#why does this almost mirror my own childhood???

[callofdudes]

I would love to read your Headcanons about König’s childhood from your POV 👀

I've been thinking about this a lot, so I'll give it a go.

König's childhood headcanons!

König's childhood wasn't the most lavish. He had an older sibling who when he was eight was legal to move out. This was the start of König's social anxiety. He wasn't used to not having his sibling (male or female I'm not sure at this point). But König lost his only friend who moved out with their friends and moved across town.

König often tried to visit but couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to visit after his parents found out said sibling wasn't making the best of decisions and didn't approve of their spouse. This discouraged König a lot in his younger years.

After his sibling moved out König started going to public school. He was previously homeschooled but with both parents working and no one at home to teach him in his online classes he was moved out into the world.

König had no prior experience with making friends. So for third grade he was in public and most of the kids already had lots of friends. Being the third grade most of the kids had been going since kindergarten and already had their groups. (And third graders are petty)

König was pretty much alienated because he was thrown into this big environment with no prior experience. Everyone knew everyone's else's names and had friends and groups and playground rules. Everyone knee their teachers. Everyone except König.

Through third to fifth grade König was the quiet kid who sat in the corner. He was afraid to join any after school groups in fear of not making friends.

Both of his parents worked so he'd get up on his own, make his own lunch and go to school. And when he left he'd come home to an empty house. He was used to being alone. He spent time in his room with nothing but his video games and soon his parents became to involved in work to spend time with him.

This increased his anxiety even more.

When König was eleven he found out why his parents were so caught up in work. They weren't getting along and working out a divorce over the last year.

König was devasted. When the divorce came into effect his parents stopped attempting to hide their new distain for each other and families took sides.

König developed severe anxiety over this time. Spending one week with his mother and one week with his father. They would openly bash each other in front of family and his aunt's and uncles would tell him things about his other parent that hurt him. He didn't know who to trust and who to love. Going to school like this closed him off. He couldn't handle juggling his family affairs and trying to make friends.

In sixth grade König had a huge growth spurt. He was already fairly tall at 5'7 but midway through he grew to be 5'10.

All the kids made fun of him. This lengthy, tall, sixth grader. They called him mountain boy and asked him what the weather was like. He has trouble playing dodgeball because he was so much bigger than the others. The person he'd been catching feelings for also mocked him.

This drove him into a hole of emotions.

Eventually he did make a friend. In seventh grade he became friends with a fellow student. His first friend in many years. He was kind to König and by the time seventh grade came König had leveled out to be 6'1.

The kids bullied him a lot, but his new friend invited him to basketball tryouts. And König was happy. He was nervous and embarrassed despite being a very athletic kid. He loved sports and activities. And despite how nervous he was, he made the team!! He was so incredibly happy. He spent the next two years like that.

He played on the basketball team and became close with a tight nit group of students. He played against other schools and was starting to feel free again. He distracted himself from the divorce with his new friends.

And then the custody battle was settled. His mother had fought for full custody of König and had won rather easily despite her being no better than his father.

She took the money and moved them to Germany to live with relatives. König was devasted.

He had to start an entirely new life for ninth grade. A new school, a new social system, nowhere to hide.

König was incredibly insecure about his height and when school started he stuck out like a sore thumb. He started wearing a mask to try and hide. Everyone knew his name but they couldn't see his face.

And then he met you. You were kind the moment you met him. You could tell he was shy and from the way he hid you could tell he wasn't wanting to be noticed. You'd introduced yourself and just slowly started to filter into his life.

König was nice. When you saw him sitting alone you went over to sit with him. He avoided eye contact and his leg bounced rapidly, knee gently hitting the table.

"Hey, I know I introduced myself earlier but I was wondering if I could sit with you?" König doesn't say anything and keep his head down. You keep your distance but are nice to him. König takes a while to warm up to you but when he does you two become the best of friends.

And it happened over Social class.

The two of you were paired up to write a report on military history. König had only gotten into the idea of the military in the last couple years but you were invested. König brought you over to his house for the project. Everything was good until his mother and her new boyfriend started to tease him about you coming over.

König was so embarrassed that he forgot about you and ran up to his room. You grabbed your back and came after him. "Hey, it's ok. Don't listen to that."

König and you worked on your war project and König learned so much. You taught him about more than WW1 and WW2. He was enraptured and that was when he finally clicked with you.

You started hanging out with him every day at lunch and going over to each other's houses. You expressed your thoughts on signing up for the military and König also pondered the thought.

Eventually his mother went off into her own world with her boyfriend. And König couldn't handle it. Her new boyfriend always scolded him for crying and his overly sensitive emotions. She would take his side when he yelled at König until he went numb.

König was no longer open to you and pushed every sorry feeling he had down to seem tough. He got another growth spurt and by 11th grade he was 6'6.

He started working out after school when he wasn't hanging out with you. His now stepfather encouraged him to work out and push his emotions away. It hurt you. To see the kid who could break down in front of you and tell you about what was happening best himself up when he felt like he was going to cry.

He started to hate himself.

He wore black face paint and a black medical mask to hide his face, no longer happy with it. He became so self conscious and stuck he didn't know what to do.

"König you know I'm here for you, whenever you need something you can come to me."

König spends a lot of his off school time at your house and often sleeps over. he'd rather stay up late in your room eating popcorn and playing videogames than dealing with family drama.

You made him feel safe and secure. You helped him escape from the dark world and he could be himself around you.

Your parents were nice and they welcomed him over and treated him like a son. They fed him breakfast in the morning and made both your lunches in the morning when he slept over on school nights.

König stuck to his word. He told his mother he was signing up and wouldn't be attending 12th grade. His family discouraged this move and it almost threw him off until you encouraged it. If he wanted to do it you'd be all there for him. So he enlisted and after training was enrolled.

When he was sixteen He'd decided he'd had enough. He couldn't live the way he was living. One day at school the two of you were talking when König brought up enlisting. "I want to join the military." "Oh? Once you get out of school I think you'd be great at that, when do you want to join?" "Next year, when I eligible." "Oh. Well that's cool."

A year later you enrolled and were also enlisted. You were lucky enough to join the same squadron as König where he was promoted to sergeant a year later. You almost didn't remember him considering his new name and the hood covering his face. He recognized you and came up to you. And you know the rest.

I hope you like it, I threw in some of the readers POV but it was majority outside, I hope you guys don't mind. Bye!!

[cherrygirlfriend]

some of my best friend rafe cameron headcanons

warning: nsfw, minors dni!! my brain is just best friend rafe brainrot i'm so down bad for him <333 these are some headcanons i have for the best friend rafe blurbs and fics i've been writing !!! the sfw and nsfw headcanons are separated by the divider :)

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ SFW ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

ʚɞ you've been best friends since childhood. he'd do anything for you.

ʚɞ spoils the hell out of you. he'd do ANYTHING to make you happy, buys you all the things you want, you text him that you're having a bad day BOOM there's three hundred dollars in your bank account.

ʚɞ whenever you're on your period he comes over with all your favorite things and reluctantly cuddles you (but grumbles about it) even though you know he secretly likes it.

ʚɞ he can't stand it when you're ignoring him. spams you with texts and calls. sometimes you block him and he deadass shows up behind your door begging for forgiveness and then fucks you until you cry <3

ʚɞ also whenever you're mad at him for some dumbass shit he does (bc let's face it he's a grade a dumbass sometimes) he thinks he can bribe his way out of it but you're just like ... bitch please.

ʚɞ the thing between you started when you drunkenly confessed to him that no guy had ever made you have an orgasm and you could only get off when you were on your own... and rafe was determined to change that (and he did. multiple times that night and the morning after.)

ʚɞ bought you a locket with his initial on the back (on the inside there's a a pic of you two kissing in a photobooth as well as one of you as children.)

ʚɞ you bought a watch for him for his birthday and he wears it every single day. your initials are carved in the back.

ʚɞ has a folder on his phone full of pictures you took together, and of pictures of you. password-protected.

ʚɞ sometimes you read to him and it drives him INSANE. he could listen to your voice for hours and hours on end.

ʚɞ you had always thought he wasn't a relationship person and that's why he didn't want to be official, so when he started dating sofia you had such a bitch fit. wouldn't talk to him for weeks. he tried everything, bribing you, showing up to your house... but eventually you caved in and you guys started fooling around behind her back (against the mirror) and although he feels kinda bad for cheating he just can't resist you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ NSFW ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

ʚɞ pet names. pet names. PET NAMES!!! his go-to are princess, angel, and bunny. one time you called him daddy during sex and he almost blew his load.

ʚɞ loves going raw and coming in you. makes him feel like you belong to him and only him <3 literally had you go on birth control bc you were getting sick of having to get plan b because he was conveniently out of condoms every time you fooled around and he swears he just "accidentally" came in you when he said he'd pull out. you made him promise that he wouldn't go raw with anyone else tho and he doesn't.

ʚɞ really likes missionary bc he loves to see your face when you come it drives him INSANE how pretty you look taking him.

ʚɞ giving him head whenever he's stressed or having a bad day. he returns the favor tho <3

ʚɞ loves taking his time with you but also really likes rushed, messy quickies whenever you're busy.

ʚɞ one time you guys were hanging out with mutual friends and when your dress hiked up, he could see that you'd written his initial on your thigh and it took everything in him to not take you into the nearest bathroom and fucking the hell out of you ... instead he did that right after you two left xxx.

ʚɞ literally takes you to buy lingerie... ON HIS BIRTHDAY... and you try them all out for him later that night and he gets to be the one to take them off. accidentally rips one of the panties he bought for you but he orders a new pair right after <3

ʚɞ chokes you. nuf said.

ʚɞ your phone's wallpaper is actually a pic of his hand around your neck that he took with his signature ring on his finger.

ʚɞ whenever you see him out and about with sofia you accidentally send him a pic of you in lingerie. then you see his eyes widen and later that night he fucks you so hard you leave actual clawmarks on his back.

ʚɞ sometimes he leaves bruises on you, and even though he feels bad about it afterwards it also turns him on like CRAZY. he loves marking you up, and sometimes you end up with hickeys and your friends question where they came from and you just shrug. to them, he's just some mystery hook-up, but they have no idea it's your best friend.

ʚɞ you sometimes let him record you during sex and he watches the videos of you whenever he misses you. has a whole password-protected folder in his phone of your nudes and videos you took together.

[mywritersmind]

SIX TIMES TOO MANY (OR JUST ENOUGH?) - LN4

summary : in which the universe can’t seem to stop bugging you. six times when people thought of you and lando as more than childhood friends.

listen up : no warnings!! childhood friends! sometimes genuis just strikes🤷🏻‍♀️ requests for kimi franco and lando are open!!

word count : 820

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time it happened, you had laughed it off in a drunken haze of excitement.

“You and Lando!” Your best friend squealed, “You two hooked up, didn’t you!?” she hit your arm playfully, the biggest grin on her face as yours mirrored the opposite.

“Lando and I? No way!” You shook your head rapidly just as he danced up to the two of you, a drink in hand.

He spun you around and laughed in your ear and slurring his words as your friend gave a curious look.

The second time was an older woman complimenting you and Lando on the street, saying how lovely of a couple you were. Lando had laughed it off with ease.

The third time was far more embarrassing, a young fan had asked Lando to sign his cap and as he did, the kid grinned at you and whispered, “Don’t worry! I won’t tell anyone you’re in love!” He had skipped away after making your jaw drop.

Why did everyone think you were a couple? It was ridiculous and out of reach. You and Lando had been best friends since childhood, besides your first kiss, nothing had ever happened.

You weren’t blind, he was attractive. You just chose to ignore the way he mindlessly changed in front of you and how his curls fell in his face. You chose to not think about him winning a race, sweaty and exhausted, falling right into your arms as he whispered his thanks to you for just being there.

The fourth time someone mentioned it, it was your own bloody mother. She had liked a photo you sent of your group on vacation, replying with “Oh! You and Lando are just the sweetest. Open your eyes, love.”

It was mortifying, especially in public. It made things odd with Lando, after someone would mention it, he started to act squirmy.

He almost always had some sort of girlfriend, though he claimed he didn’t date.

The fifth time was by far the worst.

“I get it!” Your boyfriend had scoffed in your face, “I’ll always come second to him!” You had such a headache from trying to break things off with him that his last statement might as well have split your skull open.

“Him?”

“Norris! Just admit you’re ending things with me to be with him!” He stood up, paced the room, “I’m such an idiot.”

“What- That’s not the reason!”

“Sure! God Y/n you’ve always been drooling for him!” What the hell?

It was your turn to scoff, “Fuck you! I’m sorry you can’t imagine why anyone would break up with your dumbass but we’re done because I don’t fancy you like you do me! Don’t blame my friend.”

“Sure. ‘Friend’. Go cry to him.”

The sixth was the one to change everything.

“I never realized!” Max Fewtrell laughed with you, drinks in hand and leaning against the bar.

“Realized what?” You raised a brow, sipping your drink.

“Lando’s in love with you!” you almost spit out your drink, “I mean- I always figured he had a hard on for you but shit… he’s totally whipped!”

He’s drunk, you reminded yourself.

“Shut up Max.” It wasn’t funny anymore.

“I’m serious, Y/n!” He shook his head, turning towards Lando who was looking bored with a girl next to him, “He hasn’t gotten with anyone for months! That’s saying something! He talks about you all the time and fuck have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”

The way he looks at you? How could you not notice?

He does it just then, turning his head to face you two but keeping those magnetic eyes on you. His previous bored expression was gone instantly, a smirk gracing his face as his eyes stayed on yours. It practically made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh.” Is all you can manage before Lando looks back to the girl.

“I’m just saying… maybe all those times you complain about- when people think you’re a couple or would be perfect together, maybe they’re a sign.” Max gives you one last knowing look before his spot is replaced with Lando.

He leans against the bar in a lazy fashion, looking tired yet all his energy is focused on you, “Having a good night?” His voice- fuck that voice.

His voice which haunted your nightmares and fuled your fantasies.

“A weird one, definitely.” you laugh but it’s not really funny, Lando gives you a concerned look.

“You wanna leave?” and when he says it, you know he’d come with. You know he’d go anywhere for you.

“No.” You shake your head, looking up at the brunette and feeling your breath ragged and unfocused. You swallow, then smile, “Let’s dance.”

A grin breaks out on his face as you slip your hand in his, “Anything you want, Y/n.”

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[ktsumu]

A CHILDHOOD BEDROOM tw: allusions to divorce/his family dynamic, holiday comfort for the soul

Ushijima’s bedroom is nothing like the one you share. 

His walls are bare, save for a few frames with pictures that are older than the two of you. There’s a bulletin above his desk that’s naked down to the cork, a few tacks littering it at random.

He has his dresser, a small mirror on the wall hanging above it. The room is nearly devoid of colour aside from beige and navy, but the Christmas lights from the house across the street give it some red and green. Not much, but it’s good enough.

You walk along the perimeter of the room, the floors cold, hands tracing over his desk and chair. He watches you from the doorway, the door closing softly behind him as he does. You hear the same floor creak beneath his feet as he crosses to his bed, the frame sighing under his weight.

A print-out picture of him and a redhead (Satori, he’s mentioned) standing side-by-side in school uniforms is framed on said desk, thumbs up on all four of their combined hands. A team in maroon stands tall beside it, and he’s dead center. A three-person family — father, mother, boy — takes up the space beside that, the frame much more sophisticated than the others. He looks about ten.

The clock on his wall tells the time wrong; it hasn’t been reset since he graduated and moved out at eighteen. It looks like it’s a few hours behind, but it’s really telling you time six years back. 

“Your walls are so bare,” you comment, turning back to look at him where he’s sat. He offers an almost unnoticeable, lopsided smile. “Where are all the medals, huh? I’ve heard big things about Ushiwaka the Great, you know.”

You’re joking, but he answers, “In my drawer.”

(You check; it’s full of them.)

Ushijima watches you hold them, looking at all of the engravings before setting them back, the years stretching further back the deeper that you dig. It’s like your chest is swelling with pride over things he won before you knew him. 

“What is it?” he asks, eyes following you as you cross over to his bed, sitting down to face him. His brows furrow, leaning his back against the headboard that looks so comically small; then his lips tug up at the sight of gold around your neck. His teenage pride rests on your chest.

There is something so invasive about a childhood bedroom, about wearing what once was his entire life as he looks at it — a whole life you didn’t have the chance to watch lays itself out in front of you. This childhood doesn’t exist anymore (maybe it never really did) and yet you see it around you all the same. 

(It is invasive, but it is full of love. An empty room that feels so full.)

“Why doesn’t your mother display your medals in the house?” you ask, tilting your head. “Hell, my mom would’ve lined mine up in the window. And your desk is like a trophy factory.”

 “It’s not practical, I suppose.”

“So they just sit in here?”

Ushijima looks at you like he’s in thought. 

He shrugs. “Mostly,” he says, “my father has a few in California. My player portrait is on his office wall. My mother shows her affection in her own way.”

“Can we take some back home?”

“Why? They’re old.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “I’ll display them around the room for a bit, swap ‘em out when you rack some up this season.”

Ushijima just chuckles shortly, shaking his head as he moves down the bed, laying down flat. His feet hang off the end a bit, and the pillows are the same as they always were. “If you wish. You know I never stop you from anything.”

You hum. “God, does it echo in here?”

“Sometimes. It never used to.”

“When did it start?”

He knows when. “I’m not sure.”

You know, too. “That’s okay. Our room at home doesn’t echo, at least.”

“No, you won’t let it.”

“Never.”

Ushijima reaches out a hand, his left, and he twirls the medal you picked in his hand. You wear it still, and it looks like it gleams. His eyes flicker up to yours. 

“I love you,” you tell him. “You and your empty room.”

He sighs a laugh, one you taught him how to make, and he pulls you into his chest by the ribbon around your neck. He breathes, your head rises and falls with his chest, and the room comes alive; breathing with its maker, welcoming him home the best it can. You certainly help.

Ushijima looks at his bedroom walls, his broken clock; the house is not resetting, his parents’ old bed will always be half full and half made, but he thinks this is enough — coming back with you was enough. Now, when he leaves, he will remember a warm bed and leave to sleep in a warmer one. 

“Love?”

“Mm?”

“When we find a home we like enough to live in,” When. Not if, when. “I’d like to paint the walls with you.”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“Not white — or beige.”

You grin, angling your head up to see him. Ushijima is looking up at his clock, six years behind like he just got home from training camp, his boxes packed for the city.

(He meets you two years later.)

“Pick a swatch, baby. Just no neons.”

“Oh. I was thinking of a traffic cone orange.”

“Ha-ha.”

[lululandd]

being könig’s significant other would include:

ngl this one made me kinda emotional

♡ hiking.

könig’s true home that he loves going back to is the one by the mountains. yes he has a large apartment in germany for convenience but his heart is always in that old house in austria where he grew up. the one in the mountains where not even google maps reach, where the road to his house is half hidden by a large bush. if he comes home during summer he will wake you up before dawn and hurry you up the mountain to watch the sunrise together. sometimes if you’re too sleepy he will carry you on his back on in his arms so you two can make it. summer sunrises are his favourite and you almost always spend the summers and autumns in his childhood home.

♡ his grandmother.

the file in the nursing home says she’s ninety five but from the dates in the pictures könig has shown you shes way above a hundred. and you can see why people believe her words. she is indeed old but she has way more life than the other people staying there. you asked him one day why does she stay in the nursing home instead of his house and he said thats where she wants to to because all her friends are there. könig asks for time off work every autumn to spend time with her. (youd think hed be way more lenient with catching sunrise during hikes because shes there but lmao the old woman nudges you with her cane so youd wake up faster. he gets the hiking gene from her apparently.)

♡ hunting.

because kortac doesnt let him be a sniper, he picks up hunting to scratch the itch. still very bitter because he knows he’s at least a sharpshooter, and expert with more training. mans has more knives in his basement than you have in the kitchen and can skin any animal with scary efficiency. he would share some game with the neighbours and come home with whatever they have. honey, fruits, or other types of game that they caught.

♡ handholding.

he is extremely clingy, and would just hold your hand no matter the occassion. sometimes pouts when you need both hands to do something. one day you squeezed his hand to show extra love and he squeezed back. so you squeeze his hand harder to show more love. so he squeezed even harder and you would end up in tears at the end from all the laughing. he would love to just do more than handholding out in public but he doesnt want bad rumours to surround you so he keeps the PDA to a minimum. the old couples around town secretly waits for you two to get married.

♡ so many plants.

he has so many plant babies that he babytalks when he gets home. when you wanted to prank him with the “creating a harsh and traumatising environment so my plant can grow big and strong just like my parents did for me” he gasped so loudly because he didnt think you know about plants!! and how this is good for them!!

♡ der tatortreiniger (the crimescene cleaner)

he cringes at the awkwardness, gets secondhand embarrassment from the interactions, and groans at how schotty’s unprofessionalism mirrors his own sometimes but loves the conversation happening throughout the series and the friendships he built along the way. mans comfort show tbh, knows lots of trivias about the show. watched it so many times he recognises the extras if they appear in another show.

♡ knitted sweaters.

just like ghost, he chooses comfort over everything else but prefers knitted sweaters over hoodies. buys local or from small businesses. he knows they use better quality yarn and takes extra care of them in the making. if you can knit? better. if you start learning knitting???? for him????? he’ll cry you a sweater of tears.

♡ bunnies.

gigantic bunnies. those flemish giant rabbits that can be as big as a sheltie. one of his uncles saw his growth spurt and just gave him one when he was young. two peas in a pod immediately. inseparable. he was heartbroken when he had to leave the little thing to join the military. even more heartbroken when he came home one day and his bunny wasn’t there anymore. he picked up a giant bunny again when he sees you cooing at some normal sized rabbits at the fair, and now you are three peas in a pod. the bunny would run towards the front door and then flop on its side the moment könig comes home.

♡ ointments.

mans old. come on now. he might be your little meow meow but dudes aging. bones not crackalackin yet because of all the excercise he gets. but he old. at least one joint has to be fucked up because hes always the first one to come into a contested room. on bad days, usually when its cold or when it’s raining you can see the discomfort on his face and you get the ointment for his broken joint. sometimes you sing a little while doing it to lift his spirits and boy it does. would pick you up and spin you around immediately after you set the ointment down. you’re his light, and he loves to see that light shine.

[tiazvni]

what about y/n that had to block eren in order for her to try and be with someone else. eren and y/n were never together but erens just possessive asf and they have always had something going on. like y/n goes to a party with this new guy and eren confronts her about it shortly after realising that she is there with a different guy.

i know it’s similar to other works you’ve done but just the thought of eren making y/n so weak just from his presence like ugh.

of course we all know how it ends tho :)

none of that might have made sense but i’m begging u. please.

give in | eren jaeger

words : 569

warnings : fem!reader, black coded, possessive!eren, toxic!eren, fwb!eren

eren seethed as he watched your most recent instagram story from his burner phone. dick jumping in his pants when a picture of you, so sweet and soft-looking, filled his screen, taken mere minutes before he pulled up outside of your house.

you were getting ready for a date - a juicy tidbit relayed to him by one of his sources - and he couldn’t stand the sight of you looking so pretty for another man. not when you just had his dick down your throat last week.

he shrugged himself out of his car and reached your front door in quick strides, knocking on the hardwood with a heavy hand. you shouted to him that you were coming! - double checking your appearance in your mirror before rushing downstairs to greet who you thought was your date.

but no, it was just your ex-friend-with-benefits.

“what the hell, eren,” you huffed, glaring at him with those beautiful brown eyes that drive him crazy. “i thought i told you to stop showing up at my house unannounced.”

“nah, fuck that. where the hell do you think you’re going?”

you choked on your breath. “excuse me?”

eren took a single step forward, crossing the threshold into your living room as he stared you down. his dark eyes narrowed as he looked you over - noting your sleek hair that reached your waist in waves, sultry eyelashes, glossed lips, thick body wrapped like a gift in a black silk dress, and dainty feet with painted toes strapped in the sexiest pair of heels he’s ever seen.

it’s almost like you were trying to kill him.

“you heard me,” eren scoffed. “you thought i wasn’t gonna find out about you trying to give my pussy away, hm?”

“my pussy doesn’t belong to you, eren.”

“like hell it does. you must’ve forgot the way i had you crying last week, mamas.”

you tried not to shiver at his words, clit twitching in your underwear as you wracked your brain for the memory of how you both got to this point. having gone from childhood friends to perpetual fuck-buddies, eren’s toxicity has been a recurring theme throughout the entirety of your life.

from the moment you let him fuck you after a smoke session for the first time, agreeing to a simple no-strings-attached deal, you should have known he would be the one to catch feelings all too quickly. but like the silly bitch you were, you forgoed all of his red flags solely because of the way he made your pussy sore during missionary.

but last week was the last time. never again would you give in to his control like he so craved.

“see, this is why i blocked your ass. you act like you own me the second i get the slightest bit of attention from another guy, and i don’t have time for it.” you shove at his chest, hardly moving him an inch back. “get the fuck out of my house, eren!”

“nah, strip for me.” eren licks his lips, unbothered by your words or your attitude.

your breath hitches as he moves another step closer, smirking at the sudden flash of desire clouding your doe eyes. he shuts your front door behind him, eyes never leaving yours as he shifted the locks on your door back in place, watching as each click made your body jump.

“let me see what you’re so eager to show him.”

um i WILL be making a part 2 to this. i literally wrote this during my lunch break at work — i hope it’s to your liking!! <3 <3

[cagesofgold]

eren jaeger headcanons <3

🎵teenage fever - Drake 🎧

His favorite way to unwind is to play with your hair. Due to having longer hair himself he’s grown accustomed to the different skill sets required to craft different hair styles, and actually, is really good at it. His fingers are lithe and nimble and are able to weave through strands with ease.

He drives an all black car with tinted windows, and has a polaroid of you in a photo booth with him on your first date in a plastic case hanging from his rear view mirror.

he also always makes sure to keep your favorite snacks in the car, as he’s a guy who’s bound to text you at 2am asking bout some “you up for a drive?” 💀

in terms of tattoos despite popular belief, i personally think he’d keep it on the minimal side. He’d maybe have some on his arms - or a sleeve, but he likes to keep them tidy. Although, he is one of those guys that would have that tiktok thirst trap spider on his chest or adjacent to his v line…..

this mf smells gooooood, he’s so paranoid about smelling bad because of Jean saying he smelt like a burning pile of bodies in high school and hasn’t been able to shake the fear since.

despite not being overly adorned in tattoos he does like piercings. He’s got about five on his ears and has a nose piercing but he always forgets about it.

loves reality shows. A few months into your relationship he noticed you watching them and acted with his full chest that he had no interest, yet as the weeks rolled by he somehow got closer and closer to the couch and before you knew it he was fully shouting over Lisa Rinna. (You’ve also seen him following over 30 housewives from the different shows on instagram…)

cannot stand metal music because he spent his entire childhood covering his ears from where it bled from under Mikasa’s door. (Otherwise he’d probably enjoy it)

he’d dress quite simply, mainly with blacks and whites and would sometimes mix and match with some red or green, but i don’t think he’s as ambitious as some of his friends fashion wise, but he still looks good as hell.

his favorite holiday is with out a doubt halloween, is some of this because he spent so long as a child building the most elaborate scares for the kids on his street? maybe. but he also likes autumn as a season so that has something to do with it.

doesn’t get along with his dad too well but is a total mamas boy. He visits her at least twice a month considering they live in different cities.

is a cat person, but when he was younger he liked dogs more as according to him they were “much radder” - his own words 💀, but as he got older and became more subdued he developed a preference for cats.

has anxiety that he manages to hide, he wasn’t used to being comforted and it took a while for him to fully open up to you.

despite smoking weed with Jean and connie almost every other day he still makes a dramatic scene any time Zeke lights a cigarette around him, i’m talking coughing and clutching his chest, Zeke’s standing there like this 🧍‍♀️waiting for him to stop his fucking shenanigans.

if you want to go out with Eren Jaeger prepare to be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse, because my god, this man is relentless, and the SIDE EYE on this mf is ridiculous. He could knock down an army with his sass alone.

takes good care of his hair, oils it twice a week and does hair masks in order to keep it soft and shiny. He can’t have his gorgeous girl going out with some guy with brittle, greasy ass hair…

goes to the gym but doesn’t like it very much. he goes most days for at least an hour but never posts gym pics on his instagram or anything, he just has no interest apart from maintaining his body.

cannot sleep without you. he can try, sure, but he’ll never be successful. Before you both decided to move in together he was at your house every night, nuzzled against your body with light breaths slipping from his lips, which sparked the conversation, why not just move in, you’re here everyday anyway?

tends to bottle things up, and if something is bothering him you will have to work it out of him slowly…but he’s trying, for you he’s trying.

his lock screen is a photo of you asleep against his chest, he just thought you looked so peaceful.

gets embarrassingly competitive in just dance, threw a Wii at Connie once because he made him lose a perfect score on timber.

finally, he loves stargazing, especially with you. He’ll take you out to a deserted street, a bag full of snacks and a joint as you both lay on the hood of his car, chatting about whatever comes to mind, and it’s at those moments, when his eyes focus on the slope of your nose and the shape of your mouth, that he feels a warmth inside him he’s never felt before. <3

[sideblogdotjpeg]

hi everyone im really really normal isnt it really cool and normal that sol held onto this little metal name plate like it was the most precious thing he owned and carried it around with him all the time, even as a synth knight soldier, a little metal plate that had his name "solum" and was the only thing that tied him to who he is and where he comes from. "this is the only thing i had when i came to the waterpark, just this word". just one half of the plate. how did he know "bufo" was his last name? how did he know that metal plate was his? how did he know? when sol almost dies in king of dragons he dreams of a swamp that hes never been to. and its cool and normal that sol carries fragments of a person hes never been around with him forever, a history and a family and a context of what he is he doesnt even understand, that is and isnt his

and isnt it really cool and normal that sol was an abandoned and forgotten nobody in the waterpark, and then he was brought to launchpad and told he *was* somebody, he was an extension of another person, its boy wizard *and* frog pal, "familiars always smell like he person they work with", and then "the gloves are not the same i dont know whats going on what am i what am i", and then "humanoid animals are often viewed as cute by other humanoids and could be used to perpetuate mothership propaganda", and then "why clone me im just a frog im nobody", and. the memories of childhood and sense of identity that launchpad and the synth knight program offered him crumbled down overnight. hes not a synth knight and he was never a frog pal and if hes not mothership than what is he outside of that? except the kicker is that he *was* mothership, more than anyone else; "theres always the consideration that you were made in a mothership lab". that he is just an extension and a copy of somebody else.

and its so cool and normal that sol, from the very beginning, an unnamed desire that alexandrite tapped into, that almost lost him to the network, "you... could find my family? ... i have a few things id like to say to them for sure". sol finds out hes a clone and one of the first things he says was "i think that mightve been the closest thing to a dad ill ever have". brad and bron. sol wants to know swag so bad, he wants to impress him, he wants swag to like him. he practices in front of a mirror meeting him. when they finally meet face to face all sol can say is "i hate the fact that you exist". and still he fights so hard for swag. swag exists and sol is two of a kind now. sol doesnt know what he is anymore. sol sees flashes of clones at the edges of his vision. this is as close to a family as he can get. and swag was a wanderer who wanted to see the world outside his home, but sol was always looking *for* his home. sol fought for swag, but at the end of the day. swag daniels the ship of theseus. "what happens to the people who were trying to transport that got replaced by alexandrite? where does that matter go? / it disappears". "youll always be a part of me, you *are* me, how can i let you go?". sol bufos spore network, a representation of who he is, someone defined by his connections and bonds to other people. and thats the thing that ends up saving that last fragment of swag who survived, and kept on fighting to stay as the original sol bufo. swag still never got to take sol to moonstone .

anyway. cool and fun. sol bufo frog with the most twisted and mangled sense of self in the whole entire world. sol bufo who thinks of himself in terms of other people, who was by design an extension of someone else. sol who fought so hard for the family he just found out he has, and loses it in an instant. sol bufo who keeps on asking "who am i". "no matter what, you are solum bufo. and you are a good frog"

so. im normal about it

[fleurmatisse]

Not All Death Scenes are the Same

or, why it’s been five years and i still want to challenge andy muschietti to a duel over the death of eddie kaspbrak

Eddie was always going to die. He’s mirrored to both characters who open the cycle of It on-screen; his death is the tragedy that finally ends It’s cycle for good. But in It Chapter Two his death is not given the same weight as Georgie or Adrian, and it’s not the tragedy it is in the novel. There are a few reasons for this. Let’s start with the setup.

Eddie is an anxious person, but that doesn’t make him a coward. This has been said before, but in both final confrontations with It, he acts when the other Losers are frozen. As a kid, he ignores the voice of his mother when his friends are in trouble; his love for them (and theirs for him) helps him be brave. He may have been the last to agree to fight as an adult, but he followed through. And most importantly, he knew what he was doing when he attacked It, which brings us to the death scenes themselves.

Here is my biggest problem with movie!Eddie’s death: he doesn’t see it coming. He threw the fence post at It, thought he killed It, and ran to Richie, triumphant. When he gets stabbed, it’s through the back. His death is a shock to himself and the audience. No amount of Bill Hader screaming for him will make up for this.

In the novel, Eddie runs at It and sprays It with his inhaler, which he believes with all the power of his childhood belief will hurt It like battery acid. And it does. He wounds It, gets It’s attention, and keeps fighting. His arm ends up in It’s mouth and he sprays more battery acid down It’s throat. He saves Bill and Richie at the cost of his own life, knowing the danger he’s put himself in and doing it anyway because they’re his friends and he’s brave. By taking that away from the scene, you are taking away a core part of his character and cheapening his death. Which unfortunately leads us to…the joke.

This might actually be the most egregious part of his death. I will grant a slight amount of grace to the movie for the fact that it is, in fact, a movie, and conveying the internal machinations of a character is a difficult thing to do in a movie without coming across as cheesy. But why…why did they have him make an “I fucked your mom” joke as his last words, to Richie of all people?

Novel!Eddie has a moment of perfect clarity in which he feels all the impurities leave him, like cleaning a glass so all the light can shine through. He’s dying, but he finds total peace…almost. As Richie cries over him, Eddie touches his cheek. He wants to tell him something. And while he’s thinking it over, he dies.

The first time I read that scene, I cried for the rest of the book. And the movie just makes me angry. Making his last words a joke has none of the impact of an unfinished thought. Refusing to let that moment be serious makes it cheap. The source material is not perfect, but Eddie’s death very nearly is. He was brave and he saved his friends and he wanted to say something. It’s a goddamn tragedy! So let it be tragic.

There are a lot of ways to make a character’s death hit the audience like a truck. And It Chapter Two just does not land the jump. The end.

(PS if you were going to mirror the scene in chapter one with ben and bev, eddie should have kissed richie to get him out of the deadlights. im right, cowards.)

(PPS without audra involved they could have fucking carried him out. you ignore every other aspect of the novel version but keep that? [screams])

[loganwalkerz]

Logan Walker trying to break the brainwashing desperately trying to refuse the programming that Rorke is forcing upon him inside the pit watching the positive memories of Hesh and Elias fading into darkness replaced with haunting nightmares

Nightmares that are oddly similar to the experiences that Rorke and Elias experienced when they were younger. Rorke was forcing Logan to believe he is a young Elias Walker, Rorke trying to make the perfect luitenient all over again.

This time Rorke saying to himself he won't fuck up as he puts Logan through endless amount of torture and brainwashing, to create the best soldier possible. Obedient with no sense of morals.

Logan who doesn't remember his own father because now in his mind, he IS him. He is Elias Walker, he's a hotheaded luitenient and he doesn't remember much. That he's recovering from a head injury after he apparently dropped with Rorke into the water, that the story isn't Rorke dropping alone but with Elias. That the federation saved them. That the Ghosts left them to die. That together they'll get the justice they deserved

But in reality, there is no justice. It's just revenge covered by lies. They aren't the heros of the story but the fools who are paying the price for their actions.

Logan Walker is stripped from his identity replaced with a new one where he can't even process himself properly, when he looks in the mirror he sees a face he doesn't recognise. And whenever he sees a German Shepherd he can't help but think he used too have one. Even if he doesn't now. He definitely did at one point right?

And when Logan sees Hesh for the first time, he doesn't understand the desperation in the man's eyes. He assumes its a beg for his life but Logan can see something is off with the pleas Hesh is letting out. He's using a different name than what Rorke gave him

Hesh is pleading Logan to snap out of whatever trance Rorke put him in, that he wants his baby brother back. And Logan is confused, because apparently he was a only child. So why does he suddenly have a brother? And a whole different name?

"You must be mistaken. My name is Elias."

He says bluntly, voice cold and void of emotion but his eyes held everything.

And the heart break on Hesh's face almost hurts as Hesh breaks down sobbing praying that this is some cruel prank being played on him

"No..no no this isn't be happening please Logan baby bear come back"

Hesh cried reaching to touch Logans face watching him flinch away. It stings Hesh's heart

And when Logan is removed from battle, Hesh finds it hard to touch Logan again the way he used too. He can't give a brotherly hug or a back pat because he can only see the look in Logan's eyes from before. The fear. The anguish. Confusion and rage.

And over time Logan can't help but try get back to being closer with Hesh even if he's struggling to believe everything. Even if he's slowly having memories. Buried ones deep inside. Childhood ones of him and Hesh spending their days together.

Logan who scoots slowly closer to Hesh during the night, a hand slowly grasping Hesh's sleeve staring at his brothers sleeping face as tears rolled down his cheeks after a tough dream. slowly burying his face into his brothers shoulder sniffling as Hesh's arms even in his sleep automatically wrap around Logan.

"I'm so tired..I'm so sorry"

Logan whispers to Hesh as Hesh begins to awaken from the feeling of tears droplets on his shoulder, gently holding Logan close confused

"Lo? What happened?"

He whispers shocked that Logan's holding onto him again, like when they were kids again. Free from responsibility. Free from the pain. Hesitantly playing with Logan's grown out messy hair trying to soothe him as Hesh is in a state of shock still trying to snap himself out of it.

The two cuddling closely as Logan is having fits of memories coming back to him, his body almost jolting with how intense they all were as he sobs not sure on what to believe. What was real anymore. What could he believe? And was he even safe here.

Hesh is still so hesitant on how he's allowed.to hug or touch Logan being able to see the pain he's in, knowing that Logan might have boundaries still with the whole affection.

"I'm here..I'm sorry..I'm here.."

Hesh whispers trying to help in anyway he can as Logan clutches onto him tightly silently begging for Hesh to never leave again. That they won't be separated. Even if Logan isn't sure who he is anymore, that maybe Hesh and him can still bond. And be close. And be free.

[missmeinyourbones]

sweet L!! congrats on your milestone u deserve it so so much!! for the event, how about “meet me at midnight” and suna :)

MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT (s. rintaro)

a/n: post high school - pre college AU, talks of suna going pro, mutual pining, childhood friends alluded, slight mentions of religious comparison, i need to gargle him in my mouth like mouthwash 

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

When your phone vibrates, the sun has long set and the moths outside of your window are flocking to the dim porch light. 

And even though you know who it is texting you at this hour, your heart still does that thing—the childish fluttering of excitement and nerves and insecurity all in one. With a deep breath, you let your thumb swipe your screen. 

From: Suna ;p

[10:41 PM] meet me at midnight

To: Suna ;p

[10:43 PM] well hello to you too

From: Suna ;p

[10:44 PM] hello [10:44 PM] meet me at midnight

To: Suna ;p

[10:45 PM] that's awfully cryptic of you

From: Suna ;p

[10:47 PM] cryptic enough for you to agree?

To: Suna ;p

[10:48 PM] ... yes

Suna does this a lot. 

Both a creature of habit and the night, he loves doing this with you. Texting you when the heavy summer sun goes down and the night sky protects him from the reality of the morning. Nights that were meant to be impromptu, but are now a part of your routines, you find yourself looking forward to his (un)expected texts. 

He doesn't give a location, but you don't need one, because the two of you have been meeting at the same quiet spot outside the corner of the town's 24/7 convenience store for months now.

When you arrive in one of his old hoodies and a pair of cartoon pajama pants, he's already waiting for you beneath the store's fluorescent signage.

He looks annoyingly pretty. Neon mirrored lights illuminating his side profile like a painting, eyelashes naturally curled upwards like a goddamn prince. 

You almost want to punch him, but when he notices you walking towards him, he shoots you a knowing smile—and suddenly, that feeling of punching him slowly turns into one of kissing him, which is equally as bad. 

He doesn't say anything, merely nods beneath his hood and hands you a plastic bag. 

You take a peek inside, seeing your usual go-to purchases, and reaching into your hoodie pocket, "Thanks, I think I have a ten in my—"

"Don't want it."

You raise your eyebrows, lazily fighting off the grin that can't help but make its way across your face. But Suna, as always, is more shameless than you—not even bothering to hold back his own proud smile.

"You're paying for my pretzels and orange soda?" your voice comes airy, teasing, and Rintaro skims his tongue over his canine tooth to pretend he doesn't want to swallow the melody like water.

He's equally as playful when he flicks your forehead, "Only the finest for you." 

"And they say chivalry is dead." 

The night then goes how it always does, and the two of you begin the walk back to your house.

You never understood why it's always this song and dance, but one day, Suna insisted he walk you back. Just to be safe. You remember saying something about that not even making sense, about him walking twice as much for no reason, but he merely shrugged and continued to shove you towards the side of the pavement furthest from the street.

It's nice like this, with the sugar bubbling on your tongue and the humidity of the day dwindling to a nice cool summer night. The slight breeze is refreshing on the back of your neck.

The two of you walk in step with one another, talking about anything and everything—except what's actually on both of your minds.

Because two weeks from today, Rintaro leaves once again to travel across the world with EJP. And it's not the first time, but every time he leaves, you're afraid it will be the last. 

Because there has to be a last, there always is. 

One day, he's bound to get tired of returning to the small suburban town that holds your withering high school and shitty convenience store and you. He's destined for something bigger than this, olympic and grand and impressive.

It's inevitable that one of these times, he's going to get on a plane and not come back, and you can't even blame him. 

Noticing your faraway thoughts, he gently pushes your arm with his shoulder. 

"Stop thinking," he says, not needing to be told what you're thinking of. 

You shoot him a weak smile before your eyes return to the passing cracks in the pavement and you breathe, "I'm gonna miss this."

Rintaro thinks about saying that there's nothing to miss, that he’s still right here with you, but he knows what you mean and decides to bite his tongue. 

"Me too," he eventually sighs, kicking the rock he walks with and seeing how long he can keep it in his stride. "Being honest with you, it's like, the only thing bringing me back here." 

Your walking slows, eyebrows furrowing when you ask, "What do you mean?"

Rintaro follows your pace, eventually coming to a stop and turning around in front of you. The two of you stand on the barren sidewalk in the middle of the night, and though the silence is deafening, everything in the moment feels far too loud. 

In a wordless battle of who's gonna break first, Rintaro bites the bullet. 

"You're really gonna make me say it?" he whispers. 

You continue staring at him, and beneath the gaze of your pretty eyes, Rintaro finally allows himself to say what he's been trying to for all these months. 

"I've traveled the country, got to see places I didn't even know existed on the other side of the planet. I think I've tried every type of pretzel and shitty orange soda in the world, and then some." 

His voice falters a bit when he sees your face slightly fall, getting the wrong impression from his confession.

So naturally, he panics. Pathetically trying to find the correct romantic string of words to tell you everything he feels accurately, what ends up fumbling out of his charismatic mouth is—

"And you think I keep coming back to our shitty hometown for any reason other than you?"

You feel like all of the air has been ripped out of your lungs and the rug swept beneath your feet.

Suna swears that, thanks to some miracle handed to him, you’re laughing and shaking your head. And beneath the summer stars and humming of the streetlights, he decides that your smile is the closest thing he's seen to any kind of good omen or message from above. 

And a few weeks from now, you'll learn that irony is a funny thing—because while you were under the impression that this was the last time you'd be seeing Suna for a while, his nervous hand fiddled with his phone in his pocket, the same one he knew to hold two digital plane tickets, instead of one. 

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey, I really like your story so keep up the good work. Can you do a story about gardener turned maid x Donna. She and Donna were childhood friends, (y/n) always plays with Donna when she was a child. (y/n) also has a hard pass, she was only adopted by the previous gardener but never really took care of her but she sees him as her father anyway. (y/n) is always alone and seeks solace around Donna. When Donna's parents died she shut herself out and which made her feel even more alone. But then the lady got out and asked if she could ve her maid. This is also and excuse to be close to her again because she always admired and loved (y/n) from afar. They got closed again then (y/n) stole a kiss from Donna. Donna got angry and left. They haven't talk for days but she confess to her that she loves (y/n) as well. They were happy until one time (y/n) felt a pain in her chest, it's so painful that she loss consciousness while tending the garden, Donna became worried and took her to her room. (y/n) woke up and looked at herself in the mirror, what she saw is horrible. A giant lump is growing on her chest and some nerves are visible from it to the neck and it's dark. Donna told her it was a cadou. (y/n) demanded answers from her and Donna just told her everything what mother miranda told her during her implantation and that it's been killing her to keep that from her lover. She wanted to confront miranda to get some answers on her own. Donna told her it wasn't a good idea because she will die. Then night came and (y/n) and kissed Donna goodbye while she's asleep because there is was never really a happy ending for the both of them. She confronted miranda to get some answers, they fought while miranda was telling her that she was a failed experiment.

Good ending - Donna found her and treated her wounds and they were together again

Bad ending - Donna found her body the next day dead. Years later she still mourned for her and that she slowly looses her sanity because of it.

Note: I'm sorry it is very long but I trust that you could make a story out of this and also English isn't my first language either. And write both of the ending to give the readers some perspective about the 2 endings. Thank you

Yess!!! It's a very good plot, thank you!!! Well, I don't like bad endings, so I chose the good one. You said that you wanted the two of them and... Well, I'm going to post it later if you're okay with that!!! Anyway, thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

The friend you were used to be

Pairing: Donna Benviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, dark themes, mentions of abuse, Donna being Donna, fluff, blood, Cadou, Reader POV

Word count: 10,077

Summary: Sometimes life is so unfair...

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

The pain is almost unbearable. My hands are unable to contain the blood that flows from my wound. I scream, I cry, but no one listens to me, there is no one in this dark place. Thinking that it would be the day of my death does not scare me, I was the one who went to that place. It was me who chose the day of my death, and not her. With an exhausting effort, I manage to turn around and look at the full moon through the rubble of the underground cathedral.

“Such a magnificent view,” I say, closing my eyes, breathing in pain. My bandages are torn and my soul is condemned. How did I get here? Why did my life have to end like this?

Pointless questions when the darkness is so close. I once heard someone say that when you were about to die, you might be able to see your life flashing before your eyes. It's certainly not something I feel like doing. If I have to die, let it be remembering you, my love, the only light that made me keep hope. But I feel the need to go back, to when this started...

20 years ago…

“And then I found a cave with a lot of strange black trees,” I said, talking about that little walk around the village.

“A cave?” My friend, Donna, asked, listening to me curiously while we played tea with her doll.

“Yes, yes, a huge and very deep cave,” I reaffirmed, pretending to take a sip from my empty toy cup.

It was an afternoon like many others, at the house of my friend, my only friend, Donna Beneviento.

My father, or rather, the man who called himself my father, worked for her family as a gardener. We lived isolated on the grounds of the Beneviento estate, almost as long as I can remember. Apparently, I was adopted shortly after birth.

I didn't care much about my origin either, not even that this man, Josef, didn't bother to pretend that he loved me. There was only one thing I liked to do, and that was to spend the afternoons with Donna.

She was four years older than me, she was 12 and I was 8. Despite that difference, nothing prevented us from playing with the dolls, talking, or laughing, like girls, like real friends. I couldn't blame her for seeking refuge in my friendship. She had her own problems. According to my father, she was an isolated, lonely and strange girl, who never left the grounds, who never spoke to anyone.

Maybe it was because of the lack of her right eye, which left a striking scar on her face, or maybe it was because she simply wasn't interested in humans. Whatever the case, Donna and I were friends. She needed me, and I needed her.

“So… What happened to you?” Donna asked, well, Angie, the doll that her father made for Donna so that she wouldn't feel so terribly alone. She was one more friend, even if it was only imagination.

“Well, I tripped, fell on a rock and fainted,” I said, putting my hand to the area of ​​my chest that was still burning.

“You fainted?” The brunette asked, lying on the floor with her hands on her chin, listening attentively to my story.

I nodded, lying down too.

“I was unconscious for hours, until I woke up, outside the cave.”

“That's a lie!” Angie screamed, to which I clearly got angry.

“It's not a lie,” I protested in a childish manner, of course.

“Do you have any proof?” the older girl asked, looking at me suspiciously.

“Well yes, I have proof,” I said, showing the strange scar on my chest. “Look, Donna…”

“Wow... Does it hurt ?” She asked, reaching out towards the scar, changing distrust for curiosity. I shook my head, covering myself again.

“Sometimes,” I said, feeling good about the attention I had drawn from my friend.

“Donna, è l'ora delle tue lezioni,”  Mrs. Beneviento's voice interrupted us, making Donna grimace in disgust.

“Ma mamma, stavo giocando con (Y/N)” the older girl protested, getting up and picking Angie up from its small chair.

“No complaints, Donna, besides, (Y/N)'s father will be worried, it's late,” the adult woman said, pointing to me. I woke up a little disappointed because of how short the afternoon had been. “Go home, it's getting dark and it’s dangerous.”

I protested with my eyes and nodded. After all, my father's job depended on them.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said politely, bowing my head respectfully. Donna's mother smiled tenderly at me, putting a hand on my back to guide me out.

“(Y/N),” the girl called to me, holding Angie in her arms. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling as she said goodbye to me with a shy wave of her hands.

I wish I had known. I wish I had known that would be the last time I would play with my friend Donna. The next day I didn't go to her house, she didn't come to see me. That same night, something terrible happened.

Donna's parents died, both of them, jumping off the cliff that was right next to her house. Terrible, unexpected news.'

I remember the funeral…I remember how Donna couldn't stop crying.

A 12-year-old girl didn't have to have experienced that, it was unfair.

The following days were even worse. My father told me that Donna needed to be alone. Alone? A 12 year old girl alone in that big house? My mind couldn't understand it. As Donna's only friend, as an 8-year-old who wants to see her friend smile, I headed there for weeks.

“Donna, let's play,” I said, knocking on the door, waiting for an answer that wasn't a sob.

“I don't want to play,” a broken voice came from inside the house. “Go away, (Y/N)”

“Come on, Donna, please... Being alone is so boring. Look, I brought Mr. Whiskers, Angie's boyfriend. I'm sure she missed him,” I said in a childish, almost pleading voice. I couldn't lose Donna. It may have been a selfish feeling but, after all, I was only 8 years old.

“I don't want to play with you!” Donna screamed, desperate, which made me squeeze the doll tightly in my hands. “Go away!”

It didn't matter how many times I insisted, how many times I cried begging for a little time with her. I didn't see her again. Donna forgot about me, but I never, ever forgot about her.

Little by little I got used to her absence, to my loneliness. The months, the years passed slowly and I grew up alone, next to a man who didn’t take care of me, always leading my gaze to that place to which I never returned.

14 years ago…

“Father!” I screamed, covering my face with my hands. The blizzard intensified and made to walk properly impossible for me. “Hurry, we have to protect the house!”

It had been 6 years since I last saw Donna. She was a woman, not a girl. 14 years was not too many, but it was enough for new feelings to appear to torment me. Envy corroded me...

During all that time, only my father had been lucky enough to get close to the Beneviento estate, only he was allowed to take care of Donna. No matter how much I insisted, I couldn't do it. My father said that she was a strange girl, that it wasn't good for me to be around or disturb her, that Donna was only his responsibility, and not mine.

I tried to escape several times, stupidly thinking that I would be able to see her again, to talk to her after so many years. I didn't do it, I couldn't do it.

But that afternoon there were other problems to worry about. A terrible blizzard hit the place mercilessly, causing us to have to reinforce our house, nailing wooden planks to the windows.

“Stay here!” My father shouted, when he nailed the last plank.

“No, father, don't go!” I said, grabbing his arm.

“I have to see if Miss Donna is safe! Obey, (Y/N)!” He ordered me, breaking away from my grip and causing me to fall to the ground.

“Father, wait!” I shouted, standing up as best I could.

Donna could be in danger. That was the only thing I thought about as I crawled through the snow, feeling thousands of ice blades dig into my skin. I could barely walk for a few minutes. The road was blurry. There was no sign of my father, I wasn't even able to tell where I tripped and fell again, sinking into the snow.

“Help!” I shouted. It was useless. My screams were drowned out by the wind, by the snow, by the nervous crows trying to take shelter.

My vision cleared and then… Then I saw it.

A black figure was walking towards me. It looked like a woman, or something like a woman. Her walk was slow, elegant. She was carrying something in her arms. No, not something, it was someone. When she got close enough, my heart almost stopped.

Mother Miranda, protector of the village, its supreme authority, was right in front of me. The priestess clothing stood out against the snow, the golden tones of her mask made her look like a bird, something similar to a crow. In her arms, there was a young woman. Someone I couldn't recognize until she was too close.

That scar, that black hair… Donna Beneviento.

The one who was once my best friend was resting in Miranda's arms. She seemed unconscious, or something worse.

I tried to move, to reach out my hand towards her, but the cold prevented me to do so. The priestess's footsteps were already distinguishable on the ground. It was impossible for her not to have seen me.

She walked past me, carrying Donna in her arms. The blizzard didn't seem to be a problem for her at all.

"Donna..." I sighed, crawling a little as the figure slowly moved away from me. Miranda paused, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of annoyance. She didn't help me, I barely felt her gaze on mine. What I did feel was her smile through that golden mask.

Miranda looked at me and I looked at her. Her figure remained completely oblivious to the snow and Donna seemed nothing but a dead weight in her arms.

I could hear her laughter, even today I would be able to swear that a terrible laugh came from the priestess. Slowly, she turned her head away from me again walking down the path. It had been 6 years without seeing Donna and I still wanted to save her, attack the priestess and take her to a safe place.

Miranda was good, or so they said. I never believed it. Seeing her was just a bad omen.

As time went by, I began to believe that this was just a dream, a mirage that the blizzard created for me. I soon realized that it was not.

“Adopted?” I asked, at one of the silent meals with my father. The man who didn't love me nodded, enjoying the food he forced me to make for him.

“Mother Miranda has taken pity on Miss Donna, she is her daughter now,” he explained, already drinking her second glass of wine.

“I don't understand. When I saw her, she seemed unconscious, she seemed...”

“Are you questioning Mother Miranda?” The man asked, abruptly, hitting the table with his fist. I backed away scared. In recent years, the behavior of the man who claimed to be my father had become unsustainable.

“No, father, I'm just saying that...”

“Shut your mouth and bring more wine! Don't dare to question Mother Miranda, (Y/N), not in this house.”

I nodded, with tears in my eyes. I still didn't understand anything. I still had a lot of unanswered questions. At least Donna was fine, better than ever according to my father. That's what he said. It had been too long since I had seen her, too long...

12 years ago…

Life continued its course. I, already 16 years old, had become accustomed to solitude, to the few pieces of the outside world that Josef told me about. That man was never my father. I would no longer call him as such. Hits, screams and beatings those were the summary of my existence, too much for a young girl like me.

I had no news about Donna. I didn't know what had happened to her, why Miranda had adopted her. I didn't know anything and the worst thing... The worst thing was that I cared less and less. Surviving Josef's wrath was the most important thing.

“You are a worthless girl!” The man shouted, hitting me hard on the cheek. “You are worthless!”

“Father, please, please, stop...” I begged crying, falling to the floor.

Alcoholism took away the little that was left of humanity in him. That morning, the idea of ​​getting out of there was more present in my mind than ever.

“You will never be my family!” He shouted, stating a truth that I already knew. He had a family, his family died, he adopted me. That was the sum of his demons. I would never be his daughter. He would never be my father.

“I don't want to be your family!” I screamed furiously, struggling with his arms so he wouldn't hit me again. Taking advantage of his obvious state of intoxication, I managed to push him, to throw him to the floor with a thud.

“Stupid little girl...” He hissed, just when I was able to stand up. “You are going to pay for this!”

Josef pounced on me, ready to end everything, to kill me, to make me pay for having had to take care of me all those years. I, for the second time in my life, thought that it was the end, that it was the end of my disastrous life.

Just when his hands were about to make me gasp for breath, his gaze went from fury to bewilderment, relaxing his attempt to strangle me.

“Liza...” He murmured, as if he had heard something, as if someone had spoken to him. “Where are you?”

“What?” I asked, catching my breath.

Josef left the house like a wandering soul, looking for something that apparently only he was able to see.

“Yes... I will meet you,” the man said, walking towards the old estate, with a lost look.

It could have been a good opportunity to disappear from that place, but I didn't. Something strange was happening to Josef.

“Father?” I asked, trying in vain to put a hand on his shoulder, which he pushed away with a grunt.

“I'm coming, Liza…” He murmured again. “Yes, at the waterfall.”

“Waterfall?” I asked, scared by what that meant. “Father, wait…”

My attempt to stop him was even worse. He turned around, pushing me to the ground roughly. The only thing I could do was to watch as that man disappeared into the fog.

I sat under a tree, thinking about why I would want to save my father, who wasn't my father. I guess I was always stupid. I breathed relief and cried at the same time. For some reason, I knew I would never see him again.

When I raised my head from my knees, something scared me. A hand, a pale hand extended towards me. It was attached to a woman's body, dressed entirely in black, from head to toe, wearing a strange veil that hid her face.

The smell of her lavender and the softness of her hands were enough to know who I had in front of me. Donna.

I sobbed and used her hand to get up.

“It's all over, (Y/N)” a hoarse voice that came out of that veil whispered. It had nothing to do with that sweet voice from years ago. She was already a woman.

“What?” I said confused, blinking several times to make sure that what I was seeing was real, that Donna Beneviento, missing for years, was in front of me. “Donna… Is that you?”

The woman nodded slowly, moving away from my arm, which reached out toward her as if trying to fulfill a wish, something I had hoped to do for years.

“My God... Donna,” I sobbed, unable to contain all that torrent of feelings I felt when I saw her again, throwing myself into her arms. “It has been so long…”

She didn't hug me back, she just gasped in surprise, going completely still.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, again with that hoarse voice, forcing me to move away from her. I cried, I cried with emotion, with joy at seeing my only friend again.

“I thought... I thought you had... Oh, my goodness, Donna...” I stammered, remembering all the moments I had lived with her, all the laughter, the games, the teas with the Angie doll. My entire childhood was before my eyes.

“You're safe now,” she said, clearing her throat, with that same stoic pose, without making the slightest gesture to reflect that she was also happy to see me.

After a deep sigh, the woman in black turned around, ready to leave, to abandon me again. I couldn't allow it.

“Donna, wait, wait please,” I said, running after her, grabbing her arm. She stopped, but she didn't turn to look at me. “Please, please tell me, tell me what happened to you, why haven't you come to see me in all these years?”

She didn't respond, she just kept walking, slipping out of my grasp.

“Donna, please... Tell me what...” I said standing in front of her again. That horrible black veil made me shiver. “Why are you covering your face? What is that…?” I asked, taking one of my hands towards the woman in black.

I hissed in pain as her hand clamped down on my wrist, squeezing it too tightly.

“Donna, you're hurting me,” I protested, moving my hand away definitively. “My God, what happened to you? Josef told me that Mother Miranda….”

“Mother Miranda saved me,” the lady in black interrupted, releasing me, moving further away from me.

“What has she done to you, Donna? You don't seem like yourself...” I murmured, confused, surprised and disappointed at the same time.

“You know nothing about me” She said, now, turning around to turn her back on me again.

“You were my friend! My only friend!” I shouted, when she was far enough away.

“And you were mine, (Y/N)” she responded with a dark voice, looking at me over her shoulder.

“So what's going on? Why can't we just...? Wait...” I said, realizing something I had overlooked. Josef, I had forgotten about Josef. “What have you done to him? What have you done to my father?”

“He won't bother you anymore, (Y/N),” Donna responded, speaking naturally, ignoring what that statement implied. “Besides, he was never your father.”

“I... I don't... You don't...” I stammered. I was not old enough to take on all that stuff at once. Donna continued walking, disappearing again from my sight, from my life...

6 months ago…

12 years. 12 years have passed since the man who claimed to be my father disappeared. At first I didn't know what to do, how to act. I was too young to get out of there. I was too young to know what to do.

Donna didn't come back, I never heard from her again. I had two options: get out of there, escape from the village and never look back. The other one was... Different. My other option was to stay there, in that house, on those grounds. Alone, but free from Josef's yoke. I had no job, no family, and my only friend had built a huge wall between us.

In those 12 years I didn't see her, at least not physically. Sometimes, when I was trying to sleep, when I spent time tending the small orchard or the small garden that surrounded my house, I could feel a presence, as if someone was watching me.

I called her several times, knowing that it could only be her, that only Donna could be there. I never saw her, never, in 12 long years of loneliness.

I couldn't complain. I had a house, I could grow my food and I didn't lack the heat of the fire or the water from the old well. A sad, lonely life. Fortunately, I was already used to the crackling of the fire being my only company.

“Come on, come on...” I said grunting, holding the old wooden bookshelf I was trying to repair.

The house was falling apart, but I managed: I fixed cracks, covered windows... I was aware that this whole adventure would end the moment when, like in the story, someone blew and blew and my house would fell down. But it was not the time to accept reality, to assume that my life was never going to improve.

Every night, I struggled with the idea of ​​not continuing to suffer, of ending what would have no solution.

“Shit!” I screamed furiously, dropping the wooden shelf as I hit my finger with the hammer in a comical way. Everything on the shelf fell apart. “Great, great, (Y/N)…” I murmured, leaning my head against the wall, suppressing the urge to tear down the house with my own hands.

 “You keep it...” a familiar whisper made me open my eyes and turn around.

It was her, Donna, her black dress, her black veil, her dark figure before me after 12 years. I had to think if I was asleep or awake. Lady Beneviento remained still, behind me, holding the old doll that her father gave me on my seventh birthday.

“Donna...” I sighed confusedly, with my eyes wide open. “You…”

“What was his name?” She asked, making me shake my head and frown. 12 years old, Donna, 12 years old and all you're asking me what was the name of that stupid doll.

“It was Mr...” I murmured quietly, my hands shaking, not knowing how I was supposed to act seeing her again, just when I had assumed for years that Donna was nothing but a ghost from my past.

“Mr. Whiskers... Now I remember him. He was Angie's boyfriend,” she said, speaking with a tone that made me think she was smiling. 12 years and I couldn't even see her face.

“Yes... You remember it,” I said trembling, taking the doll from her hands, making the wooden limbs move to the rhythm of my trembling body.

“Yes, I remember when my father gave it to you. It was a funny birthday party,” the woman in black confirmed, walking towards the table where I used to eat. “I'm sure Angie would be happy to see him after so long.”

“Angie...” I sighed, shaking my head. I knew that Donna wasn't right in the head. I had known that since I was a little girl. I never gave it importance but... Hearing about Angie in that way, after so many years, from the mouth of an adult woman, made me stay alert.

“Don't worry, I left her at home, she won't bother you,” Donna murmured, sitting in the chair with a melancholic air around her.

“Donna, I...” I said, approaching, leaving Mr. Whiskers on the table. I still couldn't believe she was really there. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you, (Y/N)” she said with a soft tone, looking around her, observing the place where I lived.

“To me? After 12 years without talking to me, do you want to do it now?” I couldn't stop the fury from leaving my body. If only she knew how lonely I was all that time. At first I was sad, but later that feeling transformed into helplessness, and, over time, into apathy.

“I know it's been a long time and...” Donna started to say, but she was interrupted by my hand hitting the table hard, reminding me of that man who claimed to be my father.

“A long time? It was an eternity, Donna. Do you know how long I've wanted to see you again? Do you know how lonely I was after you locked yourself in that house? You were my only friend, and you abandoned me,” I said furiously.

“I don't...” She murmured, getting nervous, playing with the black fabric of her dress.

I took a deep breath and reached out to her face.

“What is this, huh? Why do you cover your face? What the hell are you…?” I asked while, after avoiding her attempts to stop me, I managed to remove the black cloth from her face, turning pale when I saw it. “Hiding…”

Donna stayed quiet, with a cold look on her face as I took in what she was seeing, shaking my head. The age was already evident on her face. Her features were no longer that of a girl, they were that of a woman... A beautiful woman, without a doubt, the most beautiful I had ever seen. She no longer had anything to do with that girl with whom I used to play hide and seek.

One horrible detail stood out from the rest of her features. That scar, that eye that was taken from her in an accident when she was barely 4 years old was no longer there, nor was there anything similar to that small scar.

A prominent, bulging abscess filled part of her face. I had never seen anything like it. But, although it was something horrible it was not so terrible as to hide or shadow her beauty in the slightest. Beauty? My loneliness was starting to take its toll on me.

“Gods...” I murmured, ignoring her incipient nervousness, her pathetic attempts to retrieve the veil from my hands. “Donna, what happened to you? Your face is…”

“Horrible, I know. Give it back to me,” she demanded, leaning over the table to reach her veil. I, still horrified and enthralled by her beauty, obeyed her, making her cover herself as quickly as she could.

“No, I...” I said, trying to fix the situation, wondering what terrible thing had happened. The answer was hidden in a dark corner of my mind. “It was her, right? Miranda did that to you.”

“You have no idea, (Y/N),” Donna hissed, adjusting her veil. “She…”

“Yes, she saved you. I already know that story,”  I said with a superb tone, sitting in front of her and crossing my arms.

“It's impossible for you to understand,” Donna said in a dark tone, revealing a small embarrassing sob.

“You're right, Donna. I don't understand you, I don't understand anything. I don't know what that woman did to you. I don't understand what you're doing here after so many years.”

“I want to talk to you,” she said, with her hands trembling on the table. My eyes couldn't stop looking at them, at those pale, soft hands, those hands that saved me from death years ago.

“What do you want to talk about? Are you going to tell me why you haven't deigned to appear here in more than ten years?” I asked, tears threatening to run down my cheeks.

“Now I’m a Lord. I serve Mother Miranda,” The lady in black explained, ignoring my questions. I shouldn't have been surprised.

“You mean you sold your soul to that witch,” I corrected, risking seeing Josef's attitude in her. I didn't want to. I didn't want to see her that way.

“I'm not trying to convince you to understand me, (Y/N),” Donna said in a calmer tone, shifting her gaze away from mine.

“So what do you want?” I asked immediately, suppressing the urge to kick the table and throw myself at her neck to demand answers.

“My new siblings think that someone like me needs a maid,” she explained without any problem, without hesitation. That phrase made me burn with rage and laugh mockingly.

“What?”

“I don't know anyone else and I had thought that...” She continued speaking, with a tremor in her voice, probably because of my attitude.

“I don't believe you, Donna. I don't think you're asking me... Do you want me to serve you? It can't be true...” I said with a sarcastic smile, with all my emotions fighting to come out.

“I don't want you to serve me, (Y/N),” she said. “That's just a formality.”

“A formality...” I repeated, increasingly confused. “I mean, you come after 12 years to talk to me, to ask me to be your maid or something... But you say it's just a formality... Donna... You better speak clearly before I lose my patience,” I said, perhaps taking too many freedoms. The idea that Donna Beneviento was now one of the four pillars that supported Miranda's dominance was terrifying, but not enough to overshadow how important she was in my life.

“I don't want to be alone,” she said with her head down, letting her words come out with a sigh, making my gaze stop being so cold. I recognized that tone, that sincere tone that I had heard before, a long time ago.

“You've been alone for a long time,” I said, trying not to lose the firmness of my attitude. “Me too.”

“That's why I want... I want you to come with me, to my house. I will no longer be alone and neither will you,” Donna said, pleading, sobbing almost desperately.

I shook my head, wondering if it was an idea to consider. She was my best friend, the only company I had when I was a child but... But for years she was nothing, not even a shadow, not even the presence that watched me secretly.

“No, Donna,” I answered, avoiding looking at her face, not knowing how much I could last without throwing myself into her arms and telling her how much I had missed her. “I'm sorry, but you will have to find another maid.”

“I want you to be my maid,” the woman in black sighed, angry at your response. At that moment I started to get a bit scared.

“I've already told you that... No. Look, it took me a long, long time to come to terms with the idea that you were no longer with me, that you no longer wanted my friendship. You can't come after so many years and ask me to live with you. I don't know what happened to you, I don't know what's wrong with your damn head to believe that after so much time, I'll still be waiting for you.”

“But, (Y/N)... Do you really prefer to stay here rather than come with me?” Donna asked, her voice broken by the crying I was not able to see behind the black fabric of her veil.

I nodded, letting the tears wet my skin.

“Yeah, this isn't so bad, you know?” I said cockily, getting up from the chair and extending my arms so that she could look at my house. “At least I have a roof, food and water. I don’t need anything else. I don't need your false compassion. I don't need you Donna... Not anymore. I wouldn't go with you even if the roof co...”

A loud creak, a tremor in the house, silenced me. The snowfall of the last few days had been difficult to control. I knew I had to do it, that I had to remove the snow from the roof but… For some reason, I didn't, and part of the roof collapsed behind me.

“Collapses...” I sighed stunned, putting my hands on my head. At that moment I realized that to deceive fate was impossible. We all have a path in life. And mine was hers, next to her.

“Will you come with me?” Donna asked, with her hand on her chest, scared by that noise. That collapse that was very timely for her, of course.

“Shit...” I whispered, shaking my head, squeezing my eyes very tightly, wanting to wake up from that nightmare. “I guess I have no choice.”

I packed everything I needed for several days and followed the mourning woman towards her house, towards the old house where I once laughed with her, when everything seemed easier.

“Hello, hello...” A shrill voice woke me up from the wave of memories that came to my mind when I entered that house. It couldn't be possible. The Angie doll stood up on its own. It almost gave me a heart attack.

“What the…?” I asked, surrounding the puppet, which followed me with its gaze. “No, it can't be... Is it a trick?”

I approached Donna, removing the veil from her face to look for the origin of that bad joke.

“What trick, stupid?” the doll asked, climbing into the arms of its owner.

Her lips didn't move like they used to when she was a child. She wasn't using her ventriloquism. Angie lived, it really lived...

5 months ago…

It was difficult, it was really difficult, but I ended up adapting to that house. That environment was so familiar and comforting. It helped me a lot. To say that I was a maid was an exaggeration. I barely cleaned or cooked. All I did was to be there, to keep Donna company.

At first everything was very cold. I felt unable to forgive her abandonment, her betrayal, but, little by little, we began to talk again, without resentment, with that black veil increasingly absent.

Having someone by your side was a feeling that I had already forgotten. Maybe that's why I started to feel things, things that I was ashamed of. I started to see Donna as a friend again. I started to want to get closer to her, to wait until it was time for dinner to stand in front of her in silence.

Without wanting to, I fell in love with her, without wanting to remember why I liked being with her so much, why I was waiting for her for so long.

“Oh, but the office joke was better...” I said amused, taking a sip from my glass of wine, enjoying a late-night chat. Wine, lavender, Donna. Nothing could make me happier at that moment.

“You mean when we put Angie under the desk?” Donna asked, amused, raising her legs to the sofa where you were lying.

“Exactly... It was fun,” I said with a mischievous look, feeling a strange heat on my cheeks. “Oh, wow, I think, I think I should stop drinking...”

“We're in no hurry, (Y/N),” Donna said, amused, pouring more red liquid into my glass and drinking hers.

“Drink, drink, silly,” Angie said, bringing the glass closer to my mouth. I nodded, taking a sip and putting it back on the table.

“They were good times...” I whispered, with nostalgia being the protagonist of my actions and words.

“Do you remember Mr. Tim?” Donna asked, settling down on the couch.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Tim...” I repeated, nodding with an amused look. “That was the merchant we scared away, right?”

She nodded, laughing sheepishly, embarrassed by her childhood pranks.

“You were a very convincing ghost, Donna. I couldn't sleep that night,” I commented amused, pretending to tell an unspeakable secret.

“You were a little girl, it's normal that you were scared...” The lady in black joked, nudging me. I stuck my tongue out at her mockingly, forgetting for a few hours who I was having fun with, the things I had seen, what she did to Josef...

“I was 7 years old, I wasn't that young,” I protested, pretending to be offended in a fun way. “What was that phrase…? I’m the ghost of the white sheets...”

“You better run if you don't want me to catch you...” Donna continued, faking that ghostly voice from that joke so far away in time.

“You were really scary,” I said with a smile, shaking my head.

“Do I scare you now?” She asked with an enigmatic tone, as if it were a trick question. I immediately shook my head.

“No,” I answered briefly, noticing how my smile was fading little by little.

“You must be the only one,” she murmured, finishing another glass of wine.

“Your doll scares me,” I said, trying to break that small moment of tension.

“Hey!” Angie protested, causing us to look at each other for a moment, before laughing exaggeratedly, probably due to the alcohol.

“I missed you so much, Donna,” I said, catching my breath. She looked at me and sighed, her smile growing weaker.

“Me too,” Donna whispered, with a voice so low that I had to get a little closer to hear it.

“I can't stop wondering why we are so far apart...”  I said, letting my mind speak for me, letting those words come out alone, demanding an explanation that I had needed for a long time.

“I didn't want to see anyone,” Donna said, leaving the glass on the table and looking away from you.

“Not even to see me?” I asked, with a bit of resentment.

“I didn't want... I didn't want to lose you too,” she admitted in a dark voice, getting closer to me. I let her do it, I wanted her to do it.

“You weren't going to lose me,” I said, getting closer to her, just a little closer.

“Well, the important thing is that now you are here, with me. We're together again,” the lady in black said with a serious tone, moving her hand to take mine, which I allowed, which made me close my eyes as I felt her soft skin caressing mine.

Our hands stayed together as our gazes met. I couldn't really say what I was feeling at that moment, but it was something, something that forced me to raise my other hand to her wounded cheek, making Donna start to tremble.

“I didn't remember...” She whispered, taking the hand that was caressing her cheek and holding it in place. “I didn't remember how good caresses felt.”

“I've thought so much about you...” I murmured, sobbing, with the heat of the wine running through my veins, with anything to stop me from confessing everything I wanted to tell her, what I was feeling at that moment.

“I thought about you too...” She said, approaching too.

I couldn't help it anymore, I just couldn't. My hands gently grabbed her face, bringing her closer to mine until my lips landed on hers. I spent a long time thinking about how it would feel to kiss someone. The actual feeling was much more incredible. I kissed her, I kissed Donna, I kissed her softly. I let my body act of its own will, enjoying the taste of the wine on her lips.

She didn't stop me, at least not at that moment. Her lips opened so that mine could continue acting, so there was no distance between us. A sigh, a gasp, that was her only response as we both continued to deepen the kiss, that first kiss that I didn't want to stop.

The salty taste of my tears joined the wine on her lips, creating a wet mixture that only grew closer and closer together. Donna moved her hands to my hair, pulling it gently, making clear that she didn't want to stop, that the heat that was slowly rising through our bodies was a sensation she didn't want to end. At least for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Donna pulled back, causing our mouths to part with a wet sound. I wish I hadn't opened my eyes, I wish I hadn't seen her scared look and her hands on my chest, preventing me from getting close again.

“What are you doing?” She asked, with her eye shining with fear, with anger, with a feeling that was incomprehensible to me.

“I... I...” I stammered, turning away from her immediately, with my face red with embarrassment, showing the mistake I had made, that we had made.

“Why did you do that!?” The lady in black shouted, mad, getting up from the sofa and covering her face with her hands.

“Donna, I'm, I'm sorry...” I said, fighting the feeling of heartbreak that overcame me, against the tears of humiliation that were beginning to soak my face.

“No, you can't...”Donna murmured confusedly, walking from one side to the other. She looked like at any moment she would lose her mind. “How dare you?!”

Screaming and crying inconsolably, she disappeared, leaving a dagger deeply stuck in my heart.

Days, weeks passed without hearing from Donna. After that kiss that she rejected, I never spoke to her again. The veil covered her face again, as if putting it as a barrier between my lips and hers. My soul was wounded, my heart broken.

The love I had begun to feel was just an illusion. I was stupid to fall in love with her, but it was too late. The idea of ​​leaving that place was more and more present in my head.

“Damn it,” I said furiously, kicking a chair, letting out the frustration I felt at losing Donna again, because of me. A terrible idea. “Ah! Shit!” I screamed, grabbing my sore foot from that unfair kick. “Fuck!”

“You always do those things...” A voice that was nothing but a whisper interrupted my ridiculous jumping. Donna appeared behind me, face uncovered and head bowed.

“What? Donna…” I said, awkwardly putting my foot back on the floor. The pain of the kick had nothing to do with what I felt when I saw her again, when I heard her voice coming from those lips that I could never kiss again.

“When you get angry, you always hit things,” she murmured, getting closer to me, playing with her hands.

“Yes, well I...” I said, realizing a curious detail. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“I've been watching you for a long time, (Y/N)...” She confessed, confirming my suspicions, the suspicions that there was someone stalking me. “I... I went to your house and looked at you.”

“You were looking at me,” I repeated, blinking in disbelief.

“I wanted to know, I wanted to know what you were like...” The lady said, getting closer and closer, making my body tremble again. “If the idea I had about you was true.”

“The idea?” I asked, noticing how her hands grabbed my waist, pulling my body.

“I love you, (Y/N),” she said whispering in my ear, making me turn away confused. “I have been loving you for a long time…”

“So…. Donna, why did you reject me?” I asked, crying, this time, with joy.

“I... I don't know how to control my emotions... I was afraid that you wouldn't...”

I didn't let her finish. My lips collided with hers again, letting myself go, grabbing her head so that this time she wouldn't dare to move away. She wouldn't do it, ever again.

No more words were needed, just kisses, just whispers, caresses...

That night my world changed, that night when I didn't stop loving her, when the desire that lived inside us was able to come out. Kisses, caresses, hugs, moans... It happened that night, the night in which we both lost our innocence, the night in which we showed that love can beat everything, even the passage of time, even our two hearts, that didn't know how to love until that night.

Two days ago…

Everything was perfect. The relationship we had was wonderful. There were so many things to discover, so much love to give, to receive. Nothing could go better in my life, and in hers. But fortune didn't last in a poor man's house, or so they used to say.

It was an ordinary afternoon, in which I was dedicated to tidying up the disastrous garden outside the house.

“Ah...” I protested when I felt a puncture in my chest, a very painful one.

I tried to continue taking care of the flowers, but the pain became more and more intense, unbearable.

“Donna!” I screamed, kneeling on the ground, noticing how something was beating inside my chest, something that was not my heart. “Donna!”

That was the last thing I could scream before my vision blurred. Then there was only darkness.

“(Y/N), tesoro, please wake up...” A soft whisper made me open one of my eyes. Her dark figure was sitting next to me, squeezing my hand. I felt comfortable, I was in bed.

“Donna...” I said with a dry throat, moving my hand towards a glass of water that was resting on the table. “Water…”

Donna wasted no time, feeding me the drink lovingly.

“What happened to me?” I asked, swallowing all the water, feeling an annoying burning in my chest.

Donna opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't, she simply lowered her head and stood up to grab something from her dresser, a mirror. Without saying anything, embarrassed or scared by something, she sat next to me on the bed again, placing the mirror in a way that allowed me to look at myself.

What I saw almost made me faint. My torso was bare, covered in horrible black veins that ran up to my neck. Where the top of one of my breasts should have been, there was now a dark, throbbing, black lump. I shook my head, touching it. My scar was gone. My chest was far from what it was.

“What is this? What is this?!” I screamed horrified, nervous. Donna didn't respond, she continued to avoid my gaze. “Gods… No, it can't be…”

“You had it when I found you unconscious in the garden. I wanted you to see it before I heal you,” Donna said with a terribly low voice, giving away that she was hiding something with the sweat that glistened on her forehead.

“What is this? What is happening to me? Donna, tell me what this is,”  I said nervously, moving the mirror away so I couldn't look at that horrible deformity.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” she whispered, taking my trembling hand. I pushed it away, thinking she had something to do with it.

“What have you done to me?” I asked with dark eyes, roughly grabbing her chin so that she couldn't look away from me. “You… It was you, right?”

“It wasn't me! She screamed defending herself, pushing my hand away from her face, sobbing nervously.

“Tell me what the hell is going on, Donna...” I hissed, getting up from the bed with a dangerous look.

“No, I don't know... No, you shouldn't...” She stammered, scared by my reaction. “It's not possible.”

“What?” I asked, controlling the tone of my voice before the imminent appearance of a terrible crisis.

“What, what you have is... It's...”

“What is it, Donna?” I asked, tired of her babbling.

“You have, you have a Cadou,” the lady in black said, turning away from me, cowering away from my irascible attitude.

“A Cadou? What's that?” I asked calmer, fighting against the anger and the burning in my chest.

“A, a Cadou is a parasite that... Oh, Gods... Why do you have one?”

“Donna, my love...” I said nervously “You have to speak clearly to me, do you understand? Explain it to me.”

She nodded nervously, letting my hand caress hers as I sat back down on the bed.

“The Cadou is the gift that Mother Miranda gives us. We, the Lords... We all have one. She implanted it in us. That's why Angie can move, why my face looks that way. It's... It's...”

“Okay...” I sighed, running my hand over my forehead. “But how?”

“I don't know... If I knew I would tell you but... I'm sorry, (Y/N). I never told you about it because, because I thought you'd be scared.”

I ran my hand over my now deformed chest, trying to remember how something like this could have happened to me. Suddenly it hit me, like a providential revelation. That black lump was not in any place on my chest. I had come out right where I had that strange scar, the scar I got the day I explored that strange cave.

That was the moment when Miranda acted, that was the reason for that sinister laugh when the priestess looked at me the day she brought Donna.

“What will happen to me?” I asked, letting all the emotions come out through a sigh.

“I don't know, tesoro... I... Let me heal that wound and... I don't know what we could do...” Donna said stuttering, running a hand over my cheek wet with tears of helplessness.

I let Donna heal me in silence, let her bandage my horrible chest, hiding that black thing, that horrible thing. My mind wandered to possible causes and consequences. It didn't look good. The sting was terrible, was I going to die? No, I couldn't think about that.

I spent my 28 years practically alone, without anyone, with an abusive father, with a friend who disappeared to return years later, to become my beloved. After years of loneliness, I had finally found my place, the place where I wanted to belong: Next to Donna, telling her every day that I love her, not wanting to live without her kisses.

A feeling of anger coursed through my nerves, making the most dangerous option cloud my senses.

“I'm going to face her,” I hissed through clenched teeth when Donna finished bandaging me. She gasped, shaking her head. “I want to know why she did it.”

“No, you can't, (Y/N). Miranda's wishes cannot be questioned.”

“Do you also have blind faith in her?” I asked with venom in my voice, narrowing my eyes at the woman in black, who shook her head.

“It's not that, (Y/N). She, she will kill you...” Donna murmured, kissing me on the lips, trying to make me reason, something that was difficult at that point.

“I don't... I can't... I have, I have to do something or...” I said confused, with my temples throbbing and the sting clouding my senses.

“No, nothing will happen to you, (Y/N). I'm going to take care of you... I promise.”

2 hours ago…

I began to think about my situation. My chest hurt, it burned, but at least I was still alive. Donna took care of me. She gave me her love every day, every hour. But that... That was no longer enough for my wounded soul. I had suffered so much. I had had so many misfortunes in my life that I began to think that it was my fate, that I could no longer believe that I could be happy.

I turned in bed, where Donna was resting next to me. My hand gently reached out to caress her soft skin, causing her to stir, but not wake up. I smiled tenderly and bit my lip, suppressing the sadness I felt at having made that terrible decision.

“Donna, my love... Forgive me... I have to do it,” I whispered quietly so as not to wake her, approaching her lips, giving her a soft kiss, just for a few seconds, surely the last kiss I would give in my entire life. .

She growled adorably, reaching for her hand towards my body, trying to keep me from separating from her. Her hand losing contact with mine as I stood up was the worst moment of my life.

Covering my mouth so as not to cry, I left the room, getting dressed and taking one last look at what, for a few months, had been my home, my family.

I went out into the cold of the night, searching, wishing that black and gold shadow would loom over me, that it would finish me off, or that it would give me the answers I was looking for. That didn't happen until, after walking for a while, I managed to reach that cave, the cave where, when I was 8 years old, I was a victim of that witch.

“Miranda!” I screamed with all my might, without devotion, without love, with hatred, with anger. The echo of my voice bounced off the walls, where those black trees twisted, as if they had heard my words.

“Oh, (Y/N), what a surprise,” a velvety voice came out of nowhere, Miranda, smiling, without that horrible mask, gesturing for me to follow her.

My fists were clenched tightly, but my common sense told me that I should listen to him.

I followed her, I followed her thinking of a thousand ways to put an end to her, I followed her to a kind of underground cathedral. I remembered that place, Donna had told me about it. It was where they met.

“Why?” I asked when the priestess stopped, looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that were like daggers in my chest.

“What have I done?” She asked sardonically, enjoying my confusion and my anger.

“This!” I shouted, undoing the bandage and showing her the deformity of my torso, which she looked at with a look of satisfaction.

“I see... So it's finally deigned to come out...” She murmured, approaching me like a current of icy air, of cutting wind.

“Why?” I asked again.

“Oh, shut up, your questions are bothering me, (Y/N)...” The witch said, touching the lump on your chest contemptuously.

“You're a bitch,” I said hissing, growling, and putting my life at risk.

“How rude you are... It seems that you have grown up alone, mm? Has no one taught you manners? I was hoping that Donna would have spent her time teaching you how to be a person of worth, but I see that the only thing she's taught you is how to make her happy in bed, right?”

“Shut up!” I screamed, pushing the woman by her chest, pushing her away from me.

“You're playing with my patience, (Y/N)... Don't be dramatic. After all, you are of no use to me,” she whispered, circling around me like a scavenger bird. “What a pity. When I saw that little girl sneak into the cave I thought: why not? Surely the Cadou acts wonderfully with someone so young... But, it seems that I was wrong about you...”

“What are you taking about?” I asked, feeling weaker with every passing second.

“Please, (Y/N). I can't speak more clearly. I put some hope in you but... I'm afraid you are another failure.”

“What?” My voice sounded weaker and weaker.

“A failed experiment if you prefer that way. After so many years  Cadou has not been able to fully develop. A shame.”

“I'm not an experiment, I'm a person,” I said, without taking into account the consequences.

“Yes, yes, that's what everyone says... But hey, you're lucky, maybe you won't die,” Miranda said, opening her eyes in a sinister way. “You might live long enough to die of old age next to crazy Donna, isn't that wonderful?”

“Don't insult her,” I growled furiously. Oh no, not Donna.

“Are you threatening me? How daring...”  Miranda laughed, amused by my obvious weakness.

My hand searched in my skirt pocket, looked for the knife I took from home, the knife with which I planned to kill her. What a stupid thing.

“I'll kill you!” I screamed, lunging at the blonde, who made no effort to dodge my attack, which went straight to her chest.

The knife went deep into her skin, but she didn't bleed, the bitch didn't bleed. Miranda just pulled the gun from her body and laughed out loud.

“Stupid girl...” She murmured, shaking her head. “How easy it would have been for you to be nice to me…”

I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. I was scared to death. I was going to die, but deep down, I already knew it.

“But you know what? I think you and Donna make an adorable couple... At least with someone next to her she won't lose her mind completely,” the priestess said amused, playing with the knife in her hand. “You caught me in a good mood, (Y/N).”

A freezing cold passed over my shoulder as her golden claws dug into it, wetting the fabric of my blouse with five thin threads of blood.

“I offer you a deal,” she hissed in my ear, causing me to shiver. “You can go with Donna and live happily if…”

“If?” I said trembling, closing my eyes, waiting for the final blow.

“If you can survive...” Miranda murmured moments before a horrible pain crossed my stomach.

I gasped and looked down. The same knife I intended to kill Miranda with was now stuck in my body, causing me overwhelming pain, causing me to fall to the ground, curling in on myself.

“Oh, come on, it's not that big of a deal... I've been pious,” the priestess mocked.

With what little strength I had, I reached out with my blood-covered hand to grab her clothes, pulling at them with ridiculous force. She kicked it away unpleasantly.

“I'll let Donna know. I think she will arrive in about… 20 minutes,” the blonde said, walking slowly, further and further away from my erratic movements due to the pain. “If you are alive when she arrives, she will have no difficulty healing you. I will not kill you. If you die... Well, I guess we'll leave it in the hands of fate, right?”

The sound of her steps was camouflaged with her laughter, leaving me badly injured, alone, writhing in pain.

And here, on the cold stone floor, contemplating the full moon, I finish remembering how I had gotten there. My life does not pass before my eyes. Donna is the only thing I can see. Her kisses are the only thing I feel on my skin, her whispers are the only thing I hear.

The full moon is horrible if I remember her beauty, her smile. All I can do is think about her. I have no intention of fighting, of calming my pain. I had asked for it and just as Miranda said: it had to be left in the hands of fate.

Deep down I feel the need to scream for her, for her to hurry up and heal me. But the memories that I’m able to evoke tell me that there was never the slightest possibility that I, that we, could be happy. A painful truth that only now, on the verge of death, I’m able to accept.

I close my eyes, feeling my body go numb. I remember hearing Donna's parents talk about a local legend that said that if you died in the village, you wouldn't die completely. But they, they died. They didn't take care of her daughter from a distance. I guess that's what happens when you're about to die, I guess the comfort of a legend that says your soul will live on is normal when you start seeing the light.

For me there is neither heaven nor hell. There is no heaven without Donna, there is no hell without Miranda. I have nothing left and nothing I leave behind. Only one woman, only the only woman I have ever loved.

“(Y/N)!” A scream brings me out of the review of my sins, from my breathing becoming weaker and weaker. It is a strident, desperate scream.

I turned my head so that the moonlight didn't look like the light I should follow. Just a bit more, I have to know whose voice it is. But my body is weak, it is getting weaker. I feel how death is calling me. I feel that this voice is becoming more and more like a whisper...

“Ah!” I scream when I wake up. As if it were a nightmare, I see myself in my bed, in our bed. My chest hurts, my stomach hurts. My whole body is numb, as if I have been sedated.

When I look forward, I see a black lump above my legs and the sensation of breathing on them begins to tickle. It couldn't be possible, but apparently, I'm back home and Donna… Donna is lying asleep on my lap.

I touch my body to check that I haven't died, that the wounds are still there. They are there, hidden by bandages, but they are there. I haven't died, I'm alive, I'm with Donna. I'm in Heaven, my Heaven.

[thefirst3chapters]

The scene with Rory and Logan at the beginning of "Gilmore Girls Only" stood out in a recent Season 7 rewatch.

Logan has been reeling from his failed business deal for a while at this point. In the previous episode, he missed Lane and Zack's baby shower to go to Vegas with the LBD on a whim. Rory is concerned about how he is handling the situation and is visibly agitated, but she doesn't press the issue. Then Mitchum arrives and demands that Logan show up at work so they can figure out to handle the financial loss. After this, Rory says "far be it from me to agree with your father, but you have been kind of irresponsible" and essentially takes Mitchum's side. Logan's response is, "I expected a little support here," and Rory's iconic line follows: "Logan, I love you, but I'm not going to support every stupid thing that you do." Rory makes it clear that she isn't upset with Logan because he failed, she's upset because of how he's reacted to that failure.

The writing doesn't bring up this parallel directly, but it's all an interesting callback to late S5/early S6 when Rory experienced a setback and distracted herself with a major destructive choice (stealing the boat) and socializing with Logan and his friends while avoiding her disapproving parent. It seems like Logan views support in a relationship as standing by the other person and not pressuring them to take action. He embodied this way of thinking when Rory wasn't in school and seems to want Rory to do the same thing when he's had a setback, but they both end up remaining stuck until someone confronts them more directly.

When Rory voices her disapproval, she does so because she cares about Logan and wants to see him doing better, but Logan perceives it as disloyalty. Rory's actions here mirror Jess's "Why did you drop out of Yale?" in S6 (which in turn, as many have pointed out, mirrors Rory's "You are way stronger than that, and I don't even want to hear it" in S2). In S2, Rory didn't know all the details about Jess's childhood that likely set him up to have a cynical outlook about his potential, and in S6, Jess didn't have the whole story about why Rory left Yale and why she was struggling. However, that missing information did not stop either Rory or Jess from unabashedly telling the other person that they could achieve more anyway, and they both act on this encouragement, in the long run in Jess's case and almost immediately in Rory's case.

Rory has interactions like this with other people, too. In "A Tale of Poes and Fire," Rory visits Paris in the midst of her crisis over not getting into Harvard (and after Paris humiliated Rory on live television, no less). After a few minutes of being quietly supportive, Rory assertively tells Paris, "you, my friend, need a life plan, so here it is," and gives her practical directions for moving forward. This isn't so much inspiration (like what Rory and Jess do for each other) as it is a command, and in the next episode, Paris is back to her ultra-organized and authoritative self. Rory matches the way Paris communicates with others, and it ends up being an effective strategy for supporting her. (Paris, however, sticks with her own communication style when Rory doesn't want to go back to school, and it isn't convincing for her.) Then there's all the times Rory has been the voice of reason with Lorelai.

There's a lot of talk about Logan's character development in Season 7, and he is shown as a loyal and supportive partner on multiple occasions, but his core character flaw of trying to escape reality through amusement and adventure (and getting defensive when someone points this out) is also featured. Rory is pretty ambivalent about their relationship when she's in the car with Lorelai and Emily in this episode, and she later tells him when he flies to Mia's wedding that his grand gestures aren't going to make her forget their problems anymore.

So are Rory's actions here effective? Logan reflects on why he reacted to losing the investments the way he did and decides to quit his father's business, and he spends the next few episodes eager to strike out on his own, but we really don't know how he's going to handle his next disappointments. Rory also faces some disappointment at the end of Season 7 after she turns down a job offer to take a risk on the New York Times fellowship (with Logan's encouragement) and isn't accepted, but after a little bit of wallowing she bounces right back. There's at least hope under the Season 7 pen that Logan can grow past his old patterns until AYITL shows him once again embracing escapism while ultimately intending to stick with "the dynastic plan."

[soupdeewoop]

My HC:

So Dorcas, Reggie, and Remus all get together in the library and study. Sometimes they don’t even talk at all, but they love it because of the company. But they’ll also talk about some of the latest gossip at Hogwarts. It goes like this:

Reg: Remus, can you pass me that quill?

Remus: Oh yeah, here.

Dorcas: Did you know that one 1st year Ravenclaw burst his inkwell trying to get a quill out with his wand?

Remus: Amateur, he needs to practice his incantations.

Reg: I think he’s pathetic.

*all of them go back to studying and then every 10-15 minutes a small conversation strikes up*

Sirius, Marlene, and James all head out to the Quidditch practice field and just goof around. They will fly upside down on their brooms and watch as the others cry laughing. Something like this:

*Marlene riding her broom in a circle faster than the speed of light*

Sirius: MARLENE YOU LOOK LIKE A DONUT

*Marlene falls to the ground and gets up only to bang her head on a wall, much like a loony tunes character* James is on the grass dying of laughter, not even able to get up because that’s how hard he laughed.

So, Pandora and Pete head down to the lake and just talk about whatever’s on their mind. I could imagine a conversation almost like this:

Pete: Have you ever thought about why butter flies aren’t made of butter?

Panda: Yeah, I always thought that was sort of weird.

Panda would never make Pete feel foolish or stupid when he says something, but instead she actually adds her own thoughts and inputs to it.

Evan and Lily are both prefects and whenever they’re done with duty, they’ll go to the Marauders’ dorm room and sneak chocolate frogs out and eat them while talking to each other about the shenanigans they went through that day, something like this:

Lily: This 1st year hufflepuff was almost transfigured into a table!

Evan: No way, I think it was the 3rd year Slytherin that probably did that… you know, the one with a shining charm on his Slytherin patch?

Lily: He is so annoying, always talking about how many quidditch brooms he has at “daddy’s mansion.”

Evan laughs at her impression of the kid.

So yeah that’s how I think their conversation goes.

Next, we have Mary and Barty. Mary just does her makeup and Barty watches in awe as eyeliner perfectly laces her eyes. One day Mary notices him watching and asks him if he wants to wear it, Barty nods. Ever since then, Mary always does Barty’s eyeliner. He doesn’t wear is often, but when he does, it makes him feel powerful. She also is his kind of personal therapist? Here’s how it goes:

Mary: Stop moving, love.

Barty: Sorry. Mary: Love, you need to stop saying sorry for everything. You’re perfectly alright.

Barty: Mhm.

Barty looks at himself in the mirror and is stunned with how beautiful he looks. Evan comes back from prefect duty (and eating chocolate frogs with Lily) and practically faints.

All of them have these little things that they do together, most of the time the others don’t even know that they do it because that’s their little thing that they want to keep secret.

So, what do we think?

in a perfect world, this is how they all would have been 😔

ok now how did u type all of this omg

dorcas, reg, and remus are like meannnnnnn. mean meannnnnn. i like mean people so i dont rlly see the problem here like they definitely would get so much done but gossip at the same time like everyone's gotta learn how to multitask like them.

YES omg! i headcannon peter, marlene, and james being childhood best friends so like marls and jam (marls and jam sounds so cool wtf) are already close and sirius and marlene got closer through quidditch and like chaos buddies defo.

why arent butterflies made of butter. pete and pandora on top omggg i feel like pandora is very silly and talkative to like regulus and peter is quiet but it switched up so much like if anyone else saw them they would be like ...guyss.... whats happening..?

evan(s). not lily and even sneaking into the marauders dorm pleaseeeeeeee. they would be amazing honestly, like no shame to remus but my man is just trying to get through school yk? why him as prefect (not that i don't like it but in my mind its funny) evan and lily isn't something i rlly would have thought of yk, but i feel like they're both so secretly unhinged lol.

not mary gentle parenting him omggg neeeeeed. barty will look so stunning in eyeliner on god omg. evan being stunned is so true, i was the eyeliner tube :)

this was so fun omg thanks x

[raviolitin]

Ouat Theory:

So i’m rewatching Into The Deep (2x08) and I noticed something about the sleeping curse.

In 1x21, Regina states that when someone is under the sleeping curse, they’ll suffer dreams formed of their own regrets. But, does this really line up with what we see in this episode?? David goes under a sleeping curse and manages to break through into the netherworld, but that’s not where you go initially.

Here is David in his sleeping curse, very clearly not a dream let alone one detailing his regrets. It’s just a room of mirrors. This contradicts what Regina said right?? Wrong.

Because while David is up and moving this is still technically a dream, he’s not awake. It’s like lucid dreaming, he’s asleep but has full agency to do what he wants.

So, what about the regrets thing?? Well, my first conclusion was that it’s an abstract thing - a metaphor. When you’re forced to stare at yourself what else can you do but self-reflect, both literally and figuratively.

But then I came to a second conclusion, which I like much more. The sleeping curse looks different for everyone. It’s personalised.

David Nolan is a very self-loathing character. Almost every time he gets screen time it’s to lament about how many insecurities he has.

For David, his regrets look like himself. Because he regrets the man he feels like he is. When David Nolan looks in those mirrors, he sees a failure of a father, an unworthy leader, a dishonourable son, so many things that he feels he isn’t good enough at. I can’t imagine looking in a mirror would be a worthy enough punishment for most people, but if we consider this is personalised to David it makes so much sense.

And then you can dig a layer deeper and say that James factors in here. He admits later in the season that he feels like if he was raised by George he would’ve turned out like James did, a corrupt, cruel prince. Looking at himself, the face of his estranged twin brother, it reminds him of the darkness that lays within him. It reminds him that he isn’t completely good, a fact that seems to haunt him throughout the series.

David is a character that overcompensates for his own self-hatred to the point it’s extremely damaging to himself. He throws his life away for other people so he feels worthy of their love, he believes he’s only of worth when he’s providing something for someone, a fact he learned throughout both his childhood and adulthood.

Making David stare at himself, reckon with the man he is, is the perfect punishment for someone wracked with self loathing like him.

That’s why I think the curse changes for each person. It also makes me wonder what the other characters curses would look like.