#what i'm saying is that you have to be pretty blatant for me to pick up on any red flags

[gamebunny-advance]

Sus.

I just need to get this story off my chest because it's been bothering me since it happened. It's nothing really relevant to what I usually post or anything that's happened here, so feel free to skip this "story" if the subject matter offends you.

Content Warning for minors in implied sexual situations.

So, Youtube likes to recommend cartoon review/analysis videos to me, even of shows I've never watched. Sometimes I watch them because I like watching people be passionate about any given subject.

But other times they can be a little cringe because it's still grown adults yelling about cartoons, ya know? I'm happy that they've got something they're passionate enough about to sink so much time and effort into a video, but that doesn't automatically make me share their enthusiasm, especially if it's coming from a place of a bad faith criticism.

For the most part, I just move on from videos that give that vibe, but I recently came across one that disturbed me in a way that no one in the comments was really pointing out because they were too busy agreeing with the sentiment that the cartoon in question was bad.

The video was about some reboot for Tiny Toon Adventures (I literally know nothing about it other than what the video told me, and at this point I'd rather not learn anything more about it).

The video had pretty high production values all things considered, with a lot of original animation and art, like actual lip-synching on the avatar and detailed backgrounds as opposed to the static sprites on single colored/patterned backgrounds I usually see among cartoon critics.

I didn't stay long enough for the credits or check the description, but presumably all the art was done by the speaker/creator. Due to this, I was impressed enough to stick around to see what he had to say. Generally speaking, you just don't put that amount of effort into something that you're not passionate about, and I'm here for the passion first and opinions second.

The first talking point was about how the show apparently changed the relationship between the lead characters, Babs and Buster Bunny, from friends/lovers to siblings. This was gotten across in the usual way of the speaker overacting how angry/shocked they are about what is honestly a mundane change in the grand scheme of things. This was turn-off number 1 because I don't find the "caustic critic" to be that funny, especially when it's in service to bad faith criticisms. But, that wasn't what really disturbed me.

What set off a red flag to me, was the "skit" that followed.

The speaker detailed a situation where children, illustrated as a young girl and young boy, who were fans of the new reboot would eventually go back and watch the original show and be corrupted due to them misunderstanding the characters' relationship as being incestuous. I thought that this point was heavily exaggerated (as bits of this nature tend to be), but it's still not what disturbed me.

What disturbed me was how one of the sight gags to illustrate this point was to show the children wearing character themed underwear.

I'm not saying the underwear was drawn as a separate prop that they were implied to be wearing. I mean that as a part of the gag, I was forced to briefly look at two children standing in their underwear for no good reason. And to get to that gag, the characters were first fully dressed in merch before revealing their underwear underneath.

So not only was I forced to look at two children standing in their underwear, but they were literally undressed in front of me to make that "joke".

And immediately following that, I'm also forced to look at the girl child wrapped up in a spiderweb about to be eaten by a giant spider to illustrate the point that the kids are now trapped in some sort of "mindweb" from the confusion.

So me, knowing that tying people in spiderwebs is an uncommon but real fetish, felt deeply uncomfortable by this scene occurring right after the children were shown half naked.

Like, I'm not accusing that creator of anything because none of this is proof of any wrongdoing or bad intention outside of the bad faith criticism of the show. But I will say that I was so disturbed by this that I literally couldn't watch the rest of the video, so I don't know if it got worse from there.

But to try and prove that I'm not trying to say this in bad faith, I'll grant a couple of "outs":

The children weren't drawn particularly realistically: they were stick figure-esque in comparison to the more detailed art in the rest of the video that I saw. If the artist really wanted to detail these children, they probably would have, so I don't believe the drawings were meant to be especially gratifying.

I also know that cartoon print underwear is a shorthand for the character wearing them to be obsessed with the cartoon on the underwear. It's literally a joke from the Spongebob Movie, so if this guy was old enough to have been a fan of the original Tiny Toons, then he probably would have been in the age range to watch that movie and internalize that joke (or seen it elsewhere in a different cartoon). So it's possible that he might not have considered the implications of showing a child in a similar situation.

Additionally, while I don't recall much of Tiny Toons, I know that it's one of those shows that while it's made for children/general audiences, has a lot of mature humor, so maybe he thought he was doing the same thing without considering the implications of what he'd done.

Which is basically the same justification as the last point, but really the only way I can imagine someone thinking any of that was okay is ignorance.

But your dear ol'Sammy has been around the block a few times. Even though I can easily make up reasons why all this could be completely innocent/accidental, I feel like I can tell the difference between someone who made an honest mistake, and someone that is incapable of hiding what they really are. And this is sadly falling under the latter.

I always hope that I'm wrong in situations like this. I hope that I'm just paranoid and there's no malice at play here because my goal is not to punish wrongdoing, it's to make sure that other people are safe. But I can't ignore a red flag once I see it, and it was driving me crazy that no one seemed to be acknowledging it.

I won't link the video here because I don't want it to spread around, but if you really want to seek it out, then I've probably given enough information for you to find it on your own and make your own judgement about it.

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo and your son, Sen, getting into the nastiest fight to date.

"Doman expansion: Infinity Castle!"

You feel yourself floating right side up, then everything shifts and you're suddenly falling upside down. You hit the tatami mats with an "oof!"

Sen's domain is a Japanese-style castle with infinite rooms he can manipulate at will. The domain is infinite and some rooms can lead to nowhere, reminiscent of Satoru's domain. When he and his best friend Naoki overlap their domains, one could find themselves isolated, battling shikigami in various parts of the castle.

Sen and Satoru land on their feet not far from you.

"Yikes," Satoru says. "Pretty crude, if you ask me."

"Good thing I'm not asking!" Sen would say, powering up his next attack. Satoru would move to counter and by now you have a headache and a bruise, and you've had it with the bickering.

"Domain--"

"Enough!" You put your hands together. "Domain expansion: Thousand Heavenly Gates"

The scene shifts and you find yourselves standing on water with a clear sky above you. One thousand torii gates stand tall all around you. Your ex and son feel the rage inside them start to fade away.

Pointing an accusing finger, you scold them, "You two are two of the strongest sorcerers who ever lived. Using your gifts to bicker with each other is some of the most blatant disregard for your stations I've ever seen! I don't want to see another domain used for this kind of stupidity again. Am I clear?"

"Yup."

"Yes, mama."

"Now," you say slowly. "When I drop this domain, you two are going to spend some civil father-son time together. Go get lunch. I don't care where, but on the way back, pick me up an ice cream. Double scoop. Satoru?"

You ex-husband grimaces and has the decency to look chastised. "Yeah, I know what flavor. That swirly one you like."

"Good. Don't come back until you've learned to play nice."

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo picking you up from girls' night.

Sen goes back to the school dorms at night, so you figured you go out for a few drinks with your friends to catch up. Satoru heard about the event from Shoko and offered to take you home. You agreed and on the way took a detour to your favorite arcade from when you and Satoru were teens.

"Ugh! I swear these things are rigged!" you groan in frustration when the claw game drops the plushie you were aiming for.

"My turn," Satoru says. He scoots you out of the way and focuses hard on the white one-eyed cat you've been trying to get.

In the reflection of the plastic, you notice a slight glow behind Satoru's blindfold.

"No way you're using the six-eyes for this!" You whack his arm playfully, trying to stifle your laughter.

"Don't hate the player, babe, hate the game," he replies. With that, he presses the button and the claw drops. It hits the toy dead center. Closes. Lifts. The two of you hold your breaths.

And drops right into the chute.

"Yes!" you squeal while Satoru retrieves it. His face screws up in a look of contempt.

"Ew, it's even uglier up close."

You snatch it from him and hug it close to your chest. "Don't say that! He didn't mean it, Gege, don't worry."

"You named it already?"

"I named him."

"His face makes me mad for some reason."

"Your face makes me mad for many reasons."

Satoru lightly punches Gege in the face, which leads to you chasing him all the way back to the car, brandishing your new friend like a weapon.

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo walking you to your front door.

You thank him for the ride and for taking you to that arcade. He doesn't need to know this, but being there with him made you feel like you were seventeen again.

Many things about Satoru remind you of how happy he made you. Even now.

"I'm sorry I acted like that," he says. Your reminiscing means you didn't catch the first part of his apology but you nod like you've been paying attention the whole time. "We're not together any more and I haven't been good about respecting boundaries and I'm sorry."

He blabbers on some more but all you can think about is how this whole apology is exactly the kind of communication you'd been wishing for throughout your marriage.

"So if you're seeing someone now, I get it. I mean, it doesn't matter if I get it or not because it's none of my business but--"

"Oh, shut up, Toru!" Fisting a hand in his shirt, you drag him to your level and kiss him like you’d never get to again.

~

Thanks for reading!

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[lillotte17]

Jumping on the Veilguard Banter wagon bc I'm back in the Solavellan sauce, but I can't seem to focus long enough to finish anything bigger ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~~

“I can see the wheels turning in that big bald head of yours, Chuckles. What world-ending secrets are you pondering this time?”

“I was merely… Would I be correct in assuming that you are still in contact with former members of the Inquisition?”

“I might be. Why? Looking to liven up your days with another round of mental chess with Tiny? Not sure he’d agree to that. He’s pretty mad about the ‘ripping open the sky again’ thing, although he did think it was funny that you picked Tevinter.”

“No. Thank you. I do not think it likely that the Iron Bull and I could have any sort of conversation that did not end in violence at this point.”

“If you’d prefer, I’m sure I could get Sparkles over here to yell at you about all of this instead. He’s just as mad, but much less likely to try and bury an axe in your skull.”

“I did not ask the question in the interest of having you summon old acquaintances, Varric. I was simply…curious.”

“You can say her name, you know.”

~

“The former Inquisitor-”

“Are we really doing this?”

“…Is she well?”

“How do you think I should answer that question?”

“Honestly, if you are capable.”

“You wound me, Chuckles! I don’t deal in salacious idle gossip.”

“You wrote an entire book about her.”

“I write books about everyone.”

“Varric.”

*sighs* “Look…nothing I could say would make you feel any better. Good or bad, it is what it is. Knowing about it won’t change anything, so why does it matter?”

“She always matters.”

“Could have fooled me.”

~

“I have to ask, is what Varric wrote in his book about you true?”

“Knowing his penchant for peddling exaggerations, half-truths, and blatant falsehoods? Probably not.”

“So, you weren’t madly in love with the former Inquisitor?”

“That is… I have a deep respect for the former Inquisitor, and I am not going to discuss her personal feelings or private affairs.”

“That book has sold enough copies to rival Hard in Hightown at this point, I don’t think anything in there is private anymore. Besides, I was asking about your private affairs, not hers.”

“I am not going to discuss those, either.”

“Oh, so it is true!” *laughs*

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

I love Fiona the Hippo, so I really liked your post highlighting her, but now I'm sad that Moo Deng is having a bad time. I did think it was funny she tried to bite that one handler's crotch, and I was worried that she's going to grow up to be an aggressive hippo that might hurt someone because they're just kinda . . . letting her bite people and how that'll end very badly for her, but it hadn't occurred to me that she was being mistreated. :(

It’s hard to say whether she’s being “mistreated” necessarily. I don’t like to throw around words like abuse when it comes to animal welfare because people use it way too lightly.

But there’s definitely a degree of stress she’s experiencing due to that handling. It’s so easy to find cute animal videos endearing and amusing when we don’t know what to look for.

I tend to try to assess things over multiple contexts and videos and form an opinion from there. The blatant smacking, grabbing, picking up and chasing were probably the best examples- but I only found most of those because TikTok kept shoving guest videos from the zoo onto my fyp.

The biting was another flag. Yes, hippos use their mouths to interact with their world but regardless of context it’s just a huge no no when it comes to handling any animal - especially a large herbivore that grows up with a bite force of approx 1800lbs!

Also I was looking for more videos of their adult Pygmy hippos and came across a video of one of the keepers using a water gun on one of them

Dude really? You’re going to post that on your official zoo TikTok and not have a think about the optics for your conservation message?

Yikes.

Also the adult Pygmy hippo very much avoids the keeper and either tolerates it or runs away from the water.

Interesting to see the open mouth while being followed/chased with the water gun while he tries to avoid it. A redirected threat display? A stress yawn? He just looks very much like he’s tolerating it.

It does make me wonder if this is another hippo raised with the same rough handling as Moo Deng and they’ve just learned nothing they do matters and to tolerate whatever comes their way. It’s pretty much learned helplessness and I don’t like that at all.

Compare this with Fritz the common hippo (Fiona’s brother) interacting with the hose - it stays in one place for him to interact with, is offered and then moved away so he can continue to seek it out if he wants more. He actively seeks the hose and can move himself around to where it feels best.

This is how you offer consent and autonomy to your zoo animals. Not chase them around their enclosure with a water gun jfc

[biblio-smia]

some fake dating with peter parker plzz<3

"Can I have your number?"

The horrifying question pulls you out of your work and into a waking nightmare as your eyes fall onto a boy, around your age, standing over your lonely library table, phone held out towards you expectantly.

You laugh, because it's your first instinct to, forced and too loud.

"Oh, I'm okay," you say nervously, hoping it's enough to wave him off.

The boy stands, stunned, wondering if you'd misheard. "I asked for your number," he repeats through his own forced laugh, inching closer to you, his phone only inches from your face.

Discomfort pricks at your skin as you bite your lip, unsure now of what to do. Your eyes stare directly at your now dim computer screen, your own reflection visible, your eyes not daring to look up at the stranger's.

As the screen of your laptop finally turns black you catch the glimpse of another stranger behind you before your head snaps to the shuffle of movement beside you. Another boy, this one tall and brunette, slides into the chair next to yours comfortably. Two pairs of eyes have fallen on him, yours particularly wide in surprise.

God, why you?

"Hey," he says with an easy smile, eyes focused solely on you. "Sorry I'm late." His hand reaches for yours, fingers linking together too naturally.

You recognize him now - you've seen him around campus a few times, definitely, but you're sure you've never spoken to each other before today.

"It's fine," you say softly, trying to wipe the shock off of your face to not flush all this new stranger's efforts down the drain.

"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," the boy standing over you scoffs, phone finally tucked away and arms crossed.

Words falter as he walks away - though your attention is brought back to your hand, still interlocked with a stranger's. Your intense gaze makes the boy next to you redden and suddenly retract his hand, nerves beginning to pick up now that he has no audience to act for.

"I'm so sorry," he begins immediately. "You looked really uncomfortable, I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable." His hands are raised in surrender while his knee bounces nervously, eyes glancing for a quick escape.

"That was pretty quick thinking," you offer with a small smile. "Thanks for getting rid of him."

The boy smiles back, just slightly. There's still guilt in his eyes as he looks over you and your makeshift work station, hands moving to grab his few personal items.

"I'm sorry, I totally interrupted your study session," he laughs awkwardly, shouldering the bag he'd dropped on the table so carelessly earlier.

"Well, technically..." The rest of your thought fades as you focus on the sudden flinging of a bag back onto the table.

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head, ready to ask the boy why he'd thrown his bag back down immediately before you notice how intensely he's looking at you.

"I don't think it's safe for me to go yet."

Something about his gaze tells you not to look behind you despite how badly you want to; you're sure it has something to do with a certain guy from earlier.

"I can take care of myself," you defend.

"I'm sure you can," he says in a tone so genuine it catches you off-guard. "I just can't, in good conscious, leave until he does."

Your lips part slightly at how much care a stranger holds for your well-being. It's a little strange, but not in the way that makes you shiver; strange in a way that makes your eyes wide and your cheeks warm.

"We could leave first," you suggest, closing the lid of your abandoned laptop. "I'm pretty much done anyway." It was a blatant lie, but there was no way for him to know that. Really, your motivator was not wanting to hold up any more of his time; how indebted would you be?

"Are you sure?" He only moves to pick his things up when you nod, accepting the interlocking arm you offer with red cheeks. He walks with you out of the library, stopping a good distance away from the primary doors and hopefully, any onlookers.

"Thank you..."

"Peter," he all but laughs, finding too much humor in the fact that you don't even know his name. "Peter Parker."

"Thank you, Peter. That was very nice of you."

"I try," Peter grins easily at you, taking a few steps backward as he waves goodbye. "See you around?"

"Yeah!" You call, though it's not certain; you don't have his number (as ironic as that is). "I'll see you!"

As Peter's back turns towards you and yours eventually turns towards him, you can't help the tingling of your fingers where they had been interlocked with his.

Nothing is certain. As far as you know, you may not see him for another couple of weeks.

Your next meeting will just have to be written in the stars.

masterlist

[massiveharmonytiger]

So I was rewatching Saltburn and I had an epiphany!

Farleigh is in love with Oliver.

Like, embarrassingly, stupidly, head over heels.

I mean, I knew he had a thing for Ollie, with the jealously telling Felix about him and Venetia, the Richard III would put in the work line followed by him being completely disarmed when Oliver suggests that he fucks him, and then the actual Oliver seducing him scene, but I only just realized the extent of it and how far back it goes.

First of all, Farleigh notices Oliver before Oliver sees Felix for the first time.

Yes, I got the script because I'm complete Saltburn trash at this point. So when Farleigh is introduced, the script describes him as beautiful and pansexual, walking among a group of alpha hotties. So in the film, he's with two hotties, a guy and a girl. He has his pick. There's no reason for him to point out Oliver or what he's wearing to them, unless he's trying to impress them, but why would Farleigh Start need to impress them? He's already the centre of that group. Sure the script also describes him as an imp with a cruel streak, but after rewatching I feel like that's a blatant misdirection. I mean, he got expelled for sucking off teachers. Nerdy prep is exactly his type.

He says, "Hey cool jacket," to Oliver. If you interpret that line as being delivered by the beautiful and pansexual Farleigh Start, not the impish and cruel Farleigh Start, it's pretty much a come on. I'm mixed race like Farleigh and it kind of reminds me of those back-handed compliments white people give you when they think you're hot or cute 'for a brown person.' It's kind of hilarious to see it subverted like this, but obviously Oliver is less amused. Why would he interpret it as anything other than more bullying? Which it kind of is, so fair enough. But it's the kind of bullying people do when they get a crush they don't know how to handle. A little boy pulling on a girls pigtails. And it's obviously worked for Farleigh before. Why would he need to try any harder than that?

After Farleigh's comment, Oliver sees Felix for the first time. Farleigh is also there, but Oliver's already smitten and doesn't really notice him beyond, "Oh, it's that jerk from earlier and he's next to Felix, where I should be." Then you get a few other bits that wreck me. Oliver ducking from the window when Felix looks up, Oliver trying to sit at Felix (and Farleigh)'s table at the mess hall, but being unable to, Michael causing the disruption, but it doesn't even interrupt Felix and Farleigh's conversation. (Which ties in nicely to my theory of how the original Oliver wouldn't have gotten Felix's attention even if he screamed, he had to mold himself into what Felix wanted just to get noticed, but one theory at a time).

Next up, we have the tutor session that Farleigh is late for. Before Farleigh gets there, Oliver is humiliated and belittled for completing the reading list, which dooms Farleigh even more when he shows up and the tutor starts fawning over him. Oliver doesn't know Farleigh and Felix are cousins yet. He's just the guy that was snide to Oliver when he first got there. The guy at Felix's side that Oliver keeps measuring himself against. So yeah, Oliver is pissed off before Farleigh gets there and that cute little knee touch isn't going to change anything.

Yes, Farleigh, I also count the amount of times my crush uses a word in their essay despite still being hungover from last night's party, just so that I have something to talk to him about… Oh wait, no, that's just you.

The way he looks up at Oliver with those big brown doe eyes when he says, "I counted". The way he keeps looking up to gauge his reaction to all his comments. The way he's looking at him, period.

And Oliver doesn't fall for his cuteness and charm because he's just convinced that the intent behind his words is malicious. Poor Farleigh. He must have been so confused. People usually fold but here's this guy, meeting him blow for blow. He's never had to "put in the work" like this. What the hell.

The tutor sessions with Oliver and Farleigh (where Farleigh is framed lower than Oliver) actually serve as a nice parallel to a lot of the scenes where Oliver and Felix are together (and Oliver is framed lower than Felix). We don't really see that when Farleigh and Felix are together. They're usually at a similar height in those scenes.

Then we have the scene in the bar where Felix calls Oliver over and Farleigh has that panicked, "Oh shit, my crush is here," look on his face before it settles into resignation as he realizes Oliver is, "another one of Felix's toys". Finally the mystery is solved. This is why Oliver didn't fall for his charms at the tutor sessions.

So, Oliver prefers Felix to him, huh. That's just fine. He'll deal with the rejection by giving Oliver a hard time about buying the next round. That should push him away from Felix…oh shit, it brings them closer together. And now he looks like the douchebag.

Then there's this bit where Farleigh is looking at Oliver and Felix (mostly Oliver, the prior shot establishes which side of the room he's on, which happens to be where Farleigh's looking) and his party hat horns mirror the minotaur/how Oliver looked when he confessed his love to Felix later on. Oliver, you need to see how much Farleigh fucking loves you. Look at him, Ollie. Just look at him. (He can't, he's too busy looking at Felix)

Anything to get Oliver to notice him. Anything.

Cut to Oliver's arrival at Saltburn, where Oliver joins the rest of them in the library and Farleigh loudly cuts off Elspeth gossiping about Oliver and his parents because hearing, "We were just talking about you" would be better than hearing whatever was going to come out of Elspeth's mouth next. And I mean, he's already the asshole. This is actually so sweet.

And we all remember this scene. This clearly made his day.

But then we get the encounter with Venetia and Felix and Farleigh both being equally pissed at the breakfast table. And yeah, everything goes downhill from there. It's the reason Oliver seduces him and gets him thrown out for what's literally just another desperate attempt to drive a wedge between Oliver and Felix.

No, Oliver, he's not going to behave. God, yes. Don't stop.

Farleigh was down so bad he literally got honeytrapped and framed. Twice.

Between Felix, Oliver and Farleigh, there are really no winners. They really all got wrecked by love, huh.

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 2: "Knotting"

Summary: After walking in on your boss and seeing that he was struggling with his rut, it's only right for you to let him knot you after walking in on him!

Warning(s): Gentle sex (Kinda? It's mostly focused on the reader being fucked while Lycaon has a knot ngl), Dirty talk, Lycaon being a tease,

Side Note(s): I should have mentioned this in my original post for Kinktober but I didn't so I'll mention it now—

These fics will unfortunately not be as long as the ones I typically write 😔. Here and there I may write something longer if I'm super duper inspired, or if I just find myself wanting more lore than anything but it'll be pretty rare since I'm pumping out a fic per day for this entire month 💪 ✨

Anywho— I hope y'all enjoy more of me ranting about how much I love the wolf guy.

"The least you can do...is help me..."

That was the last sentence you remembered Von Lycaon saying to you before you were snapped back to the present via a particular harsh thrust, a moan tearing from your throat as you clawed at the wooden floor underneath you. To own up to your mistakes, you should have taken a hint that there was a chance that Lycaon was doing something...private via the rapid panting and groaning you heard from behind his door when you returned fresh from running some errands.

Now you found yourself stripped of your clothes and lying on the hard wooden floor, Lycaon's torturing you with his slow yet fierce thrusts as he rocked you steadily on his knot, your head locked into a headlock as a trail of drool escaped the corner of your mouth and trailed down onto the wolf thiren's forearm.

"L-Lycaon—fuuckkk..." You dumbly moaned, not knowing if you pleading for him to speed up or to let you rest for a moment.

He took it as a sign that you wanted him to speed up, the sudden increase in pace as he fucked into you with more vigor making your moans increase in volume and frequency. Lycaon smirked at the lewd sound of your pussy struggling to take his fat knot, and here he thought you were actually telling the truth when you told him so eagerly that you could "help him"!

"Such a shame Miss Y/N, where did all your confidence when you barged into my quarters go?" He said into your ear, his teasing tone making you clench as you unconsciously scratched at his forearm, struggling desperately to keep your head above the waters and not completely drown in the addictive feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. "Surely you can last a few more rounds?" He panted.

"You owe it to me for such a blatant display of rudeness earlier."

His ear twitched at you whining out his name before he stilled with a guttural hiss at your umpteenth orgasm. The sheer force of your orgasm pushing out some of his cum that he had so dutifully stuffed into you earlier, the idea of his precious seed being wasted...especially after you had begged him to fill you up and use you as he pleased in order to ease his rut. Although you did well to reduce his rut, the feeling of your tight walls wrapping so snugly against his cock eased the burning feeling in his chest that he struggled to get rid of earlier.

Still, the idea of you pregnant and round with his pups.

He couldn't get it out of his mind, the mental image becoming clearer and clearer in his mind as his thrusts picked back up to the brutal pace he set earlier. "L-Lycaon?!" You gasped. "W-What are you—Ah!—I thought you were—"

The wolf thiren clicked his tongue. "I won't be done with you for a while Miss Y/N." He said. "Until my knot goes down, I'll be making use of your services until then."

It seemed you were in for a long rest of the day ahead of you.

[stormsbourne]

alright listen

I know we're all having an evaluation of how eagerly we believe people who present with even the slightest air of authority and frankly good! we all need to be less credulous of people on the internet who tell lies.

but I think there are also other lessons to learn from james somerton. namely about his raging and blatant misogyny, which I've often seen similar forms of in fandom and on this specific site. to paraphrase bombs himself in the ctrl alt del video, if you see shitty behavior within your sphere, it's important to recognize it and try to fix it instead of rejecting it and asserting that no REAL members of the ingroup are like that. and nerds have a misogyny problem. including tumblr. so let's reckon with it.

do you append "white" or "straight" to your comments about women even when those things have little to do with the topic being discussed, just to make your comments seem more legit? (and no, m/m shipping discourse does not give you a ticket to say it's all straight women -- it's fictional characters, james.) do you often theorize about how (hurriedly appended "straight/white/cis") women are responsible for a problem in fandom, nay, all problems in fandom? have you made up a guy based on a single post that annoyed you and extrapolated to say that all (appended signifier to make it ok) women in fandom are like that? do you see women as uniquely fetishizing, uniquely stupid about politics or social issues, uniquely annoying to talk to? do you assume when there's an issue, even a real one and not the fake ones james made up, that a woman is probably at the root of it?

all of this still applies to you if you're a woman. it also applies if you're gay or a person of color or trans. being an oppressed group doesn't mean you are immune from sexism, and sexism is still rampant in everyday life for pretty much everyone.

your shipping and fandom discourse isn't immune from this. no, I'm not talking about how not enough people like yuri. I'm talking about how women who like "bad" ships like r*ylo or whatever are seen as open targets for harassment. how women who are into "bad/problematic" fandoms are seen as idiots and enablers who deserve what they get. how there's an attitude that women who like shitty bad porn must think it's good, must be too stupid to know better, and must need to be handheld and taught about good, acceptable fiction. I've already talked a lot about tumblr's complete refusal to admit that fujoshi wasn't a term coined by delicate japanese mlm to complain about evil women (and I wonder if james contributed to that idiotic concept), but the way I've seen people assert that women into m/m must be straight, must be stupid, must be lying about their identities, must be hurting gay men in real life in addition to wanting some anime boys to kiss ...

I've seen how some of you people talk about amb*r h*ard, is all I'm saying, and I've seen what you've tried to do to dozens of female creatives that, for some reason, you've decided deserve to be taken down or taught a lesson. I've seen the descriptions you use. shrieking, bitchy, whiny, uppity, shrewish, karen (don't get me started on how karen has been turned into an easy excuse for misogyny). you're not bystanders to what james did and is doing, you're a part of it. sure, you might not have the nazi fetish, but you've said things about women that put somerton to shame.

just a thing to keep in mind while the plagiarism discourse is ongoing. somerton is a shithead for many reasons but this is one that's important to remember because I think people often treat misogyny like a lesser crime, a smaller concern, and it's not. just think of what laws are passing and what views popular movements have of women and then, for one moment, consider that maybe your reflexive need to blame women or pick them apart might have been influenced by the Society In Which We Live.

[pin-k-ink]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE ★ HISAGI SHŪHEI

DAY FIVE ➵ what happens when kira’s little sister comes home from yet another disappointing fling? hisagi’s been warned to stay away, but he can’t help but wonder if this is his chance to finally get what he wants.

cw ➵ teasing, a shit ton of sexual tension, masturbation, getting caught, dirty talk, unprotected sex, pussy job, squírting, belly bulge, size kink, pet names

wc ➵ 6.3k

kinktober masterlist

"You sure you want that butterfly design? I could give you something a little...racier if you're feeling bold."

Hisagi's deep timbre sliced through the comfortable lull that had settled over the living room. You glanced up to find him leaning back casually on the couch, grey eyes glinting with a teasing heat as they roamed over you from beneath hooded lids.

A slow, sly smile curved your lips at the undisguised flirtation, even as you felt Kira stiffen almost imperceptibly beside you. Though your brother and his best friend largely ignored the thick, sultry undercurrents constantly sparking between you and Hisagi, moments like these still needled at Kira's fraternal instincts.

Not that you could necessarily blame him - if you were being fully honest with yourself. With his tatted sleeve of intricate inkwork peeking out from beneath the tight vee of his shirt and those tawny bedroom eyes smoldering from under the curtain of his dark lashes, Hisagi certainly painted an undeniably delicious portrait of smoldering masculinity.

You slowly traced your gaze down the alluring flex and pull of corded forearm muscles before meeting his heated stare once more through your lashes.

"Oh? You mean like some Chinese dragon wrapped around my thigh?" You purposefully pitched your tone low and sultry, reveling in the way Hisagi's eyes sparked at your invitation.

"That could definitely work," he rumbled in that sinful baritone of his, seeming to savor each suggestive syllable. "Though I was thinking something more...intimate in placement."

Hisagi's gaze slowly, deliberately lowered to the vee of your shirt and lingered there with blatant appreciation. You felt your cheeks heat and pulsepoints kickup as his tongue slicked out to lasciviously wet his lower lip.

Before things could escalate any further, Kira cleared his throat sharply beside you. "Cool it with the ovaries-before-broviaries teasing already," he growled without any real venom, roughly cuffing Hisagi's shoulder. "I put up with enough of your gross flirting every other time you come around."

You shot your brother a sly grin, quietly delighted at managing to rile him up yet again. Hisagi simply chuckled unrepentantly, leaning further back into the plush cushions and looking for all the world like the picture of ease.

"What can I say, Izuru? Your sister loves getting a rise out of me." His grey eyes cut towards you in a singeing look from beneath ponderous lids. "She knows just how to tempt a man into crossing all sorts of lines..."

The husky timbre underlying Hisagi's words and the intensity of his heated stare raised delicious goosebumps all along your arms. You shifted almost imperceptibly on the couch, pressing your thighs together subtly as a shivery tendril of yearning sparked low in your belly.

Hisagi's throat visibly worked as his gaze shamelessly traced the minute motion, nostrils flaring ever so slightly as if suddenly picking up on the whisper-soft scent of your arousal. His eyes darkened into pools of liquid lava when they finally dragged their way back up to meet your own heated perusal.

"Yeah, well, keep your damn eyes off my baby sister before I revoke your privileges around here," Kira huffed without any real threat in his tone. He was too used to these little displays by now, even if he still bristled on reflex.

That same devilish smile curved your lips as you maintained searing eye contact with Hisagi, the air itself seeming to thicken and grow charged between you two. "Oh, I'm pretty sure Shuhei would love having certain privileges revoked around me..."

Kira promptly choked on an inelegant sputter at your blatant innuendo as Hisagi's smirk stretched further, flashing that dimple that always made your knees go a little weak. He didn't bother denying the provocative implication as you let your eyes roam over him in return.

God, he was so deliciously male in that effortlessly confident way of his. You very nearly found yourself whimpering aloud at the dark, sensual promise kindled in his heated stare and quirked lips. You wanted so badly to taste that arrogance, to make that self-assured mask shatter into something raw and unraveled just for you.

Instead, you simply hummed a playful little sound and stood up, uncurling your legs and relishing the weight of Hisagi's ravenous stare tracking the motion. "Well, I'm gonna go freshen up and give you boys some space," you announced lightly as if the air itself hadn't gone soupy thick with tension.

A subtle shift rippled through the electrically charged atmosphere as you hummed that same playful little sound and stood up in one lithe motion. Hisagi's molten stare followed the undulating sway of your hips with ravenous hunger as you uncurled your legs from beneath you.

"Well, I should probably go get ready," you announced in a tone of careful nonchalance that was completely at odds with the heated tension thrumming between your bodies. "I've got a date tonight, after all."

The words seemed to detonate in the weighted silence like a flash-bang grenade. Hisagi's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, firelit eyes narrowing to piercing slits that you refused to shy away from. You could practically taste the ripe undercurrents of his displeasure and frustration roiling just beneath the surface.

But you simply arched one brow in a silent challenge, reveling in the fact that he couldn't voice any of his likely objections in front of Kira. Not without revealing the deeper, decidedly unbrotherly nature of his regard for you.

Kira, oblivious as ever to the thick crosscurrents swirling around him, simply grunted an acknowledgment from his sprawl on the couch. But Hisagi remained coiled like a panther ready to strike, gaze following your movements with an intensity that made molten arousal curl low in your abdomen.

You allowed a small, sly smile to curve those glossed lips, unable to resist stoking those forbidden fires raging behind Hisagi's shuttered expression. With slow, exaggerated nonchalance, you trailed your hands up your torso and over the gentle swell of your curves in a pantomime of smoothing your shirt.

Hisagi's stare caught and lingered greedily on the unnecessary adjustment, nostrils flaring infinitesimally as if drinking in the subtle hints of your scent. You watched in quiet satisfaction as his powerful throat visibly worked, no doubt tamping down the urge to growl out some gravelly protestation.

Instead, he simply held your heated perusal, jaw still locked in that tic of displeased tension that only you seemed privy to catching. The scorching promise in those slate depths was undeniable, an entire world of delicious reckoning arcing between you.

When at last you broke the weighted stare with a ponderous blink, you allowed an expression of perfect wide-eyed innocence to slide across your features as if nothing untoward had transpired. Hisagi wasn't fooled for a second if the banked spark crackling in his gaze was any indication.

"Don't wait up, boys," you sang out in a dulcet trill as you turned and ambled towards the staircase, every sashaying pivot of your hips an unvoiced taunt.

You didn't need to glance back over your shoulder to confirm that Hisagi was, indeed, committing every last swish and sway to hungered memory. The electric prickle skittering down your nape was confirmation enough of the consuming weight of his turbulent stare.

Only once you'd ascended out of sight did your own carefully composured facade slip into a tremulous, darkly gleeful smirk. You pressed your thighs tightly together against the insistent throbbing ache between your legs as you hurried towards your bedroom.

Riling up the usually unflappable Shuhei into such visible disquiet over the mere suggestion of you being intimate with someone else never failed to make you feel powerful and perversely delighted. Perhaps tonight's hookup could be more brief than usual...especially if Hisagi sought to dole outsome of that promised carnal reckoning with you later on.

The thought made you shiver with illicit, smoldering anticipation as you closed your bedroom door. Better get ready indeed.

The thunderous boom of the front door slamming inward shattered the tranquil stillness like a gunshot. The violence of the jarring noise ricocheted through the darkened living room in pulsing waves, jolting both Hisagi and Kira from their respective slumbering states.

Hisagi came awake with a strangled grunt, instinctively jackknifing upright on the lumpy couch. His tousled head whipped towards the entryway, flint-gray eyes struggling to cut through the dim lighting as residual dream-haze rapidly cleared. Beside him, Kira issued a low groan of disoriented complaint from his ungainly sprawl amid the unswept trail of potato chip crumbs and stale beer bottles on the floor.

"What th'fuck...?" he slurred in drowsy consternation, movements sluggish as he tried to push up into a sitting position.

All residual cobwebs evaporated as the thunderous impact of stomping footfalls reverberated down the hall, each weighty tread punctuated by the unmistakable slam of a blazing feminine temper. Through his still-sleep-bleared vision, Hisagi caught the first rippling glimpses of movement—

Then your tightly coiled figure surged into view beneath the weak wash of lamplight spilling from the kitchen. A frisson of hyperalert tension lanced through Hisagi's veins at the very first glimpse of your features.

From the ponderous vee furrowed between your brows to the tight, bloodless slash of those lush lips compressed into a flat line, every aspect of your expression radiated seething inner turmoil on the verge of volcanic eruption. Not for the first time, Hisagi was punched by the visceral sense of a summer tempest rolling in - all blistering, sweltering portents crackling along his sensitized nerve-endings in warning.

The aggressive, almost contemptuous flick of your wrist as you shrugged out of your flimsy jacket only compounded the mental imagery. Hisagi's calloused fingers dug restlessly into the frayed upholstery as you whipped the garment aside with enough vehemence to nearly dislodge one of the neglected beer cans from its resting place on the coffee table.

"God, easy there, killer..." Kira groused, finally managing to peel open his own bleary eyes and squint in your direction. "What the hell's got your panties all in a..."

The bald inquiry trailed off into a sudden, ripe silence as he seemed to fully take in the bilious thunderclouds massing across your delicate features. For several beats, the only sound was the rhythmic pounding of blood rushing through both men's ears in anticipation of the impending maelstrom.

When at last you stirred again, the abrupt, stiff movement caused both of them to tense instinctively like soldiers awaiting the concussive impact. Hisagi felt his own muscles coil in response, bunching tautly beneath his shirt as if to absorb some inevitable, looming blow even he couldn't yet envision.

You still refused to meet their increasingly concerned stares, mouth remaining clamped in that rigid line that made his gut churn with dismay. From your pinched jawline to the tightly furrowed brow creasing that usually smooth expanse of forehead, every aspect of your countenance screamed that you were utterly caged in whatever fresh, bitter torment gripped you.

Hisagi opened his mouth, felt the scorched rumble of sound catch in his throat as you finally, brusquely broke the leaden expectancy hanging between you all.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

The terse growl slipped from those compressed lips like something small and feral lashing out in preemptive defense. It abraded across Hisagi's sharpening senses in an almost physical rasp even as you turned sharply on your heel.

Without a single backward glance, you stalked towards the stairs with something almost frenzied in the harsh clip of your footfalls. Hisagi watched each minute shift and sway of those tightly wound shoulders, arms crossed painfully over your chest as if to physically barricade whatever hellish emotions roiled beneath the surface from spilling free. Everything about your body language emanated tension vibrating on the verge of unraveling completely.

Just before ascending the first step, you paused for the slightest of suspended breaths. Hisagi's eyes remained riveted to the taut line of your spine, unconsciously mirroring the instinctive bracing he could perceive rippling through your frame.

When at last you spoke again, the words emerged in a low snarl more evocative of a wounded, cornered predator than anything else. "I'm fine. Just...don't bother me for a while, alright?"

Then, before either of them could react or draw breath to respond, you were simply...gone. In the span of one earth-shuddering exhalation, the shadows at the top of the stairs seemed to reach out and swallow your tense silhouette whole. All that remained was the ghostly impression of your wake slipstreaming in the air, ripe with the scent of agitation and storm clouds.

In your abrupt absence, the silence that enveloped the dim room rang with a pressure so weighty it constricted the very air from Hisagi's lungs. He and Kira sat motionless in its choking miasma, eyes remaining locked on that inky stairwell long after you'd fled its oppressive ambiance.

It was Kira who finally broke the fraught stillness with a protracted sigh that whistled through his teeth. "Well...shit," he muttered, all residual sleepiness banished utterly. "So much for hoping she'd finally chill the fuck out after another month of hooking up with this loser like all the others..."

His gaze cut askance towards Hisagi through the shadows with a minute shake of his mussed blonde head. "Safe to say there's not a chance in hell I'm venturing upstairs to poke that little hell-bear after the night she's obviously had."

Hisagi's lips twitched in a faint, humorless quirk that lasted but a beat. "And trying to talk her down when she's like this?" he asked, already knowing the resigned answer. "No fucking way, right?"

Kira's snort spoke volumes as he wearily dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair. Over the years, he'd learnt the hard way how futile and potentially dangerous it could be to try disarming you when you cycled into these virulently mercurial moods. More often than not, his well-meaning consolations only served to further enrage the emotional squall swirling around your tender heart.

No, the only viable option had always been to simply hunker down and wait out the worst of the initial tempest in tense solitude. At least until the whipping frenzied winds abated enough to approach you in relative safety again.

Angling his head, Hisagi flicked one final, measuring look up the darkened stairwell from beneath lowered steel-gray lashes. Even from here, an almost palpable vibration of turbulence still seemed to linger, set to lingering tremors by your feverish passing. His callused fingertips unconsciously flexed and clenched against the sofa cushions in agitation.

Whatever fresh grievances had spurred this latest blowout must have cut you straight to those delicately shielded depths where you guarded your vulnerabilities with tooth and claw. The mere thought of you left to stew alone in such acrid miasmas of scorned hurt tightened Hisagi's throat.

Almost as if he could still perceive your barely repressed tremors from here, quivering ripples in the fabric of night like a wounded animal awaiting its chance to burrow out of reach. Only this time with your heart once again left shredded and bleeding in the relentless wake of some selfish prick's devouring...

Hisagi's jaw clenched hard enough for his molars to grind as resurgent protectiveness instinctively flared through his veins. It hollowed out his chest with familiar, gut-punching vehemence and made the tendons in his neck cord with tension. How he loathed these interminable stretches, forced to helplessly tread waters while you drowned yourself alone. All because of your stubbornly stalwart refusal to let anyone too close to your fragile core, especially not the ones desperate to shield it most of all.

Drawing a rasping breath, Hisagi hauled himself upright with infinite reluctance. He could no more voluntarily follow you into the tempest maelstrom than willingly hurl himself into the inexorable pull of a black hole's gravity well. Not unless he wanted to hazard having his atoms shredded and atomized on a subatomic level.

Still, the weary resignation slumping his shoulders didn't entirely preclude the stubborn spark of determination flickering low in his abdomen. One way or another, he vowed, gritting his teeth, this latest upheaval would run its molten course - then he'd step in to scoop up the shards left scattered in its smoldering wake.

As always, it seemed. No matter how many times your hesitant walls shored back up or blistered recriminations awaited Hisagi's patient outreach.

Not for the first time, nor the last, he suspected.

Until the day he could finally break through to those tremulous places thrashing beneath your surface. Until the exact moment he convinced you to unfurl from your defensive crouch and reach back out as well, granting him the devastating privilege of cradling your fragile pieces while slotting himself into the cracks.

The dark certainty warmed Hisagi's marrow even as he averted his shuttered gaze back down, shrugging away the feverish restlessness licking along his skin. It was only a matter of time, he reminded himself as he extended a hand to haul Kira upright. A hard-won, brutally incremental road...but one whose final destination lay firmly within sight.

For now, though, there remained other more immediate comforts to provide in the wake of your passing inner storm. With a resolute tilt of his head, Hisagi waved Kira ahead of him towards the kitchen.

"Let's grab a couple beers while we wait this one out, yeah?"

The piercing hiss of beer can tabs breaking their vacuum seals knifed through the weighted quiet. Hisagi winced almost imperceptibly at the abrasive noise, even as he tipped the cold dregs past his lips in a perfunctory swallow.

Beside him, Kira nursed his own drink in uncharacteristic stillness - reflecting the uneasy, portentous lull that had descended over the house since your overpowering presence vacated the space. Hisagi tried and failed to dismiss the insistent tendril of disquiet needling at his consciousness.

Minutes oozed past in thick, viscous increments that seemed to mock him with their sluggish persistence. He found his free hand idly plucking at the frayed knee of his jeans, sharp gray eyes flickering repeatedly towards the shadowed hallway beyond in involuntary pulses.

Something wasn't sitting right, some hitherto unidentifiable prickle zinging along his nerves like a livewire of unease that refused to dampen down. Each laborious tock of the grandfather clock in the hall seemed to resonate through his very marrow as if amplifying the oppressive, unnatural silence permeating upstairs.

He had experienced this bewildering stasis far too many times over the years in the direct wake of your mercurial tempests not to recognize the ominous portents. Usually, your cyclones blew themselves out in relatively short order, dissipating in rapid spirals of spent angst until you sought out their steadying presences once more.

Never before had you buried yourself quite so stubbornly in the eerie, tomb-like quiet of your own psyche...at least not without giving some muted peep or agonized shuffle to indicate you were still kicking and raging against your inner demons, however mutely.

But that was just it - there existed not a single murmur to perforate the stifling stillness. No plaintive catch of weeping or agitated footfalls disturbing the hush. Even the rhythms of your breathing remained utterly, disturbingly indiscernible across the strained tether of Hisagi's preternatural senses.

Unease solidified into a harder, more jagged knot twisting his gut as flashes of half-remembered images swirled behind his narrowed eyes. He'd seen you wear yourself to this raggedly unresponsive state in the aftermath of utterly shattering upheavals before...and the memories were far from comforting.

One lucid instant scalded across his psyche - you, eyes glazed and dull as flawed marbles, staring emptily at nothing while he'd crouched in numb horror before your petite frame wilted boneless on the bathroom tile. Warm spit had frothed sluggishly across your lush lips as heaving, animalistic sounds wormed from betwixt them, suggesting some tenuous last thread of wounded consciousness still existed beyond the blankly yawning abyss of your gaze. But only barely...

Hisagi shuddered hard enough to slosh a few drops over his fist, banishing the ghastly callback with a forcible blink. Not this time. That harrowing incident lay years in the bitter rearview now, in the wake of so much progress and healing you'd both painstakingly carved out together. He refused to allow tonight's anguish to drag you backsliding into those grim, yawning depths where oblivion's undertow exerted its numbing gravity.

Yet the more rationality he applied, the smaller and tinnier his reassurances sounded even within his own turbulent thoughts. Because if he was being fully honest, too many unanswered questions smothered the space around your conspicuous absence like a heady miasma.

In the end, it took less than fifteen minutes for Hisagi's meticulously leashed control to splinter and unravel completely. One moment he was perched in forceful repose, tendons in his neck corded with the effort of physically restraining each agitated inhale and exhale. The next, he was slamming his beer aside with a gruff oath, surging upright in a propulsive burst of motion.

"Nah, man...I can't do this waiting game anymore," he rasped, the words slipping out in a sandpaper tumult before he could reconsider them. Rough fingers found their way into his disheveled hair, laboriously kneading against his skull as if to physically extract the snarled hooks of disquiet burrowing ever deeper. "Need to make sure she's..."

Hisagi's jaw tensed before the rest could follow, unwilling to give vocal shape to the myriad unsettling scenarios cresting behind his shuttered eyes. Kira watched him wage his internal war with a strange look - frustration and concern seemingly canceling each other out behind the impassive mask of a consummate poker face.

The truth remained unspoken yet perfectly understood between them, however: When it came to you and the singular gravity well you exerted, Hisagi was utterly helpless against being consumed. And Kira, despite his surface-level reluctance, wouldn't dare deprive him of that pull towards his only fixed point in a sea of emotional upheaval.

A single nod and arched brow was all the tacit permission Hisagi needed before wheeling on his booted heel and propelling himself away. The thunderous tattoo of his footfalls reverberated through the hallway with purpose, only slowing once the staircase jutted into his path.

From there, Hisagi's gait lapsed into a silent, measured prowl - proceeding upwards with an almost predatory stealth, balanced on the balls of his feet to muffle every footfall. The carpet-muffled risers groaned quietly beneath his weight as he stalked higher and higher, following the thread of preternatural restlessness tugging at his very synapses.

Until finally, upon cresting the landing and orienting on the dimness of your closed bedroom door, Hisagi felt an infinitesimal shudder travel down his nape. As if the air itself had shifted from the leaden pall of vacancy into something...more textured. A stirring of delicate vibrations and indistinct fluttering caresses that prickled enticingly along his nerves.

At first, Hisagi discounted the subtle susurrus as imagination running rampant fueled by distraction and anticipation. Resolutely, he prowled the final few feet to plant himself directly before your bedroom threshold, jaw clenching in grim resolution.

Only for the strangest sensation to materialize in that airless gulf - a tantalizing distillation of the most high, keening feminine whimper ghosting across his consciousness like a gossamer inhalation of temptation itself. Hisagi stilled, uncertain if his distressed psyche was playing auditory tricks.

But then the indistinct shivering sounded again. More pronounced, clearer in the sudden tilt of his head and subtle flare of nostrils as he sought to funnel the lilting murmurings directly into his senses. Unmistakably shaping themselves into something more tangible, like a phantasmic finger unfurling beckoning tendrils of hushed invitation all around him...

The abraded, husky moan of his name shattered Hisagi's hard-won control in that gut-punched instant.

"Ah…Sh-Shuhei..."

His vision whited out briefly as those carnal syllables bowled him sideways like a physical concussive force. Distantly, he was aware of his boots carrying him those final few feet before thinking processes could even resume.

Of his palm gliding across the bedroom door as if magnetized, easing it smoothly inwards without so much as a perfunctory knock. Of being drawn inexorably into the honeyed lamplight's cocoon only to be met with the utterly devastating vision of you.

Hisagi felt the world narrow into laser focus the moment the bedroom door swung inward on silent hinges. All the ambient noise and peripheral distraction bled away until his entire being became hyper-attuned to you and you alone.

There you were, tangled among the rumpled bedsheets in a pose of such provocative disarray that it stole the very breath from his lungs. Even in the backlit glow from the solitary lamp, he could make out the delicious abandon written across your features.

Full lips parted wide on gasping pants...dark lashes fanning across feverish cheeks in stuttering flutters...the arch of your lithe body undulating with each tremor that ricocheted through your frame - a living sculpture of ecstatic desperation.

"Nnghh...Shuhei, please..."

The sound of your voice splintering around the gasped iteration of his name detonated something deep and profane in Hisagi's core. He felt the shudder wrack him from the inside out, a seismic tremor rattling the very foundations of his restraint. This...this was what he'd been subconsciously seeking, pulled towards by the same relentless gravity that held you as its cosmic center.

You didn't seem to register his presence at first, lost in the throes of whatever fevered reverie consumed your undulations. Hisagi remained rooted to the threshold, dissecting every glistening nuance and shiver that rippled across your gorgeously debauched form in sadistic detail.

He drank in the subtle shifting of fine bedsheets whispering across your sensitized skin...the kitten-soft mewls expiring from your punished throat with each measured arch...the unmistakable squelch of your delicate fingers working between the desperate part of your thighs, chasing that elusive crest...

A scalding groan shuddered up from deep in Hisagi's diaphragm before he could bite it back. The undisguised masculine rasp of it finally seemed to pierce whatever idyllic trance had momentarily spirited you away. Your eyes shot open in one dazed sweep of lashes, locking onto his hulking silhouette framed in the doorway.

For an endless, electrically charged beat, you both remained frozen - a portrait of debauchery witnessed at its most intimate, breath bating in sync through the throbbing quiet. Hisagi could see the subtle war between mortification and rapture playing out across your lush features. Cheeks burnished with fever-bright arousal and lips trembling on that same gossamer whimper that had lured him into your sanctuary like a siren's call.

Then, before rational thought could splinter the moment, you exhaled a single sighed word that erased any need for conscious decisions at all:

"...Stay."

The pleading rasp shivered down Hisagi's spine like the raking caress of temptation itself. He drank in the entreating, almost plaintive cast of your gaze, the subtle invitation curling your fingers in summons. A riptide of need so visceral it defied quantifying momentarily hollowed out his chest and stole rational thought.

Hardly aware of moving, Hisagi allowed his boots to carry him in languid strides to the bedside. He watched you track his progress with the same helpless hunger reflected back, dark eyes dilated and glassy. He felt the mattress dip as he lowered himself down on one knee beside you, then two.

Your scent permeated the air, heavy with the heady perfume of sweat and sex. Hisagi's nostrils flared, breathing deep that intoxicating miasma, the sweetest opium imaginable. Involuntarily, his hands lifted to trace the delicate bones of your ankles, gliding a path up to encircle each one and gently ease your knees apart.

It was only when his palms smoothed their way up along your inner thighs to cradle their trembling that Hisagi's mind truly registered the sight of you. You, quivering and wanton and utterly vulnerable beneath his callused touch, offering yourself up with a desperation that matched his own.

"Fuck...sweetheart," he groaned, feeling a jolt travel through your frame at the reverent address. "Do you have any idea how incredible you look right now? How fuckin' beautiful you are?"

A strangled whimper escaped your throat as Hisagi's thumbs drew maddeningly slow circles across the crease of your hip. "Shuhei...please, don't just..."

He shushed the rest with a single digit pressing against your lower lip, the action somehow simultaneously tender and dominant. "You've gotta tell me this is what you want, Y/N," Hisagi growled, the husky timbre of his voice betraying just how precarious his own restraint had become. "Cuz once I start touchin' you, I'm not gonna stop 'til I've had my fill. Until we're both satisfied and fucked out."

A breathless moan spilled from your lips at his words, a fresh wave of arousal gushing against his fingers where they teased along your entrance. "Yes...fuck, please, Shuhei. Need this...need you."

The last syllable scarcely faded into the charged air before you were hauling Hisagi down to crush your lips together in a bruising kiss. It was clumsy and messy and entirely lacking finesse - more a desperate mashing of flesh and tongue than a proper kiss. Still, the intensity of it sent a heady rush of dopamine flooding Hisagi's synapses.

He was vaguely aware of you shifting, reaching down to fumble the fastenings of his jeans loose, but the rest was a blur of sensation and instinct. He groaned as your soft palm wrapped around his aching erection, a guttural curse gritting out betwixt his teeth at the exquisite friction.

Before he could regain a modicum of his crumbling composure, you were hauling him upright onto the bed. Hisagi felt his boots get tugged free, followed swiftly by the rest of his clothes, and suddenly his bare chest was flush against the feverish heat of your own.

"Shit, Y/N..." Hisagi managed between desperate breaths, the sensation of your slick breasts against his torso momentarily scrambling his thoughts. He forced his eyes open just in time to feel you nudge him onto his back, the action surprisingly dominant for its timidity.

A wicked thrill shot through him at the sight of your darkly hooded gaze peering down, taking him in with such raw, unvarnished desire. Your hair cascaded in a tangled curtain around his face, blocking out the world as your thighs settled astride his waist.

"Fuck...just like that, beautiful," he rasped, a fresh shudder traveling his length at the feeling of your slick folds gliding over his sensitive head. "Let me feel how bad you need this. Let me take care of you."

With that, his hands slid down to grasp the gentle flare of your hips, guiding you to a perfect perch over his throbbing length. But rather than sheathing him in one smooth plunge, you instead took a moment to tease him through your dripping folds, painting him with a delectable layer of arousal.

Hisagi's eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of your swollen clit dragging along his underside. You were soaking wet, absolutely drenched from your earlier teasing and the way his touch had lit your body ablaze. He could feel your pulse thrumming where you hovered above him, a matching throb to the rhythm pounding through his own veins.

"Fuckin' tease," Hisagi bit out, a rough chuckle rumbling through his chest. He'd meant it as a joke, but the way his hands tightened around your hips and guided you down an inch or so suggested his own control might be fraying just as badly.

A low, breathless moan shuddered from your throat at the sensation of him stretching your inner walls, spearing them wide on the thick head. A delicious sting radiated up through your core as you gradually eased him deeper, a little at a time, savoring every exquisite inch.

Hisagi could feel the tremble coursing through you, could sense the overwhelming pressure and stretch of his cock parting your velvety walls. His head fell back into the sheets with a ragged, guttural moan. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. So fuckin' good...so wet and ready for me."

The praise seemed to spur something carnal within you. Hisagi felt your hips snap down, impaling you in one sharp thrust that stole the air from his lungs and made him see stars. It took all the strength left in his limbs not to come right then and there.

"Ah, fuck...fuck..." Hisagi grit out, jaw clenched as the last few inches finally sank home. His pelvis ground against the sensitive apex of your thighs, the sensation of his coarse hair and turgid skin rubbing against your clit threatening to shatter the last threads of his sanity.

Only once he was fully sheathed did you pause to relish the sensation, grinding down against him and savoring the fullness. A whimper slipped from your lips as the slight adjustment brought a new angle of pleasure, one that had Hisagi's head bumping your cervix with tantalizing friction.

"Nnghhh...so big," you managed on a shaky exhale, leaning back and bracing both hands on either of his thighs. The new position had you straddling his hips at an even steeper angle, his thick length seeming to reach deeper inside than ever.

The visual alone would've been enough to make him come right then and there - your lush breasts heaving on panting breaths, nipples taut and mouth-wateringly hard. But what truly sealed the deal was the sight of your stomach, slightly distended and bulging with the outline of his cock.

Hisagi's head reared up off the bed, eyes widening in shock and lust. He'd never seen anything quite so arousing in his entire life - the undeniable evidence of his girth parting you so exquisitely, molding your walls to his shape.

"Ah, fuck...goddamn, Y/N, look at you," he bit out, his hips giving an involuntary jerk at the sight. "That's fuckin' obscene...and so goddamn sexy, shit..."

His fingers slid up to grip the softness of your belly, caressing the swollen outline in reverent, worshipful sweeps. A shuddering moan spilled past your lips at the feeling, and he could've sworn your inner walls fluttered around him with the movement.

"So beautiful...so fuckin' gorgeous. Gonna have to do this again, have you ride my cock with this little bump," he growled, the last syllables punctuated by the sudden snap of his hips upwards.

"Ah! Fuck, Shuhei...do that again!" you gasped, nails digging into his thighs for purchase. The combination of his fingers caressing your swollen middle and the thick pressure grinding against your front wall was almost too much.

Hisagi could sense the change in tempo, could hear the way your moans had escalated into frantic mewls of desperation. You were close, teetering on that precipice with the same urgency he felt in his own loins. And so, when you leaned back and planted both hands on his chest, Hisagi was already prepared.

One swift, fluid thrust, and suddenly the pace shifted. Your hips began rolling and undulating with a wild abandon, riding him with a desperate rhythm that left his head spinning. All he could do was grasp your hips and hold on for dear life, watching rapt as you rode him for all he was worth.

"Fuck, just like that, baby...keep goin'...that's it, use me," he groaned, eyes rolling back at the sensation of his cockhead bottoming out on each upward stroke. "You look so fuckin' incredible right now...so close, shit, I can feel it. Gonna come all over my cock, aren't you?"

The dirty talk seemed to be the last thing needed to send you over the edge. Suddenly, a breathless shriek tore from your throat and the walls of your cunt clamped down so hard around his length that his vision whited out.

Hisagi watched, entranced, as the first rippling waves crashed through your form. You came apart in his arms with an unbridled ferocity that left him reeling. Each violent spray of arousal coating his lower abdomen was accompanied by a choked, ragged cry of ecstasy.

The feeling of you coming around him, the way your pussy sucked and massaged and milked him so expertly was enough to have Hisagi following right behind. One final thrust and he was burying himself to the hilt, head falling back as the first thick spurts painted the inside of your spasming walls.

"Ah...ah, fuuuuck..." Hisagi managed on a groan, eyes screwing shut as wave after wave of euphoria crashed through him. Distantly, he could sense you still rocking and undulating, coaxing him through his own release with an expertise that was almost frightening.

He could feel your fingers stroking the sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead, could sense the softness of your lips ghosting tender, loving kisses against his skin. Yet his mind remained trapped in the afterglow, savoring the blissful sensation of being utterly enveloped by your warmth.

Hisagi didn't realize how long he'd been laying there, sprawled against the tangled bedsheets, until your face swam into his view. Dark eyes glittered above flushed cheeks, the faintest sheen of sweat dotting your brow as you gazed down at him with unmistakable adoration.

"I’m pretty sure Izuru heard that. He's gonna be pissed," you murmured, the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

At the mention of his best friend, Hisagi felt his heart rate spike and his stomach give a guilty lurch. He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he'd just had sex with his best friend's sister, and that said best friend was likely waiting downstairs with a beer.

And yet, when he met your gaze, something about the mischievous sparkle in your eyes made him hesitate. You didn't look upset, or betrayed, or anything remotely close to the emotional meltdown he'd expected. In fact, you were smiling - a small, almost secretive smile.

"He’s gonna murder you, and I'm gonna help him hide the body," you said, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Hisagi returned the affection with a slow, lazy grin, still half-dazed. "Worth it," he breathed, tilting his chin up to claim your lips properly. "So, so worth it."

[genericpuff]

completely off topic but regarding something that i saw pop up in my FB feed and i need to rant about

please do not fall for this shit

nintendo is NOT anti-AI.

it's really easy for them to say they're not going to use generative AI to create their games, because this statement has nothing to do with the very real issues with AI art such as the blatant theft of artists' work, environmental impact, replacement of humans in the industry, and just flat out unethical shit that AI has been designed around

it has EVERYTHING to do with their intellectual property rights, which Nintendo is NOTORIOUS for protecting with an iron fist even at their own expense. and i'm not talking the usual sensible argument shit like "ofc Nintendo wants to protect their IP's, they're a business!" i'm talking about the fact that this is the same company that just recently did a major takedown of the vast majority of Nintendo-licensed games on Vimm's Lair which aren't even being sold legitimately anywhere anymore-

i have so many fucking bones to pick with the flaccid bootlicking anti-piracy arguments out there but basically it comes down to this:

Nintendo is not a small indie company. They are literally one of the biggest, richest, most powerful gaming companies on the planet, rivalling Disney in just how many major franchises they own and profit off of. Many of their games are cultural classics, not just through the sentimentality and nostalgia of our childhoods, but also for all the innovations they made through games like Super Mario Bros, Super Mario 64, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and many others that we, within the world of gaming, owe a lot to and should be able to access and play. It's not a matter of "wanting these games for free", it's a matter of wanting to be able to access these games, period, and Nintendo is deadset on making it as difficult as possible, even when it doesn't necessarily profit from them (need I remind you that many of the games that were taken down from Vimm's Lair are NOT available through their shitty, poorly-ported emulation subscription service - plus that subscription service can be altered and/or removed at any time, regardless of what you paid for, just like the Wii Virtual Console was, meaning you do not own any of the games you're paying to play on there.)

This isn't about being "cheap" or "not wanting to pay for games". This is about media preservation and the virtue of actually owning the things we pay for. If these games were resold at official outlets for reduced prices or made more accessible through e-shops that don't close down in between console generations or drip feed the odd legacy title every few months or release crappy ports on their outdated af tech for only a few months at a time for three times the price of their original value, people would gladly pay. It's the fact that people are having to put up with all of the hoops that Nintendo has put in place to prevent them from even handing them money to play their favorite titles that even drives them to piracy to begin with, and Nintendo will gladly shut those sites down to protect their IP even when it's an IP they're no longer profiting from and aren't making active efforts to sell.

Like, I would gladly hand over a reasonable amount of money (i.e. not the cost of a brand new triple A title in 2024 which is like $80-$100 here in Canada) for Diddy Kong Racing on the Switch, but ofc it's not on the fucking online play store and even if it was, I'd have to deal with paying an overpriced subscription fee for a port of the game that would undoubtedly run WORSE than it does on my PC, and that subscription service can be taken down at any time. But Nintendo wants me to not pirate the game that's not available on their shitty subscription service because... just don't do it, pretty please??

Nintendo is not anti-AI. They would gladly use AI in place of manual labor to scour the internet and dish out DMCA's to every emulation site, archived ROM hub, fan game, and artist alley creator if they could... oh wait, they already are.

Do not fall for the virtues of anti-AI when it comes to companies like Nintendo. They are not anti-AI. They're anti-ownership. They're anti-preservation.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

♡ sure, he has a girlfriend, but she just isn't you ♡ (aka how hq men would react to you asking them how their gf would feel about what you're doing rn)

♡ featuring: ᴀᴋᴀᴀsʜɪ, ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ, ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ cheating, nsfw mdni, afab reader she/her pronouns, individual tags for each~

♡ i will write a part two to this if people want it (send me an ask with a name and i'll do it, really, i swear), and maybe even if they don't because i'm obsessed with this concept fr. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

♡ the song that inspired this entire thing (xxx) ♡ wrote this same vibe w atsumu but its a whole fic (xxx)

♡ akaashi ♡ 1 day // guilty fucking, just can't help himself

“f-fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he tells you, voice not nearly are strong as you’re sure he means it to be. he pushes his hips forward again, sliding his cock slowly inside of you, thumb spreading your lips apart so that he can watch himself disappear inch by inch.

he’s nearly crumbling in front of you, fucking in and out of you, one word punctuating each thrust. “we… shouldn’t…. be… doing…. this….” his voice is just as shaky as his forearms bracing you.

his forehead falls against your shoulder, moaning into your soft skin. he presses kisses wherever he can reach, trailing up your collarbones to the sensitive areas of your neck and the underside of your jaw.

akaashi is really not the type of guy to cheat on his girlfriend, he swears. but he just couldn’t help himself. when the opportunity presented itself, he really had no other option.

not when you looked like that, sitting so pretty on his couch when she wouldn’t be back for the entire weekend. not when you smiled like that when he pushed your hair out of your face. not when he could convince himself that it really meant nothing. it couldn’t have, not when he’s thinking about her so much.

and then he kisses you, warm and breathy and sweet enough to give you a toothache. not a fucked out, gasping for air, desperate to touch you just to touch something, but one that gives you butterflies and makes you feel closer than his skin on yours

lips pressed against yours, meticulously thrusting into you so he can savor every second. he can barely breathe.

when he finally pulls away, looks you in the eyes, gaze confident and unwavering, and you let it slip past your slightly parted lips. “how would your girlfriend feel about it?”

it’s quiet and low, softer than the sounds of his moans or the obscene smack of his hips against the inside of your thighs. you watch the blush spread, up his chest and neck to the highs of his cheekbones, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter for a moment, speaking confidently now, but no less indulgent.

“she wont find out.”

♡ atsumu ♡ 8 months // little bit toxic ngl, blatant disregard for their partner

the first few times that you and atsumu slept together, there was remorse on both ends. over time, though, it just started getting easier to justify and to excuse. the two of you melded perfectly and the more nights you spent together, the better it got.

neither of you have felt bad about it in awhile.

“fuck me any softer and i’ll mistake you for my boyfriend or something,” you huff.

in fact, you both horribly go as far as to teasing each other at your own partner’s unknowing expense. you wrap your arms around atsumu’s neck, pulling him down until you’re able to press your nose into his shoulder, breathing softly against it.

“hey, no talking about your boyfriend. you know i get jealous,” he says, dragging his teeth against your collarbone cautiously so as not to make a mark. he doesn’t bring any attention to how his pace picks up, fucking into you faster as the insides of your thighs start to sting.

"yea?" you say, rolling your hips in time with his thrusts, "and what about your girlfriend?"

the scoff that erupts from his chest nor the thought of his girlfriend disrupt his rhythm. "you're the one that brought her up. what about her?" he asks, placing soft kisses against your chest where he can reach.

you shake your head, arm leaving his neck to cup his face in your hand, pull his eyes to yours, "not good enough."

he knows what you're looking for, can see it in the devilishly sweet smile on your face as your eyes scan his features. he almost wishes that his reason for hesitancy wasn't what it was. the pauses, the insufficient answers, he knows they aren't in the name or regret or guilt, they're just to tease you, to keep you waiting for the answer he knows you want. "she’s not here, we don’t have to worry about her," atsumu teases, leaning forward to kiss your lips this time.

you turn your head at the last second, let his gentle kiss press against your jaw instead as you repeat yourself, "not good enough."

he sighs, faux and dramatic, reaches his fingers over to nudge your face back towards him once more. when he leans down again, his tender grasp on your chin begs you to stay put. you lean up towards him as much as you can to meet his kiss. when he pulls away, his forehead is still pressed against yours, sentence is murmured against your lips, "well, it’s no competition, really, between the two of you."

"yea?" you ask again, core fluttering, tightening as your walls grip him desperately. "only one of us has your heart, right, tsumu?"

"fuck," he says, hips stuttering as he nods, "fuck, that's right, baby."

♡ bokuto ♡ 2 weeks // super desperate, only somewhat guilty

“god, when do i get to see you again?” he asks, all teeth and tongue and desperate, throaty pleas against your chest. his hands are just as frantic as his facial expression, roaming over every part of you without rooting once.

he isn’t even inside of you yet, and he's already looking forward to next time.

it was supposed to just be a one night thing, you and him. and if it was one night out, complete mistake, he could’ve explained it with alcohol or a lapse in judgement. but that was 2 weeks ago.

because no one told him how much he’d be craving you every single fucking night after that. no one told him how much he'd remember your touch and the weight of the backs of your thighs on his hips and how pretty you sounded and how soft your skin was and how fucking tight you were.

no one told him that he'd need to see you 5 times in those two weeks, like you were his new obsession that would quickly turn into a bad habit.

you’ve kept quiet about it, the fact that you knew he had a girlfriend in the first place. you've honestly just been enjoying yourself, skating around the topic or deliberately avoiding it, fearful that if you mention it he’ll run.

you don't really know where it comes from. truthfully, it just slips out because it's on your mind, because he asks you as if it's not on his mind at all, "how does your girlfriend feel about it?"

he stops for a second, movements ceasing, facial expression thoughtful, only constant his chest rising and falling at the same pace as before. you're convinced, all at once, that your fun is over, that tonight won't go as planned, maybe you should've at least waited until you were finished.

his response is softer, more contemplative than the desperation fueled plea before, "how do you feel about it?"

you can't help but laugh, eyebrows furrowed, "i- i mean? fine, yeah, i don't," you take a deep breath, mentally flinching at how horrible it is before it even comes out of your mouth, "i don't really care. i'm having a good time."

his hands are back on your body, assured and quick, leaning down to place kisses against your chest and shoulders once again. "good, so when can i see you again?"

♡ tsukishima ♡ 4 months // tsukishima is an asshole, toxic and blamey, degrading almost, hot

“stay just like that,” he orders, arms crossed over one another, each of his hands on your opposite hips as he holds you still. no hand to guide his throbbing cock, he lets it slip between your lips a few times, missing your sloppy, drenched hole, grinding against your puffy lips. it feels like he’s almost missing on purpose, just loving the feeling of his length dragging across your messy pussy.

when he pushes inside of you, he does so slowly but forcefully, rolls his hips and thrusts his cock as deep as it’ll fucking go.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn tight, perfect for my cock,” he mutters aimlessly. you’re half convinced it’s just instinct, no purpose other than he couldn’t not let the words slip.

“how would your girlfriend feel about that?”

he is so ready with a comeback, it almost feels like he’s been waiting for this for your entire affair. you’ve never brought up his girlfriend before. too timid to say it aloud or afraid it would result in him leaving, it didn’t really matter.

over the last couple months, you’ve grown to know tsukishima pretty well, have learned to roll with the punches and throw a few right back at him and he’s so focused now, not too much attention on you, or at least not in that way, and as much as you want to chalk it up to an accident or slip of the tongue, you both know how deliberate it is

“aren't you just as much to blame as i am?” he retorts, not slowing or missing a beat, digging his fingers into your hips harsher, pulling you onto his cock harsher.

you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

“i think it’s pretty much your fault, actually, looking like that and expecting me not to want you on the spot,” tsukishima mutters, can barely get it out with his smile turning into a smirk.

he wraps his fingers around your shoulder, other hand around your forearm and guides you up towards him, back pressed against his chest, head craned to the side so you can see the devilish look in his eyes. uses gravity and your weight and the small thrusts upwards to fuck you like this and your protest is mashed between whimpers and affirming moans.

“not-” huff “not my fault,” you gasp, pushing off of the bed in time with his movements until only the tip is inside of you and then falling completely seated onto his thick cock. “she’s not my girlfriend,” you reason.

there’s still no hesitation, fingers clenched onto your jaw to force eye contact as he speaks, “but you know about her, right? doesn’t that make you just as bad as me?” he grunts as he buries himself inside of you, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “maybe worse.”

it hits you softly and then all at once, this guilt. and then he starts fucking you harder, changes positions, moves both of your bodies until his weight is on your back, your chest pressed into the mattress as he fucks into you, hand around your throat and waist holding you tightly in place. it’s harder. and it’s faster. and it’s better than you’ve ever been fucked before, even than the other times you’ve been fucked by tsukishima. you’re clenching around him, stomach tense, and breath bare.

and then it’s gone again. you don’t even remember her name.

[demodraws0606]

Guys...I think Whit is the culprit.

Sorry guys this is gonna be a long one

You know I'm a big believe of Whit mastermind theory and depending on how the trial goes he could still be the mastermind despite being the culprit but uhm...

Mf has like an 80 pourcent chance of being the culprit

My theory of Levi being the culprit kinda has went down the drain though i'm not really that upset about it because it was admitidely the most generic route.

I still do not buy for a second Eden is the culprit mainly because it contradicts a lot of her behaviors and also is only really based on one piece of evidence that could be explained by something else.

I think the most credible option to me right now, is Whit, especially because with how certain things are laid out for us we can actually make out a concrete motive for why Whit would do this.

I'm gonna write down what I think and explain why I believe Whit is most likely the culprit (also i'll deal with a couple of holes and explain why the theory still works alongside them) and also i'll use a couple of speculations made by other people as well

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it's known by everyone that the way Whit's secret was revealed is extremely strange, for like two reasons.

One, it means that it's impossible for anyone (including Whit himself, we'll get into that later) to have known what Whit's secret was, or to confirm it with certainty in the trial. We only have Whit's word for it.

Second, Whit takes a very strange amount of time until saying what secret he has, like right after Hu denied to say which secret she has. Which is extremely weird because if his life was so uneventful wouldn't he have managed to pick out a secret as blatant as this.

I thought this would be meant as a red herring to put suspicions on Whit however with Levi revealing his secret and this loose thread still not being addressed, I think it has to be important to the case at hand.

Now, despite people pointing this out every analysis that tries to handle this kinda goes into a brick wall because it immediatly assumes that Whit is lying about the dead mother secret being his. However there's too much pointing towards Whit having the dead mom secret.

No, I think we're going about this the wrong way. It's not about us not knowing what Whit's secret was, it's that Whit had no idea what secret actually was his

In fact that's mentionned before trial on how Whit just didn't know WHAT his secret even was, and no one could really tell him what it was because Rose threw it away

But that's weird right ? You would think Whit would know that his dead mother would be the likely secret, you could argue he just didn't want to share with everyone but that still doesn't explain the strange amount of time until he revealed he had Rose's secret.

And if he didn't want to share that his mom was dead, why did he let everyone the opportunity to say if they had his secret and to spill the beans...

Unless things are more complicated than just Whit having a dead mom, after all if it was just that wouldn't he have known immediatly that was his secret ? After all Teruko had the same issue as well as she didn't know what her secret could actually even be.

You could argue that I put my back against the wall here. If Whit not knowing his secret was his motive as to why he commited the murder then why did he let a bunch of people the opportunity to air out a potentially incriminating secret. Wouldn't that mean he wasn't worried about it ?

However, you have to keep in mind Whit had no idea how bad the secrets were, the only secrets that was revealed was J's which in retrospect of other secrets seemed like a much lighter one.

You could argue "Well Whit had David's secret which was pretty bad" however despite how bad that secret was it was also very vague and since Whit didn't know how much about David it doesn't really mean much on how deep the secrets were.

Considering Whit's personality as well, it was possible he was in denial or some deeper reason as to why he wasn't thinking about it. "Bitter things need to go down the drain" and all that.

In fact Whit was one of the first ones to say they shouldn't reveal their secret before J's secret was immediatly revealed.

I also don't think Whit being in denial has to be rooted in logic either (especially with how inconcistent he seems to be about the secrets), the murder was commited right before the deadline and although there was planning behind it, it was still a last minute decision (aka not done immediatly during the day of the motive reveal). You could argue pressure got to him or he overthought it as it became increasingly clear how much deeper the secrets went and how much the people who set this game up knew about them (something Whit investigated himself).

I think the way Whit acted about the secrets is too contradictory to really use any of what he says as actual evidence against the secrets not being his motive basically.

Now, let's go into the other point and how it works with the potential motive, the speculation that Arei was waterboarded.

Yeah, this seems to hint heavily that this is what happened and Arei's actual cause of death would be by drowning instead of strangulation like expected.

But why not strangulation ?? Why do a technique that is much harder to kill Arei, unless they were trying to get something out of drowning her. I mean we don't technically know if it was actual waterboarding but considering how planned this murder was and how we do actually have pieces of clothing that would serve for waterboarding, it seems to be likely.

(I'm not exactly sure how it stuck together with the starch afterwards but considering how the playground's ventilation works it's possible it dried up quickly) (There's also Arei's missing glove if you don't believe Teruko and Hu's clothing where used for it)

There's also no reason to drown her instead of strangling her with the rope unless there was another justification for it. But the episode actively goes out of it's way to say that there probably wasn't an attempt at tricking people into thinking the murder happened during 7:30 PM.

Anyways, why would the culprit waterboard Arei then ??? Clearly this means they were trying to get information out of her...

Which makes 0 sense unless it was Whit who would at least have a small justification for it, aka him not knowing what his secret is. I do admit it is a bit blurry on what type of information Whit would've truly wanted or why he did this before just killing her. However out of anyone (that already isn't pretty much confirmed innocent) it would only make sense for it to be him.

Now onto other stuff unrelated to the secret thing, like how unhelpful Whit has been this trial to a suspicious degree. AKA :

-Trying to distract away from the letter framing Eden and then just throwing her under the bus immediatly when he's questioned about it.

-Refusing to reveal David's secret

-Coincidentally having an excuse for not seeing Arei's body swaying

Now all of these could be argued to be in character reasons, after all didn't he do something like that chapter 1 with Charles (kind of). However this is a new level of trial interferance that really isn't justifiable at a certain point.

You could argue "well wouldn't talking about the note and David's secret be useful to make them seem guilty"' and while that'd be right to an extent. However everytime Whit witholds something like with Eden and David, he seems to cave eventually so the only thing he has achieved in this trial so far is to stall for time. Which could potentially be intentional if he's the culprit.

Now that I've kinda covered the major points, here are a list of suspicious things, mostly things that Whit knew before I get to my final point (how this would fit the narrative this chapter).

(I do wanna say most of this things isn't technically necessary info that the culprit needed to know but it definitely helps).

Whit was present during Teruko and Hu changing, meaning he would have known about their old clothes and could have found out where to get them.

Whit was present during the fight in the cafeteria, which is when Arei demanded to have her rope thrown away leading to Mono-TV putting it in storage

(Eden was busy helping J and Arturo so only Teruko, Charles and Whit could've known this information by listening in)

Whit also is the reason David is in the relaxation room leading to his conversation with Arei although idk how much of that would even possibly be planned or how that would help him, still important to note though.

There is probably more I could say however I want to get to my last point, I do think Whit being the culprit fits this case more than anyone else.

I know the question of the tape is still unanswered, if Eden did take it wouldn't that mean she is the culprit ? Well I don't think so but overall I just don't think this one singular piece of evidence is enough to say Eden's the culprit especially if we look at the bigger picture.

I'm probably just repeating the same things people probably have heard already but Eden committing such a gruesome murder for pratically no motive at all (outside getting out but it would make the secret motive useless) just doesn't really make sense.

However it is true that from what the title of this chapter suggests "all that glitters (is not gold)", it would mean a character isn't as innocent/good as they seem.

But wouldn't that title make more sense with Whit ?

Eden and Whit both are seemingly the positive vibes character of the cast, both being seemingly "normal". However Whit's positivity is a lot more toxic than Eden's, cracking jokes at innapropriate time and seeming to not let himself show even negative emotions (contrary to Eden who has let herself be upset multiple times).

Narratively speaking, Whit being the culprit, would put Charles in a similar situation to Teruko perhaps deepening their bond further without having Teruko going through a regression arc (she was way closer to Eden than she was with Whit).

It would allow Eden's message to not be lost/contradicted while also going with the apparent theme of the chapter that things aren't as they seem.

And also "all that glitters is not gold" would be a very smart saying for Whit, the one who died his hair blond (would be a very fun double meaning)

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foreign Business

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Italian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,585

Summary: Should you leave that gloomy village?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonsense and legends in your opinion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear (Y/N)

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

I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

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

Duke

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

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

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

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

Curiosity or cowardice, that was your dilemma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young Elena nodded curiously, glancing at your suitcase.

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

You nodded slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

At least that girl helped you not to lose hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luiza made a strange gesture, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't let the shadows invade you...

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

Yes, maybe it was time to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You nodded confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Books and movies?” the puppet asked.

You, nervous, still scared, nodded erratically.

“Do you have Italian stuff?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The veiled lady looked up with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked back at the lady, a bit confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angie”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That scared you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Sure…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, her hands were very soft…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lady nodded, pointing to a small table.

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

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

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

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

“No…! No…! Mother Miranda!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chi va piano…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Per sempre…”

[butch-reidentified]

it lowkey bothers me when other radfems insist that using the newer name of trans identifying people who have legally changed their name is wrong and no one should do it or else you're participating in the delusion. names are not sex characteristics. names are associated with sex by culture, and many shift in their association over time. I don't have a problem with people picking a name they like. I named myself but I don't call myself a gender identity for it. the name change isn't the problem and I really don't care if a dude wants to go by Lily or whatever until he crosses the line into saying that makes him a woman

edit - since people have largely missed the conditional here, this post is about not wanting to get shit from other radfems when *I* choose to use a particular name. It is NOT me telling anyone else they should use anyone's preferred name or whatever. I am NOT telling yall what to do, but I AM begging yall to stop telling ME (or anyone who feels the same way) what to do. The arguments you all have raised in the replies are not really relevant. no, I'm not calling a blatant fetishist a woman's name. no, I'm not calling an abusive male his preferred name. no, I'm not calling you a name you stole from a woman in your life. this post is about ME calling TIMs and, more realistically, gcts males I know *IRL* a name they like and legally changed. I'm pretty extremely selective about this and if you really can't trust my judgment when I do this or not, why are you following me?

[lemotmo]

I think parts of that fandom are kind of in a tailspin of reality at the moment. Her ask box is still closed but this is OUCH

My friend received an ask telling him that he can't hold that deleted clip against Tommy because it's not technically canon since it was deleted. In the same ask they told him he had to give Tommy credit for letting Buck set the pace. Sweetie, you can't pick and choose what parts of a deleted clip you can claim are canon and what parts you can ignore. That's not how it works. The part of that clip that is absolutely canon is the repeated pattern, in non deleted scenes, of blatant dismissal on Tommy's part regarding any type of conversational depth when it comes to the topic of Buck and their relationship. I don't need a deleted clip to prove that's what's happening.

A couple of things are fairly obvious here. The traffic on that post is not what it would have been even 3 weeks ago. That's the first thing. Yes the numbers were decent but not great and certainly not impressive. They are representative of a small fandom, which is what you are. The second thing is they didn't trend on Twitter or Tumblr following the post, something that definitely would have happened a few weeks ago, and a barometer his fans constantly like to use as 'proof' of popularity. So something has shifted/happened. It could be that all the people screaming that they had been blocked by the official show account were being honest and the account moderators figured out their spamming game. Something that was always going to happen eventually given the kind of things they were openly admitting they were saying and sending. The Buddie fandom figured it out weeks ago and quickly started making up the commenting ground on the posts, they also, wisely, stopped engaging with the Buck/Tommy comments on those same posts. So it was only a matter of time before they became drowned out anyway. Meaning the numbers were always artificially inflated and once they weeded out the duplicate accounts the numbers naturally decreased. Or the more likely scenario, the hype faded. Something that was also always going to happen.

Anytime a show has 2 men kissing it's going to be talked about. People will watch it. Get excited over it. Want more of it. But if the show doesn't provide content of some kind, the excitement from the wider group at large, dwindles. My ask box, along with my friend groups ask boxes, pretty much confirm that the die hard shippers don't really care about the couple. They ship Lou. Buck and Oliver are just the character/actor Lou is paired with. Look at their behavior towards Oliver. He didn't engage with them, he doesn't promote the pair, and he doesn't follow Lou, so they openly turned against him. That was never going to be sustainable from a large numbers perspective. The audience cares about Buck not Tommy. It was never a smart strategy. Making it almost exclusively about Lou was never going to end well. The frantic posting following the release of the clip trying to explain why it was actually a good thing that Tommy doesn't care what the 118 thinks of him, when anyone with just a passing knowledge of the show knows it's actually a very bad sign, tells me all I need to know. You're aware of the reality of what the show, THUS FAR, is doing. Only it doesn't match the content you paid $200 to hear, my apologies $169 to hear, so you feel cheated. That's not Oliver's fault. That's not the show's fault. And it's why I'm more certain each day that Tim put a stop to it. Those videos created an unmitigated disaster for everyone not named Lou.

I also think some people genuinely don't understand the size difference between the two fandoms. The Buddie fandom makes up a significant number of their audience as a whole. Their fans are not all on Tumblr and Twitter. They have general audience fans. That is not an exaggeration. And it's something the show is more than aware of. Do not try to pretend the show doesn't know that. The general audience/passive fans, like them as a unit. It's just a fact. And never, until now, has a group tried so hard to pretend they aren't an audience favorite. They are. I also think there's quite a few fans like me. I don't classify myself as a shipper. I want the best story for the characters I love, Buck and Eddie. I like Tommy for the larger Buck and Eddie story I think they're using his character to set up. Once it's been set, I don't need or care to have Tommy stick around. Once the newness of the Buck/Tommy pair settled lots of casual shippers were always going to make their way back to the Buddie side. It's the side with all the context. It's also the side the actor/character the show cares about is on. And I promise you Oliver gets a say. Ryan gets a say. Lou doesn't get a say. Paid for headcanons don't get a say.

Ooooof, well--

Nothing to add to this one I think, so I'll wisely stay quiet. Thank you anonymous OP for being so based in reality. :)

Thank you for sending this to me Nonny. It's appreciated, as always.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Cruella De Vil x Fem!Reader || Drabble

Plot: Cruella always demands you show her your outfit before you go anywhere in public with her, so she can dictate whether you change or not before she's seen with you.

Today you refuse.

Warnings: Degradation, control issues, yelling, poking the bear, bratty behaviour, etc. Cruella is a mean, controlling mommy with explosive tendencies. But what did you expect. Also reader is... a bit of a brat and into it.

As soon as you turned up in her office, ready to go out to the function Cruella invited you to, you do not want to show her your outfit. Every single time she takes you somewhere, she always has you take off your coat and do a turn for her- and she decides whether you have to change or not. And of course... usually, your outfit's all wrong and she just has to pick something better for you. You think she just likes treating you like a barbie doll.

Cruella De Vil; A stressful, controlling, maniac woman. Its a wonder how you put up with her. How you actually like her.

Tonight though, you're really not in the mood for it; You just want to get this ball over with and get into bed. So, you tighten the knot around your waist holding your coat securely around your body and immediately stretch at the door to reach hers for her off the ornate hook. "We should get going now. We don't want to be late, like last time- Shit."

That was the wrong thing to say. That was the W R O N G thing to say. You knew it the moment you said it. The only reason you were late last time, after all, was because Cruella made you change. And you just reminded her of it. Wincing, you gently pull her coat up and off the hook. Lower your heels to the ground again.

When you peak at her, she's still behind her desk. She hasn't made a single move to get up. A sketchbook still sits open in front of her and a red marker is still between two fingers, the knuckles of which are pressed against her right temple; expecting. She raises a perfect thin eyebrow at you, her eyes as sharp as the talons securely glued to her red silk gloves. "... Well?? What are you wearing?"

"A dress." You tell her, stern. Determined not to do the stupid dance she insists upon. What are you? A teenager? Her sycophantic little intern? No. "Its blue. Pretty. Now lets go- "

She rolls her eyes, sighing. "Oh darling, lets not waste anymore time then we will already when the pretty little dress you chose out of that pitiful little single-door closet of yours is inevitably horrible. Now take off the coat."

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes! I can pick them myself!" You cross your arms tightly over your chest. "And I'm not changing."

At this, the blatant disobedience you were expressing, her eyebrows creep all the way up her forehead. A faint, disbelieving grin tickles at one corner of her lips like a ghost. "... oh?"

Its a dangerous 'oh'. An 'oh' that leads you to believe she wants to hear more of this from you. Its the 'oh' before you say something dumb, and she tears you apart with her words and you end up taking off your coat for her, feeling lousy and full of hot shame.

... but you were prepared for this when you walked in. You knew there wasn't even a sliver of a real chance that you would get her out the door before she remembered to check your clothes. You knew their would be a fight. So instead, you don't say another word. You just look back at her, arms crossed, a stony look on your face. A silent, stubborn yes. You heard me, crazy lady.

Cruella's eyes narrow and the shimmer of a smile dissipates into a nasty scowl, no longer amused at you. "Take... off... the coat."

You cant help the stupid, horny part of your brain from flickering to life at her being mad at you. After all, you like her for a reason. And its not because she's such a sane, comforting person to be around. But you do your best to ignore it. Or what? "No."

For a moment she manages to smooth out her expression, but you're no fool. You know the crazy bitch. And you can clearly see the hailstorm roaring behind wide, 'innocent', blue eyes. "... Darling, it is a Friday evening and I don't particularly want to go to this stupid party at all, but I have to. So be a good girl for me, hm?" When her voice suddenly raises, you're expecting it. That doesn't mean you don't still flinch. "-And take. off. that bloody coat!"

"No!" Make me.

"For gods sake, if you cant listen then you're going straight home. Do you want that??"

Yes. What are you gonna do about it?

... but you don't want to let her down. Fuck. In the end, you want to support her. You give a sigh, and you're about to say as much- tell her you'll do whatever she wants but you're going to talk about this later- when she says something that stops you in your tracks. Changes your mind immediately.

"Or are you just a filthy brat??? Hm??? Respond. Or are you dumb, too?"

Oh fuck.

Your crumbled resolve pulls together again, and you straighten your shoulders, raising your chin. "... You know what?" Promptly, you drop her coat on the ground. Watch her eyes flick down to where her very expensive fur now lays crumpled on the floor, disbelief written all over her face. "Maybe. What are you going to do about it?"