#too much. too much effort into this. far too much. why. why.... i know why pointless to qsk its becwuse i didnt want to do things irl

[d0llcuries]

ICE-CREAM FOR TWO

pairing(s): reiner braun x fem! reader

summary: you hated him for dragging you to marley, for every stolen chance at freedom. you expected the feeling to be mutual as you rented him for four long years but it wasn't. what better way to address this than ice-cream!

author's note: uh, i guess i write for aot now. blame my cousin and her insistence on getting me addicted to this stupid show for the possibility of inaccurate writing. i love reiner pls send requests for aot 🤲🏽

the market cradled you today in a way almost cruel, with its heat and grit pressing close, air thick with burnt coffee, iron on the breeze, syrupy traces of cotton candy and caramel inviting you into the hic et nunc, although you didn’t want to be. you hated this noise, this heat, the whole crowded mess of voices folding together like waves. you hated how it almost felt like home. you hated how you could almost trick yourself into calling it that if you tried hard enough. a mirror showing something soft, distant, something that could’ve been yours in some other life. no matter how warm the market held you, the truth settled somewhere beneath it all. this land is borrowed, marley is not home, and no amount of rose-tinted glass could change that.

under a washed-out sky, baskets burst with flowers like muted fireworks, children racing in loops, dogs tangled and nipping at their heels. you thought about reiner before you saw him. he was sitting across the square, shoulders hunched as if he were carrying every brick and stone of marley on his back, the same as he’d carried those in paradis. he looked like he was far away, somewhere only he knew how to reach. you still saw that ghost of the soldier you thought he was back then, before everything came apart.

you’d told yourself you wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t let him know that, after all this time, you’d never quite stopped noticing him. you wonder why you think of him so much, why he takes up all this space in your mind even when he's not near. it was strange how close you were and weren’t, your lives spooled together and then split, moth-eaten like old twine.

but then gabi’s voice broke into your thoughts.

“hey, yn! can you buy us ice cream, please? come on, it’s not far! the ice-cream stand's like.. right around the corner, and i haven’t had any in soooooo long!” gabi stretched out the ‘so long’ ensuring that you felt every inch of the ache that came from a whole season without the taste of frozen sugar. she practically sang, her sticky hand finding yours and pulling before you’d had a chance to respond.

before you knew it, you were standing at the old ice-cream stand, faded to a dull blue, the wood bleached and splintering under too many hot days. the vendor, an older man with sunburned skin and tired eyes, barely lifted his gaze as he rattled off the list of flavors available.

while you hadn’t chosen this home, you chose these people, or maybe they chose you in some inexplciable way. the days of resentment, the times you’d longed to be anywhere but marley, softened over time. gabi, falco, and udo, each of them with their bright, trusting faces had managed to bring out a warmth in you that you’d forgotten was there. you hadn’t planned to love them, but they’d worked their way into the little cracks between loneliness and anger, without effort or warning. it felt like love. you loved them.

“please, please, please?” gabi’s voice tumbled out, each please more insistent than the last. you pressed your lips together, trying to chase away the smile that wanted to break free, but there was no stopping it. the vendor cleared his throat, glancing at the line of customers that was growing behind you, and that pressure paired with gabiʼs nagging commenced the immediate collapse of any resolve you’d held and any remaining choice you had.

“alright, alright,” you murmured. “three, please,” you said, “two caramel swirls… and a chocolate.”

you pull the coins from your purse, and slide them across the vendor’s counter, a quick glance past the crowd where you know reiner’s somewhere out there, not close but close enough. you dig back into your purse, pull out enough for an extra ice cream, and place it on the wood. “and one more, vanilla.”

the vendor didn't blink. he handed you the cones with a practiced indifference, the soft edges already drooping in the heat, melting faster than they should. gabi snatched hers right away, giving a quick “thanks!” but not really looking at you. she didn’t need to, her appreciation was in her wide-eyed grin and the way she immediately started devouring the cone as if she’d waited years for it. udo took his with a quiet “thank you,” glancing at the cone like it was the first good thing he’d seen all day. falco gave a small nod, not meeting your eyes, as if the simple gesture was too much kindness to take all at once.

you glance at the extra cone in your hand, and you think about the boy—no, man—you had brought it for.

your gaze flickered to the square, and there he was, his silhouette made of pale, ghostly gold and all the fragments that cling to it. the blond of his hair catches and curls like a match struck in silence as he rests on the bench with moss staining its feet in a green kiss. “stay close. don't wander off,” you murmur to gabi and the boys, a mother’s instinct in a stranger’s affection. the market seems to swell as faces blur into patches of color and shadow.

usually heʼd be the one buying them the sweets, trailing behind like he belonged to the children, not the other way around. he’d slip coins to the vendor, barely seen, to make sure the kids stayed kids, get them something sweet to carry home sticky on their fingers. his presence made the kids feel safe. that was his gift to them.

he didn’t see you, not at first, lost in whatever he’d wrapped around himself, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes focused on something far off, his expression pulled into that mask of solemnity that’s so familiar it hurts. there’s a ghost of a frown in his brow from spending too much time thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. it was only when you were close enough that he looked up, startled, it was clear he wasn't expecting to see you. there was a tension in him, he sort of resembled an animal caught between choices, wanting to flee but rooted to the spot.

“i thought you’d want one,” you said, holding the cone out. it wasn’t often that you spoke to him this way, or at all. not about something as simple as ice-cream.

he stared at it first, then up at you. for a heartbeat you thought he might actually refuse it, let the ice-cream coat your hand with melted stickiness just to spite you for they way you resented him for the past four years.

“they give that to you for free?” he said, his eyes drifted somewhere just beyond the market stalls, like he was only half-invested in the jab.

something in his tone snagged, left a thin, invisible cut. he had every reason to say it, you supposed, but it still bruised in a way it shouldn’t. “no,” you shot back, trying not to let his offhand remark knock too hard against the satisfaction you’d felt just moments ago. “i bought it for you.”

with a breath soft as surrender, he looked up at you, and you could feel it, the way he saw you, had always seen you, from the days you were both cadets stumbling through ranks and routines. he’d always thought you were pretty, even when thought you didn't interact often.

the word devil was supposed to define you. reiner was trained to see you that way, to let a thick wall of prejudice stand between you both, forged over years of lessons and oaths. in marley, they pressed that word into people like you, used it to shape you into something repulsive. it was easy to believe it as a child, to see you through the war-stained images they painted, to think of you as something marley’s soldiers had been trained to conquer and devastate. but somehow, that wall never felt as solid with you. he tried to keep it up, you could tell from the way his gaze would shift from warm to cold so quickly, his jaw setting hard as if he was gripping some old lesson, forcing himself to remember why he wasn’t supposed to care. and you hated him for it as much as you didn’t. it was like he had stolen every sense of belonging from you, yet kept a fragile piece of it alive in himself, offering it back in little moments you refused to trust.

he’d always figured he’d have to wait, maybe forever for that forgiveness, if it came at all. for four years, he’d held onto the hope that one day you might look at him without that burning hatred in your eyes. over time, he’d let that hope slip through his fingers, learning to live in the shadow of what he thought he’d ruined.

but now, standing here, he felt something he hadn’t dared to let himself feel in a long time. the way you looked at him was different—not hardened or distant, but softened, like there was warmth in you meant just for him. it was subtle, but it caught him completely off guard, a look that lingered a little too long, the edges softening just enough for him to see something he’d once believed was lost.

he wanted to say something, anything, to reach out, but he found himself rooted, afraid to break whatever delicate understanding hung between you. he’s always been so careful with you, so mindful of your boundaries. your gaze didn’t waver, and he felt it like a quiet ache, as if, finally, there was a chance your view of him had changed.

he took the cone with hands that were larger than you remembered, rough and scarred and cracked in places. in his grasp, the small offering looked absurdly delicate.

“thanks.”

you settle on the edge of the bench beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but not quite touching.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice subdued, as if he was suppressing emotions that he couldn’t articulate.

“i wanted to,” you reply simply, the words soft but steady, a quiet confession hidden in plain sight. it’s not much, just a simple act of kindness, but it feels like more than that, like a tentative step toward something new, something neither of you quite knows how to name.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits after a long pause, the unexpected confession falling between you. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked on the melting drip tracing a path down his knuckle.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “good at what?”

he’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that the hum of the market seems louder, pressing in from all sides. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “being close. to anyone.”

you shift slightly, your knee brushing against his leg. it’s so slight it could be an accident, but it’s not. “well, you’re here now.”

he looks up at you then with an unconcealed reverence that makes your heart lurch in your chest, eyes softening around the edges, holding that mix of confusion and hope that makes him look almost boyish. “yeah, i am.”

the silence stretches, but this time it’s warm, inviting. you can see him wrestling with something, the way his jaw tightens, loosens, the way his thumb traces a line across the wood of the bench as if trying to ground himself.

“it’s strange,” he starts, eyes flickering to yours before darting away again, “this..” he nods to the space inbetween you, “feels like more than i deserve.”

your gaze lingers on him, and you swallow back the pool of savila resting on your tongue. “maybe we’re both not good at this,” you whisper, a shy honesty threading through your voice. “but i think we could be.”

he blinks. “you think so?”

“yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a breath but heavy with everything you mean. “i do.”

and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe it.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Heey! I hope you're doing well! I would like to request a story about gp Donna having a daughter with a maid who abandoned her when the child was born. Donna raises her daughter alone and homeschool her for most of the part until her daughter tells her that she wants music lessons so Donna asks the duke a piano. The duke being all noisy gets the tea about Donna's daughter wanting music lessons and suggests Donna to hire reader as her teacher, an excellent pianist with good reputation. Both Donna and her daughter (like mother, like daughter) fall in love with reader with Donna's daughter wanting reader to become her other mom (and unlike Donna, her daughter is not that shy and is always complementing reader and dropping hints to her that Donna is very much single).

One afternoon after a lesson Donna listens to reader sing while she plays the piano and is mesmerized by her beautiful voice. Perhaps reader is singing a classical piece like Ave Maria by Schubert and that sort of reminds her of her family before the black gods faith and all that (I suppose it would make sense not to sing about other gods except for the black ones? So that's why gets more enamored with reader, for bringing her back those memories). Anywaysss, Donna with a little help from her daughter confesses to reader, who of course has fallen in love with Donna and her offspring.

welll, I hope that wasn't too much of a request 😅

Have a good day!

Yesss!!! I have to say I loved that request, thank you :D! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Rebuilding a broken life

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst, Donna being Donna and a single mother, that's curious :D, G!P Donna (implied), Donna's POV

Word count: 8,709

Summary: I only have my daughter...

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

Sometimes I try to live in the past, to remember what those times were like, when life was much easier. I would have given anything to go back to that moment, to reject Mother Miranda's offer to make me her daughter, a Lord.

But being named Lord, obtaining the divine grace of the Black Gods didn’t illuminate my path, rather, it darkened it. I always lived isolated. I was never interested in people. They were evil, they laughed at me, at my appearance, at my scar. I could consider my transition from villager to Lord a success, since those mocking laughs turned into cries and screams of terror, but, apart from that, nothing else changed.

At least nothing that had to do with my condition as a lonely and isolated woman. The reason for the mockery and for my behavior mutated in an unpleasant way; turning me into something like a deformed monster, as much as Miranda denied it.

The Gods' whim was just a moment of fun, and with me... they went too far. Not only did my eye disappear, not only did they turn me into an unpleasant being. They also played with my body.

I didn't care too much, I got used to it soon, but I didn't know how to get used to loneliness. My solitary life only ended partially. Angie, my doll since I was a child, came to life thanks to my efforts, to my desperation to hear another voice other than those in my head.

It might seem like a positive change, in part it was, but it wasn't what I was looking for by giving myself over to the black claws of the village. Getting out of that spiral of madness and loneliness was my true goal, but things never turn out the way you expect. Neither the new parts of my body, nor my powers, nor my appearance made it change. Madness continued to eat away my brain, the madness that came from an illness that had stalked my family for years.

If you put it all together, a deformed face, a different body, terrifying powers, madness and absolute loneliness, you get a legend, a character from a scary story, you get me: the last Lord, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

I stopped aging. I stopped being a baseless legend to become a woman to be feared, respected or even revered. My new siblings seemed to enjoy that change, to exercise power over the rest of the villagers, to inflict terror on them.

I was never interested in that kind of power, the power to get what I wanted when I wanted and the power to never be questioned. I had become so accustomed to my solitude that it became my refuge, a refuge for all eternity.

One day, after my sister Alcina convinced me, I decided to try out what it would be like to live with someone, to hear other different voices in the mansion, and I accepted one of her maids. She was a beautiful girl. Her name was Helga.

It could have been because of the lack of habit, because of my heart's longing to not feel alone, the reasons really didn't matter. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her. I had never believed in love, I never had the chance to experience what my books talked about. I was eager to do it, to love, to be loved.

Looking back on the past, I now think that maybe I should have thought things better, understand that love is something that happens between two people, and not just for one of them.

Helga accepted my feelings and let herself be loved by a monster like me. In her eyes I could see the lie, the deception. I could see a false smile when she heard me say: I love you. I didn't give it any importance, she had to love me.

Of course I let myself be carried away by my clumsy feelings, by my erratic heart. I took that girl. I made her mine when I wanted, when I needed. I thought everything would change from that moment on, and I was right.

I wasn’t careful when I claimed her body as mine, and there were consequences. After a few months with the illusion of living a romance, it happened, I got her pregnant. I never thought about having a family, about starting one.

I had to get used to the idea of ​​having a baby with someone who, deep down, I knew didn’t love me, but seeing my child grow in her womb mesmerized me too much. After a few months, that child came into the world, a beautiful girl, Maria Beneviento.

I came to think that I couldn’t be happier. I had a beautiful girl, a young maid at my side, everything was perfect, but, again, it was just an illusion. I remember the blizzard of that night, that terrible night.

“Shh, ti prego non piangere, tesoro…” I whispered while cradling the newborn, who wouldn't stop crying. “Oh, hai fame, vero?” I said, getting up to look for Helga, who, she told me, needed to rest.

I couldn't blame her. It had only been a week since the girl was born and she was exhausted.

I walked through the house with the girl in my arms. Poor thing, she was crying inconsolably. I looked for Helga in her room, the one she never wanted to leave. I will never be able to get over what I found.

The room was empty, there was no one there. I looked for her, but she was gone. In the baby's crib there was a note, a damn note that I burned in the fire, and whose words still burn in my heart.

I can't stand it anymore.

Everything I did, I did because I was afraid, because you scared me.

I can't stand having given my life to a monster like you, having a baby who will soon become a monster too.

I can't stay with you. I can't look my daughter in the face, a daughter I never wanted.

I never loved you, and I never will.

I'm leaving, Donna, I'm leaving forever. I wish I could have taken that innocent baby with me, but you terrify me, I know what you'll do to me.

I screamed, I cried, I hit everything within my reach. I couldn't believe those words and at the same time it seemed like I had read them somewhere else, perhaps in her sad and complacent gaze.

Without thinking twice, furious, with my daughter in my arms, I went out to look for her. It was a dark night and the snow didn't stop falling. I called out to her, I threatened her, but it was too late.

On the snowy ground there were footprints, her footprints. Desperate, I followed them, followed them until... they disappeared, they disappeared at the edge of a cliff.

Surely that stupid girl didn't know how dangerous my land was, how dangerous it was to go out at night in the middle of a blizzard.

She would never come back, she abandoned me forever, she abandoned us.

I might have thought that I had the consolation of still having my daughter, that my baby hadn't fallen into the void with her mother, but I didn't see it that way. My soul was broken in two, my heart was crushed mercilessly. That girl left me alone with my daughter, that girl never loved me.

I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have my daughter in my arms, I don't know what the consequences would have been. I spent days complaining, even though I barely had time. I was left alone, my daughter too. Helga abandoned me, but Maria was still with me. She was a newborn baby, she needed me.

Pain, suffering... at first that was what I felt when I had to take care of my daughter alone. I never knew how to do it well. I was overwhelmed several times, desperate. Then I realized what I had to do, my responsibility. I had to take care of my little girl; it didn't matter if I had to do it by myself. I had no other option.

Luckily, I managed to get used to the situation, and move on.

The years went by and my little Maria grew up, perhaps faster than I would have liked. She was a girl... well, a bit strange girl. Physically she was exactly like me, but... her personality was not similar at all.

Maria was intelligent, extremely intelligent. She was a happy, funny, outgoing and obedient child. I like to think that I was a good mother to her, although that wasn't the case.

From a very young age she had to put up with my madness. Dealing with a sick mother like me, without having anyone else (apart from Angie, of course), must have been hard for her, but she never showed it.

Eight years after that fateful night, my daughter and I lived peacefully. She knew me and understood me, and I loved her madly.

I knocked on the girl's bedroom door slowly, as it was a reasonable hour to sleep.

“Come in,” my daughter said, in a sweet voice, as always.

“Maria, it's time to sleep,” I said softly.

The girl, lying in bed, looked at me over the book she was reading with Angie, and made a gesture of silence. I couldn't help but smile and obeyed her request, slowly approaching and sitting on the mattress.

“Cinque minuti,” she whispered in an intriguing voice, turning a page. “Mamma, they've killed Dumbledore…”

“Oh,” I sighed with a tender smile, watching Maria devour the book.

“I told you Snape was a traitor from the start! I told you!” Angie shrieked, pointing at the book with her wooden hand.

“Angie, don't shout,” I told the doll, who relaxed her attitude.

“It's true, you were right, Angie,” Maria said, nodding to the doll, who laughed in satisfaction.

The little girl closed the book with a sigh of suspense and left it on the table, passing a hand over her forehead.

“Wow... it was interesting,” she said, letting me get a little closer and cover her with the sheets. “I can't wait to see what happens,” she said rubbing her hands.

“Mm,” I murmured with my eyebrow raised, arranging my daughter's hair, a gesture she liked less and less.

“Mamma…” she protested amused. “I'm not a child anymore.”

“Aren’t you? So, what are you?” I asked with the same mocking tone.

“Mm…” she murmured thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. “An impending pre-teenager.”

I laughed, shaking my head at my daughter's bold responses. I definitely don't know where she got that audacity from. It couldn't be from me… maybe from Angie?

“Excuse me, my impending teenager,” I joked, making sure the girl was well protected from the cold.

“Um, mamma…” Maria murmured nervously, attracting my attention, when I was about to leave. “Can I talk to you?”

“Va bene,” I answered frowning and sitting back down. “What's wrong, tesoro?”

“I was just wondering…” she said, without looking at me directly, thoughtful. “Mamma… Who was my mother?”

The smile immediately faded from my face and memories appeared to haunt my wounded mind. I had to make a great effort to control my nerves. I didn't want to lose my mind in front of my daughter, not again.

“Maria, what's that question about?” I said nervously, with a cold tone.

“Well…” Maria said, sitting on the bed while scratching the back of her neck. “I have a good memory. I remember I asked you when I was… I think I was 4 years old. You told me I was too young to know.”

“Mm, certo,” I said blinking erratically.

“But I'm not so young anymore,” my daughter said, with an expectant look. “Per favore, mamma, tell me what she was like,”

I sighed, undecided, but motivated by her bright eyes, identical to mine.

“W-Well… y-you…” I stammered, trying hard not to let my voice get stuck, something complicated. “Your mother was… her name was Helga and… she was my maid.”

The girl nodded curiously, barely blinking.

“She was very beautiful,” I whispered, remembering that treacherous look.

“What happened to her?” she asked impatiently.

“Um… she left, she abandoned us shortly after you were born,” I said, knowing there was no point in lying to her. That girl was devilishly smart, she would find out sooner or later.

“She left you alone with a baby? Wow, she wasn't a good person then,” the girl whispered. “Do you think I'll ever get to meet her?”

“No, I'm afraid… she's gone,” I murmured, shaking my head and holding back a tear.

“Oh, well… thanks for telling me,” Maria said with an indifferent voice, opening the drawer of her nightstand and taking out a paper and a pen. “Yes, it’s progressing…”

“Mm?” I murmured curiously, trying to see what was on that sheet of paper, on which Maria seemed to cross something out. “Cos’è questo, Maria?” I asked, tilting my head to try to make out something.

“Questo?” she said, showing me the paper. I nodded slowly, studying those phrases that were written on it. “Oh, it’s nothing… just a wish list.”

“A wish list?” I asked curious and amused, trying to bury the memory of her mother, so her words wouldn’t penetrate my mind, and destroy it again.

“Well, I'm already 8,” she explained with that knowing tone I adored. “Soon I'll reach adolescence and lose my mind, you know, hormones…” she said with a passive voice and an amused gesture. “Before that happens and my head starts to think about stupid boys, I would like to do some things.”

“Mm, you're cautious,” I commented, surprised, as always, by her intelligence. “Can I take a look?” I asked, extending a hand towards the paper, paper that Maria handed me, nodding and shrugging.

Yes, it was a list, the wish list of an eight-year-old girl. Some things were crossed out, the most recent was:

Meet my mother

I sighed somewhat sadly knowing that she would never do it, but I continued reading, hoping to distract myself enough with the girl thoughts and ambitions.

“Maria…” I whispered, looking at the girl with a frown and pointing at one of the phrases. “To have a sibling?” I asked with a trembling voice.

“Yes,” my girl nodded, with an innocent smile. “I think it would be really cool to have one,” she said without caring about the impossibility that it entailed. “Don't be offended, Angie.”

“More minions? I like how it sounds,” the doll said, with an amused gesture.

“I'm afraid that wish is impossible, tesoro,” I said with a low voice, with a sad look.

I could never, ever fall in love again, not after what happened the first time I did.

“No, it's not impossible,” Maria protested, leaning towards me and reading her phrases. “Look, mamma, if this one here comes true, it would be possible.”

I looked at where her finger was pointing, and I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry in despair.

Mamma stops being alone

I read it several times, glancing at the girl and hiding the trembling in my hands.

“Maria…”  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Y-You should think of another wish.”

“No, they are my wishes, you can't influence them,” the girl said, crossing her arms. “You just have to read them, not judge them.”

“Va bene, you're right,” I said, briefly pinching her cheek, something that made her laugh embarrassedly. “Mm, learn to play the piano?” I asked, reading more of her wishes. “Do you want to learn to play the piano?”

“Oh, yes, do you remember the day we went to see Aunt Alcina at the castle?” she asked, coming closer, she seemed excited.

“Yes, of course I remember,” I answered, looking at my daughter curiously. “You mean the maid who played you a birthday song, right?”

“Well…” the girl sighed, rolling her eyes. “The song was childish and squeaky, but the sound of that piano… it was beautiful, so I decided to learn… but… we don't have a piano,” she said in a much lower voice, looking away, as she always did when she wanted to ask me for something.

“Actually we have one in the basement,” I said. “You could learn on it.”

“Mamma, that's not exactly a piano,” my daughter said in an innocent tone, biting her lip. “I want a real one, a piano as cool as the one in the castle.”

“You want a piano,” I murmured, arching my eyebrow. “Do you want me to buy a piano, Maria? Is that what you're trying to ask me?”

“Well… I wouldn't say no if you do,” she said amused, with her eyes wide open. “I know my birthday has passed and…”

“Cut the crap,” I said amused, shaking my head. “Well… I guess it’s something much more feasible than some of your wishes.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it? Will you buy me a piano?” the girl asked, standing up on the bed, excited again.

I looked at her tenderly and thought for a moment. I could never deny my little girl anything, I never would.

“If you behave,” I said amused, pointing at her with my finger before she jumped into my arms.

“Great! Grazie di cuore, mamma, you’re the best, the best!” Maria yelled enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a tender hug that I always appreciated, that told me I would never be alone, I would always have my daughter.

“Okay, okay, tesoro,” I said, overwhelmed by her affectionate kisses, gently patting her back. “But you’ll have to be consistent and learn to play wonderfully, mm?”

“Certo, I have to read more books,” my daughter said, moving away and letting herself fall on the bed, with a hand on her chin, thoughtful. “Now go, I have to think,” she said with a concentrated expression. “Where could we put it, Angie?”

“Well, you better go to sleep,” I said, laughing tenderly, giving her a kiss on the forehead and looking at the doll coldly, telling Angie with my eyes not to bother Maria and let her rest, something almost impossible.

“Mamma,” Maria called me, before I went out the door. “Ti voglio bene”

“Anch’io, tesoro… Anch’io…” I whispered, closing the door slowly.

Maria was not a capricious child, even though I always did whatever she wants to see her happy. I will always be surprised by her ability to educate practically by herself, taking advantage of my absences, my crises, to fill her mind with knowledge.

Sometimes I regretted having had a maid, but I changed my mind when I saw my little girl. She was the most important thing to me, and that would always be the case.

If Maria wanted a piano, she would have a piano, without a doubt.

The next day I took advantage of the Duke's weekly visit to make the request. I still find it hard to believe how different Maria is, how little she resembles my withdrawn and shy personality…

“Hello, Duke,” Maria said, waving her hand politely with a mocking smile.

I was standing next to her, with my face covered with the veil and the Angie doll in my arms. No matter how well that horrible man treated my little girl, I never trusted him.

“Miss Beneviento, you look well,” the merchant murmured, handing me the things I needed for the week. “Lady Beneviento…”

“Hi, fatty,” Angie said, moving in my arms. “How are you?”

“Great,” he replied, counting the coins I threw at him in an unpleasant manner. “What do you say, Miss? Did you manage to solve last week's riddle?” he asked, looking at my daughter with a sinister smile.

“Of course,” the girl answered, with a smug smile. “The answer is the Sun,” she said, lifting her chin. “Although… there was something wrong with the riddle. Yes, normally the sun rises and sets, but… did you know that there are certain areas of the world where it doesn't rise or set for several months?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot that detail,” the man said, laughing amused at the girl's words. “You got it right again…”

“As always,” Maria said, making a gesture to play it down.

“Come on, we want to see that chocolate bar,” Angie demanded, climbing into Maria's arms while I watched in silence.

“Here you go, Miss…” the Duke sighed amusedly tossing a sweet to the girl, one that she caught gracefully. “I hope I don't make it so easy for you next time.”

“Grazie,” the kid said, kindly. “Mamma, tell him, tell him,” she said, tugging at my dress, somewhat impatiently.

I looked at her and gestured for Angie to come closer.

“That's it, Duke, we want a piano,” I said, speaking through the doll.

“A piano?” the man asked, taking out a small notebook.

“Yes, yes, a piano,” Maria said, jumping on the ground. “I'm going to learn to play it.”

“Oh, that's wonderful, Miss, music is the voice of the soul,” the Duke said, writing something down. “Is an upright piano okay?”

I looked at my daughter, who did the same, nodding.

“Yes, okay,” she said, smiling with satisfaction.

“For your sake, fatso, fatso, I hope you don't fool us,” Angie said, climbing up the carriage and looking at the merchant in a menacing manner. “A nice piano for Maria, is that clear?”

“Like water, Miss Angie,” he said, amused, gesturing for the doll to move away. “Tell me, how do you plan to learn?”

“Well... By myself, I guess, Donna doesn’t know to play it,” my daughter said, making me look at her embarrassed. “Don't be offended, mamma.”

“I see,” the Duke said, looking at me with a mocking smile. “It turns out that I know someone. There is a girl in the village who is an excellent pianist, perhaps, Lady Beneviento, it would be good for your daughter if she gave the little Miss some lessons.”

“A piano teacher?” Maria asked, while I pondered the offer. “That would be great, mamma, say yes, say yes…”

“I don't know, tesoro… I don't like people coming to the house,” I murmured, putting myself at the height of the girl, who made a sad gesture.

“Please…” my daughter begged, putting her hands together.

“Please, please…” Angie said, imitating her gesture.

“Ugh,” I sighed, looking at the Duke, who was impatiently waiting for my answer.

“Well? I promise you won't regret it, my lady,” the merchant said, studying my movements. “I'm convinced that she will get along very well with your offspring.”

“Oh, I…” I muttered, gesturing to Angie, giving up. “Okay,” the doll said, speaking in my voice.

After a few days, the piano arrived at the mansion and, with the unpleasant help of some lycans, I managed to find a suitable place for it. Maria was very excited, but I, not so much. The idea of ​​a gossipy villager entering my house… talking to my little girl… I didn't like it, but just seeing Maria's shining eyes, I got used to it.

“Here she is!” the girl shrieked, running towards the door, which someone had knocked on. It was that disgusting teacher, no doubt. “Vai, mamma!”

“I'm coming,” I said in a whisper, putting on my veil and approaching the door, opening it slowly.

I was expecting to find an old woman, a petulant old woman who was no longer in her prime, but I was petrified. Behind the door, there was a rather young woman, smiling and… beautiful, terribly beautiful.

“H-Hello,” the young woman said, waking me from a reverie. I wasn’t expecting someone like that. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Beneviento.”

“Are you the teacher?” Angie asked, speaking for me, uncomfortably studying the girl, who seemed scared by her presence. I don’t blame her.

“Yes, my name is (Y/N),” she said, extending her hand towards me, a hand that I briefly looked at, but didn’t shake, making her withdraw it awkwardly. “Um… well… so you want to learn to play the piano, right?”

“No,” I said with my hoarse voice, while my daughter came out from behind me, looking with the same surprise as me at that girl. “Not me.”

“Hello,” Maria said, with an elegant gesture. “I'm Maria Beneviento, and I'm your new student,” she said with an amused smile, shaking her hand, something I couldn't do.

“Oh, wow, I didn't know that... that it was you,” the young woman said, looking at me and then at the girl, making a small, friendly bow “I thought I was going to teach you, Lady Beneviento.”

“No, my mother doesn't have a clue about music, she only knows how to make dolls,” the girl said, amused, causing me to give her a gentle slap on the shoulder as a reprimand. “Oh, but she makes them very well, I promise.”

“Your mother? You mean...? Are you her daughter?” the pianist asked, looking at me with a frown and a bewildered expression.

“Yes, of course,” the little girl said, guiding the visitor through the house. “Don't you see how much we look alike?” she asked, pointing to the portrait on the stairs.

“Oh, um… is that you?” (Y/N) asked, looking at me and pointing at the portrait. I didn't move, nor did I say a single word, obviously. “W-Wow, your really look alike, you're like two peas in a pod.”

“Isn't that right?” Maria laughed, taking the stranger's hand and leading her into the living room. “This way, (Y/N)”

“I-It's funny. I didn’t know you had a daughter, my lady,” the young woman said, walking towards the piano next to my little girl, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, distrustful.

“Mm,” I murmured, not giving importance to her comment, approaching Maria. “Tesoro, I'm going to the workshop, Angie will stay with you, if something happens…”

“Mamma… non preocuparti,” Maria said, sitting on the stool in front of the piano, next to that unknown girl.

“Va bene,” I whispered, giving one last look to the young woman, who did the same quickly. I could see the fear in her eyes.

Reluctant, but with no other choice, I left them alone.

It must have been an entertaining afternoon, since Angie didn't warn me of any danger, but she did when that girl was about to leave.

“Grazie, (Y/N), see you tomorrow,” Maria said, waving her hand goodbye, while I, suspicious, walked with the young woman to the door.

“Your daughter is very talented, my lady,” (Y/N) commented, before leaving through the door.

“Mm,” I murmured in an impatient tone, wishing she would leave at once.

“Well, she has to practice, but I think she can be a great pianist if she puts her mind to it,” the young woman said, with no intention of leaving. “It's unbelievable that she's just eight years old, she's very intelligent.”

“I know that already,” I whispered impatiently, handing her a bag of coins.

“Oh, um, thanks,” she said, putting them in her purse. “I was surprised that you had a daughter… well, in the village we never…”

“I know,” I cut her words off abruptly, with a tired sigh. “No one has to know about my life.”

“Yes, well, I understand,” she said, scratching the back of her neck. “Forgive my indiscretion, I know it's none of my business but… What about her father?”

The Angie doll, who was listening next to me, began to laugh outrageously, drawing our attention.

“Stupid,” Angie said, pointing at the girl with her finger and pretending to laugh loudly. “You're so stupid… Donna is Maria's mother, get it? She's her mother, she impregnated a maid and…”

“Angie…” I hissed nervously.

“What?” the pianist asked, looking at me and speaking in a small voice when she realized her mistake.

I, nervous and embarrassed, clenched my fists tightly on both sides of my hips.

“Oh, shit, I mean… I understand, oh, I… w-well, I had heard rumors but they seemed… I mean, it's okay, well, there's a huge woman, a fish man… it's not that I find it strange or anything like that, I mean…” she said nervously, not knowing where to run.

I crossed my arms furiously, wanting to make her live the worst of her nightmares, but then I thought of Maria and I restrained myself.

“Shut up,” I demanded with a firm tone. “I advise you to stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong,” I threatened walking a step towards her, making the girl back off.

“I'm sorry. It's just that…” she said, visibly nervous, refusing to look at my face.

“Does my Donna's penis disgust you, silly?” Angie said, making me burn with rage.

“Angie! Taci, taci, taci!” I screamed furiously, kicking the floor. The piano played in the background, Maria was oblivious to the conversation, fortunately.

“What? Oh, no, no, not at all… I have no problem with that,” the pianist said, putting her hands in a position of surrender. “B-besides, I'm just your daughter's piano teacher, I have no intention of snooping in your… business. I was just… I was just curious.”

“Curiosity…” I began in a dark tone, making it clear to that stupid village girl what her place was.

“Killed the cat, I know,” she finished, with a nervous smile. “I just want to say that, well, that… your daughter is great.”

“Mm,” I growled, looking away and closing the door in her face. “Cazzo, Angie…”

The doll, realizing that she had given too much information, ran off towards Maria, who was playing the keys, surely putting into practice what she had learned.

“Look, mamma, I know the scale,” the girl said, gesturing for me to come closer as she softly played the piano.

“Meraviglioso, Maria,” I sighed, relaxing with the soft sound of the instrument.

“So… what do you think?” my daughter murmured, looking at the floor. “About (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” I asked annoyed, sighing as I took off my veil. “She's just some ordinary village girl.”

“No, not at all. She's great, she's super smart, and she plays really well, and she's also really beautiful, don't you think, mamma?” Maria said, following me through the mansion.

“Mm, maybe she is,” I commented distractedly. She was right, that girl was very beautiful… but a nuisance too. “Your lessons, Maria, don't forget them,” I said in a motherly tone, pointing to her study books.

The visits from that unpleasant girl continued. Maria learned a lot from (Y/N), although I didn't like to admit it. Little by little I got used to the presence of that nosy villager, maybe too much, since, from time to time, I came up from the workshop to see how she taught my daughter.

They seemed to get along really well, and every day her beauty was much more evident to me, but I didn't give it any importance, she was still an idiot.

“That's it, you learn very quickly Maria,” (Y/N) said as I approached slowly. “It's noticeable that you practice a lot.”

“Of course I do, so I don't forget,” the little girl said, swinging her legs on the stool.

“Um, Maria… I'd like to ask you something,” the teacher whispered, looking around, probably afraid that I would appear.

That made me back off and hide in the shadows. I wanted to hear what that stupid girl was saying about me, I was sure she would say something about me.

“Va bene,” my daughter said, distracted, touching the keys.

“Hey, your mother…” the young woman murmured, attracting my attention even more. “Your mother is a bit scary, isn't she?”

“Mamma Donna?” Maria asked and shook her head. “Not at all, are you scared of my mamma?”

“Um, well,” the girl said, with a nervous smile. “She's a Lord and… well, in the village everyone fears her.”

“Bah, nonsense,” my daughter said, gesturing with her hand. “That's because they don't know her. Donna is nice.”

“Really? Does she take good care of you?” she asked in a more confident tone, something that made me burn with rage.

How could that stupid woman question my way of taking care of my daughter?

“Oh, yes, she is very intelligent, she teaches me many things,” Maria said, making me sigh with relief.

“Um… what about your other mother? Don't you miss her?” (Y/N) asked, making me want to end her existence.

“Not really,” the girl said, lowering her head. “I never got to know her. Mamma Donna told me that she was her maid and that she… abandoned us.”

“Chiudi il becco…” I muttered in a whisper. “Maledizione…”

“Gods, that’s… horrible,” the young woman said, changing her expression.

“Well, it's the past. Donna took care of me and raised me by herself, and I assure you that it must not be easy to do that, and even more so with a daughter like me,” Maria said amused. “I don't usually give her any trouble, but… she has to put up with me.”

“Mm, I see,” (Y/N) said, tenderly stroking Maria's hair. “I see that I was wrong about her, I'm sorry for doubting your mother.”

“It doesn't matter,” Maria said, putting on a strange expression. “People say horrible things about her, but I know they're lies. My mamma is mentally ill, but that doesn't mean she's not a good person, she really is.”

“Yes, I see,” the pianist said, looking back, without seeing me. “If you say so, I believe you…”

“Forgive her if she was abrupt with you,” my daughter said, apologizing for my aggressive attitude. “She's just very lonely. I'm convinced that her character will improve when she meets someone.”

“Mm, maybe, but being alone isn't that bad, you know? I am too,” the young woman said.

“Oh, really?” the little girl asked. “That's interesting…” she murmured, with a tone that forced me to intervene. “Wouldn't you like to meet someone?”

“Well, I…”

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat, walking nervously towards them. (Y/N) looked at me briefly, immediately lowering her head. “It's time, isn't it?”

“Mm, sì, mamma,” Maria said, getting off the stool.

The young pianist stood up with a friendly gesture.

“Your daughter has been great, as always, my lady,” the young woman said, not daring to look at me. “It's a pleasure to teach her.”

“You don't have to be that formal. You can call her Donna, vero, mamma? Maria said, with a slightly strange voice.

“I guess,” I said reluctantly, making the girl laugh nervously.

“W-Well, Donna then,” (Y/N) whispered, with a shy laugh.

“Mamma, do you know that (Y/N) is also alone? What a coincidence, huh?” the girl asked, comically tugging at my dress, putting the stupid villager in a tight spot.

“Maria,” I said in a dark voice. I didn't know why, but that comment made me blush.

“Don't worry, Donna, your daughter is adorable, she just says what she thinks,” the young woman said, picking up the scores.

“Ma, mamma, are you going to let her go?” Maria insisted, making me very nervous. “You should be nice and invite her to tea. She’s been coming here for almost a month.”

“Maria…” I hissed nervously, while (Y/N) laughed again, shaking her head. “Stop annoying her, I’m sure she’ll have better things to do.”

“T-Truth be told,” the pianist said, arching her eyebrows. “I could use some tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Ugh, okay,” I muttered, threatening with my daughter my gaze making her fled with Angie.

That was the beginning of a strange routine. After piano lessons, (Y/N) started to stay with us for a while, having tea, helping Maria with her homework…

Over time, I couldn't say that that stupid girl started to catch my attention, but I did stop thinking that she was... well, stupid. She was a kind, funny girl, who made Maria and Angie laugh, and she was kind to me, kinder than anyone ever was, no one, not even Helga.

I couldn't help but notice a certain conspiracy in my little girl's words and actions, hinting several times at how lonely her poor mother was when I wasn't around, or telling me directly that (Y/N) was single too.

I couldn't blame her for wanting to have what she never had, for wanting another mother, but... it was simply impossible, it would never be possible, although deep down, that pianist girl caught my attention more than I would like to admit.

“Well, I better go, thank you very much for the tea, Donna,” (Y/N) said, after an afternoon of games with Angie and the girl, something of which I was only a spectator. “See you tomorrow, huh, girls?” she said amused, high-fiving Maria and Angie.

“Hey, but it's really late,” my daughter commented, looking out the window. “Hey, (Y/N), why don't you stay for dinner?”

“Oh, for dinner?” the young woman asked blinking and looking for an answer in me. “W-well, I…”

“Don't listen to her,” I said quickly, putting a warning hand on Maria's shoulder.

“Mamma,” the little girl protested, breaking away from my grip while (Y/N) smiled, picking up her coat. “I'm trying to help you.”

“Who asked you for help, brat? Basta,” I hissed sternly but nervously.

“Well… it's true that it's late,” (Y/N) said, oblivious to my reprimands, looking at me shyly. “Maybe it's not a bad idea.”

“Of course it’s not,” Maria said, freeing from my reprimand and taking the young pianist by the hand. “Come, sit down, did you know that la mia mamma cooks like an angel? You'll see.”

“Maria!” I growled, clenching my fists. “What are you...?”

“Show her that what I say is true, vai, Donna,” my daughter said, pushing me by the legs.

I had no choice but to obey, going down to the kitchen to prepare that improvised dinner.

“Mm, where's Maria?” I asked dryly, leaving the food on the table, a table that was only occupied by (Y/N), who looked at me amused, shrugging.

“She told me that she wasn’t hungry and she wanted to leave us alone, you know, so that we could talk about adult stuff.”

“Oh, questa bambina…” I lamented, understanding her intentions.

“I think she's set us up, hasn't she?” the young woman joked, while I, exhausted, served her some wine.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what she was thinking,” I said, apologizing for Maria's behavior. Oh, yes, that girl would get a deserved scolding.

“It doesn't matter, it might be good to get to know each other a bit better,” (Y/N) commented. “Um…” she said, frowning as she saw how, clumsily, I handled my black veil to eat. “Um… Donna, that's not necessary. You don't need it, you can trust me.”

“You'll get scared,” I said nervously, paralyzed.

“No, I won't,” she said, with a lower voice, somewhat trembling.

It was absurd to continue with that nonsense, the best thing would be to scare that stupid girl away so she never came back and stopped… constantly sneaking into my thoughts. With a slow gesture I took off my veil, refusing to see her expression.

“Mm, wow…” the young woman sighed, with a smile that I couldn't interpret. “It's true, you two are exactly the same.”

“Don't pretend. You know I'm horrible,” I said, gripping the fork tightly.

“No, you're not… Let's see… what have you prepared for me?” the girl said, ignoring my hisses and taking a look at the dinner. “Everything looks great.”

“Pici all'amatriciana,” I murmured distrustfully.

“Oh, well, let's check if it's as good as it looks,” she said, rubbing her hands and starting to eat, without erasing that smile from her face.

At first it was a tense, silent dinner, only interrupted by (Y/N)'s praises. Everything seemed wonderful and perfect to her, even… even my face. Little by little, I suppose thanks to the wine, the conversation began to flow naturally. It seemed unlikely, but that girl and I had a lot in common and we even… we even laughed, laughed a lot.

I realized why Maria was so obsessed with her. She was a wonderful girl, kind, funny… and terribly beautiful too.

“I had a great time,” the young woman said with a tender smile as I walked with her to the door. “Really.”

“Yes, um… me too, (Y/N),” I said in a low voice, with a strange blush on my cheeks.

“You know what? I think I now understand your daughter’s insistence on me getting to know you,” she commented distractedly, looking at the floor, turning her ankle on it. “You are a very special woman, Donna.”

“Yes, special is the word,” I said suspiciously, crossing my arms.

The girl laughed, shaking her head and putting a hand on my arm.

“No, what I mean is that… well, I don't regret having gotten to know you,” she whispered in a low voice, leaving behind her words, an awkward moment of silence.

“M-Me neither,” I stammered unintentionally, smiling genuinely.

“See you,” the girl said, removing her hand from my arm with a tender smile, suddenly stepping back. “Oh, bye girls,” she said, waving her hand and looking upstairs, where Angie and Maria were discreetly spying.

“Ciao!” they said in unison when I closed the door, sighing and glancing sideways at my daughter and the doll.

“Cazzo…” I hissed, quickly climbing the stairs while those two mischievous girls fled to their room. “Hey, you two!”

“Oh, mamma, I was going to sleep,” Maria said, putting on her pajamas in a hurry.

“No, young lady, what were you thinking?” I asked, annoyed by the trick, with my hands on my hips. “Who taught you to conspire like that?”

“Um…” the girl murmured, looking unintentionally at Angie, who hid under the sheets. “I only did it for you, mamma, so that you are not alone anymore.”

“Oh, cavolo…” I lamented, with a hand on my forehead. “Maria, tesoro, you don't have to decide those things for me, do you hear me? They are adults’ matters.”

“I know but… I think you two get along wonderfully,” the girl said with an almost pleading voice. “And you two are alone…”

“Maria…”

“Besides, dinner was a complete success, you even took off your veil,” she said with an amused smile, climbing into bed while I reluctantly tucked her in. “Although you have to improve your conversation, you're very clumsy, mamma.”

“That I’m…?” I asked, feigning offense. “Well, it doesn't matter.”

“Don't you like (Y/N)? Not even a little?” Maria asked in a sleepy voice, rubbing her eyes.

“Um, I… W-Well I… yes, I like her,” I admitted embarrassed, with a sob. “But tesoro, that's not…”

“She likes you, she speaks very well of you,” she sighed, exhausted, closing her eyes. “Mamma.”

“Mm?”

“If I could go back in time and choose… I would like (Y/N) to be my other mother…” she said in a sleepy whisper, without really being aware she had said it.

I sighed, moved by her words and approached to kiss her on the forehead, thoughtful.

“Mm, I'm not surprised that you want it, tesoro... (Y/N) is... wonderful.”

Admitting that I had feelings for (Y/N) took me longer than I thought, but I couldn't help it. Without wanting to, knowing that there would never be another chance to feel love, to believe in it, I did it, I fell in love with her, madly.

Dinners were common, laughter, too. Sometimes we were alone and sometimes Angie and Maria accompanied us, making the laughter increase more and more. I began to wish for those visits, to get sad when that girl left. There was tension between us, I could notice it, I could notice her bright gaze in mine, silent pauses in which neither of us knew what to say.

Too much pressure and I was too much of a coward.

“You have to do it, mamma,” my little girl told me, while I waited for (Y/N) to arrive, walking around the living room and shaking my head.

“I can't do it…” I sighed, rejecting her proposition again.

“If you don't tell (Y/N) how you feel about her, she'll never know, imagine if she meets someone,” the girl said walking exactly like me.

“It's not that easy, Maria, you'll realize when you're older,” I said in a dark, nervous voice.

“I don't want to lose the opportunity to have another mom just because you're a coward!” the girl protested, nervous, impatient.

I turned around abruptly, gritting my teeth and crouching down next to my daughter, grabbing her by the collar of her dress.

“You think I don't know!? Huh?” I screamed furiously while my daughter, scared, covered herself with her hands.

“Mamma,” she said trembling, making me react.

“Gods… tesoro, I'm sorry,” I said, placing her dress and caressing her cheek.

Maria nodded slowly, comforting my nerves with a tender hug.

“I don't know how to do it, I don't know how to tell her that… that I love her,” I murmured, with the girl's warm hands in mine, controlling my madness.

“Calm down, mamma, I'll think of something,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek and going to the door, since (Y/N) had already arrived.

The smiles danced between us again. I had long since gotten used to staying in the living room while (Y/N) taught Maria, to watch her fingers caress the keys, to see her beautiful and tender face, the incredibly sweet way she treated my baby…

“Well, very well, mate,” (Y/N )said when Maria showed her what she had learned. “I think we can move on to something more complicated.”

“Yeah, hey, (Y/N),” Maria said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “I thought… I've never heard you play… you know, a whole song. I'm sure my mamma would really like to hear you.”

“Would her?” the young woman asked, looking at me with blushing cheeks.

I looked at her and nodded slowly, tilting my head.

“Mm, okay, well… let me see…” the girl said, searching through her folder of music. “Let's see… Oh, what do you think of this one? It has your name on it,” (Y/N) said, handing a sheet to my daughter, who looked at it carefully.

“Oh, yeah, this one is perfect,” Maria said with wide eyes, looking at me over the paper with a knowing smile.

“Ahem, well…” (Y/N) coughed as Maria stood up to sit next to me.

“Di niente,” my daughter whispered with a discreet clearing of the throat, making me frown.

“Cosa?” I asked, silenced by a nudge.

“Shh… ascolta, mamma.”

The music started to play, and I recognized it immediately.

“Ave Maria…”  (Y/N) began to sing, letting me discover her beautiful voice, the most beautiful I had ever heard. “Gratia plena… Ave, ave Dominus…”

My mind immediately transported itself to several decades ago, before Mother Miranda, before the Black Gods, when I was just a girl, a tormented girl. Yes, I remembered those times when villagers were allowed to profess the faith they chose as long as they lived with the dark deities.

They were difficult times, but nothing compared to my current life.

I remember my family singing that song at Christmas, on special occasions. My mother, my father, my little sister, my grandparents… all of us together, like a vision of what once was and never came back.

I couldn't help but let a tear run down my face as I remembered, as I imagined what would have become of me if Miranda had never been so ambitious, if my life hadn't changed, if my body hadn't changed and Maria had never been born.

No, Maria wasn't a mistake, she was the best thing that ever happened to me, my little laughing baby who wondered where her mother was, what had happened to her.

I regret many things, my little Maria, but not having you as a daughter.

I remembered those sleepless nights with inconsolable cries, I remember losing my nerves, my mind, and I remembered… I remembered how I rocked my little Maria, how I sang to her to make her fall asleep in my arms, how I sang that song to her, that Ave Maria, by Schubert…

Damn clever girl, she knew it, she knew that the melody, those words in Latin would touch my soul. I'm proud of you, tesoro.

Slowly, unable to move voluntarily, I got up from the couch while (Y/N) played and sang, approaching her, sitting next to her on the stool. She looked at me, still singing, but smiling.

I looked at the keys, bringing my hand closer to them and looking for a sign to continue. The young woman nodded, with a tender smile.

“Nunc et in hora mortis…” we sang at the same time while playing the keys. It had been a long time since I had done it. “Et in hora mortis nostrae… Ave… Maria…”

“Great!” Maria said, clapping enthusiastically along with Angie.

I paid no attention to her, my eye were fixed on (Y/N)'s and hers on mine.

“Wow, Maria told me you didn't know how to play it,” she whispered after a tense moment, without moving from my uncomfortable proximity.

“W-Well, I don't know as much as you… I'm quite rusty,” I said with a honeyed, but nervous voice.

“Angie, let's go,” Maria said, looking at me and winking, taking the doll's hand that was protesting in a childish way.

“I-I used to sing this to Maria as a lullaby,” I said, daring to break that silence. “It brings back memories to me.”

“It must have been very difficult to raise a girl on your own, right?” (Y/N) commented, playing nervously with her hands.

“Yes, it was but… it was worth it,” I said with a smile, looking at the corner where Maria ran off to.

“Yes, of course, she's an amazing girl, Donna,” the young woman said, looking away.

“Yes, I… (Y/N) I…” I stammered, with a cold sweat running down my forehead, hitting the keys unintentionally. “I'm sorry, I… I want to tell you that… when you're here I… I feel, I feel like smiling again, and seeing you leave… It makes me sad.”

The girl laughed embarrassed, lowering her gaze but letting me continue and gain enough courage to extend my trembling hand to hers, which she let me do, interlacing our fingers.

“I would understand if you said no but… I don't know, (Y/N), maybe… maybe you'd like… not to leave again.”

“Mamma! Don't tell her that! It's creepy!” Maria, who was, of course, spying, shrieked.

“Oddio… go to your room!” I shrieked nervously without taking my hand off (Y/N)'s.

“Donna,” the pianist said, putting a hand on my cheek, turning my face towards hers. “Do you want me to stay? With you?”

“I… yes…” I said looking down, something I couldn't really do, since her hand prevented me from doing so. “I want you to stay… with me, with us and…”

I couldn't continue speaking, since her lips collided with mine without warning, kissing me deeply, slowly, in a sweet and addictive way.

Without wanting to do so, I pulled away, blinking confused, looking at her sweet smile, her eyes shining as she looked at me.

“I'm in love with you, (Y/N),” I finally confessed, throwing myself back into her slow, wet kisses, into her laughter that bounced off my lips, tickling them.

“You're a wonderful woman, Donna Beneviento,” (Y/N) whispered. “I'm crazy about you… And… well, I wouldn't mind staying with you. Well, I would like that you and Maria… were my family…”

“Really?”

“Really”

“Great!” Maria shrieked, running into (Y/N)'s arms, catching her off guard. “See, mamma? It wasn't that hard.”

“Oh, taci,” I said amused, shaking my head.

“It's the happiest day of my life,” my daughter said, hugging us both. “I love you!”

“Hey, come on, stop bothering,” I said, lowering her to the floor lovingly.

“Certo... I have to talk to Angie... my little sibling is getting closer...”

[mythica0]

Trickster

🎂:Epic the musical

🧁:Polites, Odysseus, Eurylochus

🍫: Hermes

Summary: Hermes plays a neat little trick on the big trio on the ship.

A/N: more epic!! I love ler Hermes so much🙏 also, writing three lee’s is HARD yall. Once again, the ending sucks ass, sorry. I never know how to end these things 😭

Trickster

It was a normal, monotonous day on the ship.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

Odysseus, the captain, Eurylochus, the second in command, and Polites, the best friend and also pretty high up in the ranks, were standing together, talking about random nothings as they leaned against the railing of the ship.

Meanwhile, Hermes decided that he wanted to live up to his domain as the trickster god, and flew down to the ship, hiding off to the side.

‘Ohoho this is gonna be good.’ He thought to himself as he hid, watching his victims friends from the shadows with a smug smile. And then he used his divine powers to make a slight, barely-noticeable tingling sensation on the sides of all three men.

Due to its lightness, it wasn’t abnormal at first, and they rubbed at it once or twice but nothing too crazy. But as Hermes made it slightly more noticeable and it wasn’t going away, Odysseus commented.

“Man, what is that?”

Eurylochus raised an eyebrow and responded. “What is what?”

“There’s like a weird tingling on my side.”

The other two seemed shocked and replied in unison. “You too?!”

At this declaration, they realized that something was going on. Why else would all three of them be feeling that at the same time?

Just then, Hermes revealed himself with a laugh.

“Hey there, friends!”

“Hermes?!” They all called in shock, and then the god replied.

“The one and only!”

“Are you responsible for this?” Odysseus questioned with an air of seriousness behind his voice, although for some reason he found that it lost all bite, as the tingling sensation made him have the urge to smile.

“You bet I am! Let’s take it up a notch, shall we~?” Hermes lilting voice replies, and with a wave of his hand all three men feel the tingling grow into a true tickle.

Polites instantly burst into giggles, but the more stoic two tried to hold back.

“Ehehahahaha hehehehermehehehes, whyhyhy!”

“I just wanted to, seemed like fun! It’s a neat little trick, ain’t it? Come on, Friends, why are you holding back? Laughing is fun, just let yourself go!” He directs the latter part of his statement to the two that were repressing their laughter, holding their hands over their mouths as their shoulders shook with the effort. Odysseus shook his head, not wanting to give in.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to up the ante a bit~” Hermes drawls again, and then moves the sensation to Odysseus’ thighs and Eurylochus’ armpits, their respective worst spots. Although Polites was already giggling, he decided to move it for him as well, to his tummy, the buzzing sensation increasing his giggles.

“Eee hehehehermehehes thahahat tihihickles! Ahahahahaha!” He squeaks slightly, doubling over and hugging himself around the middle, as if to block the sensation, but it doesn’t do anything for it, the sensation being entirely magical, as if coming from inside.

“I know, isn’t it great~?”

Meanwhile, Eurylochus finally broke, deep, rumbling chuckles leaving him from the feeling. Odysseus, however, was still stubbornly hanging on.

“Ahahahaha hehehermehehehes, stohohop thihis!”

“No way, I think you could use a laugh! And you, Friend,” he addresses Odysseus, “are fighting far too hard. Let the laughter consume you, my friend!” He waves his hand again, causing the feeling to intensify for all three men, and Odysseus breaks.

“Ppffft- shihihiit! Ahahahahaha!”

“There we go! Now was that so hard~”

Now all three men were giggling and laughing, squirming around. Hermes watched with a wide smile, and they all had very different reactions to the feeling.

Polites was doubled over and hugging himself still, but was also clearly enjoying himself, never once saying ‘no!’ Or ‘stop!’. Eurylochus had his arms snapped to his sides, still laughing with deep rumbling chuckles, protesting loudly. Odysseus was super embarrassed, blushing as he laughed wildly in front of his crew.

“Hehehehehermehehes, STOHOHOP!”

“Aww, but why~ this is so much fun!” Hermes pouts dramatically, holding his face.

“Speheak fohor yohoursehelf aHahahahaha!”

“I dunno~ you all sure sound like you’re having fun.”

“Nohoho whehehe ahaharent! Cuhuhut ihit ohout!” Eurylochus protested through his laughter, struggling to get the words out.

Polites spoke up from his spot. “Ihi dohont knohow Guhuys, Ihi thihink thihis ihis kihinda fuhun! Ehahahaha!”

“I knew you would~” Hermes coos, causing Polites to blush, but he doesn’t deny anything or protest at all.

“Since you’re having fun, why don’t I make this a little bit more interesting, hmm?” The god drawls again, once again increasing the sensation for all three men.

They’re all consumed by unrelenting tickles on their worst spots, the entire area being overwhelmed with fluttery, electric tingles that make them hysterical with laughter.

Polites can feel his entire tummy being assaulted with the ticklish sensations, feeling like prodding fingers and raspberries on every inch of the surface. He doesn’t deny that he’s having fun, small joyful tears forming in his eyes as he giggles.

Eurylochus can feel his whole underarm area being tickled ruthlessly, a buzzing electric sensation consuming him. It tickles so bad! And he is much more reluctant to admit that he doesn’t totally hate this, not even admitting it to himself.

Odysseus is certainly the most embarrassed of the three. He is supposed to be the captain, strong and respectable! But here he was, unable to stop himself from laughing loudly from the feeling of his legs being squeezed and scratched ticklishly. He feels his knees buckle and he grabs into the railing for support. He also refuses to admit to himself that he’s enjoying the feeling, the enjoyment being far overshadowed by embarrassment.

The crew has gathered around to watch the scene, cooing and cheering.

“Haha, they needed to be taken down a notch!”

“Aww, look how much fun Polites is having!”

“I know, right? He’s smiling so wide!”

“Haha, yeah, and I think Eurylochus and the Cap are enjoying it too, even if they don’t wanna admit it.”

The three blush more at the words, especially Odysseus, feeling humiliated at being reduced to a laughing mess in front of his men. Hermes watches, hovering around in various relaxed or playful positions, not deactivating or lowering the relentless divine tickles in the slightest.

“Look how cute you are~ all giggly and happy~” the trickster coos, floating like a school girl would lay on their stomach. He’s having a blast watching and causing the chaos, and he knows that his targets are too, even if two of them won’t admit it.

“Hehehehermehehes, cuhuhut ihihit ohohohout!” Eurylochus continues to protest, feeling as though he has to do something, anything to stop the sensation.

“I don’t think so, darling~ in fact, I don’t think you should be telling a god what to do~”

Eurylochus sees what Hermes is implying and quickly backtracks with giggly apologies. “Wahahait, ihihim sohohorry nononohohoho!”

Hermes giggles and intensifies the sensation anyway. “Yes~ tickle tickle tickle! Doesn’t that feel nice~”

“NoHOhoHO IHIT dohoHOESNT! STohop, PlehehHEASE!” Eurylochus’ chuckles raise to belly laughs, the sensation driving him mad.

Polites, despite how much fun he’s having right now, almost feels a pang of.. jealousy? At Eurylochus’ pleading, feeling like he’s missing out on something more intense. Picking up on this, somehow, Hermes looks at Polites with a teasing yet fond smile, speaking with a teasing lilt that makes Polites blush grow.

“Aww, is someone feeling a little jealous~? Dont worry, friend, let me help you with that~” Hermes does so, increasing the sensation for Polites as well, even adding some ticklish sensation to his sides as well, sensing just how much the optimistic man is enjoying himself.

Polites’ Jealousy immediately vanishes, replaced by a giddy panic mixed with happiness, his squeaky giggles growing louder. He nearly cheers aloud, but decides against it, not wanting to embarrass himself more than he already has. “Eehehehhahahahaha ihihits sohoho tihihickly! Ahahahahaha!”

“Aww, I know it is~ it feels good, doesn’t it~?” Polites doesn’t respond directly, but he doesn’t deny it either, and his body language conveys how he’s really feeling, so he doesn’t really have to respond.

Odysseus is leaning on the railing for support, falling nearly entirely to the floor from the unending, debilitating ticklish shocks sending through his legs. He is so embarrassed, but despite that, he’s also, maybe..having.. just a bit of fun. (It’s a lot of fun, but he’s not even gonna think about that) His worst spot is being tickled absolutely ruthlessly, the electric sensation not letting up for a single moment. His laughter is loud and frantic, but it does carry a tone of genuine joy as well.

“AhaHAhaHAHAHAH! MahahaHAKe ihihit StohohoHOP-!”

“What’s wrong, too ticklish~?” Hermes’ teasing words make his already bright red face get even brighter, his embarrassment evident on his face that’s also adorned with a wide smile, just as his two friends who are squirming and laughing besides him.

“Plehehehehease, hehehehermehehes, ihi CAHAHANT Tahahake ihihit!” Eurylochus’ voice rumbles with his deep laughter, a low, loud sound.

“Sure you can~ all you gotta do is laugh, and you’re doing just fine at that~”

“Heheheehehahahahahahaha! Ihihit tihihickles sohoho muhuhuch! Hahahahahha!” Polites’ happy giggling continues to fill the air of the ship, earning coos from the watching audience.

Hermes decides that Odysseus needs to join his friends in the more intense feeling, increasing it for him as well, making his legs fully fail, him collapsing to the floor in loud fits of laughter, kicking in order to try and expel the sensation, or at the very least deal with it. “AHAHAH- NohoHO- ahahahahahaha!”

“Oop, man down! Looks like someone’s awful ticklish~”

“AHaHAHA NOHOT THEHERE, PLEHEASE!”

“Oh, but this spot is just so fun!”

Eurylochus continues to let out Belly laughs, his being the deepest of the three, filling the air with the booming sound. “Hahahahahahaha ehehenohohough, plehehehehease! Ahahahahaha!”

“Why should I~ you all seem to be having a good time~”

Polites is still giggling happily, holding his stomach with small tears of joy rolling down his face. He is having an absolute blast right now, and is the most open about it.

Odysseus, meanwhile, was stuck in absolute ticklish agony, laughing loudly as his thighs were assaulted with ruthless tickles, forcing endless laughter from his chest. He, too, had tears of laughter falling, the feeling be so unbelievably intense, and despite the fact that he doesn’t want to admit it, it feels so good. What made it worse is that he couldn’t even fight back! There were no hands to push at, no pin to struggle against, but yet no matter how much he kicked and squirmed it did nothing to help alleviate the maddening feeling.

Eurylochus was much in the same position, arms pinned to his sides but it doing nothing to block or protect him from the intense tingling tickles on his underarms, making his deep belly laughs ring throughout the ship.

Hermes could tell that they were reaching their limit, so decided for one last hurrah before ending the feeling.

“You guys ready for a grand finale~”

“NOHOHO!”

“Plehehehehease dohohont!”

Eurylochus and Odysseus protested loudly, whereas Polites just felt flutters of anticipation in his chest.

Hermes ignored the pleas, and for said ‘grand finale’, made the three have even more intense sensations all over their most ticklish spots, driving them mad with laughter.

It only lasted for a few seconds, the men’s hysterical laughter filling the ship like a joyful symphony, but to them it felt like an hour. It was so unbelievably intense, probably the strongest tickling any of them had ever experienced.

It was absolutely unbearable, and although it was a little enjoyable, they each knew that they couldn’t take it for more than a few seconds.

After the longest 5 seconds of their lives, Hermes snapped and the sensation disappeared, leaving just residual giggles.

After a minute or so that the men took to cool their breathing and stop giggling, Hermes spoke.

“Did you have fun~~” the blush that had started to fade immediately returned in full force.

“Yeah..” Polites spoke quietly, not bothering to deny it despite it being embarrassing to admit.

“Absolutely not!” Eurylochus and Odysseus chimed in at the same time, despite it being not fully true.

Odysseus continued. “Please, never do that again.”

Hermes did an exaggerated pout. “Booo, you’re no fun~”

Odysseus just sighed. “At the very least can you not do that while I’m in front of everyone?”

“I make no promises~”

With final goodbyes and well wishes, Hermes flew off to continue his job, leaving the three flustered from the experience.

“Agree to never talk about this again?”

Odysseus spoke and the other two nodded.

“Agreed.” Eurylochus continued. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They dispersed to do various things and continue their jobs, but they couldn’t deny that they had a slight lightness in their chests after the experience, the boredom of the day having been lifted slightly.

It was a pretty cool trick.

———THE END————————————————

[fangirl-erdariel]

Sometimes it fucks me up that Túrin was so loved, by so many people. And it didn't save him, and arguably it was Húrin's love for him that doomed him in the first place, given the phrasing of the curse. But he was loved. So many people did their best to ensure that he lived, that he was safe, that he could be happy. I just. aaaaaaaaaaaaa ;_;

I think in some ways it's especially interesting when contrasted with Kullervo, one of the direct inspirations of the character. Because it's maybe in my eyes the single most crucial difference between the characters. Like, both of them are tragic heroes, who are stubborn, and deeply hurt and angry, and make rash choices in the heat of the moment that often end up digging the hole deeper than it had to be. Both also have sisters they don't meet until they're adults, have sex with them, the sister finds out and kills herself by jumping into a river, and the hero asks his sword whether it would like to kill him, the sword is like "yeah sure i've killed innocents too so why wouldn't i kill you", and the hero uses the sword to kill himself near the site where the sister did.

But Kullervo is not loved or cared for, the way Túrin is. Kullervo is left as a baby in the hands of the people who'd attacked his father's lands, and made to work, and when he proves to be more trouble than they bargained for, he is sold as a slave, treated poorly by the lady of the house he's sold to, shit like that. It's... kinda a central point of the story, really. The version Lönnrot put in the Kalevala (which is not the only version of the story that would've existed in oral tradition, but I am really not at all familiar with any other versions of the story that one might still be able to find, and in any case, the version presented in Kalevala was the one Tolkien knew and was inspired by) quite explicitly says that Kullervo couldn't adjust to living a normal life because he was raised by people who didn't care about him, and that children raised without love/by people who are abusive towards them are gonna be messed up and struggle to live and act in society

So, yeah, I don't know, it's really interesting (and also heartbreaking) to me how Morwen and Thingol and Melian and others in Silmarillion seem to almost be specifically making every effort to ensure that Túrin avoids that fate. Obviously Kalevala and the tale of Kullervo doesn't exist in the setting, but you know what I mean. The way they try to make sure that he is not enslaved, that he is not abused, that he is loved and safe. And yet, it fails. Because of the curse (which, as far as it comes from anywhere but Tolkien's mind, comes from inspirations other than Kalevala) he ends up on a path to destruction anyway

and just. yeah. it's interesting, looking at the way Túrin's story is in some ways in conversation with Kullervo's story. and it's also so sad, how much the characters *try* to avoid that path, that fate, with ultimately no success

[spoopdeedoop]

real friends have weird greetings that usually involve hitting each other

[horsemeatluvr23]

the juppet !! i just realised he is jerma posing i swear that was unintentional...... i spent so long digging thru muppet concept art and looking at old puppet designs just to end up doing a rly simple drawing but. i love joehills!! i have only been watching them for like 4 years but their videos r so special to me :3

[cent-scratchnsniff]

elaborate self hate and ungodly amounts of yapping. underneath is just the main ones without text on it

[spacebubblehomebase]

Without colors or context, this simple and stupid comic of mine feels so, so tense; It's ominous. The difference from the tone of my last doodle is low-key hilarious though. But please, *insert ace joke here* cause I swear this is nothing serious. I don't even know why I gave in so much effort or show ya'll my progress before finishing, yet here we are. -Bubbly💙

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[quietwingsinthesky]

youtube stop recommending me that five hour long “fall of doctor who” video challenge. there is not a video i could be less interested in watching.

[jaevy]

your room was square

i once noticed from there

in your bed, as you slept

and i held my breath

everything had its own place

and i wondered what space would i take

in the order you kept

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[fiendishartist2]

[corpocyborg]

it's honestly a tragedy that so few people chose morinth over samara that they didn't even bother putting morinth in me3. like i don't blame the players bc the narrative clearly discourages most players by positioning choosing morinth as the evil choice. but i swear to god if you actually talk to her after choosing her you will see it is not that simple. the situation isn't nearly as clear cut and black & white as they make it out to be and either choice could be justified as the "good" or "evil" choice.

[bitegore]

ngl i think i kind of was a genius for being like 'yeah this character is a scary killyou cannibal scary killer who scary kills you' and then realizing that the way my worldbuilding works out is that there's a nonzero chance that if you leave literally any body parts over they can just come back, depending on what they believe in their heart of hearts can kill them. Of course she'd start eating her kills. She probably tried normal stuff first and then realized it didn't work and she had to try harder if she wanted to actually keep them dead.

[keeps-ache]

little soup cans are some of the neatest things we have, wish there were more soup-can-like things in this world