#i want to see the positivity about humanity

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[karasbroken]

I am still in escape-from-reality mode, so have an essay on John being smart, I guess?

I loved this photo of the shuttle interior, though of course I can't view it without sparing a few thoughts for the crew who lost their lives for our quest to be free from being trapped in our one, beautiful, complicated, suffering planet.

But what it made me think about next was Farscape, of course. It's so briefly mentioned, and never referred to again, but the Farscape mission was John's third trip to space, minimum. He'd been on two previous space shuttle missions. And they must have been significant and successful roles because he was commander for the Farscape project. So this overwhelming morass of switches and readouts was familiar to him. He could probably name what every control did, what every blinking button meant.

John's ability to adapt so quickly to alien technology doesn't seem so improbable when you consider how much Earth technology he was used to dealing with. He struggled mostly with the stuff that had no labels or details to guide him, like handles that turn unintuitively back and forth instead of up and down, or doors that open by waving the right way at specific unmarked spots. (I feel like PK techs also found the doors of Leviathans baffling because they engineered specific glowy pads for all of Talyn's doors.)

I'm positive that John knew every subsystem on this shuttle. There's a reason they let a guy go up to space in a ship of his own design, and it's not just because he's the son of a famous astronaut. (Good for publicity at a time when the space program was struggling for mind share and funding.) He might use half his brain for pop culture and Aeryn, but the rest of it was more than enough to make John that rare super genius who can put his math and science into practical use building shit. So of course the vast majority of the time we see John being idle, he's taking something apart or putting it back together.

When he goes back home, John claims not to understand how the hetch drive works, "he just installed it", but his friends know that's bullshit. Of course John knows how most of it works, but he doesn't have full grasp of the math and science because he's had to deduce everything from tinkering and an under-trained Pilot without full grasp of the science himself. John is being coy partly to not bias what other scientists can figure out from their own experiments and partly because he doesn't want to get stuck all day every day being interrogated for his knowledge. Kinda been there, done that.

But anyway, this picture made me think things, about Earth tech, and our wonderful, adaptable human in the wilds of constant space magic and a hundred species worth of tech....

(Okay, just one more rant: I'm convinced Aeryn becomes a tech herself at least partially because she hangs out with John a lot, and she hates being idle, so she started messing with tech too.

I can just see him opening something up and asking a lot of questions that irritate her because she has no idea why any of her equipment works and it has never been necessary to know how to fix it, yet the way he asks questions makes her feel ignorant. But then after he pokes around enough to figure out what the red squiggly button does, he shows her and wants her to understand it too. Which she wouldn't be interested in, except she can shut him up faster if she makes him show her how to put it back together, freeing him up to go play with the next thing that catches her eye.

Or he'll go into this rant about how this particular thing is always breaking and should really be redesigned and she tells him she'll fix it, again, just to shut him up.

Because she quietly loves being in his frittery, high energy presence; there's enough John to fill up a squad's worth of space and he helps her feel less lonely on this giant empty tomb of a ship. But she wishes he talked less because she can't not pay attention to him and three quarters of what he says is nonsense. John earnestly messing around with something too intent to even talk is perfect. She'll happily sit there and clean parts or do the tedious soldering if he just limits himself to occasional mutters and "youreekas!", whatever that means.

John, of course, being a super genius, eventually figures out the pretty girl will sit with him all day--really close to him actually, their knees will bump a lot--if he tells her he really needs help assembling backup circuits or whatever. But only if he shows her how to do it once, provides minimal feedback from there, and limits himself to two Earth pop culture references per arn.)

Flight Deck of the Space Shuttle Columbia image credit: Eric Long/Smithsonian Institution                          National Air and Space Museum

[peachysunrize]

MDNI! Word count: 921

The second Prince Regent!Aemond walks into the room you can feel the tension in his body, frustrated and angry at the council and handling the siege Rhaenyra has put the King’s Landing in.

He is a mess; his hair unruly and his head being crushed under the weight of the Conqueror's crown, and yet, all he could think about throughout the day was how his heavily pregnant wife was walking in their shared chambers with nothing on but her see-through shift that left little to the imagination.

He couldn’t give a single fuck about how Cole was trying to convince the council for another attack, or how his mother tried to get him to talk — not when he had gotten a peek of your sweet pussy at dawn when he woke up and found you writhing in your sleep, the thin fabric overridden up to your hips.

He has become pathetically insatiable for you ever since your body has started adapting to the changes of growing a human within you, and he has been nothing but an absolute beast to have you on his bed throughout the day so he can grab on your hips and drink up the sweet nectar between your thighs.

“Husband,” you say, hands clutching under your large belly as you stand up on shaky legs, giving your prince regent the courtesy he deserves.

He doesn’t say anything, not a single word is uttered as he takes slow steps toward you, his hands behind his back while he lets his good eye wander all over your body; soft, ripe, round edges and so beautiful.

“What ails you, my prince?” You ask, unsure of what is truly troubling your husband.

“Nothing you should concern your pretty head with, Ābrazȳrys -wife-.” He stands before you, inhaling the sweet scent of the vanilla oil your handmaiden applied to your skin.

He can’t focus, the smell of your fragment and your god-like beauty is enough to send his head into a foggy state. He reaches out, exhaling sharply as his long fingers caress your chin, already shaking with the need for his wife.

“Have you eaten today, husband?” Your voice is dripping with honey as you nuzzle your head into his palm, and he bends down to press a kiss to your exposed shoulder, nearly groaning at the feeling of the soft flesh under his lips.

“I am about to,” he says, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck, “would you let me have a delicious meal, wife?”

“Of course, my prince, let me tell the maids—“

“No, no…” he growls into your ear, his other hand coming to rest on the fat of your hips, squeezing it with delight, “I don’t want any food, I want the sweet dessert that is hidden between your thighs.”

“Oh…” you sigh in pleasure as he keeps kissing and nibbling on your skin, “then allow me to lay on the bed—“

“No,” his voice is sharp and curt, sending a shiver down your spine as you feel your arousal coat your inner thighs, “I will be the one lying down.”

He doesn’t let you ponder over what he said, instead, he shrugs his coat and doubles off, kicking his boots away before he crawls on the bed, his long limbs covering the length of the mattress as he reaches to pull you on it as well.

You sit hesitantly beside him on the bed, waiting for him to tell you how he wants you.

He sits up a little, taking the crown in his hands before he puts it on top of your head, smirking at your flustered face as you try to find a reason as to what the fuck he actually is doing.

“Conquer your realm, my queen. Come, your throne awaits you,” he says, his pupil blown with lust and desire as he helps you to your knees, laughing breathlessly at how gorgeous you look with his child heavy in your belly and his crown atop your head — truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Aemond I might suffocate you!” You gasp as he positions himself right beneath your glistening cunt, his fingers digging into your ample body as he licks his lips, his carnal desires for you only growing more by every second you deny him your pleasure.

“Then I would die a happy man,”

You gasp loudly, hands reaching to support your weight on the headboard as he pulls you flush on his face, forcing you to sit on his carved nose. 

The moan he lets out as he finally flattens his tongue over your sweet pussy is primal. He licks you clean off your wetness, parting your folds with the tip of his tongue as he plays with your throbbing clit.

Something in Aemond switches on, because in a second he starts rocking your hips on his face, the dip of his nose catching your nub with every roll and his tongue pushes past the first swollen ring of muscles of your cunt, moving it in a rhythmic direction.

He hears you moan and whine in pleasure, which only spurs him on to go faster, while he can feel the tent in his leather pants growing tighter and tighter. He feasts on you like a starved man, groaning and moaning with every lick of his skillful tongue.

He can only imagine how you look, eyes closed, chest heaving with ragged breaths, and head thrown back while you wear the Conqueror's crown, like a true queen.

[weirdmageddon]

the original post i want everyone to see is way out of my hands now, so i’ll repost this again here as new but separate post. it touches on things i want to go into more depth about.

@wasabikitcat gets this idea. this reply—thank you so much for not just understanding what i was going for, but putting my exact thoughts into cleaner words on the bad reading comprehension site.

i can't believe how misunderstood my point was about “spirituality” (i didn’t know it was that much of a loaded phrase!), but thank you for putting what i meant into more nuanced terms.

it's something that can be hard for me to put into words, and maybe i gave people the wrong impression by using the word "spirituality", since words mean different things to different people. i just haven't seen people discussing it so i wasn't sure how to really put it. but regardless of terminology, this reply is exactly what i'm getting at. and this is coming from someone who has a very scientific mind. i wouldnt even consider myself a traditionally “spiritual” person in the normal connotation of the word.

edit: this one as well!

i see this as a cultural/political factor that we shouldn’t ignore, because this sense of meaning has driven people's motivations since the beginning of human civilization.

there's a primal aspect that hasn't really left us but there seems to be no room for it in our modern culture because half of these “guides” seem to be driven by “i cant wait for civilization to collapse so MY ideology can rise from the ashes" and the other half of it seems to be driven by greed. and often they are hand in hand.

i would really like to see actual enlightening ideas stemming from buddhist thought, analytical psychology, collective unconscious, and archetypes to take off in the public consciousness. (completely divorced from jordan peterson. just the original jungian stuff)

i am especially supportive towards getting people interested in carl jung's works. his idea was to get people to understand, "what myth am i living?" based on the same archetypes and symbols that recur time and time again throughout human history that we can all collectively recognize regardless of culture. so it's a sense of meaning based in the self. i don't want people being sent down reactionary paths when looking for meaning in their lives.

i think it would benefit people to who feel lost especially in uncertain/unprecedented times like, with those “there's got to be more to this, something deeper,” insinct. i see that people are looking for this but get taken advantage of or manipulated.

but on this deeper sense of meaning in life thing, the Left isn't doing a great job at providing an option for “lost” people looking for meaning that the Right seems to be having no trouble with. i wonder if this is why we've seen so many of these lost young men flock to reactionary commentators?

this reminds me of an excellent point contrapoints made in her video about jordan peterson, saying,

“The last thing I like is that you talk about deep shit. I was watching a video where you and a couple of zany goons were talking about Plato and Aristotle and the meaning of life. And I thought, ‘Huh… on the Left, we don’t really talk about that kind of thing. All we talk about is how society oppresses people.’ And that might not be enough. Because people need to have a positive purpose in life. I mean, personally, I don’t give a shit. I’m pretty happy to sit here watching the same three seasons of Strangers with Candy until I die. But other people, like Dostoevsky, Camus, other white guys who talk about lobsters…they have this need to have purpose in the face of suffering, and like, not just complain about patriarchy. I guess it’s easier to not complain about patriarchy when patriarchy isn’t the thing that’s making you suffer. But I do think that an education that only teaches people about oppression is inadequate. We spend four years teaching undergraduates why capitalism is bad, and then we say, ‘Well, you’re educated now. Good luck getting a job under capitalism, bye!’ …And that really kind of sucks! But you know, I think that’s a point that can probably be made without comparing transgender activism to Stalin.”

speaking of her, this is a related post i wrote earlier on young men being radicalized and how to approach communication

and by the way, if you are interested in learning jungian psychology and want to see what it’s about, here are some resources to get you started:

i think the jung subreddit has a great collection of resources on its about page.

i highly recommend Demystifying Jungian Psychology to start. it’s meant for beginners. it is available in english and spanish. you can currently find the book in the comments section here. since sometimes these links lead to a 404, i don’t want to link directly to the google drive page. i want you to have a link to the original thread in case it gets broken.

[deliciousnecks]

But can we talk about how powerful nandor is? like yeah, he might be a bit silly, and not in touch with the modern world, but if he wanted to, he could have already conquered whatever the fuck he wanted to. (he built an army, and jerry is still looking at maps over there).

like let's just start by pointing out that nandor didn't need to be a vampire to accomplish all these great things that he wanted in life. vampirism only made him more dangerous. nandor has always had too much power in his hands, that he tends to misuse, but that's actually a good thing for the people around him because if not, the truth is that they would be fucked.

He was born in a position of privilege, one that put him later on in his life in positions of power, he was a leader who did fucked up shit. As a vampire, he can hypnotize thousands, but even if he couldn't, nandor knows how to attract people to him when he puts his mind to it, as we were able to see, but guess what? he also has doing everyone around him doing whatever shit he wants, because rarely people can say no to him. What nandor wants, nandor gets (even the stupidest of things).

Now. Don't get me started with his pyrokinesis. The dude can create and manipulate fire. Like come on, you know all the batshit crazy things that he could be doing with that? people should be thankful that he's not going around acting in unhinged ways.

He's a formidable warrior, the fact that he live as long as he did as a human, through battles and wars, and the guy didn't get killed? i don't know, but I think that says a lot about his kills. he also can use a large variety of weapons, so now imagine. This guy who's the greatest warrior of his time, gets the strength and the speed that comes with vampirism. he becomes a fucking killing machine (not like he wasn't one already), but now he's unstoppable and on top of that, immortal!

As i said in the beginning of this post, time and time again nandor has been given power, too much power I should say. he even got those 52 wishes and the things my guy here could have accomplished with them? ridiculous! but he was feeling silly, so... he decided to have fun instead. Good for him.

Now, we now he conquered places and won wars, and while his years as a ruler were bloody, it seems like he did a lot of Al Quolanudar when it comes to territory. What I'm trying to say is that he's a good strategist, he's good, no he's the best at what he does. he excels in what he was trained and taught to do (and even the vampire community acknowledges this).

People always like to underestimate him (the fandom included. it's true.), say that in a battle he stands no chance. That X, Y, and Z are more could easily demolish him, that he can't do shit for himself, but like excuse me, he's the oldest vampire in that house, look at all the shit that he can do, so no. He's the strongest and most powerful piece in that chessboard, mam. Nandor could go on a killing spree and no one could stop him.

This latest season really brought forward this qualities of his that had always been there. Nandor can be competent, he can be assertive, he really just chooses not to, but if he did! well, we saw what can happen when he is.

nandor is powerful, skillful, and dangerous in more than one way, and yes! smart when he needs to be.

And i make this post, because some people have made him into this character that's just an idiot with 0 qualities, and those qualities that he does have, are always being diminished to make other characters look better (yes. to make guillermo look better. i said it, which is highly unnecessary because he can shine on his own).

It's not that he can't do shit, the fact is that he doesn't want to.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

Today, the country indeed looks alien. The America many of us believed we knew now appears stranger in retrospect: The anger and resentment we may have thought was pitched at a simmer turned out to be at a rollicking boil. And one of liberals’ most cherished shibboleths from 2016—that Trumpism is a movement for aggrieved white men—unraveled in the face of a realignment that saw the GOP appear to give birth to a multiracial working-class movement. A second Trump presidency is the result of this misjudgment.

Democrats are a coalition party of the center-left

The Left has traditionally been associated with egalitarianism, which is by necessity concerned with the masses, the common people, the working class, but also the dispossessed, the marginalized, the disadvantaged

The modern Democratic party traces its roots most directly to the New Deal coalition of the 1930s, which it understands to have been a robust working-class and labor-rights movement

They also see themselves in the 1960s cultural revolutions and their repudiation of hierarchy, itself generally seen as the position of the common person, the masses, but also the dispossessed

The party takes its name from Andrew Jackson, great champion of the Common Man, at least as understood at his time, but it goes back to Thomas Jefferson, famous for declaring that "all men are created equal," and now excoriated for failing to live out that egalitarian principle

The Democrats are a party for the people, understood as capaciously as possible, the party that repudiates narrow nationalism and jingoism, in favor of spreading the benefits of American society widely, in opposition to favoring the privileged few

Why am I reminding you of all these things that you already know?

Because they believe so deeply that they are right in every way that matters, or at least incomparably superior to their opponents, they cannot begin to imagine repudiation from the very people in whose interests they thought they were acting, let alone in favor of the very person they swore was an existential, even murderous threat to those very same people

I think to appreciate the sensation, you might imagine a thief broke into your home, and then your family kicked you out in favor of the thief; someone broke in to ravish your spouse and they called the police on you; a sex offender told your children explicitly what he wanted to do them, and your children fought you to get out of your arms so they could crawl into the van knowing full well they'd never see you again

The shock is so existentially horrifying, such a betrayal of reality itself, that it would require rethinking all your most basic assumptions about the political order, human beings, and worst of all, yourself. Why would they do such a manifestly insane thing? Is there something I don't know? What did I miss? What did I do wrong? What do I do now?

Democrats cannot meaningfully internalize that they are the party of the privileged and the elite, by their own philosophy they are themselves the enemy, they write a blank check for the most lurid excesses of anti-colonial violence and call it "exhilarating" without dealing with the fact that given their assumptions, in this society, they are the power and not the resistance

But it's hard to ask yourself these kinds of questions and most people don't have the nerve for it, and so what we see instead, in another little paradox of human nature, is they're going to blame not the ravisher but the spouse

TL;DR, self-examination is hard, so now Democrats hate Latinos

[thetriggereffect]

True Blood - The Medical Advancement With No Medical Applications

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed True Blood, but I was always annoyed about one thing in particular: The whole setup is that scientists came up with a way to make artificial blood, but the only time we see this miracle advancement is in a bottle marketed to vampires. This is incredibly myopic, as this would be one of the most significant medical advances in history.

First of all, the Red Cross spends $2 billion a year collecting blood-- a majority of its operating budget. That money would no longer be needed, and would be spent on other causes. The Red Cross itself would become a considerably less influential power, which would probably be good for everyone (including the Red Cross).

In a world where blood is available by the keg, the average human lifespan would probably spike by 20 years. There are plenty of ailments, illnesses, and conditions that can be treated quite effectively with blood transfusion, but aren't, because blood isn't really available on that type of scale.

Every ambulance would be carrying a couple of gallons of O positive. In large hospitals they'd be working out of 50 gallon barrels. (This sounds like an exaggeration, but you'd be amazed how many different fluids are used in medicine because you just can't have that kind of blood on hand-- and because they're NOT blood, they have limits that unlimited transfusions would not.)

You would literally have a new class of licensed medical professional-- a transfusionist, falling somewhere between a phlebotomist, a paramedic, and a nurse. And they would be in incredibly high demand, because oh, buddy, we now have a world with elective blood transfusions.

Getting an "oil change" would be part of the spa experience. There would be teams doing housecalls out of a van ambulance, and blood boutiques in every shopping mall. Wealthy people would get transfusions the morning after a night of extreme partying.

And, I know, that's not the story they wanted to tell, but there would have been impact on the vampires as well, because the availability of True Blood would make real blood more readily obtainable, because humans could donate large quantities with no ill effects. (Hell, get a license as a transfusionist, go around in a van, and trade housewives a couple pints of True Blood for their natural blood... they'll PAY YOU to do it, and you can sell the blood or (if you're a vampire) drink it yourself.)

[autistichalsin]

My favorite thing is when birth-fetishist rightoids cry "but don't you want to pass on your genes?"

Literally what is special about my genes or anyone else's? It's the same four base nucleotides every human being has. All our genes have the same things: blueprints for proteins of various kinds, including some mutations, most of which will be impossible to tell and some of which could cause positive or negative effects, and then some regions that do absolutely nothing, which makes up far more of your DNA than the regions that do code for something. You don't have anything special in your genes and neither do I. Why would I care that much about how similar another being's eye color is to mine or whatever else? What a stupid thing to care about. Any given human being is similar enough for me to care about (hence why I want to adopt if I am still legally allowed to by the time the Cheeto takes office). My care for other people isn't contingent on them having the same-shaped nose as me.

Literally what is so important about "passing on your genes?" Why not just try to be a good person who is liked by those around you and, if possible, who excels in some area enough that you're remembered for it? I don't need genes to be some kind of record of me. Future archeologists (you know, the ones you love insisting will tell everyone confidently I'm "really a woman") aren't going to care what genetic makeup I had except for as a point of comparison to see how much genetic change there has or hasn't been in the time since.

Seriously, cishet people are hung up on the weirdest shit. Fucking genes, seriously?

[acti-veg]

If other animals can devour other animals, and we're ok with it (?) why humans can't? What distinguishes us from them? /gen

Firstly, non-human animals are not moral agents in the same way that human animals are. They are not making moral judgements about their decisions to kill other animals, they are not capable of weighing up different ethical values and coming to a conclusion based on reason, therefore they can’t be held morally responsible. This is a bit like how an adult and a small child can commit the same act, but face very different consequences and judgements for it.

Non-human animals, particularly carnivores, don’t usually have a choice about whether or not they’re killing other animals. I don’t believe that a human should be judged too harshly for killing another human if they have absolutely no choice in the matter, either. I also don’t judge humans who eat other animals because they have to in order to survive. Most non-human animals just do not live in a world where they have the luxury of choice, as most of us do.

Most humans (at least in consumer societies) have the option to not hurt or eat other animals. We are capable of understanding this fact and making an ethical choice based on reason, to act in such a way as to minimise the harm we cause. Yet most of us choose to eat animals anyway, even knowing that this requires exploitation and slaughter. Freely made choices that cause harm have to be open to moral criticism, because if they aren’t, then literally nothing is.

What always strikes me is that we primarily justify killing and eating other animals on the basis that they are different to us; their lives are of less value than ours, we’re better than they are so we are allowed to exploit them. Yet, when it suits us, we also want to be able to argue that we’re basically just the same as other animals so we can do what they do, it’s the circle of life... Most of us apparently see no problem with holding both of these positions at the same time.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

personally i think color has way too much integrity to go undercover as a spy he's gonna out himself after some time (although killer might cover for him a bit). however, now i'm thinking of people who can be undercover inside nightmare's gang of hooligans. fiest thought when i think of hooligan is delta, which is just... no 💀 he'll break his cover after five minutes. epic might be an interesting one - he's very chaotically good and doesn't have much qualms with violence himself.

the funniest option is fresh honestly. he has an amicable relationship with core frisk, who might have qualms with nightmare (or not - there's not much interaction or overlap between the two there). although, would be funny if fresh goes undercover because nightmare sometimes allies with error, who definitely has beef with core (why are bad sanses having beef with children this is embarassing 😭🙏).

That’s precisely why i think it’d be funny watching color struggle to go against his integrity 💀. Little bro gonna have to walk a hardline between the truth and the lie and he gonna have to keep his story straight.

I think his biggest issue would be the whole hurting people though, spreading negativity part. It’s probably become extremely obvious the toll it takes on him, even if his hand is eventually forced and he has no choice but to hurt.

When push comes to shove and there’s seemingly no other option, Color has shown to be able to kill—such as with his AU’s human—but here i think he’d struggle a lot. In most other cases, his choice to use violence was always for a reason (punching Undyne) or against an enemy who has proven that they won’t stop until they’re truly dead (the human.)

Thankfully he doesn’t really have to kill, because Nightmare needs victims alive. Perhaps Color earns his spot by preventing Killer from killing, since he does have enough strength and power to overpower Killer before Stage 4 factors into the equation.

Which would make an interesting dynamic if Nightmare assigns Color to be like, Killer’s handler or something… 🤔 Perhaps this is how Color comes to learn more about Killer’s situation because he’s put in a position to see him at his most vulnerable, but in sharp contrast, this only makes Killer more wary of and distrustful of Color—especially if it appears like Color joined willingly. I’d imagine it’d be a lot harder to get Killer to leave Nightmare willingly, because Color would either be a trap or a test that he’s not “stupid enough” to fall for.

Imagine both Color and Fresh undercover underneath Nightmare, it’d be hilarious. I like to imagine that both Killer and now Fresh find ways to disturb and creep Nightmare out.

I wonder what reasons Color would give for wanting to join Nightmare. Trying to save his universe? Get Gaster out of the Void? Defeat Corrupted Chara? Try and Reset Othertale back into Undertale so he’ll be remembered and have his brother back again?

I’m sure the last one, a part of Killer could empathize with—although it’d bring up a debate between Color and ST1 on if it’s better to be forgotten or not. Especially since, in contrast to eachother, being forgotten was one choice Color never got to make himself and being forgotten was one choice Killer ever made himself— without any outside influences.

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[septembermonologues]

i am so fucking terrified, i don't know how to get through this waiting

I guess I'm asking if there's any hope left to be had

the wait is so brutal but yes, i firmly believe that there is always hope!! some things i'm trying to keep in mind are:

- the red haze-- early results seem widely red because in-person votes lean republican. those votes are also counted first and faster because they're smaller counties compared to denser ones that lean democrat. make sure you're looking at the % of ballots counted because projected results aren't true results. the race won't start to actually solidify until tomorrow morning.

- keep an eye on your state and local reps! the nitty gritty stuff can be more positive than the national (i live in a pretty rural area but i just happily voted for rep underwood--a younger progressive black woman--a second time).

- just because results come short of what we hoped doesn't mean they represent popular opinion. in florida, marijuana and abortion rights have fallen short even with a 50%+ majority because they require a 60% majority to pass. i know it's incredibly disheartening to not see popular opinions supported by law but i also believe that you have to remember that people, especially people in historically red states, don't necessary tow the stereotypical line. there is room for movement and change.

- there are ballots that currently aren't being counted because they have errors that are CURABLE and CAN be counted if corrected. i already reblogged something about it but if you voted (esp if by mail) please answer unnamed calls because it could be about your ballot. if you go here at vote.com you can also track your ballot.

- there are always, always things for us to do between elections. encourage your friends and family to look forward at the 2026 midterms (they can have huge effects on congress) and start planning, see if there are any campaigns that could use your help moving forward, look into working polling stations in the future (i did it in 2018 and it was a long but fulfilling day), get the fuck outside and moving around. find out where you can volunteer around you- homeless shelters, food banks/kitchens, community events. read some history and some theory-- we aren't actually in completely unprecedented times and it's important to remember where we've progressed from.

- honestly? stop giving batshit crazy people the attention they want. no rage engagement. its what they want. focus on raising awareness without directly interacting with them.

- it fucking sucks ass that its this close and that extremists win. i will never ever say that it doesn't. but it will not be the end. it will be hard but thats when we have to lean on each other. we can't be afraid to ask each other for help and we have to find things to be excited and hopeful for. there is some truth to "other people have it worse so i have to keep going". who are we to give up on the whole?

maybe im just tipsy but i just find so much hope and inspiration in the work so many people put into civil service. people want better than what we have and are fighting for us. i can't let myself get too negative because it doesn't do any good to wallow. just in general i love humanity too much to let the bad win.

[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko Chapter 165 thoughts

At this point we're just suffering.

I cannot get on board with Hikaru as a villainous mastermind. The fuck were we doing for the entire movie arc where he was shown in a sympathetic light? Why in ch 155 did he supposedly have a change of heart only for a plot twist to wreck everything?

It's not that Hikaru would have been absolved of responsibility for Yura's murder because he was abused. It's just that before the stupid Nino twist he wasn't an undeniable monster

Akasaka created someone more interesting, human, and who was flawed in a way that wasn't over the top, and then yanked it away

You're telling me that sad boy Hikaru who blamed himself for Ai leaving him began to manipulate Ryosuke and Nino mere months after the breakup? Please

Anyway... grief is terrible. This chapter was miserable to read

Some people are using this as an opportunity to shit on Kana which is ridiculous. Is slapping a corpse in front of his family not great? Yeah. Does she have every damn reason to? I'd say so

Heartbreak is not just a phrase. It actually hurts. It can cause chest pain, headaches, shortness of breath. There's something called broken heart syndrome which can be caused by grief or stress. It affects the heart's ability to pump blood effectively

Point being that grief is physically and emotionally painful and a breakdown is totally normal

I agree with Gotanda's reasoning about releasing 15 YRL, however the film is now inextricably tied to Aqua's death

Where is Ai in all this? Why isn't she on this poster??? I thought this was a film about her life

Her name may very well never be mentioned again despite being the backbone of this story

This is why cult leader Hikaru is the best character. He's the only person who has remembered her since ch 155

Judging by her white stars, Ruby is probably going to pull through. While I don't want a nihilistic end, we have ONE chapter left. Can this really be earned?

And can it be done in a way that doesn't accidentally portray Aqua's murder-suicide in a positive light in the sense that Ruby living on and achieving her dreams reinforces what Aqua died for?

Next chapter: So here we are, very nearly at the end of all things. I am glad you are here with me, OnK fan community. It's been a journey.

Send your good vibes to marillust, a super talented fanartist, who is really sad about losing Aqua. They're cycling between depression and denial and I really get that.

I feel like I have to defend my dislike of this ending by talking about previously established themes, bad twists, etc. in order to not be shouted down by the "what did you expect? This was always a tragedy" crowd, but I'm just gonna say it.

I wanted Aqua to move on and be happy! I wanted Ai's wish for her kids to grow up healthy to be fulfilled. I wanted Aqua to call both his mothers "mom." I wanted him to value his life and see that the people around him loved him and needed him.

I didn't want Ai's death to be meaningless. I didn't want Ruby to lose her most important person. I didn't want Miyako to lose her son, Kana to never get to say "I love you," and Akane to never rebuild her relationship with Aqua.

I wish we'd gotten this and this and a spinoff manga about this.

All right, it's fine. Deep breaths. Time to stare at Ai art until I feel better. Here's a sketch Mengo did of her riding a dragon. Isn't that cute?

[cosmicjoke]

I wanted to add on to my initial answer to the anon ask I just got about Isayama confirming that the Ackermans lost their powers with the end of the titan curse.

I was talking to a mutual recently about this, and they said something that I think is so true, that it's actually such a positive, that Levi no longer has his Ackerman powers, because in truth, his strength was always such a burden to him. I think there was a lot of pain and a sense of guilt and failure in Levi that was rooted in his strength, for the fact that, despite it, he still lost so many people he loved. I think Levi must have often felt like he either wasn't using his strength well enough, or that he simply wasn't strong enough, for it to make a difference. Again, the reason Levi felt so compelled to use his strength to help others in the first place wasn't because of the strength itself, but because of his innate compassion and empathy. This mutual of mine also said that the ways in which Levi is able to help now, like handing out candy to children and planting trees, etc... is better for him, because it's more reflective of who he actually is inside, and that also is so true.

I've long maintained that Levi was never naturally inclined toward violence. I think Isayama intentionally contrasted Levi's story in "Bad Boy", the story of how his Ackerman powers awakened, with the panels of Eren killing Mikasa's kidnappers. Eren was always naturally inclined toward violence, and that's reflected in how really effortlessly he instigates and attacks Mikasa's kidnappers, how he had such a well-thought-out plan going in of how to kill them, etc... When you contrast that with Levi and his "plan" to retrieve his mother's tea set, it's really stark, because Levi went in without any sort of idea of how to fight back, of how to retrieve his mother's tea set, and when he was attacked, he didn't even fight back until they started insulting his mother, and even then, his initial attempts were totally ineffectual.

Levi was never a violent person, or someone who reveled in violence. He was only forced into becoming violent because of the desperate circumstances of his life. And that really highlights the tragedy of Levi being made into a human weapon, even if it was for a good cause. His Ackerman powers put him in a position that went against his very nature, in my view, for how they forged him into a living weapon. Because he felt he had to use them to help people, and the most effective way to do so with his strength was through physical brutality. But that was never who Levi was or is. He's a kind and compassionate man who cares deeply for other people. I think, deep down, Levi has always been a gentle person.

And that also brings up another point which I've argued again and again. We aren't meant to morally condemn Levi for being violent, we're meant to morally condemn the circumstances and the injustices of the world that forced Levi and every other character in the story into such extremes. When I see people accusing Levi of being "morally grey" or "morally wrong" for killing, it makes me want to rip my hair out. It absolutely destroys me that these people don't see the actual cruelty of judging and condemning someone for failing to be a pacifist when pacifism would get either them or other people killed. That they miss this crucially important distinction in AoT destroys me, too. AoT was never telling its audience that the people committing acts of violence should be condemned or judged for it. It was telling its audience that the unfair and unjust circumstances that pushed them into a corner and left them with no choice but to be violent is what we should be condemning. And I think no other character better demonstrates the tragedy of that than Levi, again, for how the cruelty and unfairness of his life forced him into becoming something he never was.

So, yeah, in many ways, Levi losing his strength is a blessing, because it allows him to be who he really is. His strength only ever forced him into embodying this role that wasn't reflective of his true nature. A "lunatic that kills people", as he said. Who Levi really is, is the man we see at the end of the anime, handing out candy to children. The same as in the many moments throughout the story that show Levi's great compassion, like him giving Petra's patch to Ivan, him comforting a dying soldier, him helping Historia to bring the orphans from Underground to the surface, him saving Ramzi, etc, etc...

[some-triangles]

Now that everyone's a little less raw it looks like the Takes are rolling in, so I might as well add mine.

The thing that frustrates me is that everybody knows that the democratic party is a bought and paid for centrism machine, but we forget this every time an election rolls around. It's been the most important election of my lifetime, where we have to set aside petty concerns like the social safety net or not slaughtering people in the middle east in order to vote for the lesser of two evils, for the last 20 years. It is a reflection on how eagerly human beings will divide themselves into factions that this continues to work.

I want you to reflect on that moment of enthusiasm the left collectively had when Harris came on board (do you remember when Walz made that joke about Vance fucking a couch? Good times.) Do you ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

There is a very obvious lesson to be learned from Trump's win here, but it will go aggressively unlearned, because it is not in the interests of the media or the political classes to learn it. The CNN roundtable on how Harris lost because she wasn't pro-Israel enough went out yesterday. Consider how much money is spent on a presidential election in this country - even the nicest, most liberal lobbyists, lawyers, "journalists", consultants and associated professionals have mortgages to pay and mouths to feed.

All I want at this point is a little honesty from the "in my america" lawn sign brigade, a little reflection. All I want is for the next time the democratic party comes around asking for your money, your energy, your attention- just think a little bit about what you've bought from them so far. Think about the current state of the healthcare system, think about who profits from it, think about how much you still spend on insurance and on top of insurance. Think about how the rich get richer under both parties. Think about how this election was decided when business decided they could accept Trump and the democrats were left holding the principles they'd been trying to sell, outbid for them. Tear up the fundraising letters, and on top of that, tear up your medical bills. Kick the sunk cost fallacy out of your brain and admit that this isn't working. I'm not asking you to take the next step, to think about why a message founded on white supremacy and american exceptionalism is so persuasive to so many of us, or why every single person in a position of real power is lying about a genocide that we can see happening on our phones. Just think about where your money has gone and whether there's been a return on your investment.

For those of you who already know what I'm talking about, the story is the same as it ever was. Due to inflation the 20 bucks of mutual aid we pass around should probably be updated to 50, and we should probably find some way of passing it that doesn't involve Peter Thiel, but other than that, business as usual.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey blusyyy!

I turn 19 in a week—yayyyy! :))))

So, I was hoping you could write a story where it’s the reader’s birthday and Donna is super determined to make it the reader’s best day ever!

That would literally make my day ")

Thanks a bunch!!! xx

Yesss!!! I hope you have/had a happy birthday :D!!! Thanks for your request! I hope you like it and enjoy your 19, it's a wonderful age! :))))))

Your special day

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 7,102

Summary: Does she remember what day is it?

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

“Mm,” you murmured childishly, moving in bed.

Normally you refused to wake up easily, you liked to slack off a bit, but not that day, that day was quite special.

For a girl like you, who had just turned 19, a warm bed and the security of waking up every day was almost a privilege. Living in that village wasn’t what Mother Miranda promised every day, it wasn’t a haven of peace and tranquility.

The cold and hard work was a constant for villagers like you. Work and pray or pray and work, those were the only obligations for you. It might seem simple and even a routine assured for the future, but it wasn’t.

When you came of age, girls like you had already finished living in a contemplative way, and would become servants of the Black Gods, one way or another. You remembered perfectly how your only two friends stopped accompanying you when they were hired at Dimitrescu Castle, as maids.

Being alone wasn’t a very serious problem for you, but even so, it was hard to see how life moved forward without remedy, gradually taking you away from the tranquility of childhood.

Your parents, always worried about your well-being, always kept you away from that rocky path of servitude, but they were no longer there. Too young, and too alone, you saw your dark future approaching with each day. Serving in the castle, getting married, working in the fields...

None of those options matched your abilities and concerns. You weren’t a maid; you weren’t born simply to serve a lout you didn’t love; you were different. A lover of history, books and antiquities, you were very reluctant to assume the destiny the Gods had placed on your shoulders at birth.

Your family, your friends disappeared little by little, isolating you from the world, making you open your eyes. You were about to give up, to recognize that none of your historical skills or your own knowledge would be of any use, maybe just to entertain some Lord while you served him.

Little by little, you accepted your destiny and in front of you, several options were spread out, each with its pros and cons: For a young, and nice-looking girl like you, it wouldn’t have been difficult to obtain a position as a maid in the castle, in addition, there you could have met your lost friends again but... you would never leave that place.

Factory assistant, dam guard... no, none of those alternatives solved your ambitions, not even taking advantage of your knowledge to be useful in some way to Mother Miranda. Obviously you liked your human form; you didn’t want to become a brainless beast.

Erratic, like a tormented soul, you wandered through each of those possibilities, saying goodbye to the world you knew and accepting the irremediable reality of your existence, at least until you met her.

Just when you thought that your knowledge, your desire to learn and your passion for reading were completely useless, the Gods seemed to give you a break. One day, some time ago, you made the mistake of reading in a remote place, in a place you weren’t aware of having crossed; in a dangerous territory from which no one returned, the lands of the lady in black, the youngest and most fearsome Lord, the lands of Donna Beneviento.

It could have been your end, but it was your beginning. You would never have thought that a woman like her, sick and disturbed, could take pity on you simply by seeing you with a book in your hand.

According to her living doll, culture and knowledge weren’t exactly the greatest hobbies of an average villager. Therefore, you had to be special. And so it was, without expecting it, thanks to a gift for books and wisdom you thought was useless, you managed to advance in your destiny, changing it forever.

It didn’t take long for you to discover that this veiled woman, immersed in the shadows, also had a hidden side that no one could ever see. Donna, the doll maker, was much more than that. She was a cultured, intelligent, elegant and intriguing woman. Having things in common with a Lord wasn’t exactly a good thing, but, in your case, it was.

You stopped reading in the cold of the village to do it next to her, to exchange silent opinions about anything. You weren’t made of stone, you had eyes. You could feel a lot of things when the lady in black was around you, when she granted you the privilege of speaking with her own voice, a hoarse but melodic voice.

Every day you went to the estate to spend the day with her, to drink tea in silence, to read, or to chat calmly (as long as the Angie doll didn't feel like making fun of you, of course). During the day you went, at night you returned to your lonely home until... you simply stopped doing it.

Your first kiss had been something you had imagined several times, but never as it really was, never with her, never with that beautiful woman who uncovered her face just for you, who confessed that those things you were beginning to feel were also part of her.

Love and chance shaped your own destiny, and, of course, you couldn't complain at all. Yes, the lady in black had problems you had to learn to deal with, but that was a small, tiny price to pay for being happy with her, for loving and feeling loved.

After almost a year, you no longer had any doubts. That house was your home, Donna was your home, and she always would be.

Coincidentally, that anniversary was just a couple of days before the day you were on, a special day like no other: your birthday. Yes, it's true that it happens every year, but your 19th birthday wasn't just any birthday, it was the first one you lived with Donna.

“Well…” you sighed, turning around and reaching out your arm to reach the brunette, but her warm body wasn't resting next to yours, you just awkwardly hugged an empty space. “Donna?”

You called the lady, still disoriented from having woken up and turned on the light in the room. You would never get used to sleeping in a room without windows.

“Mm,” you hummed, rubbing your eyes and staring ahead with a lost look. “Well, I guess, happy birthday (Y/N),” you said with a mischievous smile, stretching and getting out of bed. “Let's see if she remembers…” you murmured while rubbing your hands.

Donna wasn't stupid, and she knew how to listen, but... would she really remember how special that day was for you? There was only one way to find out.

Yawning, you walked through the dark basement, looking for any sign of the doll maker. The truth was that she used to wake up much earlier, but she used to try to get you up with her, after some cuddling, of course.

The silence in the basement was quite noticeable, something strange that made you have an unpleasant chill. Fortunately, something sounded in the kitchen, thus revealing the presence of the lady .

“Donna...” you said in a sleepy voice, while she seemed distracted picking up something from the counter.

She couldn't help a slight smile forming on her face when she heard you, but it faded as you approached.

“Hi, honey,” you said, hanging on to her waist with a mischievous smile, biting your lip as you affectionately kissed the back of her neck.

“Buongiorno, (Y/N),” she whispered, running a hand through yours and stepping away gracefully.

You shifted nervously on the floor, searching for Donna's eye, which seemed to resist looking at you.

“Oh, um... did you sleep well?” you asked in a slightly petulant voice, slurring your words innocently and wiggling your eyebrows to catch her attention.

The doll maker glanced at you briefly, nodding in the same way.

“Yes, tesoro, as always,” Donna whispered in a somewhat strange tone, colder than usual.

“Great,” you sighed, tilting your head so she could look at you again.

If you didn't know her, you'd think it was just a normal day for her; that she had completely forgotten about your birthday. Of course you refused to believe it, she was probably too distracted.

“Donna,” you said humming, running a finger down her back, catching her attention.

“Mm?” she murmured, kissing the back of your hand and frowning, moving away from you again.

“Um, um…” you stammered somewhat embarrassed, looking down. “Don't you have anything to say?” you asked with your voice broken by nerves.

If she really hadn't forgotten, she was pretending very well… or… or maybe she didn't care that it was your birthday. The second option was definitely the worst of all.

“Yes, you look beautiful, as always,” the lady said, with a passive voice while placing some pans, watching the coffee she made every morning. “Coffee?”

“Oh, yes of course,” you said with a nervous laugh, approaching again. “But, but… well, today is a very special day, isn't it?”

“Special? No, I don't think so, (Y/N),” Donna said, shaking her head and making your shoulders deflate, as well as your chest. “It's just another day.”

“Do you really think so?” you asked in a small voice.

No, there would be no gifts or surprises. You no longer had any doubts, Donna had forgotten. You couldn't blame her. Her mind was sick and loneliness devoured too many years of her life. Thinking about your birthday didn't seem one of her priorities. You would be lying if you said you didn't feel a deep disappointment, but then again, you couldn't blame her.

“W-Well… then I better… prepare breakfast,” you whispered with a sad look, making the lady stop serving the coffee.

“It's not necessary, you know I like to prepare it myself,” Donna said, with a genuine smile, emphasizing your sadness even more.

“Okay…” you sighed, trying not to give away your feelings with your words. “Wait, have you taken a shower?”

“Uh-huh,” Donna whispered, looking at the coffee, completely ignoring you. “You should do the same.”

“Donna… you know I like to do it with you,” you said without being able to feign a bit of frustration.

A hot shower hugging the love of your life… On a normal day that was one of your greatest pleasures, but that wasn’t a normal day.

Donna couldn't pretend she didn't know how much you liked hugging her body under the water, closing your eyes while you felt her skin against yours. The excuse of having forgotten your birthday wouldn't work with that.

“I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait for you to wake up, tesoro,” the lady murmured, placing the cups on the counter. “Go take a shower, get pretty for me, will you?” she ordered subtly, making you nod and give her a look that was a bit... furious, just a bit.

“Okay, Donna...” you whispered, lowering your gaze again, sad.

The day certainly didn't start the way you wanted.

“Aspetta, (Y/N)” she called you, interrupting your sad step out of the kitchen.

Your face lit up, clinging to one last hope.

“Yes?” you asked with wide eyes, with a smile lifting your corners again.

“When you're done, set the table, will you?” she whispered with disinterest, without even looking you in the eyes.

Your sadness slightly mutated into anger, and you gritted your teeth.

“Why don't you set it yourself? You're not doing anything,” you said with an unpleasant tone, making Donna look at you sharply, with a surprised expression.

“I'm making breakfast, (Y/N),” she said, with an annoyed tone, shaking her head. “Do you expect me to do everything?”

“No, I...” you said regretful of your unfair attitude, lowering your head in apology. “You're right, forgive me, Donna.”

The lady just shook her head, ignoring you again.

During your shower, a horrible one, you thought about your girlfriend's behavior. Yes, she could have forgotten about your day, but something in her attitude said that it wasn’t a simple oversight.

You were quite used to the madness taking over her sometimes, to her having... bad days, days in which that brusqueness towards you was the product of the frustration she felt when repressing her desire to cry or scream, just for you, just so that you wouldn't have to suffer her illness.

Getting angry about that would be selfish, but you couldn't help but growl in rage. There were 365 days in a year, and it had to happen to her that one, just that one, right on your special day. You tried to stop thinking about it, and hope or pray, that phase of anger and those crises would pass soon and Donna, your Donna, would be back.

Already dressed, sighing, you walked to fulfill her request, going up the elevator tired, disappointed.

“What the…?” you asked, blinking several times when you reached the dining table.

It was already set, full of delicious breakfast treats, with a steaming plate of pancakes in front of your seat. There were flowers, elegant glasses filled with natural juice and everything was placed perfectly. The salty smell of bacon contrasted with the sweetness of the syrup that, wow, looked homemade.

It was the best breakfast you had ever seen in your entire life and your eyes wandered over every part of the table, over every detail carefully studied. In the middle of the table, there was an envelope, with your name written on it. Your hands trembled from the shock and you were unable to stop smiling as you carefully opened it.

Look behind you

You obeyed with a shy laugh, frowning to look for something that would catch your attention.

“Hey, silly, here!” a shrill voice directed your gaze to a small table, where the Angie doll rested with something in her arms. “Are you blind or what?”

“Angie?” you asked amused, approaching the puppet, who extended something wrapped towards you. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just following orders, silly,” Angie said, with apparent discomfort in her voice. “Here, here.”

You, with a gesture of gratitude, took the package, running your hand through the wrapping paper.

“What are you waiting for? Open it,” the doll told you, looking over your shoulder to try to figure out the contents.

You nodded, looking towards the hallway, searching for the lady in black with your eyes. You were never a patient girl, and you decided to obey Angie and slowly remove that decorative paper, touching with your fingers the soft fabric of what looked like a dress.

“Wow… it’s beautiful,” you said, taking out the dress and spreading it down, placing it on top of your clothes.

Those seams, that combination of colors… There was no doubt, Donna had made it. She had made it for you.

“Angie, what…?” you asked excitedly, but before you could finish the sentence, some hands on your waist startled you.

“Did you think I had forgotten?” a tender whisper in your ear sent shivers through your entire body and you turned to see a very different Donna, smiling warmly before kissing you slowly, with a delicacy and elegance that almost made you faint.

“Donna,” you sighed, letting yourself be hugged, letting the lady gently touch your cheek with her hands. “My love…”

“Buon compleanno, tesoro,” the lady whispered, kissing you slowly again, bringing your body closer to hers while you clung to it, on the verge of tears.

“I-I really thought you…” you sighed, with a dazzling smile. “Oh, Donna, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said amused, cupping your face with her hands. “I wanted to make you suffer a little.”

“Well, you succeeded,” you said amused, giving her a tender punch on the shoulder while she laughed, gently pushing you from behind. “H-Hey, the dress is… beautiful, I have no words.”

“Mm, you are beautiful, amore mio,” Donna said purring, indicating for you to sit down.

“Oh, wait, wait, I'm going to change,” you said nervously. “I'm looking forward to seeing how it looks on me,” you said amused, heading to a room.

You shouldn't underestimate Lady Beneviento. She always managed to surprise you, in any way.

“How does it look on me?” you asked once you were changed, turning around so that the fabric moved hypnotically. Donna smiled and came over with a frown, touching the seams, checking that everything was perfect.

“Mm, do you feel it tugging on you anywhere?” she asked in a professional manner, which you found adorable. “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s perfect, Donna, although if it were a wicker dress I would wear it anyway, because you would have made it,” you said with blushing cheeks, moving in a childish way, completely in love.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, kissing your cheek and grabbing your hand to guide you to the table, sitting you down in the chair in a gentlemanly manner. “Eat, it will get cold.”

“Yes,” you said, picking up the cutlery, your eyes on that plate of pancakes. “Um, Donna, all of this…”

She looked at you, taking a piece of toast.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it's just that... Honey, preparing this must has taken you a long time,” you said with a regretful whisper, regretful for having doubted her. “What time did you get up?”

“That doesn't matter, tesoro,” she said, with a tender smile, caressing your hand. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Yes, of course, my love,” you said, biting your lip and starting to eat breakfast. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Thank her?” Angie interrupted, with her hands on her hips. “Hey, I helped! You haven't even seen my gift!”

“A gift? You? For me?” you asked amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Angie, behave, remember what we talked about,” Donna said with a serious voice, glancing at the puppet. “Don't… do that,” she protested with a sigh when Angie climbed onto your lap. “Angie, you have to…”

“Yes, yes, leave the fool alone because it's her birthday and blah, blah, blah,” Angie said, moving exaggeratedly on top of you. “Look, look, fool, this is for you,” she said, effusively pointing at a piece of paper that you didn't see at first.

“Wow, thanks,” you said, caressing the doll's head, to which, of course, she protested with a grunt.

You laughed when you saw what that gift from the doll contained. It looked like a drawing, some doodles that had the shape of people. Yes, Angie had definitely gifted you with a clumsy drawing of you and Donna, one that reminded you, in a funny way, of the innocent drawing of a child.

“It's... very nice,” you said, holding back your laughter, a gesture the brunette also made, watching that Angie didn't bother you too much.

“Nice? It's a damn work of art,” Angie said, too close to your face, letting herself fall on your legs, pointing at the drawing. “Look carefully, silly, I've drawn you well, I haven't put horns on you or anything like that... although the temptation was great...”

“Wow, I appreciate the detail, Angie,” you said, shaking your head.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” Donna whispered in a kind tone. “There's still a lot of day ahead, tesoro, your time is mine. What do you feel like doing?”

“Oh, after this… well, I wouldn't like you to worry about me anymore, why don't you work on your dolls?” you said kindly, knowing making that breakfast hadn't been a matter of a few minutes.

Poor Donna should have been awake for hours, just for you, you should do something to compensate for her effort and, leaving her alone, working on her dolls without you bothering her was something she always appreciated.

“No, nothing like that, amore mio,” Donna said, shaking her head. “Today is your day, and I want to spend it with you… come on, get up,” she whispered, getting up and raising one of the glasses. “(Y/N), salute.”

“Oh, salute,” you repeated, clinking the glasses softly.

The day had started badly, but you barely remembered that frustration. It would be an unforgettable day, you were sure.

It was strange to see Donna doing everything you asked her to do. You could almost feel like a boss. The morning was very calm, with tender moments of caresses, kisses, words of love, well, as always, but with a special emphasis on making everything the lady did, perfect for you.

You decided what book to read, what to do… You were in charge, it was clear that it was your day, a day where nothing else mattered but you.

A delicious meal, a birthday cake… every hour that passed was better than the last. The smile never left your girlfriend's face, except when she got a little nervous about simple gestures like lighting the candles or watching you make a silent wish. You were clear about what you were going to ask for: to always be by her side, no matter what.

The afternoon came slowly and with it a kind of pause in your euphoric attitude. While Donna cleared the table because, of course, the birthday girl shouldn't do it, you looked out the window, with a melancholic smile on your face.

You sighed, but not with sadness, rather with longing. When you were younger, birthdays were much simpler, but laughter, games, and above all, your friends, were the protagonists. Adult life was cruel, taking those moments away from you, leaving them in your mind as mere memories, memories of a better, different time, one you didn't know that had an expiration date.

You couldn't be happier. Donna had done everything she could to see you smile, to make you feel special, you even suspected that there were even more surprises for you, since the Angie doll was never the best at keeping secrets, and Donna got very nervous when she seemed to want to say something dangerous.

You were eager to know what else was in store for you, but you couldn't help but feel a little sad. As expected, the lady in black noticed that small change in your face, sitting next to you on the couch and running a hand through your hair.

“Tesoro, I notice sadness in your eyes,” she said in a soft voice, lifting your chin.

You smiled awkwardly, shaking your head and kissing Donna to distract her, a strategy that usually worked, but that day, it didn't.

“It's nothing, darling,” you said, playing with her hands.

Her eye shone with the shadow of suspicion and a hand caressed your cheek to make you more nervous.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured, looking at you with pity, begging you to be honest with her.

That day, that very day, you couldn't deny her the reality, not after everything she had done for you.

“Fine,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on her shoulder, resting your head on her chest so she could continue caressing you. “I was thinking about when I was younger.”

“Younger? You're 19,” she joked, with a tender smile, without stopping hugging you.

“Yes, but… I don't know… I've already told you about my friends, right? You know, Tatiana and Martha,” you commented, absentmindedly playing with the buttons on her dress.

“Mm,” the lady murmured, listening to you attentively.

It didn't matter if it was your birthday or not, the ability to listen was one of her greatest virtues, even if you knew that deep down, any person who wandered through your mind and wasn't her, caused Donna a certain… annoyance.

“I miss them,” you whispered with a voice broken by memories. “When it was one of our birthdays we would have a party at home… there were streamers, gifts, games…”

“I understand,” she said dryly, kissing your hair lovingly.

“W-Well, you know that they are now maids of the castle… I haven't seen them for two years, although they have written me some letters,” you commented distractedly, trying not to be sad. “It's not because it's my birthday or anything, but sometimes I wish I could see them, even if only for a little while.”

“Who knows, maybe someday,” Donna said, showing how little interest she had in you seeing your friends, something you already knew made her terribly jealous. “Well, you better stop thinking about the past.”

“Yeah… you're right,” you said, getting up and trying to forget about the subject. “What do we do now? There's still a lot of day left… do you have any more surprises for me?” you asked amused, tickling the lady, who moved away comically.

“Hey, basta, basta, tesoro,”she said, laughing involuntarily, grabbing your wrists. “Maybe you'd like to take a walk with me.”

“More surprises?” you asked anxiously, following the lady, who got up from the couch.

“If I told you…”

“Yes, yes, it wouldn't be a surprise. I'm going to get my coat,” you said, jumping slightly on the floor as the lady in black walked over to the Angie doll, whispering something to her.

“Yes, ma'am!” the puppet said, making a funny military gesture.

You frowned when you saw that Angie stayed at home while Donna subtly dragged you through the grounds, taking you out of the mansion. What did the lady have in store for you? There was only one way to find out.

With that leisurely stroll, you forgot about your birthday. You walked alongside Donna through the woods, with the warmth of her hand in yours, with her smile always present, with her whispers of love becoming the melody that followed the rhythm of your steps.

“Mm, this is quite relaxing,” you commented, getting a little closer to Donna, who smiled distractedly, walking with you towards a slightly secluded corner. “Where are we?”

“I used to come here when I was little,” the brunette commented, pointing at some weathered wooden benches, which pointed to stunning views of the mountains, which shone pink due to the increasingly faint rays of the sun.

“It's beautiful,” you said, sitting next to Donna on one of the benches, taking in the views, not wanting to say anything so as not to interrupt that comfortable silence.

Caresses, kisses... it was a truly romantic moment, and, without the Angie doll to spoil it, you could really consider it perhaps the most romantic moment of your life.

“Tesoro, come, turn around,” the lady said, breaking the calm with her melodic voice, grabbing both of your hands and guiding your body. “I want you to stay here for a moment, okay?”

“Here? Oh...” you said, raising and lowering your eyebrows petulantly. “Why?” you purred, dragging out your words.

“Mm, you'll see,” she said, bending down to steal a kiss from you and looking around. “But you have to close your eyes.”

“Come on,” you said in a mocking tone, crossing your arms.

“Fallo e basta…” Donna said, with a slightly darker voice, frowning.

“Oh, okay, okay,” you said whispering and rolling your eyes, swinging your legs on the bench.

You heard her footsteps in the snow, moving away, but it didn't take long for you to hear them again, barely a minute later.

“Open them, tesoro,” Donna murmured, while you frowned due to a sweet aroma that was very close to you.

“Oh, Gods…” you sighed tenderly when you saw in front of you a bouquet of carnations perfectly placed in Donna's hands. “Donna… they're beautiful…”

“Do you like them?” she asked, sitting next to you again. “Look, have you noticed the color?”

“The color? Oh, that's right, they have a strange color,” you said, looking at the petals of the flowers, which, certainly, had an unusual tone. “Wow...”

Donna laughed amused, joining her hand with yours and resting her head on your shoulder.

“Does the color of your eyes seem strange to you?” she whispered in your ear, kissing it slowly. Then you realized.

“No...” you said with a distrustful smile, looking at the color of the flowers and checking that her words told the truth.

The color of the carnations was exactly the same as your eyes. It was something wonderful, something you had never seen.

“I can't believe it, Donna, it's amazing. How did you do it?” you said excitedly, devouring the doll maker with kisses. “Donna, you're wonderful…”

“A magician never reveals the tricks, (Y/N),” the brunette sighed, fighting against your merciless kisses. “I wanted to give you a special gift, one that was just for you, although for me these flowers are nothing compared to your beauty.”

“Mm…” you purred again, with your cheeks hot from blushing. “Is that also a gift?”

“No, it's just a compliment,” she joked, getting up after one last kiss and extending her hand towards yours. “Come on, tesoro, it's getting dark, let's go home.”

“Yes, let's definitely go back,” you said amused, letting the lady pull you for another romantic walk towards the mansion.

When you arrived you noticed something strange, the door was half open and darkness dominated inside. You paused a bit, glancing at the brunette.

“Um, Donna, did you leave the door open?” you asked, hiding behind her, who shook her head.

“No, of course not,” she said, climbing the steps and entering the dark mansion, disappearing in the darkness.

“Donna?” you asked when you lost sight of her, with a bad feeling, walking through the dark mansion. “Donna, honey… where are you?”

You were scared by that sudden and unexpected loneliness. The mansion wasn’t exactly a warm and welcoming place. Walking through it alone was the closest thing to a tunnel of terror that you knew.

“Angie? Donna?” you called nervously, opening the living room door.

You had to close your eyes, as a blinding light suddenly appeared, along with some strange voices.

“Happy birthday!” two girls shouted, throwing streamers at you while you blinked in astonishment.

“T-Tatiana… Martha…” you sighed almost without a voice when you recognized your friends, your only friends, who were laughing happily in a room decorated just for you, for your birthday. “Gods… Girls!” you shouted, throwing yourself into their arms, hugging them tightly while they did the same.

“I'm glad to see you, (Y/N),” Tatiana said, equally excited, almost crying in that hug of pure friendship.

“Yes, (Y/N), you look great,” Martha commented while you couldn't hold back your tears.

“But, but... what are you two doing here?” you asked nervously, visibly excited. “Y-You were in the castle and...”

“Yes, well, it seems Lady Beneviento convinced Alcina to let us go out for a while and come here,” one of your friends said, approaching the table, where the food and drink were awkwardly placed. There was no doubt, it was Angie's doing.

“Lady Beneviento?” you asked confused, looking back, where the lady in black was, camouflaged in a dark corner of the hall. “Oh, Donna...”

You sighed, shaking your head and running towards the lady, who was obviously hiding her face behind the black veil.

“Donna...” you sighed with a tear running down your cheek, mercilessly squeezing the doll maker. “What have you done?”

“Well, I just called Alcina a few days ago to see if she had two spare maids,” she commented amused, fighting off your attacks of affection.

“This is too much…” you said, looking back at your friends, who were setting up the things on the table. “Donna, you know how important my friends are to me… it's been…”

“Two years since you last saw them, I know,” she cut you off.

“But you don't like me to get involved with anyone,” you said, confused, looking at her with a frown.

“What I like doesn't matter, tesoro, today is your day, and I want you to be happy,” Donna whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “So… go, don't make them wait, they don't have much time.”

“Yes, it's true,” you said, moving away from her arms, but turning around as soon as you started to walk. “Hey, and… what about you?”

“Don't worry about me, I still have to prepare a delicious birthday dinner for you,” the lady said, giving you a kiss on the cheek through her veil. “Go, tesoro, enjoy.”

“I love you,” you said with a loving smile. “Donna, I love you so much.”

“Vai...” she whispered impatiently, pointing to your friends with her head.

You obeyed and prepared to spend one of the best evenings of your life. Everything was just as you remembered it: laughter, anecdotes, interesting conversations... It seemed like you had gone back in time. You were with your friends, with your best friends, enjoying a nice birthday party. Each one of them even had a detail with you, a gift.

You were in paradise, you laughed, you cried, you talked... Everything was so wonderful that you could hardly believe it and thanks to Donna. The lady in black, the lonely and sick doll maker, had given up her jealousy, her reluctance to see you interact with other people; she had sacrificed a few hours with you so you, only you, could be happy.

The dress and the flowers were wonderful but… that time with your friends, that chance to remember happier times… that was, by far, the best of all the gifts.

“Now, let’s play,” Angie said, interrupting your conversation, causing the two girls to look at each other with a comical expression of distrust. “What are you making those faces for?”

“Calm down, girls, Angie is harmless,” you said amused, as Angie began to deal out some cards. “But I warn you, she cheats.”

“Hey!” the doll protested, looking at you dangerously.

“Oh, okay…” one of your friends said, taking the cards from the doll’s hand, the doll who was making a brusque gesture with her mouth. “Ah, she wants to bite me!”

“Calm down, silly, silly, I only bite people I don’t like,” Angie said, sitting in front of you with the cards in her hand.

“Do you like us?” Tatiana asked, looking at you a bit scared. You laughed amused.

“Mm, I don't know yet, maybe if you lose…” the doll murmured.

Games, laughter, Angie… you couldn't ask for anything else, you didn't want anything else, you had everything.

Just as time went by, your friends left the mansion, with the promise of returning whenever they could. The day was ending, although not before a romantic and silent dinner with Donna, a dinner that marked the end of what was clearly the happiest day of your life.

“It's been a wonderful day, darling,” you said with a tender voice as you sat on the bed, exhausted, but happy.

“It’s been?” she asked, approaching slowly. “I'm not done yet, tesoro, I have one last gift for you…” she whispered in your ear, slowly moving away and bringing her fingers to the buttons of her dress.

“Oh, I think I'm going to love that gift,” you said in a sensual voice, watching how, little by little, the brunette's clothes disappeared, ready to give you one last gift, in a much more intimate way.

Passion was quite common within the walls of the bedroom, but that night the pleasure was impregnated with pure happiness, with everything you had experienced during the day.

Donna was much more romantic, slow and affectionate than usual, giving you all the pleasure possible, almost forgetting about herself. Of course, you couldn't allow that, she deserved everything you could give her and much more.

Exhausted, worn out by the screams, the moans and the passion, you collapsed on the bed, hugging your naked bodies, decorating them with small kisses that seemed tireless.

“Donna…” you whispered as you snuggled into her chest, enjoying her caresses, her slow and calm breathing. “I've been wondering…”

“Mm?” she murmured, placing a soft kiss on your head, squeezing you with her arms so the warmth of your body didn't leave hers.

“Hey, when's your birthday? I don't think you've ever told me,” you asked, to know when was the day when you would have to put in your maximum effort just for her, something you were quite sure you would do.

“Oh, well…” Donna said, nervous. “There's still a long time, tesoro.”

“Oh, okay,” you sighed, still in doubt, but focusing on those tender affections, on her sweet kisses and caresses. “Today has been the best day of my life, Donna.”

“Really?” she asked amused, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “I'm glad to hear it.”

“I really don't want it to end,” you said sleepily, letting the euphoria subside and the tiredness to take over your body.

Donna laughed, turning off the light and positioning you in a comfortable position so you could rest.

“I love you, (Y/N), you are the love of my life,” she whispered, making you smile.

Your day was finally over, but the routine would never be the same again, not after that fantastic birthday.

The next day, you woke up next to her, you showered together… normality had returned, that peaceful and tender normality. Of course, after breakfast, Donna went to the workshop to make her dolls after convincing her that you would take care of cleaning up the mess from the party the day before. It was the least you could do.

“Let's see, where I put you…” you muttered as you picked up an ancient history book your friend Martha gave to you, looking for room on one of the shelves. “Yes, here.”

Nodding and sighing, you placed the book in a gap, gently pushing it. A dull sound startled you, making you bring your hand to your chest.

“Jeez!” you said, taking a breath and checking what the source of that sound had been, going around the shelf. “Oh, isn't there room among so many books?” you asked into the air.

By putting the new book in that gap, you had accidentally pushed another one that was unseen in the same place. You definitely had to ask Donna for another shelf… but that would be another day.

“Well…” you sighed, bending down to pick it up, reading the title with curiosity. “Um… Um… no…” you said amused at not understanding a single word and missing the opportunity to, perhaps, read something interesting.

As you placed the book back down as best you could, something slipped from between its pages, gracefully flying towards your feet.

“Okay, you want me to bend down today, right? I'm not that young anymore,” you said with an exaggerated gesture, picking up what had fallen. “Oh, wow,” you said curiously, seeing that it was a black and white photograph. “But... who is this pretty girl?”

In the photograph there was a dark-haired girl with a scar on her eye, Donna, no doubt. It wasn't the first time you saw a photo of her when she was a child, but this one was something different, since, with a smile (something rare to see in little Beneviento) she was holding a brand new Angie doll.

“How curious, I should show it to Donna,” you said amused, turning the photograph over and checking that there was something written on it, along with a date. “Oh…”

Donna Beneviento, nono compleanno…

“What? Novembre?” you said, reading the date over and over again. “No, no, no, it can't be…”

No matter how you read it, the number was written clearly. It wasn't just a number and a month, it was also an overwhelming revelation that you couldn't believe, you just couldn't.

“Gods… it can't be… Donna!” you screamed, clenching your fists tightly at that unexpected fact, running quickly towards the elevator.

It wasn't just any date, of course. On that old photograph was written the damn day of her birthday, a day that wasn't just any day, it was the same day as yours.

You didn't understand why she never told you, why she refused to tell you that you shared a birthday, why she tried so hard to hide it, and above all, why she did so many things for you when she deserved them too.

The emotion of that horrible discovery broke your heart, and as you walked to the workshop to demand explanations, you broke down, tears starting to slide down your cheeks.

“Donna!” you screamed, opening the doors of the workshop, scaring the lady, who was working on her dolls tirelessly. “Donna… Donna, Donna, Donna…” you repeated, throwing yourself hastily into her arms, crying on her shoulders.

“T-Tesoro… amore mio, what's wrong?” the lady said, handling your arms as best she could, scared by your nervous attitude. “(Y/N), why are you crying?”

“What's wrong with you? Are you stupid or something?” you asked, moving away from her hug and making her open the eye wide, confused by your abrupt words. “What does this mean?” you asked, throwing the photograph at her.

“Oh, it's me, I think I was…” she commented distractedly, looking at herself.

“9, yes,” you said before she continued, turning the photo over and pointing at the inscription. “What is this, huh?”

Donna closed her eye and sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“But… but… why didn't you tell me?” you asked with a sad, guilty look. “Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday too?”

“(Y/N), I…” she said, leaving the photo on the table and taking your hands slowly. “Listen, tesoro, that's not important to me.”

“It's not important?” you repeated nervously, crossing your arms. “Gods, Donna… yesterday was, it was a wonderful day and… shit, Donna, you should have told me… It's not fair.”

“What's not fair?” the lady asked, calming your nerves with a caress.

“Everything you've done for me... all your gifts... fuck, Donna, it was your birthday too, you deserved all those things... you deserved...” you murmured, broken down again, letting yourself be embraced by the lady in black, who stood up and took your head to her chest. “Honey... why?”

“Shh, don't cry, please...” the lady whispered, in a calm tone, moving your body romantically. “Don't cry, my princess...”

“Donna, it's not fair, you should have had the best day of your life,” you sobbed. “I had to...”

“No, amore mio...” she said, grabbing you by the shoulders. “For me the passage of time is just an illusion, it's just days, months, years... the only thing that matters to me, tesoro, is to see you happy, to make you happy every day, to celebrate with you that passage of time that for me is nonexistent. The best gift you can give is to love me as much as I love you.”