#darn funding

[notes-in-the-margins]

Jess Mariano's big Californian adventure!

3x21

[dyslexic-mess]

Okay but this happened bec I scrolled through the entirety of @diddly-darn-ghost 's tumbler yesterday. Idk if I'm proud or ashamed.

[thedeadthree]

the brainrot is brainrotting !!!!!!!! 🥀🥴🤧

[presidentstarscream]

Hello there! 🌷💖

I hope life is treating you kindly 💕

I’m reaching out to ask for your help in sharing my family’s story. 🙏🏼

Could you please reblog my pinned post or contribute $10 to help us rebuild our lives and secure the care my baby, Adam, urgently needs?

Your support, whether by spreading the word or donating, means the world to me and my family. Together, we can overcome this hardship. 🌼

Thank you for taking the time to read this 🌸

🌿✨💖

.

[kavehayati]

Omg kazuha and neuv banner flops

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

Everything we know about Project Apple (and, by extension, Anya's past) thus far

thought i'd compile all of that now while endo's on break Just In Case the next chapter happens to start anya's backstory (i don't Think it will but endo likes surprising us LSDFKLFS)

important disclaimer that project apple and the organization in charge of anya's experiments have not been confirmed to be related! there's evidence that they have things in common, in particular employees, but that's our only real connection between the two thus far. still! worth looking into

more under the cut!

so, starting very strongly with the very first mention of anything related to the project: anya's introduction in chapter 1

despite her being a main character, we know very little about her past at the moment, and this little blurb at the beginning makes up a very big portion of what we know.

things to note here:

as an experiment, her name was "Test Subject 007". important to note that the notation differs between her and bond: she was Test Subject 007, bond was Subject 8, no zeroes in there;

she had been made thus by accident, the phrasing itself implying quite heavily that she was just a normal child before said accident (but this is the translation! i don't know japanese so i can't cross-reference with the raws to clarify if the phrasing changes anything, but the fanbook uses the word "gained" to describe her powers too);

because her mind-reading is an unintended consequence, that means the scientists were presumably not, at least initially, trying to achieve cognitive enhancements in humans, and were instead trying to achieve something else, whatever that might've been;

she escaped from the facility and then moved from institution to institution, looking for a family.

so, crucially, through this little introduction we learn that there is an organization, government-funded or otherwise, that is or was conducting human experiments for unknown purposes. we also learn that whatever family anya had prior to being involved in the experiments is more than likely unreachable, at least as far as she knows, and so she has settled for finding a new family to take care of her instead.

in terms of the facility itself, here we see they clearly drilled it into her that she can't ever reveal her secret (and the darn plush is there too -- in the anime it's even more emphasized, as you can see in the gif i made)

through her reminiscing though, we get our very first look at the scientists that were in charge of her! they're in the gif above but here they are in the manga too. it's so interesting that the anime actually shows their eyes behind the glasses though, fascinating choice.

the insistence on world peace is important, as it explains her own personal obsession with it and shows that it's not just because of twilight's own focus on preserving the peace. i also don't think twilight ever really talks about "world peace," only about "preserving the current peace between westalis and ostania" -- anya seems to be the only one talking about WORLD peace (even in the very first scene where either of them mention it in proximity to each other in ch 1, loid says "understanding the other party is the first step towards peace" and anya's interpretation is "understanding me makes world peace?") but take this with a grain of salt because i might be wrong! going through every single mention of peace in the story just to fact check this one little trivia fact is a bit much i think so i'm not doing it JSDFKLSD

but yes

remember mr hair strand and baldy, we'll see them again. not her though, ig she wasn't in charge of bond

now, fast-forwarding to chapter 19, we finally get a name and a premise for the experiments:

"but oana," you might say, "this is talking about animals only! how do we know it's the same project as anya's, which involved human experimentation?"

i don't think it is, is the thing! i think it's related to the experiments anya was a part of, which is evidenced by the same scientists being featured in project apple too, but there's more going on that we don't know about. there wouldn't be such adamancy on keeping the two separate in every official mention of them if they were just the same thing, imo!

back to the evidence, we learn that the project, conducted and funded by the previous ostanian regime (meaning donovan's related to it one way or another, since he was prime minister), was marked by franticness and desperation -- a prime place for accidents like anya's telepathy and bond's future vision.

we also learn that the project was sacked by the new administration and that the former test subjects ended up on the black market.

(this makes it very important, imo, to learn when anya escaped the facility vs. when the project was sacked. it's clearly no longer in function, but while we've heard nothing from them thus far, i'm willing to bet the shady dealings around the desmond group are NOT related to the war, as W.I.S.E. has been led to believe, but rather to reignite project apple. that is speculation however so i'm going to refrain from theorising much on why the desmond group is focused on acquiring pharmaceutical companies!!)

ok speculation tangent over, back on track

so, that's already a decent amount of info! but moving to chapter 22, when bond is finally home, and we finally see some familiar faces

behold! baldy and mr hair strand!

and 2 other guys we don't know but will see again in another bond flashback!

that's 2 out of the 3 scientists we've seen thus far from anya's own time as subject 007, confirming that there IS a connection between anya and bond's experiments, regardless of whatever the project anya was a part of might've been named.

this is also the chapter in which we learn that bond himself was subject 8 (or, if we take it from the fanbook, subject #8. still, diff notation from anya!)

in chapter 31, we learn an interesting tiny piece of trivia. we don't get any further info on it, but it IS mentioned as something that is known by W.I.S.E.:

ostania is rumoured to have done human experimentation! and W.I.S.E., and by extension loid, are aware of that.

do i know how them knowing may be important later? not really!

the next droplet of info we get is in chapter 40. we see that project apple had collaborators that are still functioning unhindered.

of course, born industries is only rumoured to have been involved with project apple, but regardless of whether or not they actually were, the rumour itself implies that the project likely pulled scientists from various other companies' R&D departments.

(this makes the desmond group's acquisition of glooman pharmaceuticals shadier, but anyway)

as a side note, twilight is emoting so much at just his wrong assumption that bond is seeking revenge against the scientists. imagine how he's going to react when he finds out about anya JKSDFKLFSD

and now aaaaall the way in chapter 58, we see the bald guy who anya also knows, the two scientists from bond's previous flashback, and one whole new guy!

and thus ends our current knowledge of it all!

the only other thing worth discussing is anya's knowledge of classical language

but plenty people have already discussed these scenes, especially recently, so here are some links: 1 | 2 | 3

the only thing i can add is that i'm fairly certain that classical language is a lot more likely to be latin than old english, because it's a very common language to learn in school (in europe at least, and ostania is based on east germany so it makes sense to me. i learned mandatory latin in school for a few good years too, even if i wasn't that good at it lol) and because one of the most common modern usages of latin are in medicine and science, it would make sense that she'd be better at it due to exposure.

a possibility is also that the scientists would think in latin to conceal their thoughts from her, and that's how she ended up learning so much. she's not fluent in latin, she's just well acquainted and that cicumstance would explain the how.

BUT THAT'S SPECULATIONNN

also i don't think "ANIA" is an acronym, nor do i think anya's been misspelling her own name out of lack of knowledge. "ania" is a polish diminutive of anna and an alternate transcription of Аня, so i think it's far more likely that anya isn't ostanian or westalian than it is that her name comes from an acronym.

now,

TL;DR!

what we know about project apple (and the "mysterious organization"):

project apple was funded and conducted by what appears to have been donovan's regime and, from what W.I.S.E. knows, aimed to create highly intelligent animals for military purposes;

W.I.S.E. is aware that ostania is at the very least rumoured to have dabbled in human experimentation;

the project is presumably no longer on-going, though it is likely there are efforts behind the scenes to revive it;

it is rumoured but not confirmed that project apple had collaborating companies that are still functioning perfectly fine;

the same scientists who were in charge of bond were also in charge of anya, signalling that there is a very significant connection between project apple and the "mysterious organization;"

based on what they were telling anya, they were/are very focused on "world peace";

their experimentation methods include but likely aren't limited to electrocution.

and what we (vaguely) know about anya that relates to this:

she is at the youngest, 4 years old, and at the oldest, 5 nearing 6. we don't know her real age, all we know is she definitely lied about being 6;

she is very fixated on specifically world peace while twilight is focused on peace between ostania and westalis. the scientists are the very first we see talking about this, so it's likely their fault;

she is unreasonably well acquainted with classical language;

she has escaped the facility at LEAST 1 year ago;

and, one tidbit from the fanbook (page 29): "Anya has been reading minds for as long as she can remember," implying that her memory of a life before the lab is muddy at best and absent at worst.

that's all we know that i know of!!

if you got this far, thank you for reading :D hope any of this was interesting or sparked any theories >:] have a good day!

[kizzer55555]

Um…who are you?

So there is a known conspiracy in Gotham how Batman is clearly in love with Bruce Wayne. How else would someone explain why Bruce is always the first person Batman escorts to safety? Why he is always there immediately when Brucie is attacked, or why Brucie is so invested in funding the Justice league and gosh darn, no officer, he has no idea where the Batman went. Sorry!

They even act fatherly to the younger Wayne’s or Robins throughout the years. Many conspiracy photos have shown Batman gently hugging Dick Greyson after a panic attack or Brucie Wayne rubbing the youngest Robin’s head for doing a good job (and was not stabbed for it!!!)

Sure, it wasn’t Bruce’s most preferred form of cover but if it makes sure no one suspects why Brucie Wayne and Batman are never seen together, he won’t complain. (Much).

So yes, everything is going as normal and Batman had just finished catching the riddler and his goons after they decided to crash another Gala of the upper echelon. And Bruce was trying to find a place to change back. Nothing about the situation was unusual. So why….

Why was batman staring into the face of Brucie Wayne in the middle of the Gala?

[captainmalewriter]

The 1000 Year Old Heart

Ch. 1

Deep in an unnamed cave somewhere in the Andes Mountains of South America, the HEARTS research team was in the middle of their latest expedition. Samuel, the historian of the team, read recently that some random backpackers had found wall paintings deep within the cave. After some initial research, it was discovered that these paintings had never been documented before. 

The discovery set the world of history academics on fire. Esmeralda, the team leader and archaeologist of HEARTS (and Sam’s wife) was bouncing off the walls when he shared the news. She had been dying for a good opportunity to use the last of her team’s research grant funds. Being the excitable woman she was, Esmi seized the golden opportunity as soon as she caught wind of the news. She expedited the paperwork processing and in just a few months, she was out in the Andes with her trusted colleagues and friends. Esmi was overjoyed to be back out on the field— especially with her beloved husband Sam right at her side. 

“Let’s GO, team! I’ve got a GREAT feeling about this cave!!” Esmi shouted as she went on ahead deeper into the cave. The rest of the HEARTS team sighed as they followed. After a week-long expedition, they started running out of steam. Esmi, on the other hand, was just raring to keep going. Even her husband Sam had to hurry up just to keep up with her high energy. 

“Hey Bebé, what do you think could be at the end of this cave?”

"Who knows! Maybe we'll find a mythical creature like a phoenix or something."

"C'mon, be serious," Sam said with a chuckle. "You know the supernatural doesn't actually exist."

“But I am serious! You never know what you could find in the depths of a cave like this. There could be an entire fairy civilization tucked away in here for all we know!”

“Yeah, yeah I guess so… Hey, uh, Esmi? I know it’s probably a bad time, but I was wondering if you’ve given our last conversation any thought since we talked. It’s been a couple of days now.”

“Huh? What conversation?”

“You know! The one about us hanging up our exploring boots and settling down to a quieter life—”

“Oh Sam,” Esmi groaned. Even though they were in a dimly lit cavern, Sam felt his wife rolling her eyes as she spoke. “I don’t wanna talk about that right now. We’re in the middle of an adventure!”

“I know I know! I was just curious if you’ve been thinking about it is all. We’re not in our early 20s anymore. We’re parents now! We can’t keep leaving to go exploring forever, you know.”

“I know that! I just think we can hold off this talk until we get back home. I want to enjoy this expedition without thinking too much about what if’s and maybe’s. Oh watch your step, amorcito.”

They reached a ledge. Esmi tossed a pebble into the dark pit. The thud came a couple seconds after. Nothing too steep, but they still needed to be careful climbing down. While Sam grew nervous just seeing the height, Esmi effortlessly scaled down the ragged slope like it was nothing. Sam watched her climb down with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. In that moment, he was back in college.

It was at the school's gym where Sam first met Esmi. While he was struggling to get through his workout, Esmi was busy setting new records at the nearby climbing walls. Sam was immediately smitten by Esmi's beautiful smile and adventurous spirit. Being the shy type, Sam couldn't work up the nerve to introduce himself to his crush. But luckily, as fate would have it, they registered for the same advanced chemistry class that semester. Esmi struggled to get by in the class, and then Sam came to the rescue as her personal tutor. Although Sam was a bumbling mess, Esmi loved spending time with the awkward nerd. He was smart, funny, and so gosh darn cute whenever he got shy and flustered. Sam had a genuine quality that Esmi was very attracted to. It was something that a lot of men lacked. Too many of them were too self-absorbed and shallow. It made Sam stand out in Esmi's mind.

Soon after that semester ended, Sam finally made a move and asked Esmi out on an official date. Long story short: they hit it off incredibly well and became inseparable for the entirety of undergrad. They wound up graduating together with rings on their fingers. They then began exploring the world's secrets together, while also picking up a few new friends that would later make up HEARTS research team along the way. With careers they loved, a house in the suburbs to call their own, and a beautiful baby boy, life was going great for Mr. and Mrs. Benavides. Sam couldn't help but smile every time he reminisced (which was often). His frequent daydreaming was just another one of his quirks that Esmi found endearing about him.

"Okay everyone!" Esmi called out to the rest of HEARTS. "It's a short distance but the slope's insanely rocky. Just follow my directions and you'll be fine!"

Esmi verbally guided each member down to a safe landing. As always, Sam was the last one to make the trip. It took him longer to do things when it came to the physical part of adventuring. Sam tried his best not to slow down the team; not that Esmi really minded it, as she was always patient with him. She trusted him to get the job done despite his persistent nerves.

“There ya go!” Esmi said as she gave Sam a hand to steady himself. “You’re getting faster at this! I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, I’ve got the best teacher a guy can ask for.”

The two adventurers shared a loving look with each other. They were still holding hands and there was only a small gap between them. They probably would’ve kissed too if the geologist of the team Harold didn’t start gagging audibly in their direction. 

“Oh my God, can y’all save the lovey-dovey shit for when you’re alone!? We got a job to do!!” Harold shouted. Esmi brushed off his annoyance with a chuckle.

“Alright alright, let’s keep moving.”

The HEARTS team continued trekking deeper and deeper into the cavern abyss through its many twists and turns. Their headlamps and flashlights were shining at max power just to keep their ragged pathway lit. Despite the ever-present danger, the HEARTS pressed on with their courageous leader Esmi leading the way. 

They eventually hit a dead end after some time. Unfortunately, there was no secret treasure or historical discovery waiting for them at the end of the cave. The team took the chance to catch their breaths while Sam photo-documented the cave walls for their research. 

“Is everything coming in clearly, Ruby?” Sam asked on the radio phone. 

“Crystal,” Ruby answered. Ruby was the brain of HEARTS. Although she usually stayed behind during expeditions, the team would be nothing without her technological know-how. 

“Perfect! Are we good to head out, Esmi?” 

Esmi didn’t answer. Instead, she kept staring at the empty rock wall that stopped their exploration. She reached out and felt around with the palm of her hand. She did this for several minutes without a word.

“Harold?” Esmi called out. “Does this rock wall seem unusually smooth to you? Almost like… it was sanded down.”

Harold walked up to the wall and placed his hands on the rock. 

“You’re right. It’s too smooth to be natural. Something’s wrong here.” 

The rest of HEARTS had a look for themselves too. As they marveled at how smooth and soft the rock was, Esmi came up with an idea: to push down the wall. The team joined their strength and with enough force, successfully toppled down the fake wall. Much to Esmi’s delight, they had found a hidden pathway.

“Hey team, the signal’s getting pretty weak. I don’t doubt it’s gonna cut out if you go even deeper. I won’t be able to send an SOS if something happens. Stay extra safe, okay?” Ruby advised. 

“Roger that, we’ll be quick,” Esmi said. She then led the charge into the narrow hallway. One by one, the members of HEARTS squeezed through until they all ended up in a small, dirty room. At the center of the dingy room was a small pedestal with a brown box on top. The box sat wide open, revealing a metallic human heart sitting inside of it.

“Is that it? All this spelunking in some unknown mountain cave just for some polished piece of silver?” Harold exclaimed. The annoyance in his voice was palpable in the tiny square room. 

“Don’t be like that, Harry! I know it’s been a long, tiring road but we finally did it! This could be the discovery of the CENTURY in our hands!! Hey babe, do you recognize it at all?”

“Hmm… No, at least not off the top of my head,” Sam answered. “I need my books for an in-depth analysis. We’ll have to take it back.”

“Okay, perfect!” Harold stepped up the podium and snatched the box. Esmi gasped as he did so. 

“Hey whoa whoa whoa! You can’t just do that!!” Esmi shouted.

“I just did. We were gonna take it back with us anyway, so what’s the problem? Let’s just get the fuck of this cave already!” 

“What the hell? What’s gotten into you today, Harry!?”

“Nothing! I just wanna go home already! I’m tired!!” 

A shouting match broke out between the exhausted Harold and overly zealous Esmi. Sam took a step back while the other HEARTS members tried breaking up the fight. Resolving conflicts was never Sam’s strong suit.

As he watched the yelling continue from afar, Sam noticed the silver heart Harold was carrying light up. There was dull, red light coming from the intricate carvings and grooves of the relic. It was mesmerizing to watch. It reminded Sam of Christmas decorations. He was about to call the team’s attention to it, but just before he could, one of the valves began pouring out luscious red smoke. The smoke piled up just behind Harold. Within seconds, the smoke gathered up and materialized into a muscular man who was heavily adorned with tattoos.

"Hey, who the fuck is that!?" Esmi shouted. She and the rest of HEARTS took several steps back. Unaware of the man's sudden appearance behind him, Harold simply looked at them with a confused expression.

"What's wrong? Why are you guys backing away all scared like that?"

They pointed at the man behind him. Harold turned his head slightly to look back.

“Hm? What the—”

It was too late for Harold. By the time his mind registered that there was someone behind him, the man with tattoos disintegrated back into a floating mass of scarlet smoke. It took advantage of Harold's surprised, agape mouth and shot straight into his throat.

"Aaagck!? Uuuughhhh!!!"

Harold let out a low, gagging groan as the red smoke forced its way inside of him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he convulsed uncontrollably. His shirt and pants became visibly too tight as his body became bloated with every gulp of smoke. An intricate spiderweb tattoo began forming on Harold's throat too. The pitch-black ink stood out harshly against Harold's pale skin. It looked like someone had scratched it on with a ball point pen. Awful, jagged, and hard to look at without wincing.

The rest of HEARTS watched in abject horror as a massive amount of ominous, red smoke filled their beloved friend and colleague.

Harold jolted his head back down once he finally swallowed all of the smoke. Aside from his now bloodshot eyes and new neck tattoo, Harold looked more or less the same on the outside.

Everyone stood still, not saying a word. The air had become tense. Sam swallowed a breath. It felt sharp in his throat as it went down. Something was deeply wrong.

"Everyone, get back!!" Esmi commanded the team. Her voice snapped them back to their senses. "Harry, try to stay calm and listen carefully to me. Some kind of entity just forced its way inside your body. Tell me: how do you feel right now? And are you in control of your movements?"

Harold lowered his gaze down to the ground. His eyes matched a baby deer in headlights. The corners of his lips curled into a slight frown. Then, once he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out shaky and quivering.

"I can feel it..." Harold held a hand against his chest. "It's slithering around inside of me. It's—"

He cut himself short. Harold threw his hands up to his head, gripping his temples as he began screaming horrifically. Esmi ran to his side while the others maintained a safe distance.

"What's wrong!? What's happening?"

"IT'S HIM! HE'S SCREAMING INSIDE MY MIND!"

"Who's screaming!?"

"ALACAN! HE WANTS HIS PERFECT VESSEL! HE'S FURIOUS— AAAAAHHHH!!"

"This thing's getting aggressive! Hang on, I've got a plan!"

Esmi took a step back. She then pulled out what looked like an egg from her backpack. Sam recognized the object. It was one of the many supposedly supernatural items Esmi liked to play around with. Sam didn't understand how an egg could possibly help them, but in a dire situation, he was ready to put all his faith in a magical trump card. Esmi stood in front of Harold with the egg held high.

"This is gonna hurt like hell, but I promise it'll get whatever's inside of you out whether it likes it or not! Now hold still!!"

With all her force, Esmi slammed the egg onto the back of Harold's head. The eggshell shattered upon contact, covering Harold in egg yolk. The yolk then spontaneously combusted, engulfing Harold in bright white flames. Sam winced as he watched his friend flop onto the ground, writhing in agony like a worm drowning in salt. His blood-curdling shrieks echoed off the walls of the tiny cave chamber. Halfway through his screaming, Harold’s voice dropped several octaves. His voice became hoarse and demonic.

“AAAAHHHH-OWWWWW!! yOU fUcKINg bITcH! GeT AWaYY!!!”

Sam wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. He heard Harold screaming, but then suddenly he found himself lying face down on the ground in severe pain. The back of his head ached, and the scraped, bloody skin on his arms and face stung with the air. Had something pushed him away? Was it some kind of invisible telekinetic force field? Sam didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wasn’t the only one affected by the impact. The other members of HEARTS had been thrown to the wall too. However, while Sam struggled to pick himself back up through the pain, the others had already gotten up and joined Esmi in fighting off whatever entity was inside of Harold. 

They were fighting a losing battle. Harold had gone into a full-blown rampage. He was slashing away at them and himself like he had razor blades for fingers. Blood and ink splattered the area. Sam watched the violence with bated breath. His heart felt like it was ready to explode. He wanted to jump into the fray and stop the demon from hurting his loved ones. But at the same time, his mind and soul were screaming at him to run away as fast as he could. Get away from the monster before he gets hurt too. Sam stood there, paralyzed by an impossible decision. It wasn’t until he heard his wife’s voice that he came back to his senses.

Run!

Sam looked up. His eyes locked onto Esmi’s. His heart dropped at the sight of her bloodied face. Her mouth was moving, but Sam couldn’t hear her through the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Esmi strained her voice, shouting again and again until finally, her words reached him.

“RUN! RUN AWAY, SAM! SAVE YOURSELF BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!”

Without any hesitation, Sam turned around and bolted out of there. The last thing he heard was the amalgamation of several screaming voices behind him. But even that sound was tuned out by him focusing on running at full speed. Sam ran with every last bit of energy he had in his body. He did not stop until he made it out of the cave and back to their campsite, where Ruby waited patiently for the team’s return. Needless to say she was flabbergasted when Sam came charging in by himself. She tended to his wounds while he took the time to catch his breath. 

“Are you okay? What happened back there, Sam?” Ruby asked. His eyes darted around wildly as he processed what he had just experienced. Although he had regained some of his composure, it still took him quite some time before he could finally speak again. 

“The cave collapsed…” Sam started. His voice came out flat and monotone. “They were crushed under the rubble... I-I had to get out there before I got caught too.” 

“Oh my God… Everyone’s gone?”

“Everyone’s gone… Everyone.”

Sam repeated that last sentence out loud several times. Like he was trying to convince himself as opposed to Ruby. Naturally, Ruby broke down in tears at the shocking and sudden loss of her close friends. Sam was devastated too, though he shed no tears for his face was locked in a thousand-yard stare. He had just lost the love of his life to a demon. It was a truth his mind couldn’t accept as reality. Sam had survived, but his soul had gotten killed in the process. 

…Over the course of the next 48 hours, Sam and Ruby gathered their belongings and returned to their research headquarters with essentially nothing to show for it. Nothing but tragedy anyway. Sam had fallen into a stoic silence. Although she was equally grief-stricken, Ruby took the initiative to report what had happened. She figured Sam just needed time to mentally recover after what he had endured firsthand. 

Once it was all said and done, Sam returned to his household— alone. He relieved the nanny from her duties, then sat in silence in the living room. The trauma from the past week weighed heavily on Sam’s body and mind. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but to no avail. Sam rose from the couch and made his way to his son’s bedroom where Abel was sound asleep in his crib. The nanny had just tucked him in for the night. A slight smile cracked on Sam’s face. The sight of his baby boy sleeping peacefully was the only thing that gave him peace. 

He watched him sleep for a few minutes, then ran off to his bedroom when a sudden realization hit him like a pile of bricks. Sam rummaged through all of Esmi’s old stuff. She collected various paranormal things over the years as a personal hobby. Sam never really cared for the supernatural the way Esmi did. But after the violent encounter he had in the Andes, he had no choice but to believe now. He pulled an all-nighter as he studied everything he could through Esmi’s collections. By the time the next morning came, Sam had crafted two charmed necklaces designed to protect the wearer from supernatural harm. He designed the necklace charm specifically to resemble the accursed relic that brought him so much pain in hopes that it would grant extra protection against it. Sam was no expert craftsman by any means, but he hoped they would get the job done.

Sam donned one of the necklaces, then went to the nursery room with the other in hand. 

“There you go, mi cariñito…” Sam whispered as he carefully placed the other necklace around Abel’s neck. The eerie jewelry looked out of place on a 1-year-old baby, but Sam didn't care. He refused to take any chances. He knew he didn’t have the privilege of blissful ignorance anymore. There was no telling if/when another demonic entity would try to attack them. Sam shuddered at the thought. Abel cooed in his arms as he woke up. Sam shook off the bad thoughts and held his son close to his chest, their necklace charms almost touching. 

“Those evil demons took away Mamá, but they will never hurt our family ever again. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what, my sweet little Abel. Papá’s here, forever and always.”

[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Words Like Honey 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Ransom Drysdale (Professor AU)

Summary: it’s hard making friends at college, but you might just be looking in the wrong places.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You arrange your carefully iced cupcakes on the platter and smile at them. You love cooking and baking and everything edible. A kitchen is a place where you know what you’re doing. Where you have a voice. You spent all night mixing, beating, and carefully decorating. 

All that joy is muddled in the chaos. Behind the table, you are overwhelmed by the voices behind you. It’s good! It means that your fundraiser is a success and your hard work isn’t for not. 

You turn and put down the fresh platter of cupcakes. You give a start as the man across from you says your name. 

“Thought that was you, puddin’,” he drawls. 

“Lee! You made it.” 

“I won’t lie and say I didn’t let class out early to be here,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t have to do that. Oh, I can’t believe you remembered.” You only mentioned the bake sale in passing. Your efforts to fund the new classroom stand mixer aren’t all glamourous. 

“Course I did,” he smiles, “even brought a friend--” he pauses and looks around, “now where’s that twerp gone?” He growls as he searches the rush in the Student Centre. “Mm, he’ll find his way back. Like a cat.” He shrugs and faces you again. “Now, what am I lookin’ at here, sugar?” 

You smile and point to the first row, “strawberries and cream, this one’s oreo smore,” you go down the columns, “blueberry cheesecake bites, and my favourite, cinnamon roll muffins.” 

“All look delicious,” he licks his lips but when you look up, his eyes are on you. “Can I get two of each, please and thank ya.” 

“Oh, wow, uh, sure.” 

“Gotta share,” he tuts and puts his hand on his lip as cranes to peer around again. “Darn it, where--” 

“Bodecker,” another man struts up, a thin scarf hanging down over his rustic orange jacket. “There you are. “ 

“Told ya I was headin’ over to the sweets. Where’d you get lost?” Lee accuses. 

You focus on putting the cupcakes gently in a box. The other man chuckles, amused. He hums and you glance up as he watches you. His eyes flick down to the table. 

“Saffron, this is my friends--” 

“Colleague,” the other man corrects with a tint of humour in his tone. “Ransom. Professor Drysdale, actually.” 

“Ransom’s fine,” Lee insists, “she made ‘em herself.” 

“Not all of them. Joseph did the brownies and squares,” you point behind you, “and Angela did the cake.” 

“Do you have a permit?” Ransom asks. 

You blink in confusion. 

“Ignore him,” Lee elbows his side. “He’s teasin’ ya.” 

He takes out his wallet and counts out the bills, “how much then.” 

“Well it’s three dollars each and you have eight,” you slide the box over, “that’s twenty-four--” 

“It’s a fundraiser, ain’t it?” He offers a fifty, “keep the change, will ya?” 

“Oh, sir,” you stare at the bill. “That’s, erm, very generous.” 

“Not at all. Goin’ to a good cause,” he winks. 

You accept the bill and push it into your apron pocket to add to the lock box. 

“You got cheesecake?” Ransom interjects. The other man looks irritated by his interruption. 

“Sure, Angela made cherry, classic New York, salted caramel, oh and... erm, pumpkin swirl.” 

“I’ll have cherry,” he says. 

“That’s cherry, please,” Lee growls. 

Ransom laughs again, “please.” He mimics the other's southern lilt. He gets a grumble in return. 

“My friend ain’t got manners. Born with a silver spoon down his throat,” Lee shakes his head. 

“I’ll get that cake,” you assure him and step away. You get another box and pack up a slice. You bring it back with a bamboo fork. “Here you go.” 

It’s sweltering as both men focus on you. You hand over the box and Ransom holds out his payment. You take the hundred and gasp as you unfold it. “Keep the change,” he says. 

“Sir, the cake’s only four dollars.” 

“That’s fine,” he insists. “Good cause or whatever.” 

Lee sends him a look, “well that’s mighty kind.” 

“I’m a nice guy, Bodecker.” Ransom scoffs. 

You just keep smiling as the edges of your vision crowd with people and the chatter itches your ears. You brace the table and take a deep breath. You blink and the fog clears. Focus. They’re both staring at you. 

“Well, thank ya, puddin’, we’ll certainly enjoy these, won’t we?” He nudges the other man. 

“Sure,” Ransom smirks. “Come on, I got a thing.” 

“It’s your thing,” Lee grumbles and waves with three fingers, “we’ll see ya ‘round, then.” 

“Bye, Lee,” you chime, “and, er, Professor Drysdale.” 

The other man’s lips curve deeper before he turns away. He strides ahead of Lee who peeks back at you one last time. You keep your smile and turn to the next person in line. 

“Can I have some of the lemon meringue square?” The girl points, “is that what it is?” 

“Oh, sure, yeah, it’s lemon you answer. 

“Erm, do you... do you have suggestions? The lemon’s for me but I... I wanted to get some for a friend. Um, maybe a brownie too?” 

“Sure,” you nod as she shows her teeth sheepishly. You see yourself in her. And her teddy bear bag is especially cute. You box up her goods and put them down. 

“I hope you don’t mind change,” she counts out from a change purse. 

“Not at all,” you assure her. “I love that bag.” 

“Really? I made it. The teddy bear used to be part of a blanket,” she shows off the fuzzy fur of the bear. 

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say as you take her change. 

“You made all this? I always liked baking,” she says. 

“Some of it. Only took all night,” you reply. 

“So cool. My dorm’s too small to bake...” 

“Aww, that’s... too bad,” you say. You hesitate as she takes the box. Before she can turn away, you stop her. “Hey, um, my name’s Saffron. If you ever wanna make something, I get access to the kitchen in the culinary building. Just a thought.” 

“Really? That’s so cool,” she brightens up and the shaking in her hands stop. “Okay. Oh...” she frowns. “I’m Mauve. Nice to meet you.” 

She holds out her free hand. You shake it, amused by the gesture. She’s sweet and you have another friend to add to the count. On your own age! 

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

pspspspspsps here kitty kitty kitty (Joking,... now you laugh) ....

Italian, Fem!Reader, that had traveled briefly to the village, to sell some books, movies, and whatnot -- just to grant the vilagers some sense of like.. the outside world? If that makes sense?

Reader, having already timed their escape, decides to go to that peculiar house up on the hill, across the bridge, before their departure, -- maybe the residents, who, Reader thought, was an old couple, or a very wealthy woman, .. maybe even one of those trust-fund families.. yes! Reader BET that the inhabitant of a place so grand would spend a pretty penny on some foreign knowledge.. maybe, Reader could even upsell. Yes! That would be enough to pay off Readers risky carriage fees.. (nervous laughter)

Reader, ignoring all darkness, all red flags and blatant signs of danger, because, well, Reader is very oblivious, and very optimistic, -- and, well, they barely know English, so, .. how would Reader know what the villagers say about the owner of said.. Oh-so large mansion? Pfft. As if.

'Oh.. its getting dark. Jeez, the trees sure do make this place gloomy!' 'Uhhhh.. why do i have a blaring sense of discomfort, nausea, unease, and a will of fright that makes my stomach churn with instinct to yeet myself the opposite direction? Oh, man, i knew i shouldnt have eaten that un-refrigerated fruit!'

Angie, if i remember that dollies name correctly, answers .. takes one look at Reader, in all of their 'Italian-beauty-standard-fitting', 'italian-book-carrying', 'Donna-language-speaking' glory (Donna language speaking because.. Italian. That was also a joke. Plz laugh), and immidiately, with that screechy voice calls Donna over

Donna fucking FAAAWNNNSSS over everything Reader has, buys their entire stock, then, out of pure gushy-ness, of how nostalgic, and amazing, and flavourful (meaning, how much stuff that Donna was desperately searching for, Reader has in stock) Readers 'for-sales' are, that she, spur-in-the-moment, ushurs Reader inside, makes them tea and whatnot,

well.. so much for Readers plan of escape. Poor bus-maid Reader hired, they thought, as they sat awkwardly beside the lady in black, veiled thickly, who was talking in Italian, since, well, Reader has little to no knowledge of english. Atleast shes also Italian. Thats nice. Wait.. why does Reader feel their cheeks heating up? Gosh, darn it, Reader has read (aha) far too many romance books.

Make it so that, since Reader, who, now, cant escape the Village, since their little plans of flight had been SPOILEDD!! (reference. Chuckles) they stay with Donna, then, after awhile, after teaching Donna everything they know about Italy, and get really comftorable with her, and sees her without her veil on accident, and cooks traditionally, does fucking .. house chores, because, well, they're an unpaying guest in a strangers home, they both start catchin' feelsies and all that sweet stuff. I'll leave the deciding of when and how to you! How generous of me!

(No smut, please. Aroace look'enne for sum intimate, not-so-intimate love. Aha. Joke again. Just a little giggle, please 😨)

Hope ya have an amazing day!! Yes, i know im too descriptive, im just awesome like that. Much apreesh, Anon. 💗

(p.s, thank u blusy 🫂🫂🫂 virtual hugs from italy. ciao bbg.. or.. bbb.. i dont .. i dunno)

Yesss!!!! Well, that was quite long request, but it was funny to write!!! Thank you for sending it and for your funny words!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language(s) mistakes!!!!

Foreign Business

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Italian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,585

Summary: Should you leave that gloomy village?

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

“17:30, do you hear me?” the young woman driving the small bus said.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, picking up your stuff.

“I don't think it will… How do you say… take long,” you murmured with an innocent smile, taking out your suitcase as best you could, letting it fall into the snow.

“Hey, stranger,” the girl said, with a gloomy look. “You have to pay me now.”

“Cosa? No, I'll pay you when I get back,” you said with a frown, crossing your arms.

“I'm leaving,” the girl whispered, starting the vehicle again.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no…” you said comically running towards the small bus. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Look stranger, it's clear that you have no idea of what’s going on in this place, right?” the driver asked, with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head and smiled innocently.

“Hey, I was invited,” you protested confused, giving up and taking out your wallet.

“Who has invited you?” she wanted to know.

“I have a relative in this country who is also a businessman,” you explained, putting on your coat because of the cold. “He says he is known as… The Duke.”

The girl looked at you curiously, but finally shook her head.

“No idea…” she murmured. “Besides, that doesn’t matter to me. My job is to bring you here and take you back to Bucharest. If for… Well, for whatever reason you don’t come back, I’ll be left without my money, do you understand?”

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” you asked nervously, looking down the hill, where the old village stood in a frozen mist. “I'm just going to sell my stuff and…”

“You bore me,” the driver sighed, with a mocking laugh that made you burn with rage. “Just pay me now, spaghetti.”

“Mm, politeness is not your best virtue, is it?” you murmured, wishing to say other things, other not-so-elegant words.

After all, that stupid girl was your only transportation in that place in the middle of nowhere… You should control your desire to insult her with all your might.

“I'd rather be rude than stupid,” the young woman laughed, extending her hand for you to give her the money you were holding, squeezing it tightly.

“Ugh, here, your money,” you grumbled, getting a satisfied look from the driver, who turned off the engine, reclining her seat and picking up a magazine.

“A pleasure doing business with you, spaghetti...” she sighed with a sinister laugh.

You, without her seeing you, made fun of her, angrily picking up your suitcase and walking towards the path where you had met with the Duke.

“Stupida...” you hissed, shaking your head, observing the landscape around you.

The trip had been exhausting. Dodging the mountains, those snowy landscapes had taken you too much time, but, that seemingly remote place had a special charm that made it worth it.

You were always a saleswoman, descendant of a family of merchants that expanded throughout old Europe decades ago. Sell, buy, repeat… That was your way of life. Trading in the villages of your country, Italy, was something simple for you, perhaps too simple.

The lack of interest of people in the modern world for something as simple as books, films, or any element of culture, had caused your business to falter, and you had no more than four clients in your area.

You always believed in tradition, in following the family legacy, even when circumstances were not in your favour. You could say that you were also a bit stubborn. Your family branched out to all possible places, places like France, Germany, Spain…

They all seemed to be haunted by the same curse, the same lack of interest in a good book, in knowledge itself.

But there was one place, a place where the tentacles of your family had arrived to stay for a long time, a place where the past lived, where present and future seemed not to exist at all.

A distant relative, the Duke, was for you the luckiest member of the family. Not even your parents knew how long that man had been in that village, in Romania. There were even rumors that he never came, that he never left, he had always existed.

Nonsense and legends in your opinion.

What you did know was that in that place, there were some business opportunities.

You had heard many things about the Duke, about the place where he worked. Apart from old superstitions and legends of witches and vampires, things you didn't believe in, you had heard that the people of the place lived completely oblivious to the outside world.

A unique opportunity. How much would a person pay to know what the world around them was like?

You didn't really care much about the reasons, those strange rumors. You didn't even wonder why that village seemed to be frozen in time. The only thing you thought about when you got on that plane was business.

“Qui...” you sighed when you reached that meeting point the Duke marked.

Without having anything else to do but wait, you sorted your merchandise while you studied the snowy forest that surrounded you, trying to decipher the old wooden signs that indicated illegible directions.

“Re-Reser-Reservoir...” you stammered, removing the snow from one of those signs, looking around. “Un bacino idrico?” you asked, scratching your head. “Mm, interessante...”

Yes, maybe if you finished soon you could do some sightseeing and, above all, you could see the enormous castle that seemed to guard the village.

The minutes passed, you couldn't tell if quickly or slowly. Nothing, there was no sign of the Duke. You might not have known what he looked like, but… In reality, you hadn't seen anyone pass by that path.

The cold began to mix with impatience, making you shiver.

“Ah!” you shrieked when, out of nowhere, a flock of black crows appeared, passing over you, close, too close.

Those black birds seemed like an evil omen, but you were too eager to know that place to realize it. Simply, with a proud cough, you stood up from your crouched position, shaking the snow off your dress.

“Uccelli…” you growled furiously, watching how that flock of crows moved away with sinister sounds.

Checking that your merchandise was still intact, you closed your suitcase, crossing your arms, slowly losing patience.

As you sighed for the umpteenth time, you realized that maybe you were in the wrong place. Asking wouldn't do any good, and besides, there was no one you could ask.

“Mm?” you muttered when you noticed something different among your stuff, a sealed envelope that you could swear wasn't there before.

Looking around confused, thinking no way those crows left that envelope, you slowly picked it up, opening it with a frown. As you began to read, you looked nervously at that forest again. It was a letter for you, in the middle of nowhere.

Dear (Y/N)

I'm afraid something unexpected has come up. It prevents me from attending to you, even though I was certainly looking forward for us to meet. I suppose that, since you are my family, to trade in the village on your own won't be a problem for you.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

PS: A word of advice, listen to what the villagers tell you, I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse. Please take care of yourself.

Duke

There was no doubt about it, that letter had arrived there by magic. The idea of ​​messenger crows seemed less and less crazy. But the reality was overwhelming: you were alone in that unknown place.

You had two options: You could take your suitcase, walk back in your tracks and go to the bus, writing yet another failure in your diary, a very expensive one. On the other hand, you could ignore those chills, that feeling of being where you shouldn't be and do what you had come to do.

I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse…

That warning seemed like an irony, a little joke that was surely common to all outsiders like you. Well, it's not like it was a place where there could be wolves but… That wasn't the disturbing thing. What could be worse than being savagely devoured by those beasts?

Curiosity or cowardice, that was your dilemma.

With a thoughtful sigh, you looked at those two possible paths, imagining that, under each of them, there was a line of text that told you which page to go to, like those adventure books that offered several possibilities, some of them fatal ones.

You always fantasized too much thanks to those books. Maybe if you had been as rational as the protagonists of those great adventures, you would have considered your possibilities better.

Shrugging, not wanting to have wasted your money on a fruitless trip, you didn’t listen to the Duke's letter. After all, your job was to talk to people, you didn't need his help, or so you thought.

The castle was increasingly imposing as you approached. It was fascinating, a place from a novel, full of possibilities. Surely when you returned home and read one of those books, you would imagine that gloomy and mysterious landscape.

The glances traveled to your eyes passively. These villagers were definitely strange, they seemed to either fear you, or wish you away, you weren't sure.

Unfortunately, your eagerness to offer knowledge to these poor souls was unsuccessful.

Muttering things you didn't quite understand, in an English that was practically incomprehensible to you, which, on the other hand, was bad luck, since you didn't fully master the language either, each one of the doors of those old cabins closed in your face.

“Hey, I haven't even said my name!” you protested after the tenth disinterested grunt from one of the inhabitants of that place. “Cazzo…”

The door opened again and a young woman with an apologetic look appeared.

“Forgive my father. He doesn't trust outsiders,” the young woman said. Well, at least she spoke to you. “My name is Elena.”

“Sono (Y/N),” you said politely, shaking your hand with the young woman's, who frowned upon hearing you speak that way.

“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the girl joked, closing the door.

“No, I'm Italian,” you said, with a business smile that you had already rehearsed.

The young Elena nodded curiously, glancing at your suitcase.

“Are you a merchant?” she asked, pointing at your merchandise.

You nodded slowly.

“Yes, I've come on behalf of a relative... His name is, or he calls himself... Duke,” you explained with a trembling voice. Your nerves couldn't fail you. At least you had managed to talk to someone.

“The Duke?” the girl asked, with a surprised look. “Wow, I didn't know he had a family.”

“Yes, but he seems to be the only one who is successful,” you murmured jokingly, pronouncing the words in the best way possible. “Well... Elena, right? Are you interested in something?”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid we have everything we need,” she said, shaking her head with a kind smile. “My father says that books are a waste of time.”

“Sciocchezze,” you sighed with a mischievous smile, showing her a vinyl record. “What about music? It's the sound of the soul.”

“No, no, I... I'm afraid we don't need anything like that,” Elena shook her head again.

“Oh, great,” you said, letting your smile fade at the thought that you couldn't even get enough money to recoup the investment of the trip.

“Don't be offended, just…” the young woman said, gesturing with her hands to emphasize her apology. “… We just work to live, that's, that's all we do, anything else would be entertainment.”

“Oh,” you said curiously, arching your eyebrows.

“But, um…” the girl said, looking around. “Maybe, maybe I know someone who might be interested.”

“Do you?” you asked.

Elena nodded, briefly pointing to a large house that stood out from the orchards.

“Luiza has always been a very cultured woman, and she is very kind. Maybe she would want to listen to you,” the young woman explained, in a kind tone. You blinked, looking at the indicated place, and smiled. “She lives up there, in the orchards.”

“Elena!” A loud voice was heard inside the cabin and the girl shuddered.

“I'm coming, father!” Elena shrieked, with another apologetic look. “Sorry, (Y/N), but…”

“Oh, of course, there is no… Pro-problem,” you said nervous about the impatience of that unpleasant man. “Luiza… Okay. Ciao!”

At least that girl helped you not to lose hope.

Elena wasn't lying, that Luiza seemed a bit different from the rest of the villagers, kinder, smarter, with an understandable English... It seems that you interested her enough to invite you into her house.

“Wait there, I'll make tea,” she said kindly, indicating that you sit at a table where a man seemed to be sharpening a knife with a distrustful look. After a few tense seconds, the man left his task, looking at you with distrust.

“So you're a merchant...” he whispered, tilting his head and crossing his arms.

“Yes,” you answered, with that well-rehearsed smile.

“And an outsider...” he whispered, with a sinister smile. “Luiza says you are related to the Duke...”

“That's right,” you said, without losing your merchant composure.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Wow, I didn't know the fat man had a family,” the man said, with the same surprise in his voice as the young woman before. “Where are you from?”

“Italy,” you said proudly, ignoring those dark eyes, which hardened when they heard you answer.

“Italy, you say?” he asked, leaning a little towards you, narrowing his eyes. “You say you're related to the Duke?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, confused by that change in attitude.

“Mm, are you sure you're related to the merchant?” he asked suspiciously, making you nervous. “Hey, maybe by any chance you know...”

“Ahem,” Luiza interrupted, serving you the cup of tea. “Marcus.”

“What? I'm just asking, the girl says she's Italian,” the man, her husband, apparently, protested. “You and I know who…”

“Marcus,” Luiza said, with a firmer tone. The man shook his head, sighing in defeat. “Don't scare the poor girl.”

“Bah, if she's not scared yet, she must be brave, or stupid,” Marcus commented, laughing amused. You made an effort to smile at that little joke, smelling the delicious aroma of tea.

“Okay, (Y/N), unlike my husband, I’m interested in those foreign items… Do you have any opera records?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” you said, as if coming out of a confused thought, opening your suitcase and putting on a display of everything you had.

Well, you did manage to sell a few things. You would always be grateful to that woman, the only kind woman in that place, apart from the young girl, of course. But even with that partial success, you didn't have enough to feel like you had succeeded.

If that woman had bought you something, nobody was telling you that there couldn't be more Luizas in that place. You just had to find them.

You were ready to leave that house, when a small book caught your attention. It looked like a book full of old photographs of the village. You approached it with curiosity while Luiza kindly opened the door for you.

“Um, sorry, but... Can I take a look?” you asked, pointing at the book. The woman looked at her husband and he shrugged, making a vague gesture of farewell.

“Of course...” the woman sighed, faking a smile. You returned it gratefully, starting to turn the pages of that album. “This village is an old one.”

“I see,” you commented nodding, turning pages and pages full of snowy landscapes. “My family had told me about this place, but... Well, not much. What is this?” you asked, pointing to a kind of square guarded by four large statues.

“Those are the… The four founders of the village,” Luiza explained. “The Dimitrescu family, owner of the castle; the Moreau family, owner of the lake lands; the Heisenberg family who owned a metal factory on the outskirts of the village, and the… The Beneviento family, the doll makers.”

“Oh,” you sighed interested, not even hearing the names very well, you were more attentive to those old photographs. “Does anyone live in the castle? I'd like to visit it.”

“Um, no, I…” the woman stammered, making you frown. “I don't think you should go near it, (Y/N).”

“Isn't it open to the public? What a pity,” you said with a disappointed voice.

Luiza made a strange gesture, shaking her head.

“Young lady, take some advice from me,” the woman said, speaking in a very low tone, approaching you with a hand on your shoulder. “You must leave this place.”

“Why?” you asked, confused, looking away at another of the photographs, one with a beautiful mansion, guarded by a waterfall.

It quickly caught your attention, even making you ignore the kind woman's warning words.

“Because…” Luiza sighed, with a broken tone, as if she were afraid of something. “It's not the best place for an outsider.”

“Oh, yeah, well,” you said, amused, gesturing with your hand. “I have people skills. That's not a problem. Tell me, is this house in the village?”

“Oh, that house…” Luiza murmured, looking at the same photograph.

“It's impressive,” you said curious. “Does anyone live there?” you insisted, running your hand over the drawing of what looked like a symbol, one with a moon and a sun.

“It's, it's far from here,” the woman commented, closing the album and subtly pushing you towards the exit. “Listen to me, don't go near that place. It's very dangerous.”

You shook your head with wide eyes, pulling your suitcase.

“Everything here seems very dangerous,” you commented with a low voice and a frown. The woman put on a sad look, caressing your cheek in a strange way.

“Go away, (Y/N), go away before the shadows invade you,” Luiza whispered, turning her back on you and closing the door softly, leaving you petrified on the floor.

“Cosa diavolo non va?” you asked yourself with a strange grimace, slowly moving away from the house.

Ignoring these strange warnings, you walked aimlessly through the village, looking for someone who wasn't afraid of your presence, or who wouldn't bow their head, ignoring your greeting.

Tired from your erratic walk, you decided to lean against a stone sculpture, in the middle of another snowy square. Failure loomed in your thoughts, in your mind, wondering if perhaps with the Duke present, things would have been different.

You looked at your watch and sighed, it was still early to leave, and even more so when you had barely sold four things. You had to make an effort, either that, or try another nearby village.

The crows flew above you like a bad omen that you couldn't interpret. The sky was dark, gloomy.

Don't let the shadows invade you...

Luiza's words echoed in your ears, words you didn't know how to interpret, or rather, that you didn't want to interpret. You were in a different country, in a different culture, lost in that snowy, sinister village. Even though you believed that nothing could go wrong, a bad feeling began to haunt you.

Yes, maybe it was time to leave.

You stood up with a defeated gasp, shaking your head, depressed by your ridiculous failure. But, you had barely taken two steps when something caught your attention.

In front of you was a wooden door, a kind of fence that separated a private property. Above the frame, there was a symbol, one that you remembered having seen before: that moon and that sun.

Your mind was left thinking. Yes, surely that would be the way to the waterfall house. It had to be. Luiza warned you to not get too close but… Curiosity was calling you.

Okay, it wasn't a huge castle but… Still, that mansion couldn't belong to just any villager. The curious relationship of wealth, bigger houses and kindness that you found in the village made you think that maybe someone rich lived there, a person or family with enough money to think about leisure or wisdom.

“Mm,” you murmured curiously, approaching that place, looking at that symbol closely. The door was open. You almost thought you heard whispers that encouraged you to enter that dark path.

You swallowed when a cold breeze came out of that darkness. Your body trembled for no reason, but your mind was blinded by greed. You couldn't miss that opportunity to know what or who was on the other side, who lived in that place.

The sunlight illuminated the path you had to follow with increasingly less intense rays. Slowly, you followed that luminous advice, entering through the wooden door, walking towards the unknown.

It didn't seem like a very strange place, or so you thought. The trees seemed sad, that place seemed devoured by time. Strange objects hung from the almost rotten branches, which you passed by without flinching.

You simply kept your mind busy, like a danger blocking mechanism that seemed to alert your subconscious. Instead of worrying, when you saw that those things hanging from the trees were dolls, you simply whistled, making your way through the branches with a slow walk.

You passed an old wooden bridge, one that said: go away in all possible languages. You were never good at interpreting those words, those screams from your mind that demanded your attention.

The sunlight diminished as you walked, it was getting dark. The branches of the trees drew disturbing shadows that surrounded a pair of ruined cabins.

“Brr,” you shivered when you saw those wooden claws stalking you.

The smile never left your face, but your body began to notice the symptoms of that inner fear; a dizziness, a feeling of heaviness in your stomach... All of these were physical signs that seemed to want to stop you in your tracks.

You even thought that the tea or the fruit you ate at Luiza's had upset your stomach. No, you didn't see the danger in any way, or rather, you didn't want to see it.

Finally you reached a clearing, where a mound showed a sinister grave you didn't want to approach. Your stupidity and your desire for wealth were so strong that you thought it was perhaps a simple decoration.

“Un ascensore...” you murmured when you reached a red door, surely the entrance to that curious mansion.

Biting your lip, you rubbed your hands entering those metal bars. Of course, whoever lived in that place had to have a lot of money, and, above all, a great desire to spend it. You fantasized about what you were going to find: a rich family? A widow, perhaps? A wealthy man? Maybe one of the founders of the village’s descendants? It didn't matter who it was, but you could smell money from miles away.

When you got out of the elevator, the sight in front of you forced you to stop. There was that house, that huge house with a beautiful waterfall next to it.

“If this doesn't work, I'm leaving the business,” you said, rehearsing in your head the phrases to say to the inhabitant of that place, greetings, smiles, all your charms.

The sound of the falling water relaxed you, although you didn't know why you were even nervous. The word danger whispered in your mind like a premonition or intuition, but you let the waterfall completely eclipse it. The beauty of that place couldn't entail any danger, you were convinced.

You cleared your throat as you approached the door, slowly climbing the steps. At the moment, there was nothing that matched Luiza's warnings, nothing, until, before you could knock on the door, it opened with an ominous creak.

“Um, hello?” you asked, seeing how, in front of you, there was nothing but a beautiful wooden room, with a rocking chair that moved by itself. “Ciao...” you repeated in a lower voice.

There didn't seem to be anyone in that place and you sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking around.

“Oh!” you squealed in fear when you looked down, where, what looked like a ventriloquist's doll was standing looking at you. “Oh... Cazzo... What...” you said upset. “Good... Good trick...”

Smiling, thinking that, like the gravestones in the clearing, this was just a joke, you crouched down curiously, looking at that puppet.

“Hello?” you repeated, standing up again and ignoring the doll, which, perhaps because of the accumulated fatigue, you thought was following you with its gaze.

“Down here, stupid!” a high-pitched screech scared you again, making you fall backwards, tripping and crashing your body against the hard stone of the porch.

But neither the pain of the fall nor the fright were the worst. Yes, you were not dreaming, if it was a joke, it was the best one you had ever seen.

That doll, that damn doll moved, moved its articulated mouth, laughing out loud.

“Who are you?” the puppet asked, approaching your collapsed body. You backed away scared, crawling until you reached those small steps.

“Ahhh! Una bambola parlante!” you shrieked in fear, standing up as quickly as possible with your hands in front of your body.

“Who are you calling a talking doll, you silly, silly?” the puppet asked.

No, there was no doubt. There were no strings, no ventriloquist, it was alive.

“Ah, io, io… What?” you stammered nervously, shaking your head, blinking hard to make what was undoubtedly a hallucination go away. It didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, can you repeat that?” the doll said, approaching with a comical step. “What did you just say?”

“Cosa?” you asked, grabbing your suitcase, ready to run away. “Sorry, I… No, no… What?”

“You called me a talking doll,” it said, crossing its arms.

 You nodded confused.

“I'm, I'm, I'm sorry... No, no...” you stammered, still shocked and scared by the impossibility of that old toy. It couldn't move, it just couldn't.

“Who are you?” it asked again. “Why do you know Italian?”

“I-I-I'm Italian,” you stammered, shaking your head.

The doll tilted its head curiously, looking you up and down.

“You're a long way from home, you silly Italian,” the doll commented in a mocking tone.

You blinked again, scratching the back of your neck, searching all over the doll for the mechanism that was supposed to make it behave like that. You didn't find it.

“I-I'm a merchant,” you said with a broken voice. The doll nodded, walking towards you quickly, climbing up your dress. It was too close, you couldn't move.

“Merchant?” it asked again, looking at you as if it was reading your soul. “What do you sell?”

“I sell… I sell… Books and… Vinyl and… Movies…” you explained when the doll finally got off your body, without taking those cold eyes off you.

“Books and movies?” the puppet asked.

You, nervous, still scared, nodded erratically.

“Do you have Italian stuff?”

“S-Sure I have,” you whispered in a small voice.

“Mm,” the doll murmured turning around, but looking at you several times before disappearing into the darkness of the mansion. “Donna, Donna! You have to see this, come, come!”

“Donna?” you asked yourself, gathering enough courage to walk back to the door, where, after a few seconds, the sound of heels approached.

In front of you was a woman, a woman dressed completely in black, with a veil covering her face. She had a stoic pose, she emanated danger, and even more so when you saw that she was holding the doll in her arms.

Even if she was the most experienced ventriloquist in the world, she could never have done that, it was simply impossible.

“She's pretty, huh, Donna?” the doll said, nudging the lady, who sighed tiredly. “An Italian beauty knocking on your door, not even in your dreams could you imagine something like that.”

“Angie…” A hoarse, dark voice came out of that black veil while the woman lowered the doll to the floor. It laughed amusedly, staring at you again.

“Um, well…” you murmured confused, with your gaze fixed on that black veil, on those invisible eyes that you knew were watching you. “H-Hello…”

There was no answer. The lady didn't even seem to be bothered by your words.

“Um… I'm… I'm (Y/N),” you said, putting fear aside and politely extending your hand towards her, who looked at it briefly, without returning your greeting. “No? Okay… Well…”

“I'm Angie!” the doll shrieked, grabbing your hand instead of its owner and shaking it roughly. “Nice to scare you!”

“H-Hello… Suppongo…” you whispered, still confused but, mysteriously, more relaxed.

“Forgive her, she doesn’t like to talk,” the doll explained, pointing at its owner in a mocking way. “Shall I tell you a secret? She's Italian too.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, looking at the lady, who nodded briefly. “Che strana coincidenza…”

“Perché strana?” that hoarse voice asked again, the voice of that mysterious lady.

“Oh, well…” you said embarrassed, of course, that doll hadn't lied to you. “No, it's nothing…”

“Che vuoi?” the lady in black asked again, her tone lighter, but reflected impatience.

“I'm, I'm a merchant,” you said again, trying to smile, making a superhuman effort to make that strange situation stop being so strange.

After all, she was the inhabitant of that place, and she was also Italian. The business seemed to call you…

“She sells a lot of things, Donna!” the doll shrieked, pointing at you. “Things you like!”

“Mm,” the woman in black murmured, looking over your shoulder at the merchandise. “Me li può mostrare?”

“Oh, sure, sure…” you said nervously, heading towards your suitcase and opening it on the floor, closely followed by that strange doll, which didn't seem to want to leave you alone.

“Look, Donna, your favorite record!” the doll squealed, rummaging through the merchandise without any kind of hesitation, under your watchful gaze, and hers.

The lady took that vinyl, observing it carefully. You almost thought you heard a slight laugh coming out of that veil.

“È, it's a special edition,” you murmured when you saw how interested she seemed to be. “You, you know… Come prima… Più di prima…” you sang in a timid and horrible way.

The veiled lady looked up with a sigh.

“Are you also a singer?” she asked with a weak, whispering voice.

You laughed nervously shaking your head, with your cheeks slightly blushed.

“No… The truth is, I’m not… Although, although they've always told me that I have a beautiful voice,” you said timidly, looking sideways as Angie rummaged through the books.

“Mm,” the lady murmured with disinterest, looking at the vinyl again.

“Donna, Donna! Nonna's favorite book!” the doll squealed, handing her one of your books in perfect condition. “Look, look, this one isn't broken!”

“I have that one on sale… If, if you're interested… Donna, right?” you said with your voice cracked by nerves, playing with your sweaty hands.

“Donna? Lady Beneviento for you, silly!” the doll snapped at you, in a haughty tone.

“Beneviento?” you asked involuntarily, knowing that you had heard that name somewhere.

Of course you heard it. Like a whisper of help, your mind recalled Luiza's words, those that explained to you the families who had founded the village. Of course, that Donna Beneviento was an important person in that place. Despite everything strange, your greed took precedence, she seemed truly interested in what you were selling.

The mysterious woman nodded slowly, leafing through that book with curiosity.

“I’m sorry, Lady Beneviento,” you said elegantly, lowering your head. You knew she was not an ordinary villager and therefore, you could not treat her as such.

“Vieni,” she whispered, gesturing for you to enter the house.

You nodded nervously, closing your suitcase and pulling it into the mansion, with an extra weight. That living doll had climbed on top of it, swinging its legs in a playful way.

“Hey, do you mind?” you said nervously. The doll, obviously, shook her head.

You groaned, still in disbelief, and when you looked again you saw something strange.

There was a portrait, a portrait hanging on the wall of the stairs. On it, there was a woman, a really beautiful, gorgeous woman with a pale face, serious eyes and black hair. Next to her, there was that puppet, the Angie doll. Would she be the lady?

Lady Beneviento cleared her throat, getting your attention, letting you know through her non-verbal language, that she didn't want you to look at that portrait. You decided to be good and obey.

“Sit down, I'll make some tea and we'll talk business,” the woman whispered, pointing to a cozy corner of that house.

“Sure... Yes, um... Thank you,” you said with a kind smile.

The woman in black looked at you for an almost awkward moment and then turned around, walking slowly towards a hallway. You followed her with your eyes until she disappeared.

It was a strange situation indeed. Perhaps you should have listened better to your survival instincts.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lady returned, serving you a cup of tea with an elegant gesture and sitting in front of you.

“Grazie…” you whispered with a grateful smile, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Truth be told, I didn't expect to find someone who spoke my language… I've never been good with English.”

“You seem to speak it quite well,” she commented, with a regal pose, barely moving, not letting anyone see for a moment what that black veil was hiding.

“I have no choice, I guess,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Do you trade all over Europe?” she asked curiously as you opened your suitcase again, your hands shaking.

You weren’t there to chat. You had gone to do business. You couldn’t forget that.

“No, I… Well, I used to trade only in Italy,” you explained with a sad smile.

“Where in Italy are you from?” she asked again as Angie, with the suitcase open again, rubbed her wooden hands, rummaging through your stuff with an evil laugh.

You looked back at the lady, a bit confused.

“Da che parte d’Italia vieni?” the lady repeated with a slightly darker voice. “Nord, sud…?”

“Oh, yes, Well… I was born in the city of… This may seem like a joke to you but… I’m from the city of Benevento,” you said with a shy smile.

 You didn’t want her to think you were laughing at her. It was just a stupid coincidence.

“Mm, why would I think it's a joke?” she asked, with a tired sigh.

“Well, because of your… Your last name… It's quite similar, isn't it?” you said with a fake smile. “Are you from around there?”

“No,” the lady answered dryly, without bothering to shake her head. “I was born here.”

“Oh, okay…” you murmured, glancing at the doll, who was shuffling through your books. “Hey, um… be careful…” you said to the doll, who made a mocking gesture, imitating your voice in an unpleasant way. “Hey, la, la bambola…”

“Angie”

“Yes, Angie…” you repeated with a frown. “Why is she alive?”

“That's none of your business,” she said, with a cold voice, one that ran through your nerves, putting them on alert again.

“O-Okay, sorry,” you murmured, looking down.

“Do you have Italian movies?” she asked after a tense moment, one that you took advantage of to hide your embarrassment in the teacup. “Film.”

“Oh, yes, yes of course…” you said nervously, reaching for the suitcase, rummaging through your messy things due to the Angie doll, who protested with a grunt at your hand. “I have a lot of these.”

“Mm?” the lady murmured, looking at the cover confused, opening it and taking out the disc. “What is this?”

“A, a movie,” you said, clearing your throat. “A DVD.”

“DVD…” she whispered, looking at her reflection in that shiny disc, visibly confused. You couldn't believe she didn't know it. That village was definitely stopped in time. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand you.”

“Um, well…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, wondering how you were going to explain that to this mysterious woman. She didn't seem to be joking, at all.

“Hey, it's like a mirror!” Angie squealed, climbing onto her owner's lap and comically looking at herself in the disc, turning it curiously. “I want one, Donna, I want one!”

“Ugh, va bene…” the lady whispered, putting the DVD back in its place and handing it to the doll, who jumped victoriously. “It's still not what I'm looking for.”

“What… What are you looking for?” you asked, flashing your fake saleswoman smile again.

“Don't you have any 28mm rolls?” the woman wanted to know.

You nodded confused.

“Yes… But, but they are, they are special, I mean, I mean… They are… They are molto costose, you know… They are, they are almost museum relics,” you said, taking a metal box out of the suitcase and opening it, displaying its contents.

“Fine, I want them,” she murmured, nodding and snatching the box from your hands. “Money is not a problem.”

Well, that phrase fostered a more sincere smile on your face.

“Va bene… It is…” you said nervously, taking out a notebook in which you wrote down your sales.

“I'm not finished,” she interrupted you, leaving the box on the floor. “I also want those books.”

“Those? Which ones?” you asked confused by her vague description.

“All of them,” the lady said abruptly, leaving you glued to the seat. “I've been asking the Duke for that classic novel collection for a long time.”

“The Duke? Oh, well, I'm related to him,” you said smiling, taking the books out of the suitcase and leaving them on the table.

“You?!” Angie asked in a shrill voice, getting too close to you again. “Come on! You don't look like that fat greasy guy!”

“Fat greasy guy?” you asked amused. “Well, I don't really know him, but it seems that in this village you do it quite well.”

“Oh, yes, he's a scammer!” Angie shrieked laughing amused. “Isn't he, Donna?”

“Mm…” the lady nodded, distracted by the books.

That scared you.

“Oh, I… I'm not like him. I'm always fair with prices and… Cazzo, don't think I'm trying to rip you off or anything like that… Cazzo.”

“Do you mind stopping talking like that? I don't like rude girls,” Donna snapped at you, with a dangerous, annoyed tone.

“I'm, I'm sorry, it's just that... Well, I'm not used to being understood,” you explained with a different blush, one that was accentuated when a shy laugh came out of her veil.

“It was just a joke,” she said amused, more relaxed, surely fascinated by that collection of books she was looking for so much. “Do you want some more tea?”

“Oh, yes, per favore,” you said, extending your cup towards the teapot, with a calm smile.

“I still don't know what a girl like you is doing in a place like this...” she whispered after a moment of calm silence, one that served to, little by little, get you used to that sinister atmosphere, and that doll.

“It's a long story...” you sighed, leaning back on the old sofa.

“I have time,” she said, with the same tone as you. “I'm sure you'll appreciate having a chat in your native language, right?”

“S-Sure…”

As if you had suddenly forgotten what you were doing there, or how much time you had left to leave, you began to chat calmly with that strange woman.

At first she seemed gloomy, reluctant to hold any kind of conversation but… As you explained everything that led you to the village, your concerns, your goals… Well, her attitude relaxed quite a bit.

The short, dry sentences turned into a soft voice, into shy laughs from time to time. It seemed that she had gained some confidence with you, or so that living doll hinted. After your hectic trip through Romania, a chat in your language effectively lifted your spirits, it was almost like feeling at home.

On the other hand, that erratic behavior of the lady in black never ceased to surprise you. Like the rest of the villagers, she seemed not to understand or comprehend very well the outside world, the time in which you lived.

To your surprise, she had never even set foot on Italy. Yes, her family came from there, but, incredibly, Donna had never been there. But that was not the only thing that was curious, so were the words that claimed she had never left the village.

It might seem that this woman, with money, with power, from an important family, had little or no interest in traveling, in leaving this sinister time capsule.

But that was not the case. Her words were full of sadness, her sighs, that nostalgia with which she listened attentively to your words... It seemed as if deep down she wanted to leave, as if, for some reason, her stay in the village was some kind of condemnation for her.

The mansion grew darker as time went by as you talked, sharing impressions, tastes, hobbies… It was almost as if you had just met a friend, a friend with an interesting voice, with a beautiful body, with a subtle but intoxicating lavender perfume…

Your cheeks betrayed those erratic thoughts about the lady in black and you shook your head several times.

You, a cultured girl, a fan of romance novels, always tended to idealize that kind of situations. You didn't want to believe in love at first sight, but you certainly didn't know what it felt like, if it was even possible.

No, no, no, no… You couldn't think about that, despite how attractive Lady Beneviento was to you. Everything had an end, and sooner than you would have liked, yours came.

Sighing, finishing your last cup of tea, you looked at the clock and almost choked.

“Oh, cazzo!” you said hurriedly, getting up from the sofa. “5 o'clock, if I don't hurry…”

“What's wrong?” the lady in black asked, getting up too, playing nervously with her hands.

“I'd love to stay and chat but… If I don't make it to that stupida’s bus, she will leave without me and…” you explained, gathering that was left in your suitcase. Donna had bought almost everything without thinking about it.

“Are you going to leave?” she asked in a whisper, with a voice that, at least to you, seemed sad.

You looked at her and nodded with a polite smile, extending your hand towards her, a hand that, this time, she shook briefly.

Damn, her hands were very soft…

“It's been nice meeting you, Donna,” you said kindly, turning around to walk towards the hall.

“Are you going to let her just leave? Silly Donna…” you heard the doll whisper in an indiscreet manner.

“W-Wait, wait a moment,” the nervous lady said, running to meet you, making her veil move, inducing your mischievous eyes to look at what was underneath. “D-Do you really have to go?”

“Yes,” you said with a confused look, totally innocent.

“W-Wait, I… I…” she murmured, approaching slowly. “It's dangerous to go out at night.”

“Hey, can someone explain to me what it is that scares you so much about this place? And why are there living dolls?” you asked with an impatient tone, remembering each of the villagers' warnings.

“I'll explain everything to you, but, but only if you stay with me a little longer, just a little longer,” the lady said, in a tone that sounded curiously desperate. “Per favore…”

“Please, please!” the doll repeated in a shrill tone.

“Um…” you stammered, unable to find an answer, a desire to stay that you knew existed. But that village had already given you so much trouble, you wanted to leave, but at the same time, you didn't.

Damn senseless crush… How can you even know if you really liked that woman?

“Okay,” you said, letting your words speak for themselves, sighing as you looked at your wristwatch, knowing that, even if you ran, you wouldn't make it to the bus on time. “Hai un telefono?”

The lady nodded, pointing to a small table.

You walked slowly past her, checking how, in a disturbing way, the doll and owner followed you with their gaze.

“Irina?” you asked when someone finally answered, after a few tense moments.

“Oh spaghetti, it's you!” the driver of the bus screamed. She seemed agitated, as if she was running away from something, or so you sensed, there was too much interference. “You have to… Help me! Wolves… Monsters…! Call the… Lice!”

“Cosa? I don't understand you, are you okay?” you asked with a frown, that stupid girl seemed to be in danger.

“No…! No…! Mother Miranda!”

After those screams, the call was interrupted, leaving you disoriented. Seeing you like that, Donna approached, taking the phone from your hand and hanging it slowly, as if somehow those screams hadn't surprised her.

“It seems that there are some connection problems,” Angie mocked, laughing, but stopping when the lady suddenly looked at her, as if she had said something she shouldn't. “Oops…”

“I think she wanted me to call the police… Who is Mother Miranda?” you asked confused, with your heart racing.

“She’s the leader of this village,” Donna murmured, with a somber voice. “But don't worry, she won't hurt you, I won't allow it.”

“Hurt? Um, hey, Donna, I think, I think Irina was in trouble,” you said nervously, focused on finding out what had happened.

“You'll be in trouble if you go out at night, silly! You have to stay here!” Angie yelled at you, pointing comically at the floor.

“Oh, no, no, I don't want to disturb you,” you said with a trembling voice.

Your intuition wasn't wrong at all, but... In that house, you didn't seem to be in danger.

“You're not disturbing me, I like your company,” Donna said, with her hands in front of her body, with an elegant posture, unfazed by what seemed to be the death of the bus girl. “Do you want...? Do you want to cook something for dinner?”

“Oh, um, yes, dinner... Um...” you said confused, nodding without really knowing why. “Va...Va bene...”

As if you had forgotten what had happened, as if that call hadn't taken place, you went down to that dark basement with the lady in black and started cooking. It was a fun, entertaining time.

You both shared your own recipes, your special ways of doing things. Your mind had forgotten about going home, it had forgotten where you wanted to go, why you wanted to leave. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to stay with that dark Italian Lady. You wanted to talk to her, laugh with her.

Yes, you started to believe in love at first sight, you had no doubt that it existed, you were experiencing it.

Day and night began to dance before your eyes, the sun and the moon. How long had you been there? You didn't know. Had it been days, weeks, months? You weren't sure.

Cooking, reading, watching those movies… Any excuse was good enough to forget about your problems, to forget you had a place to go back to.

 Maybe darkness had invaded you but… You had become addicted to her, to Donna Beneviento, to that strange woman and her doll, to her voice, her words, her laughter… To the lavender of her perfume…

“Sale,” Donna said, extending her hand so you could give her the jar she needed while, like so many days, like so many times, you cooked with her.

A curious routine, cooking, cleaning, sewing… Something that your own conscience used as payment for being a guest who didn't pay for her stay but… Were you really a guest? What were you?

“I've never seen anyone making pasta,” you said curiously, leaning your elbow on the counter. Donna laughed amused, shaking her head. “Well, my grandmother usually…”

“You say I'm like your grandmother?” she joked, kneading calmly.

“No, not at all,” you said, amused, looking hypnotically at that curious dough. “I buy it ready-made, it's easier and faster that way.”

“Chi va piano…”

“Va lontano…” you finished, smiling again, with that damn blush on your cheeks. “It's true, you're right, Donna.”

She glanced at you briefly, giving you another of her beautiful laughs. You were so dazed that nothing mattered anymore, only waking up in that guest room again, only going downstairs to share moments with her, only her, only Donna mattered to you.

“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the flour sacks and putting it on the counter with a loud thud, raising a thick cloud of white dust. “Cazzo! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

The lady coughed, brushing the flour away with her hand, clearing her vision. It could be a comedian or a dangerous one, you didn't quite know. Her little apron was unable to stop all the flour, which landed on Lady Beneviento, including her veil.

“Tutto bene?” you asked timidly, brushing the dust out of your hair.

“Sì,” the woman in black murmured, accidentally removing her veil, shaking it in front of your wide-open eyes.

When she realized the mistake she had made, the mistake of showing you her face, she gasped nervously, shaking her head.

You stood petrified, admiring every inch of her beauty, a hidden one, one that you only sensed and you had just confirmed. No, a stupid scar couldn't be that important, it wasn't capable of hiding anything, of overcoming her beauty.

“Non… Non…” she whispered, turning around and covering her face with her hands. “Non guardami!”

“Donna, wait, wait…” you said nervously, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t, don't cover yourself, You are… Sei bellisima…”

“No, no, no…” she repeated, nervously, pushing away your comforting hand. “Sei una bugiarda!”

“I'm not lying, Donna, really, I…” you said, trying to reason with those incipient sobs, with the trembling of her body.

“Now you'll want to leave… You'll make me hurt you!” she shrieked, completely out of control. You shook your head, ignoring that dangerous last sentence.

“Shh,” you whispered softly, turning her around, taking advantage of a slight moment of weakness. “I won't leave, I like being here.”

“No… Non é vero…” she said, moving away from your gaze.

You snatched the veil from her so she couldn't put it back on and, without thinking, you launched yourself at her lips, kissing them fiercely, just as you had wanted to do for a long time, you didn't know how long.

“Donna…” you sighed when you pulled away from the kiss, a messy kiss that she had a hard time joining.

Finally she did, caressing your cheeks, mouth agape by that sudden reaction, one that she was apparently also waiting for.

“You have come into my life like a savior, like a light that has passed through the darkness…” she whispered, kissing you again, losing that fear, that cowardice, the fear of being discovered, of you seeing her wounded face.

What Lady Beneviento didn’t expect, is that you would feel something for her.

“Per favore…Non partire…Rimani con me…Per sempre…” she murmured while your lips caressed each other, while the warmth of that unexpected love slowly passed through your body, until it reached your heart.

“Per sempre…”

[reds-references]

Welcome to my corner of chaotic whimsy!

I'm Red or formally known as, Justine...

I am a multi-media artist. I am my own photographer, editor and model, I am an illustrator (HUMAN ARTIST, NOT AI) and seamstress. I am a crafty/fitness YouTuber, an OnlyFans model and a boxing instructor/fitness coach. I do hope you enjoy your stay in my wee corner of chaos and please feel free to use any and ALL of my reference photos for your artistic needs! Also do say hi!! I try my best to answer every message and comment! I just appreciate you being here so gosh darned much.

FAQ

ONLYFANS: I know, when you hear "OnlyFans" your mind goes to some pretty wild places. I am a non-spicy model, which means I censor everything as tastefully as possible! You can think of me as a whimsical lingerie model! I started my OF as a way to raise funds for my FREE boxing gym for underprivileged children and to provide artists with cheap art packs.

YOUTUBE: I started my YouTube channel as a way for me to express myself even further with my art. My OF photoshoots aren't always the artistic sets I would like them to be and I stopped drawing years ago (attached are a few of my illustrations, including the cover to my web comic "The Nun's Mistake" and the cover for Colm McGuinness' album "The Colm Before The Storm" on Spotify) so I figured I would try and make photography my new medium for "paintings". Even with that in mind, I still wanted to be crafty and what with my day job in concrete/construction, I don't get a lot of free time to myself. Hence, YOUTUBE! YouTube has given me the chance to make content that I can be free to have fun with and Patreon is helping me to continue pursuing that dream!

MY ART: I spent 10+ years working as a freelance artist between my other jobs. My art never sold, I barely got a single commission and people always tried getting things for free. Safe to say my art failed miserably and I gave up on it for a few years. My OF and ESPECIALLY YouTube are helping me find that spark again! (P.S art commissions are not open, I see where your sweet little brain was going!)

BOXING: I have been a trainer/professional boxer for over 8 years now. I trained with world champions and fought on a professional level and found a love for teaching along the way. I got tired of how expensive boxing classes are, seeing as there are so few "trainers" who actually know what they're doing and aren't just MMA people pretending to know what Boxing is. SO, I and the other trainers decided to dedicate our lives to opening a completely FREE boxing gym for underprivileged children. We have put every penny we earn into this gym. Everything I make in my day jobs and OF helps to fund the gym, while the Patreon helps me to fund my dream of quitting my back breaking job in concrete and work full-time as a YouTuber/Creator.

WHAT ARE YOU: I am a cisgendered woman. I got my dad's tits and his jaw, I know, I appear more masculine than femme. I also work out a lot, hence the muscles.

WHAT ARE YOU ON: Bro, if I was on roids, THERE WOULD BE SIGNS. I am a SMOL, natty Muscle Mommy!

Thank you for taking the energy and time out of your own life to show me kindness, love and support. Thank you for being here.

[bethanydelleman]

So I do think the lady who wrote this stupid book has a point about modern media excusing terrible behaviour with tragic backstories, because I read a lot of justifications of Darcy that are centred in Darcy having TRAUMA. Poor boy didn't mean to be rude at the Meryton assembly, he's a poor little orphan who just had sister troubles.

Except that blaming this trend/trope on Austen is insane, because Darcy does not excuse his behaviour in this way AT ALL. He does blame his education somewhat, but if anything his excuse is that his parents loved him so darn much that he became a brat. That's not trauma, that's Trust Fund Baby Syndrome.

In fact, the one person who attempts a trauma explanation of Darcy is... Wickham! He claims that Darcy Sr. loved him more than Darcy Jr., causing Fitzwilliam to be jealous of Wickham. Which would be kind of understandable, if it were true, but Darcy doesn't really seem to care about this and clearly loved his father, so if anything Wickham was a minor annoyance in his life pre-Ramsgate.

The narrator says clearly that Darcy has always been like this, it isn't a trauma reaction, "He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious; and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting... Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Darcy was continually giving offence." And Darcy confirms this, he's been rude "from eight to eight-and-twenty" The only time he brings up the whole Georgiana thing is to tell Elizabeth about it, he never blames that event for his behaviour.

If anything, Jane Austen was a proponent of "explain but not excuse". Lucy Steele is mercenary because she is barely clinging to her status in the gentry, but she's still portrayed as a villain because the way she goes about trying to secure Edward (and later Robert) is fundamentally wrong. Mary Crawford has a back story full of trauma, she's an orphan twice over, her uncle sounds like a misogynist creep, and yet Austen doesn't accept it as an excuse, Mary must become better to be worthy of Edmund. Willoughby is an orphan, he's in debt, he's made bad choices, but he needs to do better and because he doesn't, he's not worthy of Marianne.

My Point: Don't blame Austen for the trauma excuses all bad behaviour trope, because she didn't start it and she frequently subverted it!

[mnemosyne-nyx]

✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong Pt. 2✨

Going feral over this man

Hal and Bruce almost share a birthday and it fucking infuriates Bruce for no reason.

My guy was a rebellious teenager growing up, you know, trauma baby tings but also wanting to distance himself from the elite society (I mean rich Gotham really is a different cesspool of evilness lmao who can blame the poor guy.) Not to get deep but the beginning of his crusade was him wanting to seek a life and identity beyond the Wayne name right and witness Gotham from all angles. However, after realising he can both honour and build upon his legacy, Bruce destroyed any proof of this phase as he associates it with his turbulent and troubled coming of age. Little does he know there's a box filled with Polaroids within the 73288199 attics of Wayne Manor ready for his kids to find plus his detailed knowledge about the punk scene of Gotham makes them suspicious anyway.

Bruce learns a lot from his children. He may be their mentor but he's definitely learnt acrobatic tricks from Dick Grayson, combat and body language from Cass etc etc. Black Canary one day complimenting an acrobatic move of Bruce's only for him to have learnt it from one 11 year old Dick Grayson.

Bruce knows every nook and cranny of the watchtower. This guy designed, funded and helped build this fucking thing. Superman can hear him fuckin scurrying in the hundreds of boiler rooms, hidden corridors and storage rooms like a human rat. Flash doesn't understand how this man just teleports from one end of the tower to the other not knowing Bruce built trapdoors, hidden passageways, fake walls in this place. Bruce has a hiding spot in the upper levels of the watchtower where a small window gives view to Earth. J'onn is the only leaguer who can rival Batman in his watchtower knowledge.

He is the unofficial caretaker of the justice league. He makes sure all catering and quarters are fully equipped to people's needs. Overhears a leaguer saying there aren't enough vegetarian options? Bam, fully renewed menu. Barry complaining he can't sleep because his quarter is too cold? Bam, temperature risen. Small things like office supplies, medical equipment - he's always taking mental notes of. He knows what leaguer is allergic to what too. Lad keeps the watchtower STOCKED

The League never fails to wish a member a happy birthday. Somehow word always gets out and no one really knows how the date gets around. It's Bruce. He knows everyone's birthdays. Sometimes photogenic memory doesn't work in his favour. When it comes to respect, compassion and love - Bruce isn't the verbal type. He prefers to show it through action - I mean he crusades around Gotham to show his need to protect people for God's sake. Therefore, he sets like a reminder anonymously on the watchtower monitor for some random hero to find.

My guy HATES Asmr.

Bruce's hair is naturally thick and actually pretty darn curly. Superman is renowned for having the curls, but Bruce - with dirty, grown out hair - can give him a run for his money. His curls never show though as he keeps his hair very short and often has it sleeked back in public (as Thomas and Alfred always told him it was neater and more proper that way.)

He is a PERFECT mix between Thomas and Martha. Everyone who ever meets Brucie Wayne for the first time tells him he's the spitting image of both of them.

My man was a heartthrob in the 90s. Dick and Tim frequently Google "Bruce Wayne 90s" and bust a gut laughing at how their old man is like in every fuckin teenage magazine published in that decade.

[brynn-lear]

Case File: Missing Person Investigation

Victim:  (Y/n) (L/n)  

Date reported missing: 04/20/2024  

Reported by: Jelena "Topaz" ███████, close friend.  

Circumstances: Suddenly went missing before reaching the airport, hasn't left the country. Missing for more than 72 hours when authorities were notified.

Possible Motive/s:  

- Unknown.

Victim's Background:  

- An overseas immigrant worker from ██████, registered Penacony citizen for 3 years.  

- Full fledged human, no remarkable hybrid bloodline.  

- Moved near Clockie Memorial, Penacony City to start the Dreamjolt Cafe. The cafe is heavily supported and funded by retired famous actress, Siobhan.

Possible Suspects:

1. Gallagher  

   - Description: Victim's flatmate, canine hybrid, possibly a former bloodhound detective.  

   - Relationship: Lives in the same apartment with the victim. Home is located besides the cafe.  

   - Circumstances: Unlikely to leave shared home to kidnap or attack (Y/n) due to surveillance footage.  

   - Suspicions: Suspicions were raised by Jelena but her accounts are shaky and not conclusive.

2. Sunday  

   - Description: Penacony senator.  

   - Relationship: Alleged arguments with the victim regarding cafe spot.  

   - Motive: Possibly interested in victim's cafe spot for the capital's town hall extension.  

   - Denial: Claims cordial and friendly relationship with (Y/n).

Relevant Information from Witness: Ms. Robin:  

- Sunday's Visits: Contradictory statements regarding visits to the cafe near closing time. Sunday often happily remarks prior to (Y/n)’s disappearance that he fondly enjoys listening to them talk. Close friends and regulars corroborate the opposite as he had “never visited the cafe at night.”

- Gallagher's Popularity: Adored by customers, the victim often jokes about him replacing them as owner/barista when they retire. Gallagher declines all their proposals. 

- Relationship Status via Prof. Ratio: Victim is “not dating anyone, not looking to date”. Prof. Ratio was very adamant that they were not lovers with Gallagher or Sunday.

- Sunday's Opinion On The Victim: [Audio file attached]

“I'm not sure why you're suspecting me, Robin. Even though (Y/n) thinks little of me, I enjoy their company very much. I have never met someone who has passionately disliked me as much as they do. I wouldn't want to start missing that voice.”

- Family Bond via Kakavasha: Victim has strong bond with family, unlikely to elope. As the family's “breadwinner”, there is pressure for them to send financial assistance.

- Digital Disappearance: All of the victim’s accounts are offline, unreachable by phone.  The Cyber Investigations Division has yet to find their cell's last known location. Investigator “SW” is assigned to this case.

- Rumors of human trafficking: Word is spreading that there has been a series of other missing people in the area. Some claim a mafia is involved.

- Rumors of rigged election: Mr. McCoy has been implicated in the ████ elections for his role of (allegedly) manipulating the vote count in Penacony City to favor Senator Sunday.

My personal notes:  

04/20/2024: The investigation is ongoing with focus on Gallagher and Sunday as potential suspects. Further inquiries and evidence collection required to determine the whereabouts of (Y/n) (L/n).

They removed me from the fudging case and now I can't do any flipping poop about it. Hecking suspicious that they're so tight-lipped  about some cafe owner's disappearance. Ain't no way something political ain't involved here. They won't let just anyone in. They even have the audacity to get Agents Kafka and Yingxing to look for em. Robin thinks Sunday has something to do with it and now the little bird thinks about partnering up with me. I can't shake her off. Annoying, but I don't want to just do paperwork. Gotta do some legwork for fun.

04/21/24: Gallagher looks like he's genuinely confused by what's happenin. But as an ex-cop (?), he's doing a darn commendable Watchmaker Award worthy job of hiding it. Ya'd think he'd be very aggressive, but the old dog's warming up. Slightly. Dunno. He's being kind of a son of a nice lady about this and I have a stinkin' feeling he's going to try and investigate this matter on his own.

04/21/24: Robin isn't feeling well. I wonder why?

Chapters

1) The First Meeting

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Daniel & the Talamasca (SPOILERS)

I can see what the reviewers meant when they complained about the Talamasca & Daniel.

We start off with Daniel nervous AF, tryna keep tabs on all the mindscrewy shenanigans (at the sushi restaurant on his lunchbreak or whatever).

Today's... etcetc Cell phones, google -- Daniel, your handwriting effing sucks. San Francisco. Polynesian Mary's Playboy magazines as a doorstop? doorstep? |CLAUDIA| Mary's cab. Coke...etcetc. Alice. They'll come for me and Kate next--you bet your arse they will! XD THIS TIME I WON'T SAVE YOUR LIFE

He draws an arrow from Save Your Life up to Playboy--I assume cuz those are two incidents with Armand that took place in SanFran?

I really like the Omakase bit--

About how many risks Daniel's subjecting himself to under the whims of these vampires--but also about Daniel's hubris/arrogance breaking the rules of engagement by thinking he has any say over what they do and what he gets out of it, by stepping onto their turf. If you can't take the heat, GTFO their kitchen.

I'm only just now noticing the foreshadowed titles of Dan's books. 🤦 Burning & Blood--AMC swears they're hilarious.

OK, Raglan's been stalking Daniel's career just like Louis did. So my early suspicion about Daniel breaking the NDA was right.

Which is SO EFFING STUPID OF HIM. They're gonna find out! Loumand's literally drawing out this giant tragedy about what happens when vampires--Armand, specifically--are LIED to, and you're gonna pull this mess on them!? You're not even being SUBTLE!

AGREEMENT.pdf--Daniel, you in danger girl.

Raglan, stop tryna gas Dan up b4 they put him off commission permanently. He's no body-snatching psychic CROOK like you.

Get this nosey bish offa my dang screen.

Oof, right in the Devil's Minion feels. U_U

O__O WOAH!? OK, so aside from Dan (played by EB, a white Jew, along with JK) throwing shade at Caucasian European Israelis (which we been knew), he's implying that Armand & Louis might be persons of interest in the UAE by the Israeli gov't & assassins, esp. cuz of their ties to powerful people. But it's funny cuz that's the exact same thing Lou asked about him.

So Dan's telling the sushi patrons there's Israeli spies/assassins crawling around Dubai--STOP, b4 you get that place John Wick'd! XD

Not MI6. 😭 I said JOHN WICK, not JAMES BOND. XD

Raglan's gone full rogue then--if he was still working for the Talamasca he'd have darn near unlimited funds--they got that dirty TEMPLAR money. 💰💰💰

Yeah, and they don't actually call the Talamasca by name in the ep itself--only in the Insider interviews the producers give.

Daniel, why TF are you talking SO EFFING LOUD, when Raglan's whispering, tryna act like he's on the phone NOT talking to you in case y'all ARE being bugged. 🤦 SUBTLETY, my guy. What kinda investigative journalist are you?

I'm starting to suspect they're not gonna do the rockstar!Lestat, and instead this stupid Great Conversion's gonna be what wakes up Akasha/Amel, when their blood/consciousness gets stretched way too thin with all these new vamps being made.

To attempt an interview...? I believe that. We already know Marius & Lestat stalked Talamasca members for decades upon decades. Ain't no way NO vampire ever tried getting close to humans & talk about their lives to someone out of loneliness or something. Esp. the ones not attached to the European covens & all their stupid Great Laws.

Rest in Preternaturalism, Raymond Gallant.

BLENDERS! XD But this is THE most Anne Ricean answer imaginable, cuz everyone lost their ish when she had her vamps flying around with GPS-trackable cellphones in their pockets as they KILLED people. Rookie mistake. 😂

Armand was on a cellphone in S01E07, and he is LITERALLY married to his iPad, so PLEASE, sir. 🙄

There's Santiago's COMPLICIT speech coming back. Ain't no moral high-ground here!

And I figured Armand/AMC was gonna pin it on AMC!Lestat, and his jaded version the Savage Garden.

Armand says technology distracts humans from vampire crimes, but what's distracting vampires from psychic/Talamasca crimes, huh?

ISTG these are the laziest vamps I've ever seen; they care so much about their privacy & security, but aren't reading Dan's mind at all? I hope one of them just casually name-drops Raglan or catches Daniel in the act or something.

Raglan said Daniel's laptop was "comically vulnerable," and uploads a bunch of data files on it from the Bibliotheca Talamasca bestiary/archives--WHY? To help show Daniel he's helpful & trustworthy?

RJ: Omakase? Louis: The conversation was easy and flirtatious.... Armand: And combative. Louis: And combative, yes. Daniel: Arguing as foreplay. RJ: Peruse at your leisure.

I hate this effing show. 🙇🙇🙇