything, is honestly a pretty simple guy who thinks a simple breakfast with you worth much more than expensive dinners. home dates with him is always the coziest thing on earth, no matter whether under a sunny sky or rainy clouds.

when he is dedicated to you, he is dedication itself. certainly still have to do pr and fanservice when he meets some fans in the street, but before he leaves he will always squeeze your hand like asking for permission and he always does it with such efficiency that some of his friends wonder if he is trained to return as quickly as possible to your side. (yeah. isagi values efficiency and like how he wants a goal, he wants to enjoy his date with you.)

comfort hcs tho, when you feel insecure or down in some ways talk to him. he might pick up the bad mood but he isn't the type to try and overstep when you don't want to tell him. and as said before, he is a really good listener who is always there for you, so it will really do you good.

sometimes protest but he loves it when you play with his hair one way or another. ruffle it, pat it, style it—do as you wish. bonus if you are in front of him, in his lap, in the comfort of your shared abode. clingy isagi coming out again.

he hugs in the same way he kisses. they are long and heartfelt. one could use "passionate" to describe them, if it isn't for a certain chaste-esque mannerism that is almost always there.

the only time it is not is when the two of you are in private but because this is a family account. not going there.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can you do one where reader is a 5th lord and also used to be in a relationship with Donna. Their breakup was pretty nasty between them and the tension is always thick at meetings or anywhere else but reader is still in love with Donna. One night reader decides to go Donna to talk but then it turns to makeup/hate sex and they decide to get back together.

P.a thank you for your Donna stories I love your writing so much!

Yesss!!! I'm sorry about the delay!! Thank you for your request and your support!!! I hope you like it, anon! Sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

I can't hate you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, 5th Lord! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, fluff, angst, Donna being Donna

Word count: 6,890

Summary: You knew she hated you, but you still love her...

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

“Damn,” you lamented, pushing away from the table and sinking onto the couch. “Great, a meeting is just what I needed.”

The afternoon light streaming through the window was sad, or so it seemed. Everything had seemed sad and empty since that day.

Living in that village couldn't be synonymous with joy and jubilation, but at least you saw some meaning, some harmony in the snow, in the black birds crossing the cloudy sky, in your own existence.

You never asked for mercy, pity, or salvation from the monotonous life you lived. Your family left a long time ago, leaving only the memory of their past. They were nobles, yes, charged with protecting and caring for the forest that kept the village a secret from prying eyes.

You'd heard stories of nobility, of a renowned family name associated with you, but you always knew that it wouldn't guarantee you a better life, at least not in a place like that. Of all that was once your family, only you remained, isolated in what was once a mansion, and now only partially habitable ruins.

You were happy; you didn't need help, but still, you got it.

Mother Miranda saw something in you, something she herself had overlooked for the past 20 years, something that, according to the witch, the Gods whispered to her. Well, you weren't particularly happy in your solitude, and the winter cold would eventually kill you.

How could you have refused the hand she offered you?

As in many fictional stories, it wasn't unconditional help; it was a pact with the devil, a silent agreement that would take much more than your soul. You remembered the pain, the sensation of watching life slip through your fingers… You remembered the Cadou writhing before entering your body.

Then, the light came.

As if it were a religious scripture, you rose from that old stretcher, disoriented but radiant, much stronger, different…

(Y/N) had died, but from her ashes Lady (Y/N) was reborn, a new servant of Mother Miranda, the Fifth Lord. Your family's noble past influenced the priestess's decision to include you in the village's decisions, to add a picture of you to the altar of the old chapel.

If it hadn't been for your family's past… what would have become of you?

You preferred not to answer that question.

A gift from the Gods, or so Miranda called the subtle changes in your appearance. Yes, you would remain 20 for the rest of your life, paying a price: marks on your face that resembled the roots of a tree, which you would make sense of soon after.

Around your dilapidated home, flowers began to bloom and the orchard began to bear fruit long before its time as well as the trees seemed to move, to twist as you passed by them. That was the power your new status gave you, the price of eternal life, and the tireless duty to protect the village and maintain the loyalty to Mother Miranda.

The Fifth Lord, the youngest of all, but not the strangest. Unlike your new “siblings”, you decided to use your gifts to help the poor villagers you had once been part of. Destroyed crops, infertile lands, vermin that fed on the labor of others... These began to be your responsibilities, and thanks to your skill, you managed to make the local inhabitants thank the Gods and Mother Miranda for their survival.

You tried, for a weak moment, to relate to your old friends like before, but nothing was the same, nor would it ever be. The excessive respect and fear towards you were unbearable, and you soon understood that your place in that world of darkness had changed irrevocably.

Of course, the rest of the Lords accepted you without question, teaching you your duties, accompanying you on this new path in your life. But as the years passed, those people you once feared became friends, almost family, as Miranda liked to say.

Everything would have been perfect if you hadn't fallen in love with one of them, with the lady in black who gave you nightmares as a child, the ventriloquist, Donna Beneviento.

The cold felt much more piercing than usual, and part of your young personality reproached you for not having given the priestess an excuse to avoid that meeting.

You knew Donna would be there, faithful, but cold as ever. The villagers bowed and greeted you respectfully, but your head was far from the road, right next to her, remembering everything you had experienced together, everything that had happened between Lady Beneviento and you.

But this wasn't the time to remember, but to act, to pretend that nothing that could alter the status quo in which the five of you lived was happening, nothing that could disturb the peace, the control that Mother Miranda had over you.

“(Y/N), it's been a while,” a seductive voice echoed off the stone walls leading to the underground cathedral. It was Lady Dimitrescu, the most senior Lord, and the one who enjoyed being so the most.

“Alcina,” you greeted politely, earning one of her dark smiles.

You knew she was speaking to you, that she was saying something, but you didn't listen. Your eyes fixed on the figure sitting at the back of the room, the black figure who had once been your beloved, Donna.

Your heart stopped for a moment as you walked to your seat, one next to hers, as if fate were laughing at you.

“Donna,” you sighed in a timid greeting, trying not to tremble, not to remember anything that had happened in the past few months and to appear serious and authoritative, something truly complicated when your senses recognized that scent of lavender, that scent that brought back so many memories.

The lady in black didn't move, although you knew that behind the black veil lay a gaze fixed on you. The fabric danced as she turned away from your gaze, denying you even the slightest greeting.

“Don't talk to us, silly,” the Angie doll, Donna's faithful companion, rested on her lap, directing those harsh words towards you. “You silly, silly…”

“Hi, Angie, you look well,” you said, making an effort to separate the doll from its owner, to make a distinction between doll and woman, believing maybe that way you wouldn't feel so hurt.

“Shut up, tree-hugger,” the doll replied as the lady shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What part of I don't want to talk to you don't you understand?”

“Ugh, okay,” you said, slumping into your seat and crossing your arms as you vaguely nodded to the rest of your siblings, who seemed very attentive, too attentive.

“Welcome, children,” Mother Miranda said, extending her arms at the altar, giving a silent start to that awkward meeting. “Reports.”

One by one, you gave reports of your work, of your discreet lives to the priestess. Surely she cared about nothing but knowing that no one would betray her. Sometimes you feared her, other times you hated her.

Over all those years, you had felt many things for Miranda: admiration, affection, fear... but it didn't take long for you to know her true heart, to discover that Mother Miranda only cared about Mother Miranda.

Of course, you weren't the only one with that point of view, something that made you befriend Heisenberg, but it was irrelevant. No matter what that woman looked like, she had given you those powers, eternal life… You should be grateful, right?

“Why don't you sit somewhere else? You're making me nervous,” a husky whisper reached your ears as the lady next to you moved.

It had been so long since you'd heard Donna's sweet voice that you jumped, a smile crossing your face before your brain could interpret her hurtful words. You opened your mouth to answer, but shook your head, sighing.

“Sorry, this happens to be my spot,” you said in a sour tone, a tone that was totally different from what you really felt, but that your pride couldn't suppress.

“Sciocchezze, you have much more room on that side,” Donna replied, looking away, as if looking at you was painful for her too.

“I'm not going to get up from my spot because it annoys you,” you whispered, with a haughty look on your face. “You should move instead.”

“No”

“Fine, then don't complain,” you said with a wry smile. “Shut up, you're not letting me listen”

“Are you telling me to shut up?” the lady in black said with a gasp of surprise. “You?”

“I don't know why you're surprised... Oh, of course, you were usually the one who has that right, weren’t you?” you quipped making the lady clench her fists in her lap and the Angie doll giggle discreetly.

“Chuidi il becco, I don't want to hear or see you, you're annoying me,” Donna protested, turning her head away from you again, visibly nervous, just like you.

“You started it,” you said in a satisfied whisper, ending this absurd argument, the last thing you needed. “If I'm annoying you that much, sit down there.”

“I'm not moving from here,” the dollmaker stated. “This has been my seat longer than you've been alive.”

“Well, we have a problem then,” you challenged, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms, pretending to listen to Miranda again.

“Mannaggia...” the lady hissed, shifting in her seat, cradling Angie so her laughter wouldn't attract attention.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” the doll mocked, reprimanded by her owner, who moved as far away from you as possible.

You groaned and shook your head again, breathing increasingly ragged, nervous, and tense.

“…that's why we must make the villagers...” Miranda's speech entered your ears, but all you could think about was the lavender, Donna, that woman you once loved, and who was now just a stranger to you.

“By the way, stupida,” the brunette whispered again, leaning towards you mockingly. “You left a dress at my house, that pretty dress I made you.”

“Hmm,” you murmured, not paying much attention to her. “I'll go get it.”

“Don't even think about coming near my house,” Donna replied, her knuckles white from the pressure. “Don't bother trying to get it back. I burned it in the fireplace.”

“Great, how mature of you,” you said amused, with a sarcastic smile.

“Ladies... I can't believe it,” Miranda's voice sounded much closer, her tone warning, a warning, like her gaze, directed at you.

You both lowered your heads, realizing that every eye in the room was on you. Your argument hadn't been as discreet as it seemed.

“I'm sorry, Mother,” you whispered, bending down to show regret.

“You're like little girls,” the priestess complained, her gaze piercing and menacing. “If you're done arguing, may I continue with the meeting?”

“It was (Y/N)!” Angie shrieked, pointing at you accusingly with a nasty squeak. “She's bothering my Donna!”

“Gods...” Miranda whispered, resting her fingers on her temples.

“What? That's a lie,” you protested, standing up from your chair. “Mother Miranda, I...”

“Silence! Stop acting like irrational teenagers and pay attention... You're exhausting,” the witch shrieked. “Do I have to act like a mother? You, (Y/N), sit over there,” she ordered, pointing at the bench Alcina was occupying.

Growling and giving Donna one last furious look, you obeyed, ignoring Angie's taunts, who seemed pleased with her absurd victory.

“Mm, dear...” Alcina murmured when the tension dissipated, lighting a cigarette. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

“What? I didn't do anything,” you protested, paying more attention to Miranda to avoid another reprimand. “She's the one who...”

“What a pity,” sighed the lady in white, shaking her head. “You two made such a lovely couple...”

“Yeah,” you said dryly, unable to avoid glancing sideways at the lady in black, who seemed, only seemed, to be doing the same.

“You tarnish the name of love with your childish behavior, my dear. Can't you give each other a second chance?” Alcina whispered, much more discreetly, taking advantage of Miranda's distraction with Moreau. You shrugged, not taking your eyes off that black veil.

“I'd love to, but it's impossible. She... she doesn't want to listen to me,” you confessed, revealing that those feelings you had for Donna were still there, that they had never left.

“Poor Donna, I still don't know what you did to her...”

“I didn't do anything,” you protested immediately, clenching your fists in the same way as your former lover. “It was all because of her stupid jealousy.”

“Um, of course, your lack of patience with someone like her had nothing to do with it, right?” the lady in white chided you, pretending to listen to the priestess.

“Uh, it’s not...” you said, frowning, but falling silent when Miranda's gray eyes fixed on you again.

“Well, there's always a place in my castle for a beauty like you, my dear, but I wouldn't want to take away from Donna what she considers hers; that would be very wrong, wouldn't it?” the lady of the castle suggested, making a blush spread across your cheeks.

“I wish she would still consider me hers,” you murmured in an imperceptible tone, feeling a pang of pain as you looked again at your beloved, who seemed to be ignoring you.

“Then do something about it, my dear, before your stupid arguments upset Mother Miranda any further. I couldn't bear to lose you both.”

After what felt like an eternity, the meeting came to an end. Of course, you didn't hear any of Miranda's words; all you could think about was your feelings. Maybe Alcina was right, and it was time to fix this mess.

You couldn't think of anything else. You dreamed of Donna, you thought of her every moment, of the day you could feel her skin against yours again, the day the whispers of love would once again flow from her lips.

“Donna, wait,” you said, grabbing the lady who passed in front of you, holding her in place.

With a furious gasp, Donna pulled away, scorning your approach, making you swallow your pride and your words sound like a plea.

“Lasciami,” she whispered, turning her back on you while Angie made mocking gestures in your direction.

“Oh, come on, I want to talk to you and...” you insisted with that pathetic, pleading tone, chasing the lady outside.

“I don't want to talk to you, do you hear me?” she said in a cold tone, causing the rest of the Lords to look at you curiously as they walked. “You're lucky you're a Lord, and that my powers don't affect you.”

“Are you threatening me?” you asked incredulously. “Donna, please, I just want to talk.”

“I have nothing to talk to you about,” the lady said, ignoring you again and starting to walk away.

“Donna…” you sighed, exhausted, watching her figure disappear into the snow.

At least she'd talked to you, and that was much more than there had been in the last few weeks, but it wasn't enough.

When you met Lady Beneviento, everything was different. Donna was a strange woman about whom you'd heard terrible rumors, but she was still intriguing, interesting.

Your skill with plants had formed a kind of bond with that strange dollmaker, working together on an experiment, on Mother Miranda's orders. Until that moment, you believed what the villagers said about her was true, but little by little, you discovered that those claims were far from reality.

Donna was sick, yes, her mind had been damaged since birth, and it worsened after losing her family in a terrible way, but… But the word "monster," with which your old friends defined her, differed quite a bit from what you could see.

Intelligent, elegant, sweet… Those were the adjectives your mind formed every time you saw her, spent time with her. Her shy laugh became an addiction for you; her hands were the only thing you could think about when you returned home.

Like a romance book, a movie that spoke of an impossible love, that curious friendship you developed became a need as pressing as breathing. You discovered the true woman hidden behind that black veil, the beautiful woman that was Donna Beneviento, learning about her concerns, her story, her tastes…

Afternoon tea was almost obligatory, and a wide smile spread across your face as her voice seduced you with beautiful words, with a honeyed accent that stirred your whole body. Donna was sick, yes, she had problems, but you were always there to solve them, to calm her madness with words of affection, with love.

And finally, you managed to see her face, the beauty hidden behind that horrible black cloth. The deformity that adorned her skin was a trifle compared to the delicacy of her features, the brilliance of her single eye.

She was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

Then, one day, a day you couldn't remember since time ceased to have meaning for someone immortal like you, your lips tasted the softness of hers, melting into a kiss, a first kiss of love.

You thought love wasn't meant for someone like you, but you were completely wrong. No one stopped you from loving each other, no one stopped two Lords from finding solace in eternal kisses, in promises of love, of affection, in nights of passion.

She used the flowers, you made them grow. If it weren't for your sad past, you'd think you were always destined to be by her side. The roots that ran through your face were a reflection of her scar.

Everything was perfect; your life was full of love, affection, lavender... But it didn't last forever. A few months after leaving your old mansion and moving in with her, the problems began.

You knew her madness, her sick mind, but the more time you spent with her, the more evident her problems became.

Your duties as a Lord still existed, and that included visits to the castle and the factory. Being a sociable girl, you always offered to be a sort of messenger for Mother Miranda, and you never paid attention to it. Donna did.

You knew about her jealousy, even before a romantic relationship, but it reached limits that became unbearable. No matter how many times you said nothing had happened at the castle, that the three Dimitrescu sisters were just playing at seducing you.

Donna never believed you, and that began to take its toll. It was the beginning of the end.

An argument, an absurd argument, led to the end of the love of your life. You tried to reason with her, but you couldn't, and that drove you to despair, forcing you to do something crazy: to leave the Beneviento estate forever.

Your breakup was widely reported in the village and among the rest of the Lords. No one said anything at first, but you could feel their glances, their accusations that you were the one to blame. Donna never spoke about it, but as time passed, the tension seemed to grow even more intense.

That meeting wasn't the only one in which Mother Miranda had to reprimand you; there were many more, many Masses cut short because of the lady in black's irrational hatred for you. It was an increasingly untenable situation, and the worst part was that you had always, always loved her, and you continued to do so.

“I don't know how to dance; I'll be terrible at it,” you said nervously, taking the hand she offered you.

“Relax, tesoro, I'll show you," she whispered, gently grabbing your waist, moving you to the rhythm of a beautiful song.

The memories continued to haunt your mind when you got home; the flowers that adorned your old mansion were beginning to wither. All of nature seemed to take pity on you, and you couldn't, and wouldn't, do anything about it.

“Hey!” you protested, wiping the flour from your face. “I thought you were going to teach me how to cook!”

“It was Angie,” Donna said amused, starting a flour fight full of kisses, laughter, love, passion...

“Shit, Donna,” you complained, clutching one of her many love letters that she sent you through her doll, one of those small joys that always waited under your door.

Your thumb ran over the ink, the elegant handwriting of those old-fashioned letters in a language you didn't know. Sadness affected the trees, the plants; your heartbeat seemed like echoes of a better time, one where her lips could soothe any sorrow.

“Alcina's right,” you murmured to yourself, folding the note and putting it in a small box filled with all those painful memories. “I can't forget her, I have to do something.”

It was risky, but you had to try.

The dark forest shuddered with every step you took toward the path, as if aware of your intentions, of the love you hoped to feel again. You had to talk to her, try to reason with her sick mind so she'd understand that you loved her long before you met her, before you kissed her, and that you would always do.

“Okay, let's see...” you said to yourself when you arrived at the waterfall mansion, wondering what you would say, what words you would use in your defense. “No, not that...” you denied, going down the front steps, unable to concentrate.

The sound of the water brought new memories to your mind, clouding your judgment even more, making the idea of ​​returning home sound better and better in your head.

“I don't know what I'm doing. She'll never forgive me,” you whispered, rubbing your eyes, going back down the steps. Maybe the next day you would try again.

A beam of light stopped your steps, along with a creaking sound you knew too well. The mansion door opened slowly, forming a dark figure in the snow, a terrifyingly recognizable one.

“(Y/N)” Donna's voice reached your ears, causing you to turn around, going completely blank.

“Donna...” Was the only thing you could say, nerves preventing your voice from coming out naturally. “Donna, I... How did you know I was here?”

“Fiori...” she whispered, crossing her arms and turning around.

“Flowers?” you asked confused, to which Donna stopped, turning her veiled head and making an unexpected gesture for you, one that seemed to indicate that you should follow her. “What...?”

“Are you just going to stand there? Vieni,” she demanded when you didn't respond.

“Fine,” you said, shaking your head and following your former lover into the mansion.

Everything was just as you remembered. The musty smell brought memories back to your mind and the portrait on the stairs stirred your nerves, sending a familiar warmth over your skin. You felt at home, but the most painful thing was that it never would be again.

“There,” the lady murmured, pointing to a vase in the entryway, one with flowers that shone brightly, as if they had just sprouted. “Those flowers were dried, and their revival could only mean one thing: that you were nearby.”

“Oh,” you nodded, rubbing your hands together. “I guess knowing I was coming kept you from kicking me off your property, huh?”

“Hmm, I've had a few minutes to get ready,” Donna replied, crossing her arms. “I guess you're here for your dress.”

“I thought you burned it,” you whispered cautiously, studying the posture of the woman in black, approaching slowly.

“No,” she said, her voice cold and dry.

“Um, okay... erm...” you stammered, scratching the back of your neck, unsure of what to say, how to bring love back into those walls. “Donna, that's not necessary,” you said, approaching her, ready to remove the black veil, something she rejected by moving away from you.

“Don't touch me,” she growled, making you grit your teeth.

“Oh, come on, you're a beautiful woman, Donna. I've told you a hundred times. Do you really have to put on that hideous thing to talk to me?” you said, trying unsuccessfully to push the black fabric away.

“You also told me you'd never leave me,” the woman replied, moving further away from you, her tone spiteful. “You lied to me, (Y/N).”

“Ugh,” you gasped, opening your mouth but unable to find the words. “I wish I could talk to you like two normal people. Do you think you can do that?” you demanded, insisting, finally managing to pull back the black fabric and see her beauty once more.

“Lasciami!” Donna squealed, her one eye shining, red from crying. “Have you come to humiliate me?”

“No!” you squealed back, pushing the veil out of her reach. “I came to talk to you, Donna.”

“Parlare? What do you want to talk about, (Y/N)? I have nothing to talk to you about, I told you... give it back to me,” she demanded, reaching out her hand, starting a pointless fight over the veil.

Patience...

The lady of the castle's words, those accusatory ones, made you give up, returning the veil to Donna just as the situation was starting to get out of hand.

“Ugh, you're insufferable,” you protested, shaking your head as she pondered putting her veil back on. Finally, she decided to leave it, even though her gaze hurt you, the hatred in her eye piercing you mercilessly.

“So, why did you come to my house? To tell me how insufferable I am?” she asked ironically, dropping the fabric to the floor and kicking it nervously.

“Ugh, can't you forget your stupid pride for a moment? I'm the one who's come to talk to you,” you complained again, chasing the lady, who seemed to be comically running away from you, around the mansion. “Unbelievable, now you're running away from me?”

“Do you think I would run away from someone like you?” the lady said, a sinister smile on her face, leaning against the dining room table. “I could have you throw off the cliff, (Y/N)”

“That's funny,” you said haughtily, walking toward her in a petulant manner. “I'm not some villager you can manipulate at will, Donna. We're on the same level, remember?”

“Hm, I don't know what Mother Miranda saw to name you a Lord,” Donna murmured in a low but arrogant tone. “You would have been better off as a concubine of the castle.”

“And you would have been better off as the lunatic dollmaker you were before Miranda took pity on you,” you replied, hurt by her words, slightly regretting it, but standing your ground, taking a breath. “It's absurd, Donna, it's absurd that we continue arguing like this.”

“No, (Y/N), or rather, Lady (Y/N),” Donna said, raising her eyebrow. “You are Lady (Y/N), I am Lady Beneviento. You better respect me.”

“Yes, of course,” you said in a mocking tone. “Excuse me, Lady Beneviento, but you didn't call me that way when we were making love, remember?”

“Oh, you mean before you betrayed me? Stupida...” the lady hissed, clearly offended by your comment.

“I never betrayed you,” you whispered in a dark tone, glancing sideways at some plants that seemed to be ruffled by your nerves, making you take a deep breath and try to relax. “I've told you every way I could, but you never listened.”

“You mean you lied to me every way you could,” Donna corrected.

“Ugh, you're...”

“Hey, you two!” Angie interrupted the argument, comically walking over to the dining room table. “Will you all just shut up? You're annoying!”

“Get out, Angie!” you shrieked in unison, causing the doll to flee in terror.

“How dare you address Angie in that tone?” Donna snarled, approaching you and grabbing the collar of your dress. “Show more respect. You may be a Lord, but you don't want to make me angry.”

“Mm, I know,” you said, removing her hand from your clothes with a gasp, but remaining calm. “I know you, Donna, better than you think.”

“Congratulazioni, (Y/N)...” she hissed, pulling away slightly, but maintaining a furious glare.

“Yeah, whatever,” you sneered, straightening your clothes. “Oh, where did that Lady (Y/N) go?  Who's disrespecting me now?”

“You don't deserve my respect, stupida; you betrayed me, you cheated on me!” the lady shrieked, stamping her foot again, echoing off the mansion walls.

“I never cheated on you! You were the one who imagined it all! You and your stupid paranoia!”

Donna fell silent, but soon after, she laughed mockingly, nervously, shaking her head.

“You still have the nerve to deny what happened at the castle. You're bold, I'll give you that,” she murmured, turning her back on you with a tired sigh.

“Nothing happened at the castle,” you said, lowering your tone as well, approaching the lady slowly. “Nothing happened between Daniela and me.”

“I saw the way she looked at you! How she tried to seduce you!” the lady in black exclaimed, turning around, making you back away again. “I may be sick, but I'm not blind, (Y/N).”

“You only saw what you wanted to see, Donna,” you said, trying to calm down, trying not to get intoxicated by the lavender. “You know exactly what those girls are like. I'd never...”

“You'd never what?” she interrupted, without moving away from you, facing you directly. “You'd never leave me?”

“If I left, it was because you didn’t listen to me,” you defended yourself, easing the argument a bit, but maintaining the same tension. “It was impossible to reason with you.”

“You broke my heart. I guess I should have made you a hot bath to clean your filthy body, filthy with your betrayal, vero?” she said in a sour tone, leaning closer and pointing at you.

“You still think I cheated on you,” you said, unsure if it was for Donna, or for yourself. “You never trusted me, Donna.”

“How can I trust you?” the lady asked, waving her arms wildly. “You're... you're a beautiful girl. Everyone wants you. I-I can't stand the way they looked at you, wanting to taste you, to steal your warmth from my body.”

“You're beautiful too,” you said, bringing your hand to her cheek, a gesture she, of course, rejected with a sad moan, looking at you with a moist eye. “And that doesn't mean I think every person who comes near you wants to sleep with you, Donna. Your jealousy was completely irrational.”

“Irrational... che divertente...” she whispered, frowning, unable to meet your gaze. “That stupid girl tried to kiss you. Do you really think that's irrational?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, seeing some light in that dark argument.

“I'm not one of your dolls, Donna. I can act on my own, you know?” you stated, your voice confident. “Did you not think for a moment I'd pull away?”

The lady in black hesitated, speechless, and quickly approached, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate, unpredictable kiss, but one that gave you the warmth you were missing.

“Donna...” you sighed, placing your hand on your assaulted lips.

“See? You haven't pulled away,” she said with a satisfied smile, leaning back on the table.

“Sure I haven’t,” you said, moving closer again. “I haven't pulled away because... because I wanted you to kiss me.”

“I don't believe you,” Donna whispered, your lips very close to hers again, her eye closed and a tear running down her cheek.

“I don't need you to believe me, just for you to kiss me again,” you sighed, now attacking her lips, kissing her passionately, letting yourself be carried away by that spark her accusatory kiss ignited in your heart.

“You just want to... tempt me,” she said among kisses, grabbing your waist, your dress, your face... running her fingers along the roots of your cheeks while your tongues played tirelessly, reaffirming how much you had missed each other.

“Did I succeed?” you asked, amused, moving your hands to her black hair as your bodies danced, wanting to mingle.

“No,” she said, pulling away so she could unbutton your dress, gasping at the effect of her teeth on your neck, her hands beneath your clothes.

“Whatever you say,” you said, shaking your head as your fingers played with the buttons of her black blouse and your leg was manipulated by her nails digging into your skin.

There were no more words, just kisses, just hands roaming over a body they thought they'd lost. The caresses of her soft hands on your skin made you moan, deepening your work on her lips as your legs unconsciously moved toward the sofa.

“You're disrespecting me,” Donna accused you among gasps as your playful hand pushed her onto the sofa, while hers pulled your body to rest on top of hers, your legs on either side of her hips.

“Good,” you said contentedly, cupping her partially exposed breasts, pushing the black fabric of her blouse away from the perfect view of her skin.

She looked at you, but couldn't suppress the instinct to devour you again, to move her hips with yours in a hot, tense dance filled with hate, love, and passion.

“Y-You've always been the weakest Lord, (Y/N),” Donna said, pushing you down from her body as she ripped off your bra with her hand, positioning herself on top of you, dominating you.

“That's not what I think,” you whispered, biting her ear, causing her to protest with a moan as you squeezed one of her now-exposed breasts, throwing the fabric that protected them across the room. “I bet you're dying for me to do it.”

“You're dying,” she accused you, hitting the couch as your hand slid up her skirt, touching the soft skin of her legs, making her even more nervous. “You tricked me into being at your mercy, and it's the opposite, (Y/N).”

“Mm, I suppose you're saying that because you're on top, right? I know it's not what you like, Donna,” you challenged, placing one of your legs between her thighs, making the lady in black falter, shivering at the contact. “I think you like being at my mercy...”

“Maybe in your dreams,” Donna said, moving quickly to remove the friction and tearing off your underwear with a sharp tug, sinking her hand into your already damp folds. “But they're just dreams, (Y/N)”

“Donna...” you moaned helplessly as her slender fingers skillfully ran over your body, circling your clit, making you lose your composure, forcing you to moan.

“Così bagnata...” the dollmaker whispered, sinking two fingers into your entrance without warning, still looking at you, letting you know she was in charge. “Now you realize what you lost.”

“Oh,” you moaned, fighting to keep your legs from moving too much from the contact, pulling the brunette into a sloppy kiss as she worked her fingers inside you, caressing your walls, curling when she knew you needed it.

“Are you enjoying this, stupida?” she asked, pulling your hair angrily, but not hurting you, forcing you to nod, to focus on her when in reality, you were too immersed in the pleasure you were receiving.

“Shut up,” you said after a deep moan, forcing your body to calm down, making Donna giggle with satisfaction, speeding up her work between your legs. “Have you been practicing since I've been gone?”

“Stupida...” she hissed, tugging at your hair again, sinking her teeth into one of your nipples, making you cry out in pleasurable pain coupled with her almost perfect movements. “I can feel you, (Y/N). I know you're close…”

You shook your head, but your face and your moans were unable to deny her words. Your hips bucked with every movement Donna made, and your lips claimed hers wildly, biting, licking, devouring everything within reach.

Sooner than you would have liked, ecstasy hit you, making your entire body tense, wrapping your walls around her fingers as you cried out in pleasure, squeezing your body against hers, kissing that wonderful lover you had.

“Just like I said, weak,” Donna whispered, sitting up and removing her fingers, forcing you to taste your orgasm, your pleasure.

“Do you think this is over?” you threatened, crawling across the couch before pushing the lady in black back and pinning her with your legs. “No, Donna, this has only just begun.”

“Dare to lay a hand on me...” the lady hissed, as your lips began to caress her skin, your nails scratching her legs, and your ears ignoring her words.

“I won't lay a hand on you,” you said, amused, tugging her panties down her ankles, keeping a firm hand on her chest, making her eye flutter closed.

Your teeth scraped the skin of her thighs, and her hands seemed erratic, tugging at your hair with barely any strength. Your mouth moved up and up until it reached its destination, her wet, intoxicating scent you soon tasted.

“Cazzo...” Donna protested as your lips brushed her skin, as your tongue mercilessly traced her folds, circling her clit, absorbing, enjoying every shy sound her mouth made.

“You're so wet... you're delicious, Donna,” you said in a moment of lucidity, leaving hatred and anger aside, remembering how you enjoyed her body, how you enjoyed nights of passion with her.

“Bugiarda...” the lady accused, pushing your head towards her again, forcing you to continue savoring her essence.

“Am I a liar? Well, then you won't want me to finish you,” you said amusedly, switching your mouth for your hand, stimulating the brunette in a way you knew was irresistible to her.

“If you stop, I'll kill you,” she said in a dark tone, pulling at your hair with a furious look, embarrassed by the pleasure your lips were giving to her.

You pretended not to want to kiss her again, to make her taste herself, to realize there was still something very strong between you. You doubted if it would have served any purpose.

“You can't kill me,” you said, stimulating her clit again, looking over her body, analyzing her expressions of pleasure.

“I advise you to use your mouth for more than just talking, stupida... it's not good for you to defy me,” she told you, pulling at your hair, burying your head between her legs.

“You can't kill me because...” you said, stopping again, caressing her delicious wetness with your fingers, inserting them slowly in her eager walls, making her moan shamefully. “… Because I know you still love me.”

Without waiting for a reply, your tongue ran over her wetness again, forming a subtle rhythm with your fingers, making the lady in black lose control of her language, whisper words you didn't understand, and moan uncontrollably.

“Sto...Sto per...” she said, pushing you away before her back tensed and her thighs squeezed your head tightly, feeling the embrace of her insides, the explosion of pleasure you could feel on your lips.

Neither of you said anything after that. There weren't a word of love, just silence as the two of you dressed slowly, unsure of what had really happened, how that involuntary act of passion had occurred.

“You've got what you wanted, you can go,” Donna said, buttoning her blouse and tucking her skirt into place, without looking at your face.

“You don't understand, Donna, this isn't what I came for,” you said, covering yourself in the same way, walking behind her.

“Oh, you came to talk, didn't you? And get fucked... that's what I've always been to you,” she said in a bitter tone, pushing your lost bra against your chest. “Go, per favore...”

“Donna, please, don't... don't make it so difficult,” you protested, chasing after your elusive lover again. “If you think I'm that way, you don't know me.”

“I thought I knew you... I thought I knew you, tesoro," Donna murmured, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I-It's of no use pretending to hate you. I'd like to hate you, but I can't.”

“Then don't hate me, my love...” you sighed, cupping her face in your hands. “We were both wrong, but...”

“I was wrong about you.”

“Ugh, Donna, please… Stop being so stubborn and listen to me,” you insisted, wiping away your tears as well. “I never, ever cheated on you. I rejected Daniela as soon as I could. That day I just wanted to be back with you. Every time I left, I wanted to be back with you, with the woman I loved and... and still love.”

“You... do you still love me?” she asked, with a different look, gently grabbing your wrists.

“Every day that passes without you is hell, Donna. Eternal life isn't worth it without you,” you confessed, making Donna lower her head. “And I know you feel the same.”

“Io... Io..." she stammered, blinking erratically. “Th-those things I said while we were making love, I'm not… I'm not like that.”

“I know…” you sighed, very close to her lips. “I would have preferred for you to love me like before, to hear you whisper in my ear while you take me…”

“Sono d’accordo,” she sighed, caressing your face, the roots of your cheeks, brushing back your hair, sticky with sweat.

“You agree? Do you mean about sex?” you joked, making her smile as she shook her head.

“No, tesoro… Eternal life is hell without you,” she whispered, before placing her lips on yours, in a different way, salty with tears.

“Let's try again, Donna… I love you.”

“Please, amore mio…”

[londonfog-chan]

I Will Not Keep My Mouth Shut About this High School Romance Between Eddie Munson x Reader (Headcanons)

Why lord? Why are we not talking about this?

I’ve dated metalhead guys in the past, and believe in me when I say these fuckers move fast.

Eddie is no exception to this rule. He loves hard and quickly, especially if you’re into the same things he’s into as well.

I’m talking balls to the wall insanity like: the day won’t even be over and he’ll have already asked you out, kissed you, offered you weed, and secretly be planning the names of the four kids he wants with you.

Mans is delulu as fuck for you.

As much as he has his passions there’s just something about the fact that you actually gave the town freak unconditional love that makes him desperate. Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club, he’d pick you over them any day if it meant he got to keep you.

Guarantee, you’ll already have gone all the way before the weekend is up of that first week of the relationship.

Cherry boy cherry boy cherry boy.

But he knows what he’s doing. It will have been awkward but the best part is now “Rainbow in the Dark” makes you feel all hot under the collar and “Shame on the Night” makes you laugh and reminds you of the awkward panic cleaning up after.

The epitome of live fast die young. He will throw his life away if you ask him to, so make sure you use your powers wisely.

At some point Eddie will ask you to run away with him. He doesn’t give a shit where, so long as it’s with you.

Shared interests are probably how the two of you met in the first place, especially if you’re like me and unable to beat the weird kid allegations. You drifted towards his club because you for whatever reason were an outcast too.

Eddie would probably crush on those who are conventionally pretty, popular, the epitome of the 80’s beauty standards. That’s just human nature. But with you… it’s so much more different.

You’re like his nerdy fantasies come to life, like the princesses he writes about in his campaigns that are a mix of dark, dangerous, able to hold their own and fight for him and with him. Think of if you will a sexy bombshell rotoscoped into those old metal music videos. Facing the world wearing only red lipstick and a cocksure expression.

He would get along so well with someone who wasn’t afraid to let their wild side show, or to express it. But at the same time if you’re more shy and reserved, he is determined to help you come out of that shell and be the best possible version of yourself.

It’s impossible not to match his excitable energy, it’s just so goddamn contagious. It might scare you how far you’re willing to go for Eddie and how quickly you might find yourself changing. Because believe me, you will change, and it will be for the better.

Eddie will always be your number one hype man.

He will literally be so excited about everything you do because it’s you! The person he loves more than anyone in this whole entire world.

Eddie will literally put up with so much for you. Even if you guys fight he will struggle to maintain his composure because he does not want to fuck this beautiful thing up.

Drives himself up the wall with anxiety about it too. But that’s the thing about Eddie’s dynamic with you: is that he will do what it takes to keep his fucking cool around you.

Your fights are infrequent but can get explosive if there are unsaid insecurities. So to avoid this: keep honest with him. About everything. Don’t lie to him, because as fast as he fell for you, lying is the quickest way to break his trust and send him packing.

One of his flaws in the relationship is that his insecurity that this will all go away will make him all that more prepared to leave if you have a massive blow up fight.

Like he’s already preplanned his exit strategy and everything.

But the longer you’re together, the more comfortable he gets and eventually he settles down from jumping the gun into taking things one day at a time.

He’s a fucking keeper. And all I’m gonna say is you better start training with swinging a blunt weapon because once you have him, you’re going to be right there in the Upside Down fucking up some monsters keeping them away from your man.

[sirfrogsworth]

If you believe in God and live in a Western Christian nation, he will reward you with "very few" starving babies.

How exceptional!

Like, on the spectrum of starving babies to full-bellied babies, starving is *mostly* off the table.

God can't guarantee a 100% no-starving rate at this time. That would require miracle-level intervention and He really prefers to reserve that kind of action for imprinting images of his mother on food.

For a limited time only, if you elevate your belief tier to Unconditional Faith™ then God will upgrade your babies to the slightly hungry program.

They won't die or anything, but the lack of nutrition could cause some developmental issues. But don't you worry, God used divine inspiration to help a tech bro invent GoFundMe. So you should be covered.

Now, the Full Belly Babies tier does exist, but it requires entering a secret society of assholes and I'm afraid the barriers for entry are a little... chaotic. No one really understands how you access this program, and from the outside, it seems pretty random.

I mean, it's definitely not dependent on merit or intelligence or ethical behavior!

Yeah, thumbs up!

But I can assure you all of the millionaires and billionaires were not just some fluke of capitalism. God chose them because reasons and that's all you need to know.

Questioning God is how you get starving babies.

Whoops, I don't think I was supposed to reveal that.

No matter. I'm sure I'll be fine. He hasn't smote anyone in like 2000 years. This is the friendly New Testament Era God. All of his cruelty manifests through inaction rather than temper tantrums.

Fuck, I wasn't supposed to mention that either.

If my house floods or I develop leprosy, rest assured that is just a coincidence.

[tempestvista]

This is probably cringe I don't know its not written to be a fanfiction but instead just a very . Frilly thought-dump heyyyy the demons telling me not to post this

007n7 who is lost to a resolute grief. 007 who wanders aimlessly in a fruitless endeavor against universal laws itself. A father who constantly trudges through environment after environment, the muck and mud of a swamp that threatens to give him trench foot, never warm nor cold enough, yet still always biting. A man who soldiers through the sodden grass, colorless pastures, isolated from near-everyone and everything else. He is not intentionally pathetic or miserable, it could be argued his constant pursuit of a better life for his child speaks volumes to a veiled courage. He does not possess deep strength, and utilizes as many reserves of intellect as possible. In spite of this, it never quite seems to be enough. But that doesn't stop him, why would it?

As long as he breathes, as long as he moves, as long as the moon continues to be set in the sky by an iron-hearted extraterrestrial might, seeking entertainment above all other means, as long as his weak and weary legs (never atrophy, never strengthen, either) are able to function—and even if they weren't, he'd just claw at the ground, using every last means available—he will continue to fight and hope for a day when his son gets out. Where his son is safe, where his son could be with another family, have some sort of guaranteed devoted and providing home. One where he was safe, and away from all of this, and would never be brought back. It was a future he would tear his very latticework apart for. For him, for his son, his child, his baby.

They say the Spectre does not hold favorites, that it merely prefers the hyper-emotional. It could, however, be argued in this sense there is a vague loophole here; 007n7 is a never-ending delicious repast for something as awful as the force, a perfect combination of mournful, frustrated, tired, full of yearning, barely present hopes and desires, a flurry of tempestuous undying things that all make him filled with a deep dread on the hour. And yet, and yet, he continues to move. He continues to shamble weakly. Because he would do anything for his son. He would endure any torture to see his son again. It doesn't matter that he'd get hurt for it, doesn't mean anything if he receives any number of peoples—the whole atomic structure upholding every person's fibers could hate him, for all he cared, and it would not negate the amount of passion and pure unconditional woeful love he holds for the thing everyone else calls a monster. To him, it's always been a boy; his boy. That's his son, the strangest mail delivery of his life, the thing meant and means more than anything to him. A constant reminder in his mind that though he had past misgivings, though he wasn't on top of everything as a parent, he would not fail again, would not give in again, would not lose him ever again.

It caused arguments, but he'd worked out an arrangement, even. There was a silent agreement, and at least some were sympathetic enough to see his angle as a father. Other's were just glad they would get a sense of reprieve before their turn at the gauntlet, viewed it as him "taking one for the team," so to speak. Not that the majority was all that grateful. Let 007n7 grab c00lkidd's attention first, and however long he lasts, he lasts, and then he doesn't have to get in altercations about what he does not see, does not hear, and does not know. In the end, he'll still hate himself, but at least he can buy his poor son some time. There are the rarer events, in which he can convince the boundless child to calm down for a time, and they're able to just spend the round together. It's actually preferred by c00lkidd that they do this, he just can't help but be so energetic, so excited. He wants more friends, after all. It's hard to be in a house with a bunch of adults you don't really know, and few who ever bother to even interact with him consistently. He's not viciously isolated, parallel his father, the circumstances merely make awkwardness the default.

Once, he'd managed to spend the entire ordeal alone with his son, not bothered by other survivors, far away enough that there was no concern over him getting interested at seeing someone tinkering away at a generator nearby.

It felt kind of like a picnic, the spot on the ground they were sitting on had been covered in something. Maybe a tarp, maybe a smoothened sheet of metal, who knew. He couldn't recall every last detail of most anything, no matter how hard he tried. The moon wasn't so frightening to look at, for once, wasn't so scary to recall in the recesses of his mind that it'd been so long since he'd seen the sun, his son. They were talking about something from their former lives, also now a blurry form to his mind. To no avail could he hold onto even the apparitions of conversations, it all just slipped through his hands, not even giving him the reprieve of remembering things about his boy. He remembers the excitement on his face, at least, the muscles contorting into what he had learned was a bright smile, if the open-mouth weren't an indication. Even now he still had that sort of crinkle to his eyes, and if 007n7 looked hard enough (imagined?) he could see where his kid's dimples would be at.

C00lkidd was so happy, so very happy to at last have some free time with his father, to have his attention fully. And he wasn't running from him, and no one was hitting him, either. It was annoying that other people couldn't play nice, but he figured it might've been something like karma or whatever it was called for being too rough with the kids he grew up with. It wasn't his fault, though, he didn't know he was that strong. His dad always told him he'd been born with super-strength, though, and that was what he told himself to try and reign it in. But when he did that now, people still hurt him instead! It didn't matter, he had his dad here with him, and that was what was most important. He wished they could spend more time together.

They both ignored the clock chimes that rang throughout the sky. For once, they both knew what was happening. What it meant. 007n7 didn't bother distracting him or making up some sporadic topic to try (and fail, though c00lkidd continued to indulged him, because he hated seeing his papa sad) and distract them both from the inevitable.

It was different because he didn't even get the mercy of hearing his son finish what he was saying.

"I love," and nothing more.

Limbo, then the sound of rushing water that in the mimic-meditative state he knew indicated they were returning to the cabin and their bodies would be sat at the table, in various positions of distress.

Everyone looked at him for a moment. 007n7 guessed he was not as secluded as he thought he'd been, at least not towards the end, anyhow. Someone said something to him, and it moved through him like oil slipping past water, not a deafened statement; unable to emulsify. They tried to get his attention again, he recalls in flickering thought. Maybe someone snapped or said his name (again, if they had said it before), tapped on the table, scuffed shoes making a dull noise against the timber floor. Someone must've been tapping their leg, that part felt settled in, a part he recalled. Of course, it was always the unnecessary details in which chose to stay tenant. Anything useful or desperately wanted around would get ousted from his mental entrapment.

He stood up, he thinks his feet dragged slightly, which might've made him stumble. If he were feeling much as before, it probably would have hurt his ankles, the rolling motion and having to re-orient one's feet before twisting onto them hard enough that they sprained. Shuddering slightly, he trekked off, everything else disappeared into the fog of his mind.

All 007n7 could think about was how many little splinters made up his vascular system, every little wooden needle tearing away at his veins whenever he tried to think about his son not even being allowed to say "I love you."

He didn't deserve it.

hey so whatif like 007n7 kinned homura akemi i rhink that'dbe really . GO MY GRIEF-RIDDEN YET DETERMINED SORROWFUL MAN!!! SHAMBLE YOUR WAY THROUGH THE KILLER RIDDEN LANDS FOR YOUR ILL-BEGOTTEN SON!!!!

i should actually learn how to write helpp,….. i have little to no ideas for my fanfiction(s) ((at least executable ones.. urgk))

if there are spelling mistakes umm in my defense i just wrote this on the spot and didnt look back so </3

[queerstake]

Good morning, Queerstake! Thank you to everyone joining us for our community fast and letter writing campaign in response to the 2024 Church Handbook update with regards to transgender people. The policy update has shaken all of us. It is exclusionary and degrading. But we will find strength in each other as a community and courage in our efforts to effect change in this church that belongs not only to the General Authorities who authorized this policy update but also to all of us. Change in the Church happens from the ground up. Harmful policies have been issued and redacted before in our own lifetimes! We deserve to be treated with respect.

Today, we will fast together as a community that the Lord softens the hearts of the First Presidency. We will also write and send letters expressing our grief. Please don’t be quiet about your feelings today. Share your heartbreak with as many of your fellow ward and Queerstake members as you feel comfortable doing. Please post your feelings as well so we can inspire and uplift each other as we write our letters. It’s important that our grievances are heard.

Please send physical letters to:

The Office of the First Presidency

47 East South Temple Street

Salt Lake City, UT 84150

If you are unable to send a paper letter to Salt Lake, because I was not able to find an appropriate email, please instead email your letters to me at QUEERSTAKEONTUMBLR@GMAIL.COM. I’ll print and mail them myself.

Edit: @nerdygaymormon found an email address! Please feel free to send email to lgbt@churchofjesuschrist.org. However, you are still more than welcome to send them to me to print. In fact, why not do both!

A quick word of caution: Of course, no one can guarantee the type of responses we might receive for these letters. In fact, I urge you to consider using a pseudonym in order to avoid potential church discipline. Please take care to note what legal name or return address might be associated with your membership records. I don’t want to scare anyone, especially because we’re doing nothing wrong, but it’s always good to be very aware of what might make it back to your bishop.

Thank you again to everyone for joining. I’ve always felt so supported and uplifted by Queerstake. I know that our Heavenly Parents love us just as we are and that they don’t want us excluded and humiliated in our wards. We have unique and valuable testimonies to share. We don’t go unheard by our Heavenly Parents.

I’ve included a few sample letters and templates below the cut for people who might need a shortcut for one reason or another. You are welcome to send them verbatim or modify them.

#1

Dear First Presidency,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people.

I believe that Christ invites all to come unto him and that as Christ's church, we have a responsibility to embrace people from all walks of life. No other demographic within the church is being treated with such severity as our transgender siblings under this new policy. I fear our transgender siblings in Christ will feel excluded and degraded, and we will lose many great members.

I believe it's of the utmost importance that we express Christlike love and charity even to people we don't understand. There is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in our bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and Christ would want us to reach out to them with open arms. I humbly and respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of our transgender siblings in Christ and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

Thank you for your time.

#2

Dear First Presidency,

I feel deeply grieved by the Handbook update on transgender people. As a transgender member myself, I am doing everything I can to remain in the church and exclusionary policies like these make me feel deeply unwanted and deeply unloved.

I understand very well the church's position on gender, but I hope that despite that position that I might still be able to feel Christ's love at church. Our Heavenly Parents put me on this or Earth as a transgender person. I am not a danger to children and I am not a predator in bathrooms. I am your sibling in Christ. I want to serve in church. I want to serve in teaching positions. I want to serve the youth. I believe that we attend church with the purpose of uplifting each other and studying our religion together as a ward family. I want to be edified and I want to edify.

President Hinckley said every member needs a calling, a friend, and the word of God, and if I'm treated this way at church, I'm not receiving any of those things. If I can't have a real role to play within my ward, then I have no responsibility. If I am treated as an outsider and an enemy and a predator by policy and by my fellow church members, then I don't have a friend. If I can't also receive Christ's gospel through the love of the people around me, then I'm not receiving the real word of the Lord.

I seriously urge you to reconsider this policy update. I beg you on behalf of myself and my transgender siblings in the church to not hate us and to not exclude us.

Thank you for your time.

#3

Dear First Presidency,

I felt ______ when I heard about the new policy update to the handbook about transgender individuals. I believe we should treat our transgender members with the love and respect they deserve as our siblings in Christ.

I urge you to reconsider this policy update because ______

Thank you for your time.

#4

Dear Leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people, which I have been made aware of due to the negative impact it is having on my [friend(s)/family/loved ones].

The reputation of love, kindness, and family values that your church fosters with its programs, teachings, and community outreach is undermined by your continued exclusion of LGBT+ members and specifically with this policy change of your transgender members.

My [friend(s)/family/loved ones] have expressed _____ in regards to the August 19, 2024 changes to the handbook that relegate transgender members of your church to second-class citizens within the organization, and deny them the full capacity of worship and belonging within your church; all because of something so insignificant to their capacity to worship and belong to a community as their gender being different than the gender that they were assigned at birth. This decision _____ me/ negatively impacts my view of your church.

Thank you for your time.

I believe that there is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in your bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and I believe that every person needs to reach out to them with open arms. I respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of your transgender members and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

[sheeezu]

Lately I've been struggling to even attempt to shift because I don't know where to go. You mentioned that your 'DR' was more made from scratch and piecing things together and I was wondering if you had any advice on that since I think it would be a good idea for me aswell but I don't know where to start.

My DR was actually very carefully made, and it took a lot of time, without a doubt (like i said, a year or something)

It was basically everything i loved about existing, compiled into a single reality.

It wasn't easy with me being a perfectionist, i'd get upset if i didn't get good enough crockery recommendation from pinterest (but in the end i did it, expensive and delicate looking china teacups, which got a crack the second day i was in my DR)

Ok-

Your DR self:

So my DR self was made from imagination, i don't even think anyone has any trouble with face claims, so we'll skip this portion.

Now for the personality, i'd always recommend going in the opposite direction of how you are in your CR.

A compelling personality would not only attract potential DR suitors but also yourself to your DR.

Try to balance your personality - a cold and sarcastic personality layered with sweetness, since in my opinion being either the biggest jerk or just being a doormat is unappealing.

Your DR personality is the most important part of your DR, even more important than your face claims, a good understanding of your personality basically guarantees a shift.

I'm a little short on words for this post since all of this is supposed to be personal to yourself, but i'm trying to write advice anyways.

Improve your environment, look at your CR, try to see what's lacking, try to figure out what's so irrational that you want to shift?

Make your DR engaging, script it's like a movie, a lot is happening, and you're often dragged into stuff which you've never signed up for (just like a romcom- trust me, you'll thank me on this one, even in my home reality, or even just now, i recall the memories very fondly to the opportunities and main character vibes i got to experience)

Try to be creative, do not care about it being quirky or weird, make notion notes (...? is that what they're called?) and write down all of the in the moment and full of life scenarios you'd like to experience, it'll induce a certain longing and excitement for your DR.

Read and or watch media. Read books and watch movies, this will increase your world building skills, and there's no shame in taking the plot of a entire movie and making it your DR's, it's your DR, no one is judging, it'll be just you there.

Balance. A good balance in a reality is what you want, if your DR has lot of action, don't just make it just about that, you'll burnout. Add other elements, soft moments, during which you can enjoy living in the place you've worked hard to come to.

Don't just make yourself perfect! Let yourself have flaws, trust me, your loved ones will love you anyways, in my DR, i made tea for my family and it was absolutely terrible, and to not hurt my feelings they drank it with a smile hiding there grimaces, it was only after i tasted it, i figured it out. (point of the storytime being, there is no issue with being authentic)

Visually appealing DR. Colorful lights and colors, lanterns, scenic nature, a "glow" to everything (like a calm filter of your choice, in my DR i just made the sunlight be bright golden, it added magic to everything :)

Let yourself experience unconditional love, care and respect. You deserve it.

Make pinterest boards, spotify (or any other music app o.o) playlists, use notion (my beloved)

Romanticize your DR (make everything beautiful- except perhaps not committing felonies)

Ok that's it, i suppose, all the actual DR, who you are, who are your loved ones, what you do, what your aim is, you're supposed to ponder on that yourself (trust me, it'll come to you) , i can't exactly make it or script it out for you, but you know what you like, take bits and pieces from already popular drs, and follow the corny statement:

Just be yourself.

Thank for coming to my ted talk

(Btw, i'd love to upload my script and about my DR or something, but eh, if i feel like it, my already existing script is cringe, and it'll definitely need dusting up)

oh and yeah forgot i was answering to someone, so i hoped this helped (:

[ezralva]

Can't help but notice another pattern of theme that has been written here about JJK's love and curse theme.

Yuuta's pure love for his childhood friend turned Rika into the Queen of Curses but also that pure love was what broke Yuuta's boundary and fully optimized his power (defeating Geto) and broke the curse itself.

Gojo's love and respect for his former best friend made him unable to cremate Geto's body, later on that very same body he saved, turned into his curse that caused his downfall at Shibuya and got him sealed, something that never happened before to the formidable Gojo Satoru after he became the strongest.

Sukuna once said 『愛など下らん』 meaning love means nothing/trivial thing. Yet he finally released his most powerful CT, that Uraume said would guarantee their win, and it was aimed at none other than Yuuji directly, only to be tanked by Choso's true act of unconditional love in protecting Yuuji, rendering the King of Curses' ultimate move didn't even touch a hair of his mortal enemy, the one he wanted to kill the most.

All these different representations of love being shown in powerful ways (be it ended for good or bad depending on perspectives) make for interesting comparisons.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Former President of Poland Lech Wałęsa wrote the following letter to Trump.

Your Excellency, Mr. President,

We watched your conversation with President Volodymyr Zelensky with fear and distaste. It is insulting that you expect Ukraine to show gratitude for U.S. material aid in its fight against russia. Gratitude is owed to the heroic Ukrainian soldiers who have been shedding their blood for over 11 years to defend the free world’s values and their homeland, attacked by Putin’s russia.

How can the leader of a country symbolizing the free world fail to recognize this?

The Oval Office atmosphere during this conversation reminded us of interrogations by the Security Services and Communist court debates. Back then, prosecutors and judges, acting on behalf of the communist political police, told us they held all the power while we had none. They demanded we stop our activities, arguing that innocent people suffered because of us. They stripped us of our freedoms for refusing to cooperate or express gratitude for our oppression. We are shocked that President Zelensky was treated similarly.

History shows that when the U.S. distanced itself from democratic values and its European allies, it ultimately endangered itself. President Wilson understood this in 1917 when the U.S. joined World War I. President Roosevelt knew it after Pearl Harbor in 1941, realizing that defending America meant fighting in both the Pacific and Europe alongside nations attacked by the Third Reich.

Without President Reagan and U.S. financial support, the Soviet empire’s collapse would not have been possible. Reagan recognized the suffering of millions in Soviet russia and its conquered nations, including thousands of political prisoners. His greatness lay in his unwavering stance, calling the USSR an “Empire of Evil” and confronting it decisively. We won, and today, his statue stands in Warsaw, facing the U.S. Embassy.

Mr. President, military and financial aid cannot be equated with the blood shed for Ukraine’s independence and the freedom of Europe and the world. Human life is priceless. Gratitude is due to those who sacrifice their blood and freedom—something self-evident to us, former political prisoners of the communist regime under Soviet russia.

We urge the U.S. to uphold the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, which established a direct obligation to defend Ukraine’s borders in exchange for giving up nuclear weapons. These guarantees are unconditional—nowhere do they suggest such aid is a mere economic transaction.

Signed,

Lech Wałęsa, former political prisoner, President of Poland