#ah she’s like a little porcelain doll I love her

[unluckiestmember]

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[konigsblog]

love your work! more kidnapper!könig & kidnapper!krueger soon? 🥺

ah, könig and krueger, my all-time favourite pairing :(

dub-con/non-con, punishments, yandere.

punishments with kidnapper!krueger and kidnapper!könig... we all know krueger is more rough—restless and unforgiving when he bends you over his large lap to give you a nice, firm spanking to put you in your place. though, krueger hates when he has to be monitored due to his roughness. he adores seeing you cry, but könig won't give him the opportunity when he's standing from afar, with his burly arms over his chest.

krueger's belt comes to your ass once again, your rear already aching from the repetitive abuse. krueger pushes his gloved thumb into your mouth, allowing you to suck and bite his thumb while he beats the backs of your thighs and ass. “meine, meine, prinzessin. weine nicht, du hast es erwartet...”

when könig punishes you, he's more... delicate. treating you as if you were a fragile, porcelain doll. it's not that könig isn't capable of being aggressive—he most definitely is—but when he looks into your glassy eyes, a tear slowly rolling down your stained cheeks while he scolds you, he can't bring himself to put all his aggression onto you, atleast today he couldn't. usually, he'll use you rather than abuse you. whether that's through a blowjob or a handjob. something to compensate for his built up anger and frustration, all caused due to your misbehaviour.

“take it slow, mäuschen...” he warms. könig's warm, large hand cups the crown of your head, gripping it tightly, enough to guide your head in any direction he likes. he can see you getting nervous; shaking and trembling with your smaller hands on his knees, bunching up the material of his cargo's while he eases further down your throat. you're thankful it's könig rather than it being krueger, since you're usually left breathless with a raspy, strained voice and an aching throat when krueger has his way with you.

swollen, wet lips wrap around his thick shaft, taking him deep down your throat. you make it around halfway before you're cut off with a gag, a loud, deep groan filling the silence between your pained sobs and gags. krueger's hand wraps around the door handle, opening the door to find the state you're in. with könig's thick dick pushed into his captures mouth, leaning back while watching the television and bopping your head for his own gratification.

“roughen her up, she's too sensitive.” his accent becomes prominent when he leans over you, gripping your jaw tightly while you look at him lazily, heavy eyelids nearly closed fully. “nein, i'm not you, krueger...” könig rolls his eyes, a guttural growl emitting from his chest when he feels himself getting closer to his orgasm. krueger pushes your head down, making you shudder, eyes widening when you're pushed down against his musky, thick base...

“frecher hase...” he chuckles at the sight of you; wide eyes and a slack jaw, gagging on the amount of thick and bitter cum running down your throat. könig spurts ropes of semen down his engel's throat, his pretty little darling whimpering at the amount.

you already know krueger will demand his way with you—i mean, it's only fair, right? before locking and chaining you up in the basement.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

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

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

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

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

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

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

please, make it happy ending 🥲

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

Come back to me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you saw her, years later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

18 years after the fall of Beneviento…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed mockingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sinister laugh sounded behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

When You Have A Bad Dream. 

“Hey friends I’m *yawn* Amanda.” Amanda says sleepily. 

“And I’m Wooly!” Wooly murmured, nodding off a little. 

“That was fun, huh Wooly?” Amanda asks. 

“Ye-yeah…” Wooly answers trying to suppress a big yawn. 

“Now it’s time to go to bed.” 

“Aww… can’t we stay up and play games a little longer?”

“Wooly. I’m going to bed. I’ve got a big day of adventuring tomorrow!” 

“Aww… okay.” they get all cozy in their pillow fort and then the tape fades as they close their eyes to go to sleep. Suddenly the tape glitches and we see them completely asleep, Amanda’s night light lit up in the corner. 

“NO!” Wooly shouts suddenly sitting straight up. 

“Mmm… Wooly go back to bed.” Amanda mumbles. 

“Nuh-uh. I don’t think I want to go to sleep ever again.” 

“That bad huh?” Amanda asks. Wooly nods. “Okay…” Amanda sits up. “I don’t think you’re going to like this… but my --- always said that if you are having nightmares, sometimes talking about them can make them go away!” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Wooly pouts. Amanda looks kind of annoyed for a second, but takes a really deep breath. 

“Wooly. This is the fifth time tonight.” she quipped. Then she takes a really deep breath. “How about this, if I tell you about my nightmares first, will you tell me yours?” 

“You get nightmares?” 

“Of course I do!”

“Yeah? Like what?” 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours…” Amanda smirks. Wooly thinks about it for a bit. 

“Fine.” 

“Well let’s see… I have a lot of nightmares about what… happened… and the meatman and…” 

“I don’t wanna talk about that stuff.” 

“Yeah me neither… hmm lets see… ah… I guess this one isn’t so bad… and I have it every once in a while…” 

“It’s not about the meatman right?” 

“It’s about kitties…” 

“Kitties?” 

“Well… a kitty…” Amanda says. She pauses, trying to decide if she really wants to talk about this. She takes a deep breath and goes for it. As she talks, Riley can see the dream she’s describing in a thought bubble. “Well it always goes the same. I’m this lonely kitten trapped in a cage… rotting but never dying. I try to meow for help, I cry over and over but no one ever answers. Then I find that everyone who ever tried to help… everyone who loved me is sitting just outside the cage… dead… rotting… and I can see the real world just outside the bars but it’s all rotting too… rotting… everything is rotting… I look up, and through the cage I can just barely see the people who trapped me here… looking down on me. I try to meow to them too… hoping they’ll care… but they look at me with cold dead eyes and I know they don’t care. They won’t do anything. I keep meowing anyway because what choice do I have but they just leave me there rotting… alone… rotting… everything… rotting… everything is rotting…” 

“That sounds… terrible.” Wooly whimpers. Amanda stays quiet for a moment before standing up and taking another deep breath. 

“Haaaah…” she breathes out, sounding fully relieved, “but you know what? It feels good to get that out. I feel… better after talking about it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah! I feel like… next time I have that dream… I feel like I can turn into a ferocious lion and I can roar all those mean people far away and tear that cage to bits!” 

“I see…” 

“Now it’s your turn!” 

“Oh… okay… I guess… one dream I keep having is where I’m a toy stuffed puppy… on a really really tall shelf. Next to me is this little porcelain doll. She’s running around… laughing and playing. Way too close to the edge. I try to tell her to be careful… and then she just… falls… and I try to go after her… I try to catch her… but then I fall too… and I keep falling and falling and falling… and I hear the sound of something breaking… but I keep falling. Then I find myself lying on top of a picture book…” 

“All the king's horses and all the king's men… couldn’t put humpty together again.” the narrator said. Amanda's eyes light up with excitement when she hears his voice.

“SHUT UP!” Wooly screams. 

"Wooly?"

“It’s not just dreams… sometimes they feel more like memories? I don’t know… it’s always super fuzzy… I keep hearing someone’s voice… but I can never quite make out their face. And she’s always saying weird stuff like… 

You’re glad you forgot aren’t you?

A voice suddenly echoes through the tape. “Yeah like that!” Wooly gasps. 

Does it hurt to remember? Would you rather just be someone else? 

“Whoa…” Amanda marveled. She knew their memories could seep into the tapes sometimes… but never like this.

You were right there, weren’t you?

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” the tape starts glitching again, showing bits and pieces of the dream Wooly described. The floor starts to disappear and Amanda feels them start falling. 

It was an accident, so it’s fine right? 

Amanda looks down and sees the shattered pieces of porcelain on the floor. “Oooookay Wooly I think it’s time to wake up now… ”

Why do you still feel guilty? Is it because you couldn’t stop it? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wake up… I’ll always wake up…” 

But I won’t.

They hear a girl’s giggling laughter as it slowly fades off into the distance. Suddenly they are back in the living room. 

“Why is it whenever you talk about your memories it’s always happy stuff? Like doing things with your dad? All I remember is the feeling that I failed… I was supposed to do something… and I failed. Why do you get all the happy memories?” 

“Not all my memories are happy…” Amanda sighs. “But I think… I tried really hard to forget those ones… even before coming here…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… I wasn’t always Sam’s daughter you know… though that was a long time ago. I don’t remember exactly what happened… I just remember something happened and it made me really sad. I guess I just chose to forget. Or maybe it was just so long ago… I mean… I was very young when it happened.”

“I wish I could just forget.” 

“Yeah… me too…” “Then why did you try so hard to remember?” 

“I didn’t wanna forget the good times? I wanted to know what happened? I didn’t want to let Hameln win?”

“Even if losing it all makes you sad.” 

“I don’t want Hameln to take away everything.” Amanda says. The pair stayed quiet for a while. 

“Amanda?” 

“Yeah?” “Do you remember what happened to us?” 

“I remember what happened to me.” 

“Could you tell me?” 

“Hmmm… how about I tell you a story?” 

“What kind of story?” 

“My story…” She says. And the tape ends. Riley turns around and finds a new tape on the table. "Let's Tell Bedtime Stories!"

I feel like this fic didn't come out as good as the others. I might've strayed too far from canon idk. But this is where I'll leave it off ig.

Please note that I'm still really new to fic writing heh heh...

The problem is I had no idea how to segway this into the next fic smoothly. That said I am REALLY FREAKING PROUD of this next one. Oh boy you guys are NOT ready.

[kintsug1kitsune]

welcome to the library [short story ; no cw]

"Welcome to the Library, dear guest."

The doll at the front desk bowed dutifully. It was wearing the Library's fine black longcoat, suit and tie, and its brown porcelain body was delicately powdered with makeup.

"Uh, hey." 92 Jagged Edges was a rather small and squat woman, brown-haired and plain, with many scars, wearing only a haphazardly-tucked button-up shirt and jacket, and worn slacks with combat boots. "Thank you. I'm here on behalf of--"

"Firmament," the doll answered, bowing again. "The Director knows. She will be coming to greet you…" Its head canted up at thin air. Jag followed suit, but slower, perplexed.

And then, in a warping of that air, there appeared another doll.

No. It looked false and mechanical, joints and all, but its flesh was darkness, about 170cm tall--shorter than Jag--pooled together into a figure neither dark nor light, humanoid but not human, wearing a far more embroidered Library robe, bismuth thorns and flowers, and a tie with a special clip: roses, a tome, a sword, and a singular "I" marking it. The sheer aura, as if the Library around them bent to accommodate her…

"Hello there." She smiled, all fangs, two magenta eyes--no, far too many eyes, it was hard to tell--under the broad brim of a Witch's hat, veiled. "I heard a representative from Firmament Corporation was coming. Thought I'd welcome you in. I am the Library Director, Cynithe."

The petitioner took a gulp and bowed politely, herself. "Ma'am. 92 Jagged Edges, intelligence officer, Firmament Corp. Call me Jag."

"Jag," the Witch tasted. "Good name. Wonderful. What can I do for you, Jag?"

"I'm here for a book. Uh--obviously," she chuckled, trying not to let sweat bead down her forehead.

"Yes, I expected as much," Cynithe smiled, as if she was sharing a joke.

"Heh. Yeah, I'm looking for the specs on a certain weapon." She paused a moment. "…The mirror-splitter."

"Oh, I see." The Director hummed and tapped her chin; her gaze betrayed nothing, empty beyond belief. Hungry. "Why? Is Firmament going to war?"

"We have reason to believe Raze Corp's going to employ it."

"…Walk with me."

Not thinking for even a moment of refusing the Director's vast will, Jag followed as they began walking further into the Library's halls. It was better-crafted than anything she'd seen in in human-made lands; elegant pillars lined the walls, strips of pure light illuminated everything in comfortable gold. The ceiling was far overhead, the floor was fine stone, and soon the hallway out of reception emptied them onto a vast balcony.

A ring--layers of rings--overlooked the Library's grand center, a massive tower crossed with bridges and stairways, railings hewn with flowery designs. It was, for all its greatness, very empty; dolls went here and there, a few patrons of different kinds milled and searched, some seemed engaged in conversation, and yet others were reclining on one of the many red couches, smoking, drinking, laughing. But for its size--it was quiet, serene, even, if not a little eerie.

Jag whistled low. "Nice place you've got."

"Thank you," Cyn said, "I do think I look lovely."

"Ah, right--the Director is the Library itself. Or, that's what I heard," she hurried to say.

"You heard right," she nodded back, leaning on the near rail to watch everything. "I am the Library, the Witch of the Endless Night."

"I see. It's an honor to be, uh… in you?" Jag frowned a bit and followed her lead, leaning on the railing.

Cyn laughed, a sound like a thousand mortals being cut down and church bells shattering. "You're welcome, love. Now. Do you know what a mirror-splitter is?"

"Vaguely," she answered. "I've heard it's some sort of weapon." The Director hummed, "Potentially. It's inspired by witchwork, a device that is capable of slicing through possibility. It can render divinations of the future, as it was intended to do, or… it can cut possibilities away."

"I… see?"

"Imagine that you toss a coin." Cynithe flicked her claws and an ancient nickel medallion appeared amidst her fingers.

"Uh, a coin. Right, that used to be used as money." Jag watched curiously.

"Yes. Now, it can be heads," she showed one side, "Or tails," and showed the other. "When I flip it…" She used a thumb to launch it into the air--caught it, and slammed it over onto the top of her other hand. "Now, it can be either heads or tails, and we don't know which."

"Right, I see."

"But if I were to use a mirror-splitter, I could cut the possibility of it being tails. Do you understand? There would be no choice but for it to be heads, in any reality."

"…Huh."

She let the coin out--tails, as it happened--and let it vanish into darkness. "If used on a living being, it could force them to be only one thing. It could force a singular outcome for their existence. Or, it could erase all possibilities of their existence at all."

"That… Nobody should use that. If anyone made that, it could destroy free will forever. Let alone people--the implications as a weapon…" Jag gripped her hair and shook her head, eyes wide, frowning.

Cynithe looked understanding. "Mhm. And your employers want it."

She shot her gaze up to the Director. "No-- I can't let them have it. I can't let anyone get ahold of it. Fuck my job."

"Good, you understand the problem. Do you have a head for books, Jag?"

"--Uh?" She cocked an eyebrow. "I guess? I'm in charge of gathering and organizing company intel. I do my share of paperwork, filing, and that shit. Wait, are you offering me…?"

"Not a job," the Witch shook her head. "A position with me, here. You know you cannot return empty-handed to Firmament."

"Pft, they'd cut my heart out and burn it just to make a point," Jag spat.

"And neither of us want you to return to them with the schematics for a mirror-splitter."

"No…"

"Work with me. Become a Librarian, and we will recover the mirror-splitter plans from Raze Corp." The many-eyed stare affixed to Jag was empty… but still far from as vile as the looks in her managers' eyes.

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan, Director. Let's get to it."

Cynithe smiled.

"Welcome to the Library, Jag."

[klutzyroses]

Can i have request about ikemen prince+the three dude with a short and quite fem!mc please?

So this took some time because I don't play IkePri very often so apologies for that! Also, I assume that by "+three" you mean Keith, Gilbert and Silvio? Either way, enjoy!

IkePri HCs: Short, Quiet S/O

How do they react to a reserved and tiny s/o?

Suitors: Yves, Luke, Gilbert, Keith Silvio

Yves

S...she's so....why is she so-why?!

He physically cannot comprehend why she is so petite and so...adorable!

There is nobody who would understand the pains of being the small one, and he always resented how his brothers treated him because of it, but now he understands...

She is criminally darling. Offensively darling. Even more so because she is so reserved and keeps to herself...

And that's why he finds himself often fretting and fussing over her wellbeing and who was around her.

He especially does not want fiends like Clavis and Nokto being anywhere near her sweetness. Lest they corrupt her.

He will very much deem himself responsible for her safety, even if he wouldn't admit it to save his life.

Luke

Wow...that's a really small girl...

Being the massive bear of a man he is, he would think of her as a little teddy to be protected and cuddled.

She is very cute to him, cute enough to eat and he will not hesitate to tell her that point blank, resulting in a flurry of blushes and stunned looks.

When he stands by her, it's very easy to remember that she could easily climb him like a tree if she wanted, and he probably wouldn't even notice. It'd be more likely he could walk freely while she rode his back without issue.

His charms would also increase tenfold, at least in her eyes because she was so sweetly shy and he would love nothing more than to put her at ease.

He will often get her to lay down and just relax far away from her strenuous duties, from anyone who makes her nervous and reserved, and will make her feel as comfortable as possible.

And, if she would like, she could use him as a really...really....really big pillow. With her petite size, she may actually be able to have him pass as a bed...

Gilbert

Ah, what charming little rabbit she is~

The tiny young woman is in for some torment, sorry. He cannot leave her alone.

It's her own fault for being so cute and little. It's not his fault she was so irresistible.

Especially since she is so timid and sweet.

How he loved to intimidate and fluster her, just to see how she would react under his red gaze.

She was intoxicating to watch, her soft cheeks blooming red as the roses of Rhodolite, her gorgeous eyes averting from his crimson one to watch the floor instead.

He finds himself lifting her gaze back to him, caressing her lower lip with a gloved finger as he offers an indulgent smile, greatly enjoying watching the shy maiden squirm.

How he would love to watch that small body of hers squirm under different circumstances...

Keith

Do...women come in such sizes? How old is she...?

He is actually a little taken aback by the slight stature of the woman, especially since he is such a tall man. The height difference was rather uncanny actually...

He is very considerate and polite to her, always offering to get things she could not reach herself, walking at her pace so he didn't leave her behind.

He can't help but feel that she is fragile as well. She looked so tiny, so breakable...Maybe he could-

No, no he musn't think such thoughts...

He can very much relate to her timidity. That makes it so much easier to speak to her actually...if he can get over his own sweet shyness.

He can't help but be so gentle and tender with her, treating her like a porcelain doll. She is such a beautiful, little lady, he fears he could break her if he didn't handle her correctly.

Silvio

Ha! Such a tiny little woman. She looks like a kid.

He would be making so much fun of her, anything he says to her will reference her height. Most would vary from teasing to borderline hurtful.

It really wouldn't help that she is quiet as well. Now he has the excuse to call her a mouse as well. Oh joy.

She only has herself to blame, with that tiny, delicate body of hers, her pretty blushes and pouts, looking so cute and huggable and...

It's not that he thinks she's cute or anything! Nothing like that! It was just amusing to make fun of her...that's all it is!

He will scalp anyone who dares imply otherwise. He has no feelings of endearment for that tiny woman whatsoever...none!

He will deny with all his being and his strength that he imagines walking around with her tucked safely under his cape. sometimes...

🌸

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

I have a prompt if you want it. What do the RE8 women and reader do while spending the evening/night by a cozy fire? Do they play games? Read books to each other? Cuddle the fuck out of each other? I need yo know.

A nice little prompt to get me thinking outside the box a bit... LET'S GET COZY BY THE FIREPLACE, SHALL WE? 🔥

Alcina

On a nearby table, Alcina adjusted the contents of a tray a maid had dutifully left for the Lady: a bottle Sanguis Virginis for herself, and a bottle of the newest blend she had created for you, a sweet red – blood-free, of course, and two wine glasses.

She smirks as she drapes a blanket over the back of the leather couch in case you get cold, but she knows you won’t need it.

A knock at the door, and a maid announces your arrival. Alcina glances at you over the back of the couch. “Ah, draga. Come join me, won’t you?” You enter the room and the maid closes the door behind you.

Alcina had mentioned something about a gift of sorts earlier in the day, but you were not expecting this. She stands up from her seat on the couch, and as she turns to you, she slowly unties her black silk robe revealing her surprise: miles of black lace and porcelain skin that glows in the light of the fire.

She reaches out to you, takes your hand, and leads you to the area in front of the fireplace where red velvet pillows lay atop a plush white rug.

The logs in the fireplace crackled, the flames low. You offer to stoke the fire, but your eyes are unable to leave the woman who was now kneeling before you. Alcina gathers your shirt in her fists pulling you closer.

Even though you are now eye to eye with her, you still see her robe slide down her shoulders as she takes you into her strong arms. She nuzzles your neck, and nips and licks her way up to the shell of your ear before whispering…

“You needn’t bother with the fire, draga mea. Allow me to keep you warm tonight.”

Donna

Donna plans a cozy evening by the fire for just the two of you.

She makes a deal with Angie to leave the both of you alone, promising to take her to see the Dimitrescu daughters tomorrow for fun and games. Donna also locks up the kitchen knives for the evening, making the doll pout.

You bring a pile of books you’ve slowly been making your way through. Donna has laid her current knitting project and a few balls of yarn on the couch.

She brings in a tray of tea and cookies and places it on the table next to your books. “I thought you might read aloud while I knit. I do so love hearing your voice.” This makes you smile as you pour tea for two.

After nibbling on a cookie, Donna randomly selects a book from your pile… Death in the Garden: Poisonous Plants and Their Use Throughout History. “Sounds fascinating. Tell me what you have learned, amore mia.”

She knits, and you read. You sit with your back against the arm of the couch; your feet stretched towards her. Her posture is straight as an arrow at first, but she relaxes as you continue to read.

While you were engrossed in your book, you failed to notice Donna had abandoned her knitting project. She had been watching you, her sweet smile giving way to a yawn. “My apologies.” She says shyly. The warmth of the fire and your voice soothes me.”

You use a stray piece of yarn to mark your place in the book before crawling across the couch to Donna. She presses a kiss into your hair after covering you both with a blanket. “Comfortable, mia cara?”

“Mmm, very,” and you continue to read until the fire dies, falling asleep curled up next to each other.

The Dimitrescu Daughters

It’s a dark and stormy night. Alcina has had a long day. She asks you to keep the girls entertained while she bathes and tries to rid herself of “this infernal headache.” You kiss her and reassure her you can keep the girls out of trouble.

The girls were known to terrorize the maids morning, noon, and night – the time of day didn’t matter, but they just found it exceptionally thrilling to do so on nights like these.

Before they can set off to gallivant throughout the castle, you tell them you have a better idea and to meet you in the library. You instruct them to start up the fireplace while you grab a few supplies.

When you return, you find the girls sitting next to the fire: Bela picks at her nails while Cassandra and Daniela play Rock Paper Scissors. Daniela wins again, Cassandra tackles her sister, and you intervene, slapping and yelling at them to quiet down while pulling the brunette off the redhead. Cassandra playfully snaps at you (at least you think she is playing). “This had better be good.” She says staring you down.

You dump the bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolates out onto the floor in front of the girls. “What the hell is this?” Cassandra asks.

“S’mores. I am going to show you how to make s’mores and then we are going to tell scary stories.”

The process of showing the girls how to make s’mores was…a messy one. The maids were going to be pissed, but the girls thoroughly enjoy themselves. Bela had some grace in construction and eating, Cassandra cursed as she set several marshmallows on fire, flinging them across the room as she tried to extinguish them (you had to run after the blazing balls of goo, making sure they didn’t set fire to anything else), and Dani hummed and smiled as she bit into her s’more, marshmallow and chocolate oozing out the sides and running down her chin.

They gathered around to listen to your tale of terror. The fire is warm, and the lightning flashes through the large skylight above. Surprisingly, they stay focused and do not budge, until you release a jump scare on them causing them to scream and swarm to their mother.

You are quite pleased with yourself; you, the silly little human who scared the Dimitrescu girls.

Minutes later, Alcina enters the room to find you on your back, laughing hysterically, popping the last s’more into your mouth. “Draga?” She growls. Her beautiful white negligee, your favorite, is now covered in chocolate hand prints and smudges where the girls had grabbed at her. She smiles, but it is terrifying, which trumps your scary story jump scare.

“You…look…beautiful…sweetheart?” You wince. “I’ll be up to bed shortly…I’ll just...clean all this up and-,”

“Oh, no!” She shakes her head. “This…” she gestures at her attire, “is now off limits. You can sleep in the guestroom tonight!”

Miranda

The priestess sat at her desk doing work while you sat on the couch. Occasionally, you would ask if there was anything you could get her. She would respond with a curt “no,” or simply dismiss you with a flick of the wrist.

You walk to the fireplace and start a fire. “What are you doing?” She grumbles without looking at you.

You tell her you were a bit chilly, and thought a fire might help, that you would prepare some tea and she was welcome to join you if she was able to take a break.

Miranda was a bit cold, as she had not moved much for the past several hours, but she was unwilling to abandon her work entirely, opting to take a few journals over to the couch.

Smiling up at her, you curl your legs up closer to your body, making room for the regal woman. She nods when you hand her a cup of tea. She rarely says thank you.

She is not much for conversation, ever really, but especially while she works. Her beauty is captivating, and you can not help but steal glances as she reads and takes notes. Her brilliance and madness, both stemming from love and pain, only add to that beauty.

“You’re watching me. Why?” She asks without looking at you.

Of course, she notices. She sees all. She knows all. “I’m sorry,” you say, shivering as you look away embarrassed.

A black feathered wing spreads out to you, fluttering gently as if beckoning you to come closer. Miranda clears her throat but continues to work, not saying a word.

Cautiously you crawl over to her and lay your head against her arm. She wraps her wing around you to keep you warm. As she continues to work, you stroke her feathers until you fall asleep.

[lizhly-writes]

Allison x Emily, 5!

5. one night stand and falling pregnant au hi it's been forever. honestly i was kinda surprised to see an ask for these guys lol it also feels like forever since they've shown up. anyway, idk how shippy this is (maybeee a lil fucked up?), buuut happy women's day.

When we were younger, Mother always called Emily my little doll – porcelain and perfect, always following after me.

Emily grew snappier about it as she grew older.  True, she would still go along with whatever I wanted, for the most part, but was she ever happy about it?  For a long time now, I couldn’t do anything but make her angry.  

But ah, it’s important to note: that wasn’t my problem last night, and the proof of it is naked in my bed right now, even if she is starting to pull my covers up over her chin.

“Shut up,” Emily says, hazily cracking an eye open, letting the faintest silver of gray peek through.  Such a pale color, almost white, not unlike cracked glass.  She used to have blue eyes.  I do miss them, sometimes, but either way, she’s lovely, even if she’ll never happily hear such a thing from me.  Emily, aren’t you aware that it’s important to know how to gracefully accept a compliment?

“I haven’t said anything, though?” I give her a charming smile that she will also never gracefully accept.  

Charming has always made Emily look like she wants to hit me over the head. Today is no different.  She absolutely looks like she’s contemplating violence, but instead actually attempting to strangle me with my own sheets, she says, “If you say anything, I’ll kill you.”

Unlikely.  I am, by all accounts – not just my own! – exceedingly difficult to kill.

“Whatever you want,” I say generously, taking the liberty to reach around, wrap an arm around her shoulders, pull her in.  It makes her grumble a bit, but she doesn’t try moving away.  I suppose it might be because I run hotter than she does.  Her skin feels so cool against mine.  I wouldn’t mind warming her up, if she was in the mood for a little morning exercise with me.

“You’re far too happy about this,” she says, cracking an eye open.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy about this?”  I lower my voice and my head to her face.  “A beautiful woman in my bed, isn’t that something worth celebrating?”

She snorts.  “I didn’t realize you had the leisure to be interested in this sort of thing.”

…Odd. To her, did I seem particularly busy as of late?

“I always have the leisure to be interested in this sort of thing.  Don’t you always say I have too much free time?”

Emily never did like how much I did with pretty boys and pretty girls.  

For whatever reason, this is what rouses her from half-aware drowsiness.  Wide awake now, enough that her frown is truly directed at me instead the general ungodliness of the early morning. “What are you talking about, I’ve never told you that before.”

This is a blatant falsehood.  We both know this.

“By any chance, is your memory going?  Ask Asher, he’ll tell you you’ve been saying it since we were all children.”

“Since we were.. all…children,” she repeats, slow and suspicious for absolutely no reason at all. Her eyes narrow.  “I’ve said this to Wilhelmina.  I’ve never said this to Allison.”

I don’t believe I enjoy the implications of that sentence.

“Allison? Who’s that, another pretty lady who’s caught your attention?”  The thought of it is irritating.  It’s bad enough, dealing with that Joachim.  Now Allison as well?  “You’ll really make me jealous talking like that.  Who wants to hear some other woman’s name in bed, mm?”

Names, names, names.  Do I know an Allison?  There’s Hannah, but is there some other little nothing that takes up Emily’s attention?

“Ridiculous,” Emily hisses. She pushes me off her and sits up, sheets falling down to her waist.  I don’t have much of a chance to appreciate the view before she hits me.

It’s a decent shot, knives scoring deeply through my face, scraping against bone. It’s also entirely unprovoked.  I don’t mind a fight – I love a fight – but Emily isn’t Asher.  I can’t imagine she’d actually enjoy this sort of thing in the bedroom.  Did I already make her angry today?

… Hmm.  I’m bleeding quite hard, actually.

Well, that doesn’t matter.  What matters more is how I’ve managed to invoke Emily’s displeasure.  Even when I’m deliberately annoying her, the most she’s ever done is insult me. She’s never actually hit me like this.  Is she just in the mood for a fight?  If she wants a fight, I’ll give her one.  Just as soon as I get all of this out of my eye.

There’s.  There’s so much blood in my eye.

No, that shouldn’t matter.  I don’t normally care about that sort of thing. Why do I care right now.  Something like this doesn’t mean anything to me.   I shouldn’t care.  This is fine.  Why do I feel like there’s something wrong.  Something’s wrong.  What’s wrong? 

…Hey.  Hey.

I’ve been fucking knifed in the face.

Of course there’s something wrong!  In any normal world, I’d be calling 911!  Fuck it, someone else would have to call 911, I’d be passed out on the ground!  Why am I acting like this is normal?  This isn’t normal! This – this – !

THIS REALLY FUCKING HURTS ACTUALLY.

“Jesus fuck,” I wheeze, immediately clamping my hand over the bleeding ruin in my face that used to be a working eyeball.  Fucking finally Wilhelmina’s healing starts kicking in beneath my fingers.  Why is that only happening now?  When I’m actually me, injuries start healing immediately, it shouldn’t be different for her.  Unless she decided to keep it from healing?  Why would she keep it from healing?

“Do you remember who you are now?” Emily says, spinning a knife or two in a fun little trick that I’m sure I’d appreciate more if I, you know, had two eyes.

“This is the shittiest morning-after,” I manage.  Isn’t the worst it gets supposed to be a… a… what’s it called.  One night stand.  A pump-and-dump.  What’s the fucking word I’m looking for.

“Your name.”

Right.  That. How could I forget.

It takes me a couple tries, but I get there eventually.  “Allison Lee,” I say to Emily’s incredibly unimpressed expression.  

“Very good, well done,” she says.

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate it, are you happy.”

“I’m never happy,” Emily says flatly.  Then she turns away to rummage around for her clothing, because obviously stabbing someone in the face isn’t something to be concerned about at all.  I bet she does this kind of thing everyday, doesn’t she?

“Did you have to use knives,” I grit out. Where did you even get those.  You’re naked, there’s zero places for you to hide them.  How did you do that.  That’s not possible.  What the fuck.

“You’re getting increasingly immune to blunt force trauma, so as it happens, yes,” Emilly says, like that’s a reasonable thing to say.

I fucking hate this place.

Emily puts on clothes.  I sit on the bed with my hands over my eyes.  At some point, she says, “Are you going to lie down there all day.”

“Who’s lying down,” I say.

Me.  I’m lying down.  I don’t remember doing that.  It doesn’t really matter.

Emily sighs.  “Sit up.”

“Why.”

“You can go back to sleep if you want, I don’t care,” Emily says briskly.  “But you’re just smearing blood all over your face right now. It’s hardly hygienic.”

“So?”

I can feel her carefully, gently place her hands on my shoulders.  The faint warmth of her breath brushes against my skin.  Unnecessarily close.  Uncomfortably intimate. 

Then she yanks forward and forces me into a sitting position.  I’m almost glad to be in Wilhelmina’s body right now, because if I had actually been me, that would’ve done some terrible things to my shoulder joints.

“Put your hands down,” she says, and wrenches my hands away from my face by the wrists.

I squint at her with one eye.  She’s perfectly put together, fully dressed and hair neatly combed back.  You wouldn’t think at all that she’d been in bed with me five minutes ago, or… however long ago that was.

“You’re terrible,” I say.

“And you’re filthy,” Emily says.  “Don’t move.”  She grabs a wet towel from a bowl on the nightstand – I don’t think that was there before? – and starts wiping down my hands with the brusque, irritated efficiency of a woman who has to clean up her mud-covered child for the third time in three hours.

“I’m not a child.”

Emily holds the towel up to the light, frowning at the red smeared across it. She sets it aside, exchanges it for a fresh towel.  “If that was the case, you’d be cleaning up all by yourself.  But you aren’t doing that, are you?”

No. I’m not.

I don’t want to.  I don’t want to do much of anything right now.

“Not the eye,” I say, which is the one overwhelming desire I feel right now.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emily says, like it’s ridiculous that I don’t want her, the person who stabbed me in the eye, to come anywhere close to my eye. “Your eye is likely already healed, there’s no need to make a fuss about it.  You can’t walk around with your face like this.”

Can’t I?

It’s like this, day in, day out.  Can’t do this, can’t do that.  If it’s not Emily reminding me, then it’s my own logic keeping me in line.  Here’s a grocery list of guidelines of how to adjust your behavior, your thoughts, your everything. It’s not, after all, like you’re allowed to act like you.

What am I, anyway?  Certainly not the original Wilhelmina Sterling, but sometimes, I get so damn close. 

I hate this.  I hate her.  I hate this.

“And why not?” I snap out.  “Wilhelmina Sterling picks fights, is it really that weird if she picks the wrong fight and gets stabbed in the eye because of it?  Haven’t you always wanted to stab her in the eye anyway? No one’s going to think it’s weird that you finally had enough and did it!”

“What are you even trying to  – I haven’t always wanted to stab Wilhelmina in the face–”

“I’m sure Rosie Beckett’s always wanted to give it a shot.  But then again, that’s nothing new.  Who doesn’t want to stab her in the face?  Something like that should be normal by now.  Isn’t it normal?”

That’s what this world is like.  A step backwards in modern sensibilities, no sympathy required or even wanted.  Hard, cruel, completely insane in what it considers status quo.

I want to go home.

Emily tries saying something.  I don’t give her the chance.

“I’m sorry I’m making a fuss about this. It might be normal for you, but in my world, you don’t walk off being stabbed in the face!”

“It isn’t as if it’s normal here –”

“Then stop acting like it!”

Silence. Emily is making… an expression.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t care what it is. I just…

I don’t want to be here.

“You’re right.”

I look up.  Emily has one hand over her eyes, looking a little like she has a headache.

“Am I?” I say.  “About what?”

She gestures vaguely at my head. “This would be a debilitating injury in anybody else.  A permanent one, in most cases.  For Wilhelmina… no.  She easily brushes off damage that would be significant and perhaps fatal to other people.  It doesn’t faze her.  You’re wearing her face.  I suppose I expected the same amount of indifference from you.  It’s…unreasonable of me to do so.”

…Huh.  “Is this an apology?”

“It’s an explanation. You can take it as an apology, if you’d like.”  She raises her hand, as if to go for my face again, and then drops it.  “Your eye probably is healed by now, but even if it isn’t, it’s good to get the blood off.  It can’t be comfortable.”  

She offers me the towel. I take it, because in the end, she’s right.  It isn’t comfortable.

“...It’s getting worse,” Emily says, as I gingerly dab at my eye.  She doesn’t need to clarify what it is. 

“You think so?” I say dryly.  I couldn’t even recognize my own name.  I don’t like that she stabbed me, but if she didn’t, I don’t know how long I would have been stuck like that.  If this goes on for much longer…

I can’t let this go on for much longer.

Another sigh.  “Was it you, last night?  Or….”

Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?  Was that me?

I let my head loll back.  “Wouldn’t we both like to know the answer to that.”

[sorrydearie]

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

(something something sickly victorian child)

“Repeat after me—”

“I���m not a fucking child.”

“—we do not touch the haunted dolls.”

“If they didn’t want people touching them,” Martín argued, “they should have put up a sign.”

“You mean on top of the rope fencing them off from irresponsible people with a death wish?”

Ah, fuck.

Martín hated to admit it, but Andrés had a point there. 

The corduroy rope was hard to miss, actually. Bright-red, it looped around the displayed dolls like a bold-faced challenge.

Strangely enough, the dolls were the only exhibits to be fenced off. All of the other artifacts in Señor Rodrigez Cabinet of Curiosities – dusty old ouija boards, monkey paws, and various occult paraphernalia – were suspiciously accessible.

Probably because Señor Rodrigez knew very well that he'd built his empire on random trash.

Even so. Martín didn’t appreciate the snide comment. He wrinkled his nose, annoyed, and made a point to glare at Tatiana when she laughed at him.

Taking sides now, was she? 

Whore. 

Come to think of it, Martín wasn’t usually so hostile. 

It must be the creepy dolls, staring at him with their dead, beady eyes. Those porcelain faces with round, rosy cheeks. The irritably long lashes, like little spider legs…

It unnerved him. Creepy little fuckers.

“Anyway. I’m calling their bluff.” Martín waved his hand, dismissive. “You don’t actually believe that I’m gonna get possessed by a sickly Victorian child if I touch them? That’s ridiculous.”

The corners of Andrés’s lips dragged down. Just like they always did when Martín ‘disrespected’ the dead. Or the demonic. And, one notable time, the yetis. 

“Of course you’re not gonna get possessed,” Andrés clarified, matter-of-factly. As though Martín was slow or stupid – or both. “You’ll get cursed. Plunged into a life of despair. Bad luck is going to follow you around like a vengeful ex and you’ll be left with nothing. No money, no friends, no love life.”

"So no different to how things are right now," Tatiana chimed in, sticking out her tongue. Martín briefly contemplated pushing her into the display of cursed masks adorning the wall. How dare she butt into this?!

He glared at her. “You’re a nasty, disgusting, absolutely vile woman—”

“Martín!” 

Andrés gasped, and Martín frowned. What, was Andrés appalled by how Martín had spoken to his ex? They bickered all the time, it was kind of their thing.

But then Andrés grabbed Martín’s arm and dragged him close, eyes glued to one of the dolls displayed in front of them. 

“Did you see that?”

Martín blinked. “See what?”

“That doll’s arm just moved.”

“Bullshit.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you easily excitable.” Like a hot golden retriever, trained to detect the paranormal. “Maybe the air conditioning ruffled her dress, or something. It is chilly here.”

Andrés shot him an unimpressed look.

“I think I’m knowledgeable enough to differentiate between a gust of wind and a real-life demonic presence.”

“You said that the last few times, too…” Martín trailed off, frowning. 

He hadn’t realized it until now, but Andrés was still holding onto him. His fingers were curled, tightly, around Martín’s bicep. 

It was… distracting.

He cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. 

“Whatever,” he said, playing it off. Like Andrés’s touch wasn’t burning him through his clothes. “The only thing scary about these dolls is their fucked-up eyes. So don’t go pissing your pants—”

It all happened so fast. 

He’d been eager to seem cool and unaffected, and so he’d laughed and thrown out his arms – and knocked over one of the stupid dolls.

It tumbled off its pedestal, frilly dress and laces fanning out like a broken parachute, before sprawling onto the floor in a heap of broken limbs and human ringlets. Its dead eyes stared up at Martín, unblinking. 

Tatiana gasped in horror. 

“Oh shit,” Martín said. “That’s not—”

Good, he’d meant to say, but the words got stuck inside his throat when Andrés grabbed his face, crowding him.

“What are you—”

They were impossibly close, just a hair’s breadth between them. Martín could make out the specks of amber in his eyes, like particles of starlight. He could count Andrés’s lashes, and marvel at the perfect dip of his Cupid’s bow…

Martín’s heart knocked against his ribcage like a fucking ping pong ball. 

“Are you all right?” Andrés asked, searching his face. “I told you not to touch the damned thing. Do you feel any different? Light-headed? Fatigued?”

His words were rushed, and for a split second Martín mistook it for worry. But he knew Andrés better than that, knew how to read the signs: the wide eyes, the hitch in his breath, the flush to his cheeks…

The bastard was excited. About Martín getting cursed. 

Hijo de puta. 

Had Andrés no shame? Did he not care if Martín died at the ant-sized hands of an Annabelle knock-off? What if it toddled into his flat at the dead of night and axe-murdered him in his sleep? Would Andrés get off on that?

Martín opened his mouth, ready to give him a good talking-to, but changed his mind at the last second.

Maybe…

Maybe he could use this to his advantage.

“Actually… I’m feeling a bit faint,” he said, wrangling his voice into a croak. He coughed too, for effect. Look at him – weak and wearied and miserable. The poor, unfortunate victim of a powerful curse. 

He made his knees buckle and slumped forward, as if overcome by a dizzy spell, and Andrés’s arms opened for him. He drew Martín close, encouraging him to lean against him. Just like Martín knew he would. 

Andrés made a cooing sound. His breath tickled the hair at Martín’s temple. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Andrés said, stroking Martín’s back. “The doll’s power over you will only grow stronger if we stay here.”

Martín nodded, and let out an afflicted moan. For good measure. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Tatiana hiding a smirk behind her camera. Martín couldn’t bring himself to care. Not as long as Andrés kept his arms around him, as long as he allowed Martín to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, and held him close.

Nothing mattered, as long as Andrés gave Martín his undivided attention. 

He’d milk Andrés’s sympathy for all it was worth. 

[springlock-suits]

Some fun little tidbits that didn't really fit with the longer lore rambles about my version, but felt too short to get their own posts

.

William Afton: ADORES the circus and clowns. Absolutely collects those clown porcelain dolls you always see at thrift stores. If he never met Henry he probably would've just been a professional clown or something

I don't mean this in a rude way at all and I will not be accepting clownslander at this time

Phone Dude: there are SO many I could give to him but Furby Customizer speaks the most to me right now

Henry Emily: ignoring his love for animatronics, he also really liked arcades! Arcade cabinets and games of all of sorts. I do not know his opinions on pinball however

Also liked murder mystery games n movies. But ah. I think he might have stopped liking those

He would enjoy camping I think. I can imagine him being good at survival in the woods and such, but hm can he fish?

Michael Afton: Would love animal jam. And of course loves those TV drama shows. Actually just for that I'm gonna give him a hc based on my great grandma who loved tv operas, he collects fancy dishes and likes apple themed things. Would have a tiny dog if he trusted himself to take care of it properly, Helpy is a good tiny dog substitute

Mrs Afton: Very much enjoyed dancing and ballerinas. When William was buying clown dolls he would also be on the lookout for ballerina dolls or figures to give her. She definitely owned like at least one ballerina music box

.

Fun fact! In my lore Springtrap named himself that, and wasn't given an "official" name by Fazbear Fright's staff. However Peter (phone dude) liked to call him Wallace

.

I'm thinking that Evan witnessing William's springlock failure definitely played a part in his fear of animatronics. Because I've already put that before the bite in my lore's timelime

.

I know it wasn't really meant to be seen as this but-

I take the fnaf 2 phone calls (first night specifically) as implying the 87 location is the first to have walking/freeroam animatronics, at the very least the first to let them leave stage while open

Foxy go go go is generally seen as before that, being in '85 location most likely. So it's fun to imagine that the foxy running is just a guy in a suit who's about to have a terrible day

.

It's not strictly important when or why. but Elizabeth and Mrs. Afton died at the same time in my au, and it was at least before the baby animatronic could even be considered

This is because I removed Sister Location from my lore. And I'm not sure what to do with Elizabeth now. If anyone helps me come up with a good idea, though, I'd definitely consider bringing her back! I miss her </3

She'll still have to die around the time she did in canon though, so yknow

.

Evan and Elizabeth collected My Little Pony together, and later would've collected Ips too

.

"Tell us about Vanessa!"

Right off the bat I can tell you my Vanny and Vanessa are the same person! No weird secret double confusion like what sb did, they're the same!

While I'm still not sure if Security Breach exists in my au, Vanessa is definitely staying anyway! I'm determined to squeeze her in somehow, she's so much fun to work with ^v^

(I wonder if I can work Glamrock Springbonnie into my version's Security Breach somehow. I'm definitely gonna try >:)

The hardest part about adding vanny (and security breach as a whole) is that my version of William isn't nearly as determined to kill kids as canon, I think the first dip in old man consequences' lake wouldve stopped him. BUT! He STILL hates fazbear ent, so now I'm imagining that instead of possessing Vanny to kill kids, his ghost(?) just tries to convince her to try and close the place down. Causing mechanical failures and breakdowns and such. I think that'd be fun ^v^!!

Less of murder and more of shenanigans

Also also, bonus fact. William is definitely bothering Vanessa specifically because she looks like Elizabeth. Vanny and Jeremy are both characters he sorta mentally adopts because they remind him of his dead children

[dreamerwitches]

Hello it me once again I would to ask you yet again about designs but for the Oriko Magica girls.

Oh yes! Of course! I think Oriko might have my favourite outfits overall of the spinoffs since no designs are too gross. Like usual, these are my opinions, please continue to enjoy Oriko no matter what I say

I'm very fond of Oriko's outfit. I love the bridal and upperclass theme. I think it suits the fact her weapon isn't too close contact either. She doesn't really need an outfit that allows for too much movement. My only gripe is that her dress gets less fuller as the series went on, being far smaller and shorter in magireco... GIVE. ME. BALLGOWN. REALNESS!

I know a lot of people like Kirika but I'm just really not a fan of her outfit... I'm sorry. I detest a tight mini skirt on someone who's meant to be fighting and needs to be mobile. I think the droopy sleeves are silly too though it's suitable that they hide her claws. I think she would've suited a much more tuxedo styled outfit (give her trousers and a stylish jacket!). I'm also quite fond of her early/Online appearance with brown hair and a dark blue outfit. I feel it makes her a bit more unique, otherwise she gives me Kazumi vibes a bit too much

I think Yuma's outfit is very cute but did she need the cat theme? She never has anything to do with cats... It just feels like 'she's a cat girl cause Oriko needed a cat girl'. I think I actually prefer her concept outfit just because it's cuter even though it still has the cat theme. It might have been nice if her outfit was a cuter play on Kyoko's outfit considering her wish. I think her weapon works though

Sasa..! My secret fave! I love a girl with a clown/jester theme! I adore her hat and jacket as well as the reoccurring motif on her gloves and boots but I could do without the super short dress and thigh socks. Maybe a dress with a spiked hem to interweave with her jacket and maybe tights with a diamond motif to go with her buttons

Komaki's outfit isn't too special to me but I think it works. The colours are okay and there's good reoccurring patterns. Like usual, could do without the thigh highs. Her weapon suits her personality too

Not a fan of Lina's outfit but I think it works. It has a nice theme and I think all the colours work well together to fit with it. Maybe the skirt doesn't work so well since she has a lot of straight lines in her design then there's this round and puffy skirt. Maybe trousers would've worked better or a straight pleated skirt. Her outfit doesn't really fit her wish (though it's hard to link an outfit to it anyway) but it fits her leadership role.

Ah, Mio... we've finally got a stupid outfit XD what. Are. Those. Bottoms? Skirt trousers? I think the puffy trousers suit her best. Her outfit is just all over the place. I like the cape and top but I think all the special parts happen in her chest and the rest feels empty. Perhaps bell sleeves would work with her trousers. I always found her hair clip weird too. Perhaps two or some kind of hat to spruce up her head.

Miyako is another of my favourites <3 her outfit is very cute but considering she uses dolls to attack, it just isn't enough. Give me porcelain German doll realness. More bows, more lace, more frills! I think it'd look better if her hood was down too with a cute hat or head piece.

Mai's outfit is just a little boring to me. It doesn't suit her stern personality but it doesn't really help that we know very little about her... I don't think her hair bow and skirt suit her and her asymmetrical sleeves are weird. I think it would've worked better if one was more of a different style. Perhaps more of a knightly/warrior theme would've suited her more since she's one to follow orders

I love Koito but her outfit is surely something... It's um... a bit weird... I like the feathers but I feel like they weren't utilised very well. Her hat is just ugly and her dress is frumpy and shapeless... I think she's one that needs a complete redesign

Yes, we're doing the minor girls!

I'm guessing Futaba's death outfit is her magi outfit. Cute and has a good flower motif but a bit basic. Don't like her asymmetrical socks/shoes, just seem silly and a bit off compared to the rest of her outfit

Chihana's outfit is fun and quite suits her. The colours are appealling too. My only gripe may be that her headdress is a little weird

YES we're doing the witch magi!

Cecil's magi is very cute and works rather well with her witch. Maybe she should have bunches like Cecil...

Stacy's magi isn't my fave, she doesn't seem to have a very noticeable theme. Stacy seems to have a sewing theme but her magi has a more scholarly appearance. No apparent link to cats either.. But the uniform feel is kinda cute. Nice to have a magi with glasses though!

Virginia's magi is cute but we don't see her whole outfit... I like the shapes and it all seems balanced well (also I think I'm soft for her cause she looks like Elly...)

[jobethdalloway]

Which film adaptation of Little Women is your favorite and why? How do you feel about the musical version?

ah, anon! A question for the ages. It's 1994's for me.

That wasn't always my answer - for most my life, it would have been 1949. That was the first version of the story I encountered, on VHS at my grandmother's house. I got to know the sisterhood of Jo, Beth, Meg and Amy through those cozy, Technicolor hues with a surge of admiration and kinship for June Allyson's Jo, while also relating hard to the timidity of Margaret O'Brien's Beth. Elizabeth Taylor as Amy still cracks me up and Janet Leigh is a wonderful Meg. It's the most overlooked of the theatrical film adaptations, in large part I'm sure because it hews very closely to the 1933 OG. (I don't care for that one by comparison; Katharine Hepburn is a super cool person and all but I don't like her in the role of Jo and yet she is the only single actor in the cast with an ounce of charisma. imo. I did love seeing her in good drag tho) (People also don't like some of the liberties taken in 1949, ie switching Amy's and Beth's ages - a complaint I totally understand, but again given that it was my introduction to the story I had no idea this was "wrong")

I saw the '94 version a couple of times in high school and was so devoted to my childhood favorite that it took me a while to warm up to it. But by my twenties, it had become a favorite and it is now a go-to comfort movie for me. It has slightly edged out '49 as my personal favorite and in terms of recommending an adaptation to people I think it's the best one to go to. Part of that is yes nostalgia for '90s period pieces (Thomas Newman's score is unmatched in its comforting coziness) - but also its the way its deep, abiding love for the characters and text is manifested with warmth. The novel is warm, and to me, that feeling is somewhat lost in Gerwig's admirable take.

There is a lot I truly love about the 2019 version - chief among them is righting the one wrong of '94 and giving full dimension back to Amy. It's all there in Alcott's text and tries to be there in Armstrong's. The problem in '94 is not only that young Amy gets so much more screentime than adult Amy, but that Kirsten Dunst is SO memorably fantastic in the part and Samantha Mathis just leaves no impression. I see the vision, like, for the porcelain doll Amy but in the novel the still contained that same fire and drive as Jo. Gerwig and Florence Pugh bring that back into light in the most compelling, beautiful way. She manages what no other film adaptation had done before, which was to set up Amy and Laurie in a believable fashion. She does so much that is so wonderful and I am grateful her film has introduced the story to so many. It's such a beautiful one. (I have a few casting problems with '19; my biggest disappointment on a personal level is that I never felt warmed to Beth the way I have in other versions.)

I must admit that despite my love for Sutton Foster, I don't remember loving the Broadway version. I do remember liking the song "Some Things Are Meant to Be," and should listen to it again. I am however grateful for its existence because it was my Broadway-loving gf's introduction to "Little Women" and yay for that!!

tl;dr: it's 1994 for me, but I love something about every version!

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs Familiars

Astarion: Explain to me why you're taking me down here. This is not the kind of killing I like. It's too ... dry.

Alisaie: I take you along on a looting raid, effectively breaking and entering, and this is the thanks I get.

Astarion: I mean, fair enough, but this is a small-town herbalist--

Gale: A small town herbalist ... with ... a bunch of corpses in the basement, Astarion.

Alisaie: And a whole lot of documentation about powerful bullshit. You like powerful bullshit.

Astarion: ...Oh, fine. But there'd better be something for me to lockpick or I am going to be very annoyed.

Gale: I'm sure there'll be-- Alisaie, what are you doing?

Alisaie: Trying to figure out what this scroll is and why it's in a coffin with a really shitty shovel, a knife that's an open invitation to infection, a rock, some alchemist's fire and ... a ... skull someone painted up like a porcelain doll?

Astarion: You know, I call this particular group a bunch of weirdos on a regular basis, but this? This puts us to shame, weirdness-wise.

Alisaie: Welp, here goes. *reads from scroll*

Shovel: *appears*

Shadowheart; Astarion: Whaaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuuuck?

Gale; Alisaie: A quasit? SERIOUSLY?!?

Shovel: So you're Shovel's new master? Are you going to remember to feed me?!?

Alisaie: ...If only to keep you from eating Scratch's food, yes?

Shovel: Good! Then if you're horny for the book like my old master? You go talk to the mirror. And pack burn salve.

Astarion: Fire traps? Been awhile since I've seen those.

Alisaie: Thanks, Shovel, but I don't think we'll need it. *steps up to the mirror* HEY. OPEN UP OR I WILL SMASH THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU.

Mirror: But ... the curse... Seven years bad lu--

Alisaie: Given my current situation, it's already happening so I don't give a shit.

Mirror: *quietly vanishes*

Shovel: Aww. No burning time.

Astarion: Ah, but it's lovely when she gets threatening.

Alisaie: Right. Okay. Shadowheart, want to bring Wyll down here? He's our expert on Dark Magic Shit We Should Not Touch.

Astarion: These traps are weak sauce!

Shovel: Illy figured hiding the doors, the burning time and the friends would keep people out! Illy couldn't do locks worth shit!

Gale: I suppose that's fair. Not that Arcane Lock isn't a wonderful spell, but--

Alisaie: Creepy book.

Astarion: Gimme?

Alisaie: ...It's not like you can open it anyway.

Astarion: ...Boo.

Alisaie: Look, we'll make camp once we're out of here and get some rest. And some food. You look a bit peaky. ...More than usual, I mean.

And, of course, later that night...

Alisaie: *wakes up*

Astarion: *is hovering over her*

Alisaie: So either you reeeeeeeally want that book, or you're finally admitting you're a vampire.

Astarion: I am not a vampire! ...I am a vampire spawn. There is a difference. And I'm too weak to hunt right now, so I thought a little nibble might at least get me to a point where I could stalk a boar or something.

Alisaie: And the fact that I'm an aasimar and you have no idea what drinking my blood would do to you never crossed your mind?

Astarion: Honestly, it was risk assessment. Karlach would probably be alright with it but then my face would be on fire, which entirely defeats the purpose, wouldn't you say? As for the others, they simply wouldn't stand for it, and they all would likely kill me soon as look at me if I tried.

Alisaie: There's a spectrum there, with Lae'zel at one end and ... ironically probably Gale on the other, because he's just a different kind of vampire if you think about it, but yeah. And yet you think I wouldn't?

Astarion: Well ... I did guess you wouldn't immediately attack me, and I was right about that, so...

Alisaie: *sigh* Fine, but a) it is only a nibble, b) you will restrain yourself to feeding on enemies from here on in, and c) if you get a belly full of radiant energy, it's on you.

Astarion: ...What, really? Gods, you are too good for this world.

Alisaie: I expect you to not give me dirty looks next time I'm altruistic in your presence, okay?

Astarion: ...Fiiiine. I suppose it benefits me as well, the altruism. Now. Hold still. *NYARMF*

The next morning

Shadowheart: You look terrible. Here; I learned a new trick. *Lesser Restoration*

Alisaie: Thank you; that is so much better. Hey, guys? Just to flag up? He finally fessed up.

Rest of the party: *various noises indicating 'it's about time'*

Astarion: ...Did everyone know?

Alisaie: White hair, red eyes, two scars from puncture wounds on your neck, and the fangs, Astarion. We are not blind.

Astarion: But ... I walk in the sun! I cross running water! I--

Alisaie: Have a tadpole in your brain which changes the rules. Now, anything else anyone wants a chat about?

Astarion: Can I just state for the record that you taste amazing?

Alisaie: No, but since you just did, not like I can stop you.

Astarion: *grin*

Karlach: Why is there a fucking quasit hanging around my tent?

Alisaie: Oh, that's Shovel. He has a foul mouth and a nasty sense of humour. And I think he's my familiar now. Why he's hanging out with you, I have no idea.

Karlach: Eh, demons always wanted out of the Lower Planes and into the Nine Hells. This is as close as this jackass is going to get.

Shovel: No, Shovel likes you because you left! Hell is weaker without you! Yay!

Karlach: Is this little bugger going to do anything useful?

Awhile later, in the Whispering Depths

Shovel: *gets the killing blow on the Phase Spider Matriarch*

Karlach: ...............

Alisaie: That useful enough for you?

Karlach: All right, fine. ...But I wanted to kill it.

Shovel: NYAH!

[gardeniasmadness]

Perversion

He skips along again, give her a wave

The light drops from my face

Fit so perfectly between our imaginary bond

Where’s the reality for which I long?

Please don’t be highschool sweethearts

I’m telling you there’s nothin I wouldn’t do

Sick, burning with perversion for you

Your dirty head between her legs

And now I get, a garbage pair just made for eachother

Feelings will stay inside until they dissolve

Mourning the loss of my fantasy, again I fall

————

Can you accept a truth in tomorrow

Sleeping beauty-

Just die and everyone will call you sleeping Beauty

Made to be looked at like the doll in the store window

She raises her porcelain hands

Be a sleeping beauty

Amber’s skin

Today again, she’s just so much better

And I wanna say it doesn’t matter

Such shining eyes are endearing

But a voice in the back of my head is screaming

And I feel so bad

Wanting to stab an angel in her back

And I’m so mad

Cause of you, it’s never enough, what I have

She doesn’t know, if you look a little deeper

I’d kill to wear the skin of Amber

And throw myself away

I would clip her wings and trap her in my prison

Have a taste of what it’s like to choke back acid in your throat

But what if, what if, I find It’s not able to satisfy

But What if, what if, it ain’t better on the other side

Was it a choice to be trapped within her silk web

Is it my fault, she’s nestled inside of my head

It doesn’t matter, I snap the threads

What I’d give to wear the skin of amber

Get rid of this body with bruises already littered

Rotting from the inside out

No, I can’t stop it now

What I’d give to wear the skin of amber

To trap her in my bathroom mirror

Be the reason she’s dragged into the big blue sky and gone forever

What I’d give to wear the skin of Amber

All I’d give to wear the skin Amber

What I’d give to wear the skin of Amber

————————-

Bruised and littered with

Deep sea dwellers

Dragged into the big blue sky

And gone forever

And when you see it you’ll scream

Adorned in blood

Hunting season

Every word of yours that rings in my head

When probably don’t even stay in yours

Left me to breathe the dust

Kill a sweet little deer all alone

And when his blood seeps in the snow

Steal his eyes, dull and drained of life

Kick him to the side,

——————

Unravel you to

Resurrected feeling of dread

Stuck living in your own head since birth

Monday empty heart

Chewing bullets

Keep trying to put him back together

Cut his limbs and rearrange

Must be getting the order wrong

Can’t fix a monster

And the cuts are deeper every time

You take my breath away

Got a habit of staring into space

Trying to join my conscious and body together

You take my breath away

You take my breath away

You take my breath away

Guided by his hand

Take my hand

Prince with cherry red hair

The ugly part of it

————————

Hey Cid, are you ever jealous of anyone? Anyone at all?”

Well, just a little bit.. Do ya know who?

*head shake*

*chuckle* get ready

“What..?”

Ah, nothing!

Well, I’ll start with the

The blue eyed blondies, effortless, natural beauties

People, treated like gods, who get praised and payed for just existing

People who are only teens, yet better than me at everything

People who have everyone kneeling, begging to kiss their feet

“uh .. okay.. continue”

You know, sometimes it ain’t even people, it’s animals

Like the cats and dogs, cause all they have to do is live, never have to think about anythin, allowed to be stupid

And I know I’m pathetic, absolutely pathetic, standing by, never changing

Born living inside of my head, and I can’t find my way out the labyrinth

“And you know what else I hat-!!”

Cid.. *sob* something happened!”

“What’s the matter, dear?”

*hic* My boyfriend broke up with me!!

Boyfriend.. partner.. relationship.. love..

“Cid?”

Well, Jessica, it’s quite conflicting

Who am I to say your pain isn’t real or as comparable because it isn’t the same as mine? Who am I to be mad?

But, at the same time, how can I feel sorry for you when all your problems come from what I’ve never had?

I mean of course, your success is probably a result of your actual motivation to do things in life and continuous hard work and effort and really that’s just such a great thing you should be so proud of yourself that you’re not like me but of course I can’t say that to you because that’s too long and sad so I’m just gonna say fuck you!! Fuck you!! Fuck you!!!

But of course, I’d never ACTUALLY say any of that to anyone.. except myself!!

———————-

The Italian girls that make fun of me (god, I hate New Jersey)

I just wish they’d understand

No one can save me now

It’s hard to hear when you’re so deep underground

Just beat me bloody and drag me to the bed beneath the tree

Can’t rip the memory from my head no matter how much I reach

[cursedchildofchaos]

💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬💬

19??? Anon, you little shit! Okay, fine lol. Not giving context either besides that some of these are from fanfics and some original stuff

1. 

COACH

Schmidt just went full Winston and got

pet-ernal.

2. 

ALISON 

Nothing you say is going to change my mind, Dr. Felix. 

CHASE 

(through gritted teeth) 

Oh, it's last names now? Fine, but I'm not helping, Dr. Roberts. Use the damn machine yourself!

3. 

Talk or I'll bite you! I'll bite your whole family! I'll even bite your grandma!

4. 

And that's why you shouldn't trust strangers that offer you candy, kids. Never know when one might turn out to be a vengeful witch.

5. 

It's called a chemical reaction, you fudging sucker!

6. 

BEA

So, what brings you to Hell?

DAVE

Oh, my ex told me she would see me here.

7. 

If our dumbass friend is doing something dumbass, we are doing that dumbass thing, too, because we are dumbasses.

8.

A BANK OFFICIAL, standing in front of Dedire, pulls his collar as he eyes the porcelain dolls about the room. They seem like each one is staring into his soul.

9.

There’s a cat waiting to pounce when we stop dancing. You see, I’m allergic to cats, or cads, whatever you call ’em.

10.

Snape thought briefly that he might be dead and this was his own personal Hell even though he sort of enjoyed seeing Petunia cry. The situation was all too laughable and miserable at the same time...Maybe the Catholics were right about Purgatory being real?

11.

Haru: Tohru, tell your bf to accept this secret passionate love for Yuki and join the new Yuki Fan Club.

Kyo: I said replace me with her, dammit! Not add her and not get rid of me!

Tohru: Kyo, please, honey, just accept your secret passionate love for Yuki. Also, thanks for adding me guys! Kyo has been complaining about this group chat for over an hour, and I wanted in so bad, but didn’t want to just invite myself.

12.

Virgil ripped his arm out of Remus' grasp.

"Scaring people is my thing, Snidely Whiplash," Virgil retorted.

13.

MC: Loser

Dan: Yeah, what about it?

MC: Oh, um, I didn’t mean it

Dan: Ah, well, I did

MC: Stop, you’re making me feel bad for you

Dan: Good

14.

Wait...I forgot I'm the author of this fanfic. I can just go inside his head. Let's do that (not literally, though, I get a little woozy when it comes to organs).

15.

Today really was a Happy Birthday, wasn't it? Molly thought to herself while jamming to music in her car. I can't wait to get home and tell Toby all about it.

16.

"Another time, I forced everyone to listen to Kidz Bop instead of original songs, claiming they were more Good Place friendly as you do. Another time I said the only people who make it to Heaven are the ones that love the movie Citizen Kane and refuse to watch anything else, so we kept watching it repeatedly as you do. Another time, I forced you to retake French, which I know you hated in high school, cuz I had Janet put a French filter on Chidi's voice...as you do," he rambled off.

"You know adding 'as you do' doesn't make it better...especially as NO ONE DOES THOSE THINGS," Eleanor said, now standing, and looking at Michael accusingly.

17.

His eyes began to water. He slid off the chair next to her. He pulled her into an embrace. She stiffened as he buried his face in her hair that hung near her neck and over her shoulder. His tears were hot as they soaked her sleeve and hair.

18.

Jane attempts to put her hands on her hips, but there isn't room. Instead, she sticks them in her armpits.

19. 

"But I-I," Meg stuttered. "NO BUTS! I want you to think about how disrespectful you've been while were gone," Juliet retorted. Olka belly laughed and whispered, "Butts!" Astrid kicked her sister in the shin.

[zorkaya-moved]

you and i have history ,  or don’t you remember ? :)

@healingshard

Ah, but do they? Does this sunshine and herself have a story as deep as the Hydaelyn’s love for all that her gaze reaches? The Juggernaut tilts her head to the side, confused in her delusional state of craziness and madness. Doesn’t this little girl actually think they were close? This being of pure light and beauty, this gentle soul who must be touched by the corruption running through her own body? Her claws are tainted in blood, her fangs have torn apart men and women and beasts alike — she was a monster, a beast, an apex predator. In this world of the First, she was just a woman of good faith and a woman of a heavy weapon. Her songs were hollow yet beautiful, her dances in the light were akin to a doll on strings. They lacked that power in her voice, the strength in her eyes, the mortal ichor running through her veins. This being standing before Fuyumi was not one who she was used to—this was not her dearest older sister who helped her in Ishgard and continued to push her forward towards the light, the light of life and safety. But here, Light was dangerous and it was the very reason why the soul was shattered and the memories left occupied this body on pure instinct. This body that in the Source would cough out blood on one day, causing Krile and Tataru to freak out, concerned for the state of Zarina’s body.

“…”

There is silence as the woman tilts her head to the other side, eyes blank as the look at the Warrior of Light yet looking through her. What did she see? The Light, the warmth, the importance. This was the promised one, the sweetest one, the most tender one. The healer and the shielded of the world Juggernaut came from. The White Noise knows these emotions within her body, yearning and wishing to embrace this sad child, but instead a ghostly yet chillingly tender smile appears on her beautiful face. Porcelain skin strangely untouched by scars, eyes of dull gold now look at Fuyumi with distant care yet still hollow in its delivery as the White Noise knows not how to express care like humans did. This husk of Zarina Sokolova was still what it was—a husk.

“A story… of a promised one?” She speaks out loud, shattering any and all hope Fuyumi could’ve had to speak with her big sister right away. Did Crystal Exarch not mention how unique and tragic the circumstances were? No Lightwarden approached her, no beast stood before her, no enemy was foolish enough to cross her path. She was terrifying, utterly mortifying to those who wished to attack. “I wonder… did that history… make you happy?”

What kind of questions is that?

“Ah, yes, a story. A story between you and I, or was it?” Delusional, she is too soft spoken and too mellow. Her gaze remains on Fuyumi, fixed and unmoving. “A story with a promised one… it must be beautiful. As the Light shines inside of you, kind hearted yet determined… beloved and adored… yes, a story between you and I. Was it pretty?”