#typing a prompt into a generator does not count

[lifestealexchange]

Rules and FAQs

Requirements:

You must have a Discord and AO3 account. Due to the TOS of both, you must be at least 13 years of age.

To enter the exchange, you need to complete a signup in the AO3 collection.

The minimum requirements for each gift are:

Fic: At least 1k words.

Art: Clean lineart with flat colours, or a suitable equivalent of this in your art style.

Web Weave: At least 10 elements.

Podfic: At least 1k words.

Poetry: A poem or set of poems adding up to at least 40 lines.

Video Edit: At least 1 minute length.

Playlist: At least 20 songs.

Other: A suitable equivalent - you may need to discuss this with mods on a case-by-case basis.

Tag nominations:

You may nominate up to 20 relationships per Season (where RPF and Crossovers count as separate, additional Seasons).

Signups may only use relationships that are nominated during the tag nomination period, so please ensure you nominate these in time!

Tags require 2 nominations from separate people to be added to the official tagset. This is to ensure that there is at least someone willing to offer and someone willing to receive it; for this reason, we ask you only nominations tags you could see yourself offering/receiving a gift for!

Please use the gamertag of each character you nominate, and do not include any piping (‘|’) usually present in the character’s AO3 tag. (An exception to this would be Rekrap2, as this is the most commonly recognised gamertag for the character.)

Tag nominations should have one of the following formats:

‘Solo: Character A (Season)’ for nominating a character on their own.

‘Character A & Character B (Season)’ for nominating a platonic or familial dynamic.

‘Character A/Character B (Season)’ for nominating a romantic dynamic.

For Crossovers, the tag format should include the fandom/Season of each character within the tag for the sake of precision. E.g.

‘Clownpierce (Lifesteal Season 3) & GeminiTay (Life Series) (Crossover Fandom)’

‘PrinceZam (Lifesteal Season 5)/PrinceZam (Lifesteal Season 6) (Crossover Fandom)’

‘MinuteTech (Lifesteal Season 5) & Rekrap2 (VIP) (Crossover Fandom)’

VIPs should be nominated under the Crossover Fandom, for simplicity.

Crossovers must include at least one Lifesteal member.

Signups:

Your signup should include at least 3 unique dynamics in both the Requests and Offers to allow for easier matching.

In the AO3 form, the signup will be split into separate Requests and Offers. Each of these can have multiple Seasons, relationships, and gift types.

Each Request should include at least one prompt or something you would like to receive.

Each Request must include a list of DNWs (Do Not Wants) - a set of things you would not like to receive. These will be moderated to ensure they are both enforceable and do not overly restrict your gifter into creating a very specific gift for you. If you do not have anything you would like to put on your DNW list, then put down ‘DNW: No restrictions’.

The Offers box will not have any specific details and will be considered equally by AO3’s matching algorithm - so please only put down relationships you are happy to create for!

Gift creation:

You will receive your assignment via the email your AO3 account is linked to. Please ensure this email is a fandom email or one you are happy to share, as it will be visible to the exchange moderators in the backend!

You can also view your assignment on your AO3 profile via the Assignments tab.

The assignment will include all the Requests of your giftee, and at least one of these should match your Offers. You must create a gift centred on at least one of the relationships or characters listed in the assignment, though it does not have to be the one you matched on. You should also ensure you are creating a gift of a type that the giftee has opted into.

The gift you create can not include anything on your giftee’s DNW list.

No AI-generated content should be used in gift creation.

When you have completed your gift, post it on AO3 either using the Fulfill button or by selecting the assignment in the ‘Open Assignments’ section of the draft. Ensure you do this on the account you have signed up with!

If you are creating something that is not composed of only text, you may need to host the other types of content on other sites and link them via the HTML. There is a guide to posting images on AO3 here - feel free to reach out to the mods if you need help with this!

Other:

If you need any help or are new to the AO3 exchange process, please feel free to reach out to us! The mods will be more than happy to help with anything that might seem confusing or unclear.

There are FAQs under the cut that may contain clarifying information - check these out first if you have any queries. If your query isn’t answered there, feel free to drop us an ask or reach out to @codes-and-stuffs in DMs.

We may ask you to change any part of your signup if we deem it in very poor taste, e.g. a RPF tag nomination involving CCs between whom serious allegations exist, nominating any real person who is not famous in their own right. These are edge cases, however, and it is unlikely it will come up.

NSFW cannot be requested or created for this exchange.

Please maintain a level of respect for your fellow fans throughout the exchange, whether in the Discord or in any other space where affairs related to the exchange come up.

Follow the rules of DL;DR (Don’t Like; Don’t Read) when engaging with others’ creations. We will not be enforcing CC boundaries in this exchange, as they are not feasible to confirm and enforce.

Do not bring this exchange up to CCs. This is an event for fans, so we’d like to keep it to fan spaces!

(FAQs under the cut!)

FAQs

What is this exchange?

/GIFT HEARTS is an AO3-based gift exchange for the Lifesteal fandom! What this means is an exchange — that is, creating a gift for someone and getting a gift in return — that is simply hosted on AO3. This exchange is for works centred on characters from any season of the Lifesteal SMP.

When will it be run?

The event will be held from August 15th to October 19th, and the complete schedule can be found here.

Will this be run via Tumblr or Discord?

We will have a blog here on Tumblr for major updates, but we’ll be running the main event via Discord.

This is partly because a lot of people in the interest check indicated they haven’t done an AO3-based exchange before, and we’d like to guide people through the process, and also because it is generally easier to keep people up-to-date with event happenings on Discord!

If you wouldn’t like to chat much on the Discord server, that’s no problem! All the components of the exchange can be done via the main AO3 forms and a quick Google form check-in. That said, the option to chat with other people taking part will still be there throughout.

Are there any restrictions?

The characters and/or dynamics your work is centred around must be from a season of Lifesteal SMP. This includes former members and new members, though it does not include VIPs.

Otherwise, your main restrictions will be determined by the request you are matched to, as you must create for a requested character/dynamic and should abide by the giftee’s DNW. We as mods won’t be disallowing AUs, crack, chat fics, character design reference sheets, or anything else — you’re free to create any type of work!

As this is an all-ages exchange with no mechanic for separating adult content, this exchange will not allow NSFW content, whether requested or created as part of a gift. For this reason, any work that requires the Rape/Non-Con or Underage Sex warnings on AO3 will not be accepted.

Is shipping and/or RPF allowed?

Yes, both shipping and RPF (including RPF shipping) are allowed!

You can nominate and request these however you’d like, though we do ask that you only create for these if your giftee explicitly opts into these.

What does 'Work Reveals' and 'Anon Reveals' mean?

Work Reveals are the point where we’ll reveal the AO3 collection — until then, all the works will be hidden for everyone. However, at this point the creators will still be anonymous, so you get a chance to see and comment on your gift while your gifter remains a surprise!

Anon Reveals take place shortly after, and that’s when the creators of the gifts are revealed! This is when you can talk about what you’ve created and figure out who gifted you. If you’d like to stay anonymous even after Anon Reveals, that’s also an option — ask the mods and we can help you to do this!

Do I need an AO3 account?

Yes, for this exchange you will need an AO3 account.

If you don’t have one already, we advise you sign up for an account as soon as possible! You typically have to wait in a queue for an invite code, and at the moment this can take several weeks. The moderators of this exchange unfortunately don’t have many spare invite codes, so it would be better not to risk it and to sign up for the queue as soon as possible.

Please note that the email you sign up with is visible on the AO3 backend. As per AO3’s terms, we will not use this for anything that is not exchange related, but please do sign up with a fandom email account or one you’re happy for us to be able to see.

How do I make a signup?

We’ll guide you through the signup process for this exchange closer to when signups open — for now, it’ll run similarly to how the tutorial here outlines the process.

You’ll be able to edit your signup until the end of the signup period. However, please be aware that your requests will be public!

What is a DNW?

A DNW (Do Not Want) list specifies what you as the giftee would not like to receive as part of your gift. This might be anything from something that triggers you to a trope that simply annoys you — the only requirements are that your DNW must be non-judgemental in tone, clear enough for mods to enforce, and do not box your gifter into a specific type of gift.

If you’d like help with creating a DNW, let us know in the Discord and we’ll help you workshop one! We’ll also provide some examples so you know what to expect, and we’ll inform you if we have any issues with your DNW so that we can help you adjust it before assignments go out.

What is pinch hitting?

Pinch hitting is taking on an assignment in place of someone else. In case someone drops out, we may need someone else to create a gift (or an extra gift, if they’re already working on one) so that we can ensure everyone gets something.

We’ll have a specific channel for pinch hits and a role that you can pick up if you want to be pinged, with pinch hits being given out on a first-come-first-serve basis. If you finish creating your gift or just want to help out, pinch hitting might just call to you!

Can I make multiple gifts?

We only require that you make one gift, but if you’d like you can absolutely create another! This is what we call a Treat, and can be for your giftee or for any other request in the collection that catches your eye. For Treats, the work minimums (1k words for fic, clean lineart with flat colours for art, etc) do not apply.

However, please prioritise the gift you’ve been assigned to make; we’d like everyone to get at least one gift. We advise only working on Treats once you’ve already finished creating your main gift.

What if I can't make a gift in time?

If you think you’ll be able to complete your gift but need a few days, you can request an extension from the mods. You must do this before the deadline, and ideally as soon as you know that you’ll need the extension, as once the deadline has passed we will assume you have dropped without notice and send your assignment to Pinch Hits for someone else to complete.

If you think you will not get your gift completed in time and will have to drop out, let the mods know as soon as possible. We’ll send your assignment to Pinch Hits so that your giftee can still receive a gift. There won’t be any consequences for dropping out, provided that you communicate with the mods and don’t just ghost us!

Can I make a gift anonymously?

Yes, you can keep your gift anonymous even after Anon Reveals. However, please be aware that you will only be semi-anonymous, as the list of people participating in the exchange will be displayed on the AO3 Collection page and that will include any anonymous gifters.

What crossovers are allowed?

Any Crossover that includes at least one Lifesteal member is allowed, and you can nominate these during Tag Nominations! We advise that you avoid focusing on any Crossover dynamic that your giftee has not opted into.

Other people in the Crossover may be:

Characters from different Lifesteal seasons,

Characters who were VIPs/guests on Lifesteal,

RPF ‘characters’,

Characters from other MCYT subfandoms, or

Characters from any other fandom.

You can include multiple options from the above if you wish.

If you have any other questions, feel free to send us an ask!

[saveahorserideaneddie]

scrolling buddie fics on ao3: oh hey this fic looks-

tags: this fic was written using chatgpt

me:

[hermitadaymay]

WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2025!

Another year, another Hermit-a-Day May! I'm so thrilled to be able to bring this event to you all for the third year in a row.

THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while we recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in one big queue in June. 4. Traced or stolen work is NOT welcome. If we discover you have posted traced or stolen work, you will be given one chance to delete it and apologize, or you will be blacklisted from the blog. AI-generated/assisted pieces are similarly unwelcome and will not be featured on the blog. 5. We are not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills, and will not be reblogging posts where this happens. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves. 6. Technically not a rule, but we strongly recommend adding alt text or description to all images. Click here to learn more about writing alt text - it's pretty easy!

WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because we are once again out here for a good cause: we're running another fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by nine amazing artists. Learn more about our incentives in these posts:

MILESTONE REWARD POST

INDIVIDUAL REWARD POST

RAFFLE POST

WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use ze/hir, she/her, he/him, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Helping me out this year is the incredible Mod Sky ( @skyspersonalhell ), who uses any pronouns!

BONUS DAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT

FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 4th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?

OUTFIT SWAP - May 9th What would Doc look like in Cleo's Life Series leotard? How would Cub fare in Wels's armor? What laundry day mishap could lead Mumbo's suit to lose its sleeves like Skizz's? Only hilarity can come from this...

GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 14th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?

FAVORITE BUILD - May 18th The Hermits have put thousands of hours into their builds, from cozy starter bases to the sprawling halls of Deepfrost Citadel, from idyllic natural landscapes to machines the size of mountains. Which builds have inspired you?

TFC - May 23rd While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.

FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 28th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.

[txttletale]

hey what’s up, i think you’re pretty cool but disagree with you on the whole ai can make art thing. to me, without the purpose from an actual person creating the piece, it’s not art but an image; as all human art has purpose. some driving factor in a work, compared to a program which purely creates the prompt without further intention. i was wondering what your insight on this is? either way, hope you have a great day

well, first of all, does art require 'purpose'? there's this view of art which has very much calcified in "anti-AI" rhetoric, that art is some linear process of communication from one individual to another: an Artist puts some Meaning into a unit of Art, which others can then view to Recieve that Meaning. you can hold this view, but i don't! i'm much more of a stuart hall-head on this, i think that there is no such transfusion of Intent and that rather the 'meaning' of a piece is something that exists only in the interplay between text and reader. reading is an active, interpretative process of decoding, not a passive absorptive one. so i dispute, firstly, that 'purpose' is to begin with a necessary or even imporant element of art.

moreover i think this argument rests on a very arbitrarily selective view of what counts as "an actual person creating the piece" -- 'the prompt' is, itself, an obvious artistic contribution, a place where an artist can impart huge amounts of direction, vision, and so on. in fact, i completely reject the claim of both the technology's salesman and its biggest detractors that genAI "makes art" -- to quote kerry mitchell's fractal art manifesto: "Turn a computer on and leave it alone for an hour. When you come back, no art will have been generated." in the past, i've posed questions about generative art pieces to demonstrate this

secondly, of course, the process does not end after image generation from prompt for serious generative artists--the ones who are serious about the artform (rather than tech guys trying to do marketing for the Magical Art Box) frequently iterate and iterate, generating a range of iterations and then picking one to iterate on further, so on and so forth, until the final image they choose to share is one that contains within it the traces of a thousand discrete choices on behalf of the artist (two pretty good explanations of this from people who actually do this stuff can be found here and here)

third and finally, that very choice to share the image is itself an artistic decision! we (and by we, i mean, anyone who cares about what art is) have been talking about this since fountain -- display is a form of artistic intent, taking something and putting it forward and saying 'this is art' is in and of itself an artistic decision being made even if the thing itself is unaltered: see, for example, the entire discipline of 'found art'. once someone challenged me, yknow, "if you did a google search, would that be art?" and my answer to that is, if you screenshot that google search and share it as art, then yes, resoundingly yes! curation and presentation recontextualizes objects, turning them into rich texts through the simple process of reframing them. so even if you granted that genAI output is inherently random computer noise (i don't, of course) -- i still think that the act of presenting it as art makes it so.

since i assume you're not familiar with anything interesting in the medium, because the most popular stuff made with genAI is pure "lo-fi girl in ghibli style" type slop, let me share some genAI pieces (or genAI-influenced pieces) that i think are powerful and interesting:

the meat gala, rob sheridan (warning: body horror!)

secret horses (does anyone know the original source on this?)

infinite art machine, reachartwork

ethinically ambigaus, james tamagotchi

mcdonalds simpsons porn room, wayneradiotv

software greatman, everything everything (the music is completely made by the band, but genAI was partially responsible for the lyrics -- including the title and the several interesting pseudo-kennings)

i want a love like this music video, everything everything

cocaine is the motor of the modern world, bots of new york

poison the walker, roborosewatermasters (here's my analysis posts on it too)

not all of these were necessarily intended as art: but i think they are rich and fascinating texts when read that way -- they have certainly impacted me as much as any art has.

anyways, whether you agree or not, i hope this gives you some stuff to think about, thanks for sharing your thoughts :)

[vesperaominosum]

OMGG I'm so glad!! ok ik ur writing a story rn but if u have any free time I have a story prompt: fem reader with Leon Kennedy (established relationship) and she's bratty with him, like she's got attitude and she's snappy, but Leon doesn't mind bc he knows how to deal with her 🤭🤭 but yeahhh feel free to make it smutty or not, it's up to you <333

Summary : Journey through the pages of Leon figuring out how to handle a bratty girlfriend and accepting himself (kind of, implied)

Pairing : RE4 Leon! × Fem Reader

Tags : Established relationship, bratty reader, self deprecation (Leon being dramatic), some levels of generally harmless toxicity, angst, fluff, hints of hurt/comfort (maybe??), no smut but allusions to what grown ups do and a couple of curse words.

Word count: 2891

A/N: I'm in the middle of working with lots of translations for work and it's multiple different languages so my brain is #freid, so this is super rushed and all over the place but I've been thinking about this prompt and this is what I have to sayyyy. Anyway, sorry for prompt being "he doesn't mind" and the whole fic HE DOES MIND VERY MUCH HES GONNA CRY IF YOURE MEAN TO HIM but this is the prequel!! he doesn't mind after all that anymore hahaha i hope you like it anyway

Leon knew how to handle you.

It didn’t come to him naturally, it couldn’t. You were always difficult. Throughout your childhood you recall most of your caregivers - nannies, teachers, family friends and whoever thought it was their duty to comment - uttering “It’s going to be really hard to find someone who’d put up with her” after witnessing another one of your spectacles. Kinder ones would say “She’ll grow out of it”.

And they were right.

You grew up to be extremely caring, generous, kind and an all-around outstanding young woman. Attitude dissolved into calm confidence and you were very pleasing to be around. It wasn’t just your family who noticed those qualities bloom – everyone loved to be in the presence of your welcoming warm, yet joyfully prickly energy. This is exactly why special agent Leon S Kennedy was drawn to steal your attention at first. It seemed like you had no baggage. It seemed like you were unable to have any baggage. Like whatever hardships were placed your way simply melted and disappeared to the sound of you laughing away all the troubles, making another lighthearted joke that put everything into perspective. You had a magical ability to turn all problems in the world into something meaningless. Perhaps, it was just Leon being in love that made it possible with such ease, but it did not matter. It worked. And he was in love. It wasn’t a crazy concept.

You made him want to become a better person. Not on a grand scale, none of that illusive bullshit, but in everyday life. He counted his blessings and watched out for your feelings, deep down he knew that your carefree façade isn’t all there was, and he was afraid to hurt you. He was attentive, he thought about the things he said and tried to go out of his way to make your day better. He wasn’t the best at relationships, but he genuinely tried. It’s the least he could do for someone who brought him back to life. That if he was around.

When he would go away for work, you wouldn’t speak for weeks, sometimes months. This arrangement made it difficult for your relationship to progress naturally. Every time he came back, you two fell back into the very much juvenile day one: blushing, smiling, flowers, dates, shy kisses that felt like the first… As much as he enjoyed it, he wanted more. It was scary leaving your dashing self alone in the world full of people who could… see you. He wasn’t the unreasonably jealous type, and you never gave him a reason, but it was only logical that you deserved more effort. The lack of which wasn’t an issue, there just never been enough time for it to feel natural, but oh how he wanted to move in together. Sometimes Leon would imagine you in his kitchen and it made him feel shy. He had to better himself, to learn all about how to treat a girl this deserving, then it will fall into pieces.

It was coming along, until he found himself between trying to figure out whether he’s doing too little as of yet or it’s too late as of now. The thing was: you fell into a weird pattern.

Every time he came back, you loved him up and down, held him in your arms and told him all about how happy you were seeing him so close, but approximately on day four… You would switch up. Out of nowhere you’d appear cold and dismissive. He never saw this in you before. A sweet sunshine of a girl he wanted to care for, wanted nothing to do with him. You made borderline rude remarks, paid him no attention and even avoided his touch. One time Leon tried to kiss your shoulder and you snapped at him for ruining your makeup. He apologized and spent a long time trying to figure out what makeup could he possibly ruin by gently touching your shoulder, out of all places, with his lips.

Regardless of your behavior, before he had to depart for work, you were always caring. The juxtaposition messed with his head and he had no clue where you stood. He tried to be understanding, he tried to be kinder and softer, he tried and tried and tried… Day to day, while avoiding dangers his work instilled upon him, he was holding onto hope that much needed space would settle it down. And you would be back to your kind and sweet self. And it did, for approximately four days.

It was day six of him being back and you planned to meet up with your friends together. Well, you planned it and Leon agreed, as he usually did. Leon was familiar with your best friend, not much with the rest of them. Your best friend was a clever girl, beauty and brains, witty but careful, very diplomatic, you sure knew how to pick them and knew that early, you were friends since school. You also had a small circle, just a couple of trusted friends, it was always quality over quantity with you. This thought is what made Leon sick to his stomach. He felt like he was slipping out of a place he didn’t fit to begin with. The idea of you two splitting made all the problems in the world heavy again. The weight that accumulated while he didn’t pay it no mind would crush him.

He tried to figure out what was wrong for the past month, falling asleep to same questions every day of his mission. Why were you pushing him away? Are you tired of waiting? Could it be that you lack courage to break up with him and want to give him a reason to take on this task? Did he scare you away? What if you grew bored of him? After all, dating an agent is exciting, but a life with one… What if you realized it’s a dead end? All the thinking convinced him to act. If you want him to take it further - he would. If you don’t want to - he’d change. He’s bending out of shape as it is to make you happy. Or at least to make you less of a… Less cruel.

So just a day ago he did ask you to move in with him. Prepared for any reaction other that the one you spit out, he stared at the wall, processing your answer. “For what? So, I get to wait for you in another four walls? No, thanks.”

“I could quit” – he said, not looking away from the damn wall. You laughed and patted him on the shoulder and you walked by, - “And do what?”

Right now, you were away, doing your nails or hair, he couldn’t remember. All this remembering and being attentive amounted to nothing anyway. It was slipping away and there was no fixing anything. All he wanted to know was why. All he was not ready to find out was how.

He met you outside of the restaurant, you were late and Leon didn’t want your friends to know you arrived separately. He didn’t want anyone else in the universe to register that you could be separate. To make it one step closer to becoming a reality. The idea was scary. You got out of the taxi, complaining about the driver taking a longer route, like you two were fine. Like you were okay. Like you didn’t reject his proposal to move in with him last night. “You know, I could’ve taken you…” – “To the hospital?” – you snapped, there was no malice, but the look on your face was something he couldn’t read. Was it just hate powdered with playfulness… Was it because you were about to face your friends and had to keep up the appearances? Were you really joking? “What do you mean?” – “You know you’re a terrible driver. I’m so not getting into a car with you. Like, ever.” – and you gracefully chimed into the restaurant. Leon looked like he was slapped, not because of your joke, but because of everything that gripped the hope of fixing that “us” thing he treasured was just shattered. One more time. He walked in after you.

You were radiant, laughing with your friends, who greeted him, exclaiming “The man himself!”. He felt sick. He couldn’t do it. Not in front of your friends, he couldn’t look at you with questions in his heart, and he never learned how to mask his emotions. Maybe that’s a reason you fell out of love. He excused himself barely saying a word and went to the restroom.

Your friend followed him with sorry eyes, honest concern on her face, before gripping your hand, - “That must be hard… Is he always like that when he comes back from… work?”

He washed his face with cold water, pushing wet hair away from his forehead and gripping the sink, Leon looked at himself in the mirror. His heart was heavy, beating with an annoying irregularity that made him nauseous. It was hilarious really, he wasn’t moved by any monstrosity on duty, yet this… He couldn’t afford another part of his life to turn ugly. It wasn’t fair. He did everything right and yet everything was turning out wrong. Now that he started questioning you, it felt like a part of him that he tried to build for you came crushing down. Maybe, had he known his parents and observed their relationship, he could figure out a better way to act, would be more convincing at being this version you would like longer. And he really wanted to be him. He didn’t care who he was, as long as you were there. But he couldn’t make you like him. Maybe that’s what you saw - there was a level of dishonesty in that act. Trying to appeal to your idea of a partner. Whoever that man was – he failed. And Leon was staring at the mirror at the only person he could be. The only company he deserves, it seemed.

Exhale. Inhale, exhale. Whatever goes.

He got out of the restroom and dragged himself to join you and your precious friends. No thoughts, until… Right before turning the corner where a large plant was hiding the hallway from the dining room of the restaurant, he heard parts of your conversation. It was your voice that made him stop. Gentle and kind, just like before. But what made him stay, was what he overheard.

“-no, no! That would never happen, and even if it does… You know I’m just happy he’s back. In one piece. I wouldn’t mind if he came back in more though…” – everyone exclaimed your name and laughed scandalized, - “No! I don’t mean it like that! You know what I mean, stop it! I just… He could be in a wheelchair and it wouldn’t…” – by the pause and laughter it was obvious your friends were making faces, you groaned, - “I hate you, stop making it weird. All I mean is I love him, okay? Whatever happens, in any shape or form, I’m just… I’m happy to…” – your voice got less confident and you started searching for words, - “You know, I get so worried yes, but…”

He felt like someone had to save you from being put on the spot, so he made his way to the table and with a quick “sorry” sat next to you. Everyone put on their best impressions of inconspicuousness and you looked down, almost shy. You noticed the change in his demeanor, he sat closer than you expected after walking on imaginary eggshells for days, intentionally letting his leg touch your thigh.

“Damn, did you take a shower?” – asked one of the men at the table looking at his wet hair, could be your friend, could be your friend’s boyfriend. “Almost. Got really car sick on the way here, had to cool down. Had a terrible driver.” – “Really? We thought you drove here!” – your best friend started fussing immediately, looking for a waiter to fix your boyfriend a real drink instead of a mocktail.

“Yeah” – Leon smiled – “I drove here”. You felt your cheeks burn, as your friends laughed at the joke, without a clue it was aimed at you, and even though he wasn’t looking, you could tell he noticed you turning red, which made his smile wider.

“Took you forever.” – you muttered, annoyed. Were you still trying to play this game?

It was hard to process his emotions. He wanted to squish you in a small ball for making him think all those ugly things, at the same time he wanted to kiss you for finally releasing him from this limbo. Knowing you didn’t want to end things made him euphoric. He still had no idea what was up with your act, but it didn’t matter anymore. He heard your quivering voice when you talked all about just how much you loved him, and he knew sincerity when he came across it. Had to learn it the hard way.

All he wanted to do was to pick you up on his shoulder and carry you away, the problem was – he still had no idea what he wanted to do with you. He was angry, but filled with joy. It was like waking up from the worst nightmare. With morning wood. Almost made him spiral for nothing. He would not let it slide. You were more silent than ever, sipping your milkshake, or whatever it was, and smiling. It was like you sensed you were in trouble and it made you happy. Amusing. As soon as he figures out what to do with all of this, you’re not going to be so giggly.

Evening was coming to an end, he opened the door of his car for you, looking at your much expected insulted expression, - “I said…” – you started, as Leon rolled his eyes and put his hand on your waist, - “Get in” – he pinched you, not hard enough to hurt, but it was enough for you to squirm away into the car.

The road was silent before he took one sharp turn and you followed it with, - “This has to count as attempted murder.” – “Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna find out.” - “Oh, they will, when they find my body,” – you took the front mirror and checked your makeup, - “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your body”, - he smiled, looking as you let go of the mirror and tried to hide your smile and act offended.

Yeah, ever since that day Leon knew how to handle you. Turned out all these people from your childhood were right, as they usually are: it was hard to find him, but it was worth it.

For months you waited for him to snap and drop the act, you hated seeing him treating you like you were holy. You hated seeing him trying to change his ways around you, and him insinuating that you want something else - someone else - with his modifications was insulting. You could have a boring gentleman if you wanted. You wanted original Leon, and you wanted him to want you at your worst.

To this day you remain clueless about the overheard conversation, completely convinced that it took you insulting his driving to get him there. You were prepared to get on his nerves, you always knew he’d show himself, crawl back into himself for you, to take what he needs, to make you you again. You put all your trust into it. And he did not disappoint. He picked it right up every time.

Even now, as he came back to his apartment after another mission, he was not surprised by the lack of greetings at the door. He was not surprised to find you on the bed with a book in your hands as well, sparing him one disinterested glance, - “You’re late.”, - you turned a page, - “Who even let you in?”

He smiled, crawling into bed, and taking the book away from you, - “I welcomed myself”, - he smiled into your lips, holding the book up, as you whined and pretended to try to reach it before finally wrapping your arms around him and returning the kiss. The switch up was always fast with you, and soon he was the one, who tried to pull away, as you kissed and tangled your body into his. He managed to hold you still for a minute, as you ran your fingers through his hair, until the playful look in your eyes softened as you noticed him looking at you with so much care that it made your heart drop. “I missed you so much” – he placed a tender kiss to your chin and you felt hot tears fall from your eyes and make their way into your ears as you hugged him, pulling him closer into your neck, you started crying silently.

He held you up and turned you both around to grip you tighter without crashing, letting you hide in his chest as he held you, caressing your back and kissing your head.

Sometimes you hated him for making you worry so much, sometimes you hated yourself for hating someone you loved so much, sometimes you wanted him to hate you to even it out. Sometimes you didn’t understand yourself and it was okay.

Because Leon knew how to handle you.  

[beanarie]

i never wanted water once part 3

tommy is also breakup baking, prompted by my dear @sanguinarysanguinity

tw: mention of parent death, mention of child abuse

part 1

part 2

~

Gutierrez eyes him on his way out of the locker room. "Feel like no one ever sees you anymore. You coming back to the pickup game or what?"

"Oh." Tommy gives his damp hair one last rub from the towel. "I wasn't planning on it, to be honest. Too awkward."

Gutierrez frowns. "Why?"

"You know," Tommy says, wishing he didn't have to, "Eddie Diaz. I broke up with his best friend."

"Diaz hasn't shown in weeks. Probably got injured. You know how that crew is."

And that. Well. He and Eddie were friends. They became tight very quickly in a way Tommy hasn't experienced with many people. He shouldn't have thrown a connection like that away without at least trying to salvage it.

He sends a text, a polite, generic one asking about his welfare. Worst thing that can happen is Eddie tells him to fuck off and he's back where he started. He fully expects to be left on read.

He does not expect Eddie to tell him he's moving back to Texas because he's given up on his son deciding to come home. Eddie invites him to a pre-going away dinner at a bar and grill before he goes down South for a few days to scout out homes. And, no, absolutely not. But Tommy proposes getting a drink, just the two of them. Eddie very validly explains that he can't spare the time, since he's already started packing up his life and he's working overtime to save up for a down payment. Tommy gets it. He does.

The day after the dinner, Eddie calls him. "Hey, man. I know we're like two ships passing in the night, but I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye. I still got some more shifts before I move for good, but the time will go by quick. We'll just stay on the line, okay? Keep me company while I go through my kitchen cabinets."

"It's good to hear from you," Tommy says honestly.

"So yeah." Eddie hums. "Why'd you do it?"

"Text you?" Tommy says. "I heard that-"

"Kinard," Eddie says, unamused.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You just didn't seem the type to flee."

None of you know me as well as you thought you did, Tommy doesn't say. That's not fair to any of them. "I wasn't, in the past. Well, I tried not being that. A couple times. It didn't work out."

"Oh," Eddie says. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"You've got shit."

"Haven't we all?"

"Hey, I am not denying that." Eddie chuckles. "Do you plan on dealing with it, or letting it blow up every good thing you find until you die?"

"Jesus, Eddie."

"What's the point in mincing words? You did something dumb and destructive. What kinda friend would I be if I let that go without saying anything?"

"So what's the weather even like in El Paso? Does it ever get below 100?"

After a groan, Eddie lets Tommy talk about his shit, about Texas, parenthood, and chess clubs, for the rest of the call. Tommy can't say that he'll miss him. He missed him already and now he gets to continue doing so. All of this sucks.

Tommy tries his hand at gnocchi made with ricotta, lemon, and pepper that subsequently almost causes a fistfight during B shift.

Demetra favors him with a warm smile, taking in the large box in his hands. "Tom, right? Welcome! What's all this?"

"Tommy," he says easily, impressed she remembered his name at all. He hasn't been to this slightly dusty community center in five or six years. "Uh, this is garlic knots and mini calzones."

"Well, hey. You're even more welcome than before. Come take a seat."

December is a stupid time to rejoin group, many of the participants close to the edge from a cocktail of seasonal depression, missing dead loved ones, and generalized loneliness. Tommy knew it would be like this going in. He counted on it. Everyone will have so much to say that there likely won't be any time for him to open his mouth. He's not ready to spill. It will help to just soak in the atmosphere of unashamed honesty for a while.

At his third meeting, Cal, a slender guy in his mid twenties with a curly mohawk, keeps bringing up his mother. "She never wanted me to enlist," he says, "and now that I'm back home and struggling, she can't stop being all 'I told you so' morning, noon, and night. She never says it, but she is thinking it."

"Is she?" Tommy finds himself asking. "Or are you putting something on her that isn't there?"

"Maybe so." Cal pops one of Tommy's fried ravioli in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I don't know, I should probably give her a chance, think first about what she's actually saying before I react. But it's hard in the moment, you know?"

"Tommy?" Demetra says a minute later, making him feel like a kid being called on by the teacher. "How's your relationship with your mom?"

"Nonexistent. She died when I was fifteen." He crosses his ankles. "Fell asleep in the car on our way back from an away game and we couldn't wake her up. Heart attack."

Demetra frowns sympathetically. "That must've been hard for a kid to witness."

"I've seen so much worse since then. People shot in the head by machine guns, people covered in burns over most of their bodies..."

Demetra shakes her head slightly. "They weren't your mom."

He ducks his head, pressing his lips together. "True. It's just- That's not- It's not trauma. I don't fear falling asleep and not waking up."

"What do you fear?" Cal asks.

Being left, being hurt, being validated in his belief that no one will ever see him for all he is and choose to stick around. "Standard stuff, really. Clowns, taxes, drivers on the freeway."

He gets a pity laugh, a groan or two, and one outright glare. "Okay, okay." He exhales loudly. "Ending up alone by someone else's choice rather than mine."

"So you're cool with being on your own, as long as you're the one keeping everyone away," Cal says.

God, that sounds idiotic. "Yes?"

"You prefer it like this?" asks a woman about his own age wearing a green bomber jacket.

He shrugs. "It's not ideal, but as far as worst case scenarios go, it's okay. It's fine."

"It's spineless," says a gray-haired man with a Desert Storm hat.

Tommy doesn't flinch. "Yeah, that's kind of an inherent character trait. I keep thinking I got it licked, then it shows up wearing another face. Scared of my dad, so I joined the army and became someone he couldn't hurt anymore. Scared of people knowing I was gay, so I waited to come out until I was surrounded by brand new people. Scared of my boyfriend leaving, so." He pushes at the skin above his knees, kneading it. "So I left him first."

"You fall back," says Bomber Jacket. Her name is Annie or Angie. She has conflicted feelings about dating a man with kids. "It's easy to stop being scared when the thing that scared you is far away."

He hears Eddie. You just didn't seem the type to flee.

Demetra holds up a hand. Tommy's face must be doing something concerning. "No one here faults you for what you did to survive. Is it still serving you, is the question, or is that just what you're used to?"

He doesn't bake when he gets home. He drinks half the beers in his fridge and does a shockingly efficient job of cleaning his house, while drafting and deleting twenty-seven different texts. He then wakes up the next day, and goes to the pickup game.

Gutierrez scores four rebounds on him and doesn't shut up about it for the rest of their next shift. Tommy grumbles, and talks shit, and promises he won't have much to brag about next time.

[idrellegames]

To celebrate Wayfarer’s third anniversary this September, we are hosting a fan works event and giveaway. The event is open to all, and there are no length or skill requirements for entries.

Up for grabs are 3 year-long access keys to Wayfarer’s alpha build.

✦ DATES

Entries are accepted from September 9, 2024 (12:00AM PDT) to September 30, 2024 (11:59 PM PDT)

Early or late entries are welcome, but will not count towards the giveaway

Winners will be drawn and contacted on October 7, 2024

Winners will be contacted via DM on Tumblr, Twitter or Instagram

✦ PRIZES

1 access key to Wayfarer’s alpha build

3 winners

Access keys will expire after 1 year

You must have an itch.io account in order to claim a prize

✦ RULES

The giveaway is open to all types of fan creation (fan art, fanfiction, whatever you want!)

NO AI GENERATED ENTRIES. Using AI will result in an immediate disqualification.

Do not claim someone else’s work as your own.

Using prompts is not mandatory. Entries that are not inspired by a prompt still count!

Entries are accepted on Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram.

You can post on other platforms (i.e. AO3) so long as you link it in a post on Tumblr, Twitter or Instagram.

You must tag @idrellegames to enter.

You may enter as many times as you wish up to 14 times.

Cross-posting to multiple platforms does not count as multiple entries (i.e. posting the same entry to Tumblr and Twitter will only count once)

Works based on Episode 3 or Patreon short stories are allowed! Please use spoiler tags accordingly.

As part of my fan work policies, I will not be reading or commenting on any fan fiction submitted for this event.

Other Socials itch.io | twitter | instagram

[macrocest]

Introducing Springcest Fest!

Springcest Fest is a shipcest (fictional incest) bingo event with a special challenge: to include all 3 squares of your bingo in one work. 

You can choose from any of three of the 3x3 bingo cards below (they are also on BlueSky). 

The pink card was designed by @cassetteinability, the yellow card by @goldenbi, and the white card by @litcest, with help from @rotting-clowns.

The goal is the same as any other bingo: to make a row, column, or diagonal by using each of the prompts, except this time you have to include them all in one work… or if you’re feeling particularly inspired: a full blackout card where you fill every prompt in one work. 

This event will run from April 20th to June 20th.

Works do not need to be posted specifically on AO3, they can be posted anywhere. Any type of creation is accepted for this event except those generated by AI. Examples of what you could create: fic, digital art, a painting, a moodboard, a rec post of a book that fits the prompts, a playlist, origami, a sweater, a pie… If you can make it fit the prompt then go for it!

Link to the AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SpringCest

Macrocest is on Tumblr, Bluesky, and Dreamwidth. Microcest is on Tumblr, Bluesky, and Dreamwidth.

Q: Will it count if I make canonically non-related characters be related in this event?  A: Absolutely, you can do that! They do NOT need to be related in canon for it to count in this event. You can make them related in any way that you please (including siblings, parent/child, long lost uncle/aunt, or even pseudocest like step-siblings, godparent/godchild, whatever!) You could even make it incest-roleplay (aka fauxcest) between non-related characters.

Q: Can I use each prompt in a different chapter? A: Yes, as long as they are all in one single work.

Q: I have two different AO3 accounts, could I do two bingo cards? A: Yes, you can do multiple bingo cards!

Q: Could I do two bingo cards? A: Yes, you can do multiple bingo cards!

Q: Can I post the bingo card on social media? A: Absolutely! And if you want you can tag us too!

Q: Can we write NSFW for a prompt? A: Absolutely!

Q: Could I make art? A: YES!!!! PLEASE DO!!!

Q: Is faux-cest allowed? As in people not blood related partaking in roleplay? A: Yes! Faux-cest, pseudo-incest, step-siblings, incest play, implied incest, etc. are allowed.

Q: If I post a link to my work on Tumblr/BlueSky will you reblog my post? A: Yes, we will reblog every work that tags our Tumblr/BlueSky account. Give us 72 hours to have it reblogged before reaching out to us about it. If we still have not reposted it in that time, then please feel free to DM or send us an ask about it.

Q: How should I incorporate the prompts into my work? A: Feel free to use the exact word/phrase in your work, or just use the prompt as a general idea. (Example: if the prompt is ‘not in the swimming pool!’ then you can use that as a quote from one of the characters, or simply write about a scene where something ensues that maybe shouldn’t be done in a swimming pool.)

Q: I don't think I understand this prompt... A: Do not be afraid you will get the prompt “wrong,” they are all up to your interpretation. However, if you really need a clarification or there is a confusing typo, please email us.

Q: What is the word count requirement? A: There are no word count requirements! You can go as short or as long as you would like.

Q: Can I change the spelling in my prompt? A: Yes! You can change the spelling since they are all Americanized, and you may do the in-universe equivalent of the object (e.g. “Family Portrait” instead of “Family Photo”).

Q: One of the prompts says "mom" but my pairing is not with the mom. What should I do? A: Some of the prompts have suggested family members. These are simply suggestions. You can switch these if they do not fit your fandom, but also remember the mentioned family member does not need to be part of the pairing to be a part of the story/prompt. (e.g. "Mom's favorite" could be a brocest main pairing where one brother is jealous of the other being mom's favorite.)

Q: It's past June 2025. Can I still post a fic/art in this collection? A: Yes, you can still submit a work after June 2025.

Q: Can we combine a prompt here with another event? A: Yes! As long as it follows the rules of both/all of the events!

Q: Can I submit the work on AO3 anonymously? A: You can absolutely submit your work anonymously.

Q: When are these works due? A: The due date is June 20th, 2025, however the collection will remain open for works indefinitely. If it’s past that date and you want to post, please do! 

Q: Can I mix 2 of the bingo cards? A: Yes, you can mix the prompts into one story and cross off both prompts! However you still need bingo on at least one card to get an official bingo. 

Q: Can I write a whole fic with each chapter being about one prompt? A: Yes, you can definitely write one fic where each chapter is a different prompt! It does not need to be a oneshot.

Q: Do reader-insert fics count? A: Yes! We accept reader insert fics! 

Q: Do you allow RPF (real person fiction)? A: Yes! We accept RPF works! 

Q: I liked a prompt so much I used it for another pairing that's not incest. What should I do? A: If it is pseudocest or fauxcest or has incest themes then it can still be used in this collection. But, if you use a prompt for a non-incest pairing with no incest themes, just add it to our Oops Not Incest collection instead!

Q: I have another question that wasn’t answered here. Is there somewhere else I can ask? A: Any other questions can be asked by sending us an ask on Tumblr, emailing us at macrocest@pm.me, or tagging us on Bluesky.

Rules:

1. All works/creations need to include (fictional) incest, but every fandom is welcome! 2. Relationships can include more than just the incest pairing, but the incest pairing must feature. 3. NSFW, kinky, Dead Dove and dark content is welcome, but please tag them accordingly. 4. No AI or LLM (Large Language Model/Generative Artificial Intelligence) works allowed.

[desertduality]

writing prompt! Ad Astra Scar talking or reminiscing about his past with zombies in TCD. Or it doesn’t even have to be Ad Astra, or in the ‘present’ day, but TCD!Scar yes!

I'm always up for some TCD :D I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind but it's what ended up happening so I hope you enjoy!! <3

Word Count: 1923

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

At the time, Grian had hardly thought about it. It was something Cub had said in passing to make a point, something he clearly had no intention of elaborating on without Scar’s explicit permission. There had been much bigger fish to fry, and no space in his mind to wonder. Every bit of focus he'd had had been dedicated solely to figuring out how to reach Scar, how to bring him home. So, he’d hardly thought about it.

(“He grew up in a hardcore world,” Cub had said. And then, firmly: “You’ll have to get the details from him. Not my story to tell.”)

Grian, at that point, had been drowning in hopelessness and guilt, unable to spare any energy towards curiosity. The next weeks had been a blur of failure and success, a whirlwind of heartache and triumph that ultimately ended with Scar right back where he belonged, injured but healing. For all intents and purposes, he forgets about Cub’s odd comment entirely. 

Almost entirely.

Then Scar makes an offhand quip about childhood trauma, and Grian starts to wonder. A question takes root in his mind and grows. He’s never asked about where Scar had come from. It’s not the type of thing that the hermits tend to ask about; it was a generally understood rule that if someone wanted you to know something, they would tell you. Many of the hermits had been running from something or other when they’d first joined the server. It was considered polite not to ask. 

But Grian has known Scar for years now. They share a bond that would be acknowledged on a cosmic level. They're a bit beyond the awkward pleasantries of getting to know each other. So.

He’s on a park bench in Scarland, the sun high in the sky. It’s spring, and Scar is planting flowers. The ones that had been there before had all died in the cold of the winter months, and Scar had decided that some simple gardening would be the perfect first project to ease himself back into building. Grian, as he’d been doing quite a lot recently, had decided to keep him company. They’d been bantering on and off for most of the morning, but had since settled into an easy quiet. Jellie is sleeping on a rock, and Sunny is scratching at the loose dirt Scar’s been working with, searching for bugs. 

It’s a scar on the back of Scar’s neck that brings it to mind, old and faded, barely visible. Entire decades old. It takes a lot, to get a scar. It’s nearly impossible — unless you’re in a hardcore world. 

“Can I ask you something?” Grian asks abruptly, shifting anxiously where he sits. 

Scar looks up, dirt smudged on his cheek and hands, face slightly red from the sun. He gives him a half smile, mismatched eyes crinkling slightly in confusion at Grian’s obvious nerves. 

“Sure,” Scar replies, wiping his hands on his pants. He stretches, wings spread wide, a birdlike noise escaping his throat as he does so. “What’s up?”

Grian picks at a thread at the bottom of his sweater, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out how to word it. Really, he should have thought further ahead.

“Cub said something to me once,” he starts, watching Jellie’s ears twitch in her sleep. “It was— something about how you grew up in a hardcore world?”

Scar freezes. Grian watches as several complicated emotions flicker across his face, clearly taken off guard. His mouth opens slightly, and then closes again, mouth twisting subtly as his expression lands on something pensive and anxious. Grian’s gut flips. 

“Cub said that?” Scar asks, voice unreadable. Next to him, Sunny perks up, and Grian could swear that the chicken narrows her eyes at him accusingly.

“It was while you were gone,” Grian explains, voice dipping into something somber. It’s still hard to think about those weeks. “I was…struggling. Cub was trying to get me to stop blaming myself. It came up.”

Scar nods slightly, gaze drifting to the side as he frowns thoughtfully. Grian can practically see the thoughts running rampant through his mind, and he forces himself to wait patiently. The flowers Scar is planting are bright and vibrant, a multitude of different colors and shapes. The way they’re placed seems completely arbitrary to Grian, but he knows that Scar has placed each plant with the utmost care. 

When people first meet Scar, they see what he presents on the surface; clumsy and clueless. And while he certainly has his moments, Grian has learned to look deeper. Most everything Scar does is very intentional. His builds especially, but in other things, too — like what he chooses to share. Grian still only knows the bare bones of what it was like for him to be at the Watcher’s mercy. What he does know keeps him up at night. 

Eventually, Scar’s gaze flicks up to meet his, eyebrows pinched in a nervously assessing way. It’s a moment that feels heavy, and Grian just stares back, hoping that some of the love and concern and support is visible in his eyes. Finally, Scar inhales shakily - stands up from the ground to sit next to Grian on the bench. 

“Yeah, Cub was— Cub wasn’t lying,” Scar says. “I did grow up in a hardcore world.”

“You did?” Grian asks softly, because as much as he'd believed Cub, hearing it confirmed still stings. 

Scar hums in assent, staring ahead at the flowers he’d planted, gaze distant and haunted. Grian feels a little nauseous. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Grian says, stretching his wing to brush against Scar’s. 

“I think… I want to tell you,” Scar says, turning back to him, looking faintly surprised by his own words. He quirks a strange little smile, almost a grimace. “Are you, uh, sure you want to know?”

Grian is not sure. He nods anyway, and Scar’s smile turns a bit more genuine, soft and resigned. He visibly steels himself. 

“It was a zombie apocalypse,” Scar says simply, head tilted as he squints at the sky. “And I’m pretty sure I was the only human left, at the end.”

Grian’s stomach plummets.

“Zombie apocalypse?” he repeats, the words shaky. 

“Yep. But not like, normal zombies, of course,” Scar says dryly, shaking his head. “They still looked like— like people. They didn’t burn in the day, and they were fast. They could chase you for miles.”

God. Grian’s throat goes tight, and he swallows. 

“There were… some teenagers, I think, at the beginning. We lived in this— windowless bunker. Tons of food and water and supplies. Meant for a bunch of people, probably. But it was just us,” Scar continues, eyes going hazy as he remembers. “They’d started teaching me how guns worked, and I— I think they taught me how to read. I don’t know how else I would have learned. 

“Then they left one day and never came back. I was five, maybe?” Scar chuckles a little, glancing at Grian with a glimmer of humor in his eye. “Is now a good time to admit I genuinely have no clue exactly how old I am?”

Grian blinks, momentarily startled out of his mounting horror.

“I just always thought you were being vague on purpose,” he says faintly. Scar laughs, wings shaking behind him, and then there’s a pause. 

Jellie stands and stretches, primly making her way to the bench with a trilling meow, jumping up onto Scar’s lap and curling up. Scar scratches behind her ears, an absentminded gesture as his brow furrows in thought. Grian waits patiently, watching Dishwasher the chicken swallow a bug whole. 

“I didn’t leave the bunker for a few years,” Scar continues, the tone a little more serious than before. “And then I… I ran out of crayons, so. I left. Packed a bag and a gun and started exploring.” He picks at the woodgrain of the bench, staring down at Jellie in his lap. “Eventually I got comfortable enough to leave the bunker behind for good, once I started finding new places. Never did find more crayons, though. Had to make due with pencils.”

The worst part is, Grian can imagine it. A young Scar with a baby face and a backpack half his size, alone in the world and looking for something to give it color. Carrying a gun. 

“A lot of my scars came from that world, but most of them have faded by now, I think,” Scar says, scanning his skin as if there’s wounds only he can see. “Ins— Injuries worked differently there. It’s hard to explain. There was— I had to do blood transfusions on myself. I learned how to inject morphine so I could keep running when I was hurt.”

Scar’s rambling now, like some dam has burst and everything he’s ever kept inside is rushing out of him. Grian should maybe interrupt him, but his tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth. He can’t start talking any more than Scar can stop. 

“You’d think I got my name from my scars,” Scar says, smiling in a way that looks painful. “I named myself after my gun. I don’t even remember if I had a name, before that. I didn’t really know what names were. I found Jellie and she liked jelly so I named her Jellie. It made sense in my head.”

Jellie perks up at hearing her name, bumping her head into Scar’s trembling hand. Grian finally finds the strength to open his mouth. 

“Scar,” Grian says hoarsely. “Stop.”

Scar meets his gaze, something desperate and tired etched into his face. His eyes carry the wild quality of someone who knows what survival truly means. It makes him look ancient. It makes him look very, very young. 

“I let myself die,” Scar admits quietly, eyes glistening. “To get out of there. I let them get me.”

Grian closes his eyes, chest aching. “How old…?”

“Nineteen, I think,” Scar says. “I counted the winters. Always celebrated my birthday on the first snow day.”

Grian doesn’t want to know what that celebration would’ve consisted of. He’s seconds away from breaking down sobbing as it is. Wordlessly, Grian extends a wing and rests it across Scar’s back, feeling the other’s wings relax in response. 

“I’m sorry,” Grian says in a wavering voice, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. “I’m sorry that— that happened to you.”

Scar hums, eyes closing briefly. 

“When I made the deal with the Secret Keeper,” Scar says, “I wasn’t really… I just figured that I could handle it, being alone there. Because I’d done it before.”

Grian swallows, heart squeezing in his chest. It’s like grief, almost, but he’s not sure what he’s grieving. 

“It was different, though,” Scar continues, glancing at Grian with a sad smile, eyes watery. “I knew what I was missing.”

Scar, reliving his childhood alone in an empty world, missing his friends. Longing was an open wound, and the Watchers were sharks in the water. They’d probably loved it. Grian, not for the first time, has the urge to go back there and kill a few with his bare hands. He wants them to hurt. 

Grian tips his head over to lean it on Scar’s shoulder, a silent show of support, and for a while they watch Scar’s flowers sway in the wind. He tries to remember that they won. They’re safe. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Grian says, soft and aching. 

“Yeah,” Scar says, leaning into him slightly. “Me too.”

[dixonsstinkysock]

Charmed.

summary - it’s was always john, you should’ve known.

pairing - john shelby x reader x past! tommy shelby

warnings - mentions of cheating

notes - I’m obsessed with john shelby what.

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist

prompt list 💚

49. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

60. “I never meant to hurt you.”

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

“I never meant to hurt you. You were right, I need you”

You scoffed, slightly shaking your head and looking into the water below.

“You made me look a fool, Thomas. Sitting around, waiting for you, and you’re out fucking the new barmaid.”

“It—…It meant nothing. I know my decision now, it’s you.”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Tom. Go be happy with that bloody barmaid of yours.”

——————————

It had been a few months since your last conversation with the infamous Thomas Shelby. Of course you’d seen him around since then but you always denied his requests to speak or avoided him in general. You were still close with the rest of the Shelby family, being childhood friends with Arthur, Tommy, John, and Ada, it was hard to miss him. No way would you cut the rest of the Shelby siblings off just because their brother was a twat.

Ada, your best friend, had been bugging you to go out for a while now. “Getting back out there” as she put it, already wanting to find a new suitor for you. You honestly had no interest or intention to start anything new so soon, turning down anyone who dared to go after Tommy Shelby’s girl—ex girl.

After realizing you really weren’t planning on going with anyone tonight, Ada decided to drop it and just enjoy your company. The both of you getting shit-faced and somehow ending up dancing on tables. It was a miracle neither one of you fell. Eventually, Polly cut you and Ada off, having John escort..well, carry you to your flat. You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, a cup of water, and a bucket next to your bed. Bless him.

——————————

“Did you know?”

“I knew he took some type of interest into her but, well, you know Tom…”

“Right…” You turn to leave

“Y’know I would’ve told you if I knew. You didn’t deserve that, Tommy, he’s—“

“I know, Arthur…Save me a bottle of that whiskey tonight, yeah?” He nods, looking at you with pity and watching you leave the Garrison, still heartbroken.

——————————

The room temp water felt like heaven. Dreading getting up to get more you hear someone knocking on your front door. At first, you plan to ignore it, getting up this early with a hangover should be illegal and you aren’t going to do it. John Shelby’s never done anything legal so…

“Oi! (Y/N)!” You groan, turning around in your bed, shoving your head under your pillow.

“Time to get up, (Y/N)! I need you!”

Realizing he won’t leave until he sees you, you throw the covers off, getting out of bed and heading towards your bedroom window. Opening the window, you peer outside not realizing you’re only in your undergarments.

“What do you need, John?!”

“Nothing! Hoped it’d get you up faster!”

“Fuck you, John Shelby!”

He lets out a laugh, taking your house key from its hiding place and letting himself inside.

——————————

“Big day…”

John stands infront of his bedroom mirror, messing and fixing every tiny little thing on his uniform. Avoiding looking at you in the mirror, afraid of what will happen if he does. “Yeah.”You take another step in, softly letting the door click behind you.

“I uh…I wanted to speak to you alone before you left. I—I did the same with Arthur and Tommy so…” Your left hand twisting the rings on your fingers out of nervousness. “I want you to promise me, John.”

He stills just for a moment, hands still holding onto his collar. “Promise? Promise what?”

“That you’ll come back…T-to Martha…to Polly, Ada, Finn, your kids…Me.” His hands drop from his coat, falling to his sides. You step towards his bed, carefully picking up his cap and moving towards him. “You’ve got alot of people counting on you, John.”

You adjust his cap on his head until you deem it perfect, as perfect as it can be. Your hands cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, giving him a smile. “I’m already ready for you boys to come home.” Letting out a small laugh, you blink away the tears as best you can. You don’t need to cry infront of him.

Silence blankets the room as you stare into each other’s eyes, time passing as you both get lost in eachother. This wasn’t right. You’re with his brother, Tommy, and he’s with Martha, happy with kids. “You better come back to m-us, John Shelby—” You are cut off as his lips collide with yours. His hands find the back of your head and waist as he nips at your lower lip.

Your hands find his chest, pushing him away. “John—I-Don’t.” You turn, leaving his room and heading back downstairs to the rest of the Shelby’s.

——————————

John said he had something planned tonight. Something that he needed the whole family together for. So, here you are, walking into the Garrison in one of your best black dresses.

Surprisingly, the place is empty. The Garrison is only empty when it’s Shelby business or Blinder business. Maybe you should just go home, especially if they’re having a family meeting. You go to grab your coat from the rack you just put it on, coming in when—

Crash

“Fockin’ ‘ell!”

“John?”

Peeking through the snug door you see John, a whiskey bottle and a floor full of glass. “John, are you okay?” He spins in your direction, the shattered cup crunching under his shoes. “Yeah, Yeah, just bloody fookin’ clumsy.”

“Where is everyone?” You set your purse down on the seat, carefully stepping around the shards. “Oh—uh, They couldn’t make it, y’know everyone’s busy these days.” You get down on your knees, picking up the larger shards of glass that John hadn’t reached yet. “Thought I’d…tell you first. Y’know since…no one else is here.” He brings in a broom and dust pan from outside, sweeping up the smaller shards.

You grab another glass from behind the counter, making your way back towards the snug. John pours you both a drink, him downing his as soon as he puts the whiskey bottle down, immediately pouring another. “Must be pretty big news…”

“Listen, (Y/N), I’m gonna be a blunt with you here—no beating ‘round the bush…no more.” He pours another.

“Alright…I’m ready.”

“I want to marry you.”

…

…

“What?” He lets out a breath, downing his drink again and slamming the glass down. “You heard me. I want to marry you.” Now it’s your turn to get another drink.

“John…You don’t want to marry me. You’re grieving—“

He scoffs throwing his hat down on the table, his right leg bouncing like crazy. “If you don’t want to, tell me now so I can start to move on.” A silence falls over you two, John’s courage slowly slipping. You set your glass down, leaning back into your seat. “It—It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” You take a deep breath, thinking about what to say next.

“There’s more than just getting married, John. What would your family say, what would Tommy say—“

“Who gives a fuck what Tommy says?! He should’ve never let you go like that.”

Another silence but this time it’s not as tense, almost as if you’ve decided. Have you decided? Of course you’ve always felt something with John but there’s so many consequences to this. Would you be happy? Would his family think of you as being a whore? Jumping around, brother to brother…

“Tommy’s always taken what’s mine. I think it’s time I take something of his, ey?”

YOU GUYS CAN DECIDE HOW THIS ENDS!! ARE YOU GONNA MARRY HIM OR WHAT???? (say yes)

C U L8TER 💚

word count: 1276

[the-terror-rarepair-month]

Did you miss Rarepair Week last year? Well, I @p0rchc0ll4ps3 and @theremustbeabear bring you Rarepair Month 2025, which is basically the same as a weeklong fest but monthlong instead! Hoping to encourage more fics, longer fics, more art, etc!

This is an all-fanworks-invited month to celebrate Terror ships with under 50 tagged fics on Ao3 as of February the 1st, 2025! This year's theme is "The Way It Goes, Goes Differently with Each Cycle of the Sun."

This is an 18+ event! All participants must be 18+ to participate. No exceptions!

Starting on February 1st, 2025 you can post your fics to the Ao3 Collection HERE or your fanworks to Tumblr or Twitter or whatever Social Media with the tag #trpm25 (but I'll only be able to reblog the Tumblr ones). (also idgaf if you make anything beforehand so long as it's posted after February 1st).

Join our general Terror Discord HERE! We have a channel for the event.

Additionally, feel free to request pairings through this Google Forms link HERE (one request per submission; please don't request the same pair more than once per person. everyone can see you. we'll shame you). This form sends responses to a Google Sheets HERE. Feel free to check the out the stats for the requested pairings (there's a chart on the far right, scroll right)! Please ignore the animals (you'll know when you see them on the sheet), they're load-bearing and I'm afraid things will break if I remove them.

FAQ:

Are you affiliated with Terror Rarepair Week of Years past? --Nope! Just excited to take on the mantle. (And I did check if I was allowed to take it up before starting this!)

What counts as a rarepair? --The pair (or more) must have less than 50 tagged works under the Terror (2018) tag on Ao3 as of February 1, 2025. The pairing MUST BE the main part of the fanwork.

What counts as a ship? --Two or more characters get together. Throuples and beyond count!

Can the ship be platonic? --Absolutely! Both Romantic (/) and Platonic (&) ship pairings are allowed.

Is there a word limit? --Nope! However little or much as you like. We do challenge you to write 1k or more, however!

Can I do art? --Absolutely, MOST welcome. Any type of fanwork is acceptable!!

Must I follow the prompts? --Nope! Prompts are just there to inspire you. Any part of the prompt [Location (sub-location); 3 different options provided] is allowed to be used!

Does it have to be during canon? --Nope! Post-canon, during-canon, AU, anything goes!

Can I mix this with other events? --Absolutely! You can mix this with any other event co-occurring during the month of February so long as that event allows mixing as well.

Can I do OC x Canon; or Crossover x Canon? --Preferably not! I'd like to keep the fanworks to within the general Terror pool.

Can I do RPF of the actors? Or RPF of the real people the show was based off? --Sure, why not. Go for it. It's within the general Terror pool!

Can I submit throuples (3 in a ship) to the request form? --Absolutely! Anything from 2 or more counts. Poly is totally cool!

Is the form required to be filled out? --Nope! You can do whatever you want forever; the form just gives everyone an idea of what's going on.

Can I submit NSFW to the request form? --Yep! But remember, all the prompts will be in one place; there's no separation of SFW and NSFW, and there's no content warnings. Your prompts will be public!

My ship is already on the request form! --Submit whatever your heart desires. The form and its subsequent chart helps track how popular a desired rarepair may be!!

I can only submit one ship to the request form! --You can fill the form out multiple times; but only 1 pairing per submission per person! PLEASE don't submit a ship more than once per person, that's cheating, and we'll hunt you down for it.

Must I follow / pick only from the requests form? --Nope! The requests form is just there for fun to give you an idea of what ships people have been thinking of / a fun challenge if you want to try something different! You're not assigned anything.

Okay that's all, enjoy!

Prompt transcription below the cut.

Week 1 (Jan. 31–Feb. 6): KING WILLIAM ISLAND (On the Shale) Won't Be Coming Home — Wish You Were Here — It All Goes Dark

Week 2 (Feb. 7–Feb. 13): HMS TERROR & EREBUS (In the Water) Shared Interests — Stolen Glances — Fate

Week 3 (Feb. 14–Feb. 20): CARNIVALE (On the Ice) Rescue — Finding You Again — Home

Week 4 (Feb. 21–Feb. 28) LONDON (In Our Dreams) Can't Sleep — Seeking Warmth — The Sky Alight

[melodic-haze]

Can I ask for a sub Jade x fem reader? Jade is so cocky and self-confident thinking that she will dominate the relationship, but reader puts her in her place by taking her to the extreme Thank you in advance and have a nice day!💕

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Jade x dom!afab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None? A lot of biting?? Does that count???? Rough sex in general

☆ — NOTES: To celebrate getting Jade I am writing about scissoring her she CANNOT escape me. As per usual I wrote this at the dead of night so if nothing makes sense then 🤷‍♀️

It's so funny, dating Jade, bc she's so self-assured of anything and everything—no matter how risky a deal may be, it's as if she has it all figured out.. and really, she probably does. That confidence transfers over to her general personality ofc which. Aha 💀 goodness

She's definitely convinced herself that she was going to take the lead for every single thing, taking care of you and punishing you if you deserve such treatment. She already does so in her daily life, what's a relationship with someone so precious as you make a difference?

A lot, she goes on to realise sooner or later when you have your first time together LOL

"So eager, aren't you," she practically coos at you as she steps further into the secluded room, taking off her hat and placing it carefully on the vanity.

"What, you rather I wasn't?"

"Now, I didn't say that." The pink-haired woman let out a soft laugh, "I would like to give you credit where credit is due, however, for waiting to get inside the bedroom rather than pulling me into the next available alley you find."

A huff slipped past your upturned lips, your eyes scanning every inch of your lover—who you once thought was unattainable without a hefty price, much like such precious gems are, is now standing in front of you at the foot of the bed with a not-so-innocent twinkle in her slitted eyes.

"I wouldn't dare have our first time together in some random setting," you simply say, "a lady should be treated as such.. and I wouldn't want to break you where everyone could see. Not yet, anyway."

That gained Jade's attention, her hand halting to a stop before she could slowly remove her singular glove. "Oh? I was under the assumption that I would have to take care of you, sweetheart. Unless you think that I can't leave you more than satisfied?" She walks up to you as she speaks, tracing your skin with a manicured nail before gently grasping onto your hand, "Because I assure you that I never leave my clients with the feeling of.. incompletion."

"One problem with that statement."

"Mm?"

"I'm not a client of yours, am I? I'm much more than that."

She raises an eyebrow, its shape perfectly sculpted and arched and perfect, "Confident in where you stand, aren't you? Such arrogance can often lead to one's downfall, you know."

You walk forward, prompting her to follow your motions like an intimate dance, "Are you saying that because you believe you're the exception to the rule?"

"Not that I'm the exception, no.. but challenging such things is something I am required to have expertise on, considering my line of work."

You hummed in response, "You've yet to prove that to me beyond professional transactions."

"Haven't I?"

You don't speak in turn, though instead you draw your hand back from hers before swiping it under her intricate blazer that hangs on her shoulder, letting it slip down.. and then pressing the same hand on the centre of her chest to push.

Your lover gently falls onto the mattress with a soft sound of surprise, with her long hair fanning out under her like some sort of pink halo. That momentary surprise is easily replaced with a pleased smirk, however, as her hands roam around her body to caress every inch of herself like a tantalising temptress, simultaneously opening up her outfit and fully revealing the lacy underwear underneath.

"So you caught me off-guard. That's a first."

You moved to straddle her, stripping off your topmost clothing and discarding them to the side, "Is it, though? No point lying through your teeth there."

"Ha. I suppose you do have a penchant for surprising me on the occasion." She puts her hands on your hips, gripping you and gently digging her nails into your form, "And I also suppose that that was you taking advantage of the situation, which.. bravo. I hadn't even noticed I let you take the lead."

You leaned down, capturing her lips with your own and cutting off whatever words she had planned to form after—if she ever even planned to, which you sincerely doubt it considering how her arms tugged you closer to her—before drawing back and leaving her wanting more. Her beautiful blue eyes, formerly slits, had seemingly expanded as she laid there in a silent daze.

"And you can continue. Letting me take the lead, I mean." You breathed out as you took one of her breasts into your hand and groped her idly, "Let me take care of your needs and desires this time, yeah?"

"Unfortunately that isn't in my job description," she jests with a slight rasp to her voice.

"Too bad you're not working right now," you quipped back.

And without any more to say, you lean back in as the two of you let your desires take over completely.

She definitely absolutely challenges your authority HAHAHAHA oh my god. She's SUCH a brat actually, teasingly trying to grab the reigns back and dominate you but somefuckinghow you're looking at her and acting a certain way that it actually sends a shiver down her spine once she realises you mean to consume her wholly like a snake with its prey

She isn't used to being on the receiving end, to being the one being taken care of, to being the one overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you're giving her. And the foreign experience fucking thrills her bc almost nothing scares this woman in bed

I say "almost nothing" bc if your buttons are pushed enough bc she makes it a point to make it INSUFFERABLE for you bc you could just hand her control and she'd take care of you :((( and take the easy route like everyone else :((((( and you snap, there's no telling what'll happen to her 🥰

ROUGH HER THE FUCK UP and that's when she starts getting concerned for her wellbeing (in the fun way), though the thrill is still there and has never been this amusing and overstimulating since.. god knows when. It has her wanting for MORE

She wouldn't beg though. She refuses to do so—something something she still has some modicum of dignity in her—but that's fine.. you can just have her struggle in desperation 😋!!

Such a bestial, carnal act was unbefitting of such a classy lady.. and that debauched expression on Jade's face was even less so.

Her nails dug into your skin, though this time her grip was a far cry from its gentle yet possessive force. Instead, it was harsh and desperate, perhaps even enough to draw blood. Your neck and the line of your collarbone was in a worse state as your lower back was, though, with the multiple bite marks that littered your skin (and some of them were even the slightest bit punctured, not necessarily all that dissimilar to a snake bite).

Not like she was any better either, with how throwing her head back meant that you were able to see the myriad of marks all across her body—her skin was painted like a canvas, signed repeatedly by you and only you through some sort of binding contract.

You bucked your hips into hers with a crooked smirk to your lips that easily broke off as a groan escaped your lips. Your clit had rubbed onto hers in a certain way that had the both of you stumbling, if the time spent repeatedly switching from making her hold off from cumming, continuously pushing her off the edge and having her please you as a form of gratitude rather than her initial service didn't exhaust you two enough already.

Whenever you look at her, she always seems to be on the cusp of truly letting go and pleading for you to finally give her the release she needs from your constant minstrations throughout the night, always seems to be on the edge of admitting that you hold the power over her, that you were more than some random client like she joked about.. but she seems to have some extra willpower within her that prevents such sudden declarations.

Doesn't matter, though, because you have the power to simply draw back and leave her on the tipping point.

And when you look at her again, when you see her mouth smudged with lipstick move as she voices out her thoughts, when you see her reach out for her, when you feel just how embarrassingly wet she is...

When you see the Stoneheart at her rawest, without any sort of modification to suit whoever she deigns to interact with, you just can't help but give her a bit more.

Guys I'm a firm believer in Jade having fangs but anyway

Be mean enough to her and eventually she'll crack 🥰🥰🥰 and it'd be RUDE to leave her hanging..........or yk. Leave her hanging 😜 as a way for her to remember exactly how easily you can put her in her place

Either way now she knows FULL well not to get all cocky again unless she wants that hot-and-cold rough treatment again ☺️ and she also knows not to underestimate you ANYMORE what a way to learn not to underestimate someone

[disabledwhumphurtcomfort]

Introductory Post

Welcome to the 2025 Disabled Whump & Hurt/Comfort Writing Challenge!

This is a 30-day writing challenge for original and fan fiction in the whump and hurt/comfort genres which centers on characters with disabilities. One general writing prompt is given for each day, and participants post a piece written to fill the prompt (any length) on that day, tagged appropriately (see rules 3 and 4).

The challange runs through April 1-30 2025, but late submissions tagged for the event will be accepted and reblogged to be featured on this blog. Prompts are posted now, so feel free to write things ahead of time, as long as they are posted on or after April 1.

All writers are welcome! This challenge will uplift the work of disabled writers, but you do not have a disability to participate.

There is a post with resources for writing disabled characters respectfully and learning more about disabilities here.

The moderator is Mod K (she/her), and can be contacted via the ask box or messages.

The Optional AO3 Collection for the event is here

Please read the rules and goals before sending asks as they have many FAQs in them!

Rules:

This event will be centered on characters with disabilities and chronic conditions, both visible (ex, paraplegia; limb differences) and invisible (ex, migraines; CFS). For writing to qualify, please have one or more disabled/chronically ill characters as the focus of your story, rather than a side character/cameo in a story about nondisabled characters. Prompts are meant to facilitate stories about disability and disabled characters in the genres of hurt/comfort and whump (also known as hurt-no-comfort).

"Disability" can have a broad definition, and many conditions can be disabling. The moderator will not be filtering or rejecting submissions based on what medical conditions "count"; the only parameter is that the central character lives with a chronic condition of some type which is disabling for them in some way. Disabilities which come about in a fantasy or sci-fi setting are welcome as long as they are portrayed as being disabling in some way which is analogous (eg, a permanent problem caused by magic, or vampirism as a fantasy-disability). In fanfic it does not have to be canonical - headcanons and AUs are fine.

Please do not TAG your posts/links with the names of disabilities you are writing about (eg tagging a story about an epileptic character with “#epilepsy”,) or with “#disability” or “#chronic illness”, as those tags are used by disabled folks to talk about our RL disabilities and in the past there have been issues with writers inadvertently clogging those tags with fiction/writing advice.

Please DO tag your posts and links #disabledwhc2025 and, in a second tag, the day (eg, #day 1: established disability) so the mod can find and reblog them to the blog!

Original work and fanfic are both welcome; anything goes in terms of settings and genres (fantasy, sci-fi) as long as it’s h/c or whump.

You do not have to write for every prompt (that’s why there’s a mix of hurt and comfort!) or every day to be featured. If you don’t have time for 30 days, do as many as you feel like. If you only write either H/C or Whump, you can do a 15-day challenge, reinterpret the hurt prompts to include comfort, and/or find a whumpy spin on the comfort prompts.

If you write prompts out of order please still tag which day you are writing for and the title of that prompt set. So if you decide to post the prompt “frustrated ambition” from the set “Loss”, which is day 21, on April 3, please still tag your April 3 post “day 21: loss”.

There are no restrictions on what content can be posted, but please use content notes for the following topics: "Rape/noncon" "Underage" "Graphic Depictions of Violence" (ie gore), and "Major Character Death" before the start of your piece. You can also use the warning "Creator Chose Not to Use Content Warnings" if you do not want to spoil fic. Please use a "read more" for these pieces.

Please tag any NSFT works (explicit sexual content) as "NSFT". Please use a "read more" for these pieces.

Challenge Goals:

Help destigmatize writing about disability in the whump and hurt/comfort genres. Complete recovery is not the only way to have a happy ending, and whumping already-disabled characters is a valid option for stories. So is having disabled characters doing the comforting, or the hurting!

Highlight disabled characters, canonical in media or original, in the genre.

Make disabled creators visible! A lot of us are drawn to hurt/comfort partly due to our disabilities.

Encourage nondisabled creators to try writing about disability, and dispel fear or anxiety about being “allowed to”.

Expand horizons of who disabled characters are. Headcanons or AUs about a character having or acquiring a disability are entirely welcome.

Other Ways to Contribute:

Do you want to participate but don't have the spoons (energy) to write anything? Here are some other ways to be a part of this event!

Make a reading recommendation list of works with disabled representation in whump and hurt/comfort. Please make sure that these are tagged #disabledwhc2025 and have "reading recommendation" somewhere in the post title. Please only do this with works whose authors have tagged them as whump, hurt/comfort or related terms. If you find a work on tumblr which you really, really want to recommend which you feel fits the genre and criteria but is not tagged as such, please ask the author if it is OK to include on the rec list before doing so, as some people may be uncomfortable with the genre tags being applied to their work, and ask or message mod K with a screenshot of the permission you received.

Like, reblog and comment on others' works! By following this blog you will see featured works and can give some love to the people who made them.

Reblog the prompts or otherwise spread the word about this event.

[sbk-prompt-week]

☁️Welcome to skyblock kingdom’s prompt week event! This will be running from January 19th to January 25th, 2025. Modded by @in-the-multiverse

☁️Use #sbkpromptweek to participate

☁️Below the cut are FAQ (please read through them) and a little ramble about each prompt to spark ideas or inspiration (optional to read). Have fun creating! :D

What is a prompt week?

It’s a scheduled fandom event dedicated to characters, ships, or fandoms in general— usually with a list of prompts or themes to inspire and encourage fanworks. They’re announced in advance and fanworks are posted on the corresponding days of the week. In this case, it’s for the sbk fandom as a whole! This blog will be archiving all creations submitted as long as they follow the guidelines

Is this limited to fanart and fanfiction?

Nope. You’re more than welcome to make moodboards, stimboards, song playlists, edits, cosplay and the likes! Additionally, there’s no art requirements or minimum/maximum word count. Anything ai generated is disallowed.

What type of content is allowed?

If it’s within a creator’s boundaries, it’s allowed (this information can be found in #member-info on the SBK Community discord). Tag accordingly for shipping or content warnings if your works contain them. Make use of the tumblr blacklist for topics you don’t want to see. If you don’t like something, don’t engage. Be respectful. And please be patient to those who haven’t stated what they are/aren’t ok with.

Can I post something late?

Absolutely! This isn’t an event with a hard set deadline.

Do I have to make something for every day?

Nah, you can make as little or as much as you’d like, at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.

I have a fanwork I’m already creating, can I submit it to this event?

If it fits within the prompts provided, yep!

Can I combine prompts?

Sure, just mention which ones you’re combining when you post.

Why isn’t my post reblogged?

If I miss something a week after the event is over, please reach out in an ask and I’ll archive it here. Late entries may take more time to be reblogged as I’ll be monitoring the tag less frequently.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️👑☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Bond

Have a pair or group of people you enjoy seeing together, or would like to depict together? This goes for friendships, romantic pairings, queer platonic relationships, familial bonds, etc. Is it unconditional love? Complicated? Yearning? Or perhaps something more abstract?

In a different world

AUs, crossovers, homelands that weren’t 99% void, we imagine them in a different setting! Maybe you’d like to add a fic or fanart to an AU that already exists, or maybe you’d like to come up with one of your own. Want to explore how the sbkers would react to being in a different mcyt series? Or meet other characters? Whatever your imagination compels you to create, go for it!

Fashion

Casual modern clothing? Royal outfits? Goth? Punk? Catmaid? Cottagecore? Let’s stylize those cubitos! Or maybe you’d like to spin this prompt another way. Does it extend into world building? Is it kingdom specific? The possibilities are up to you!

Horror vs. Fantasy

Wanna put a blorbo through the horrors? Are they the horrors? Or would you rather create something more whimsical? Depict fantasies of certain characters? Wanna do both? The canvas and/or keyboard is all yours.

Retrospect

What happened this season that you’d like to revisit? A fond memory, favourite bit, nostalgic beginnings, something that’s been spinning around in your brain since it happened. Or perhaps you’d like to retell a moment from a different perspective: through another character’s eyes, another narrative lens, etc.

Meme redraw / Crackfic

We get silly with it! Have a reaction image or funny stock photo you’d like to redraw the sbkers in? Maybe a show screenshot or random internet image? Or how ‘bout throwing these guys in scenarios where you don’t have to worry about getting Serious writing it? We’re cringe and free >:3

Free Day

You’re more than welcome to come up with your own prompt. Whatever you feel drawn to, whatever gets your gears going, have fun creating it!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️👑☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

[gravityfalls-ficathon]

Gravity Falls Fic-a-Thon

AO3 collection || SquidgeWorld Collection || Dreamwidht

Hello Everyone, and welcome to the Gravity Falls Fic-a-Thon 2024!

What is this?

This is fun, low stakes' event for all ships in the gravity falls fandom! With the fandom gaining traction again, we want to encourage people to create for smaller ships that might not be getting as much attention and, most importantly, just have fun as a community!

How does this work?

You can submit a prompt or fill a prompt.

You can submit a prompt by replying to THIS POST or sending us an ask here on tumblr, and you can fill one yourself and publish it on AO3 or Squidgeworld.

Any Ships! Any medium! Any Rating! Any word count!

If you fill a prompt, you're encouraged to add them to our collection! If you don't feel confortable adding to the collection, just please send us a link so we can share it here!

Do I need a Dreamwidht account?

No! You can reply anonymously or use our tumblr ask system! Just don't forget to leave your ao3 username if you want the fic gifted to you.

What kinds of work can participate?

Any type of work! Fanfiction, audiofic, fannart, meta... whatever you want to fill a prompt you love! Just make sure that it's tagged appropriately.

What ships can participate?

All gravity falls ships are welcome! This includes works that might make you uncomfortable, please keep an eye on the tags when browsing our works. And remember! Ship and Let Ship! Any discourse will be deleted.

Do I have to fill a prompt to submit a prompt?

Nope, submit as many prompts as you want, fill as many as you would like.

Can I fill my own prompt?

It's against the concept of the event, but anon comments are on, so theoretically I couldn't stop you.

Any other rules?

You should check our guidelines, but as a general rule: Be over 18, don't be a jerk, complete works by the end of the event, don't use AI.

--

This event was heavily inspired by @fourormore's own event, which is still running! You should check them out!

This event will run from October 1st to November 30th

Any other questions? Just send us an ask here!

Edit: If you prefer, you can send your prompts suggestions via tumblr asks! We will post it on the Dreamwidht for you to keep them all easy to find! Just send us an ask using this format:

“Ship: Prompt - (Additional Info - username)*”.

*Optional. Use the additional info to add anything you don't want or really want on your prompt!

Examples:

Mabel/Dipper: Meeting the mothman, NSFW.

Ford&Stan: playing D&D&D, no incest.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo!!

may i ask for a little spronkle of fluff? Donna goes out to town to buy fabrics, the neewww (oh, wow!) cleric selling it to her, Reader, has almost the exact same scar on their face (except for it not being unnaturally deformed, -- reader got it from like, an encounter with a rabid animal, or something),

Donna gets curious and asks about it, leading to a casual conversation, which led to Donna wanting to come back and chat with the new hire, seeing as how, unbeknownst to Reader (because, obviously, Donna wears the veil, Reader wouldnt know she had the same mutation) they had something in common, their scarring

Make it so that Reader (very slowly) catches on ?? And they develop feelings overtime ?? But, doesnt know if 'big-lady-Donna' feels the same way, so they just.. shaddap? (i had to use that 'big-lady' reference, or it wouldve haunted me, forgive, forget)

Reader asks to see Donnas face (although, very nervously, because of, yknow, Angie staring down Readers soul, aswell as Donnas rank/title), Donna complies, although hesitantly, and Reader is just so entranced by how similar the size/placement/colour of their scarring is, that theyre just so hyped, and cant help to call Donna beautiful, to call her newly-revealed, singular eye 'enchanting' and whatnot (make Reader a nervous sap, i beg and i plead, i need this prompt to rot my teeth),

Donna gets fed up from how clueless Reader is to how much Donna appreciates them -- leading to, very reluctant, and/or peeved (take that as you will, im unsure how to topic Donnas nerves, tremors, mood-swings and whatnot) confession, coming from Donnas side. (Meaning: Donna confesses first, very awkwardly, and shyly, and Reader obviously accepts, because, .. They're girlfriends, your honor!)

Angie, meanwhile, is hurling in the background because of how cheesy, and forced, Donnas confession was, (although, secretely, Angie is over the moon that her Donsie made a new (girl)friend). Maybe add a little bit of like, restless, over-thinking rambling in Italian to that mix. (Ex: Donna just going over about how cool it is that they have matching scars, maybe Reader could come over to her estate and see her portrait without it. *Mumble mumble, something nervy in italian*, do you wanna come over? Do you wanna see my workshop? Do you wanna see my dolls? I can have one resemble you. Do you sew? We can make dolls -- *Mumble, trips over words, Italian*)

Make it from Donnas prospective, Please and thanks!!

No smut, just wholesome wholesomeness, and ofcourse, happy, diabetes-inducing ending, where Reader does agree to come and hang out with her -- make them Girlfriends with your writers-magic from that point on, because i have no idea what else to add to explain how overtime THEY FALL INLOVESIES!!! (AGHH! SUCH ROMANCE! THEYRE SO INLOVE!!!)

No mention of G!P or just, like, any arousal in general (since ive seen it mentioned on other posts, by other people, when asked for no smut, i just wanted to clarify)

hope i explained this okay?? Sometimes im pretty vague/too specific while typing and add too many '()'s and '/'s (overthinking autism brain -- HEY! LOOK! I JUST DID IT AGAIN!)

wish ya the best of luck, aswell as the best of day, may Angie bite your fingers (not really.. aha.. joking! Or am i?), Ciao, Blusy!

Yesss!!! Wow, it was a curious request! Thank you!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Two broken faces

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings:¡ fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 9,376

Summary: She's so simliar, but so different...

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

I thought I had everything I needed.

I had my dolls, my books, the peace that solitude offers a woman like me… Always afraid of people, always hiding, I found in my isolated world a peaceful place to live, for all eternity.

I didn't ask for this, I never asked the Black Gods to have mercy on my soul, I didn't ask Mother Miranda to adopt me, I never asked anyone for that second chance, I just wanted to die.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my family hadn't been noble, if my ancestors hadn't been part of the founding of this village. Maybe I would have had the chance to live in a different way or maybe my wish to disappear would have simply been fulfilled.

Donna Beneviento, a young woman who stopped fighting. Yes, surely they would put something similar on my grave. I would have become a legend, that woman who lost everything, who was cursed with an illness, who was condemned to watch how little by little, the world around me faded away behind that horrible waterfall.

But… After all, after that mercy that I didn't ask for, the result wasn't very different. To think that I was no longer alone would be to deceive myself. Angie was already speaking before I insisted on giving her life with my new gifts. Angie was me, I was Angie.

Maybe she's still me, even if I don't realize it, maybe I’m not even a Lord, maybe I wasn't even alive anymore. It was hard to know. That position of power that the Gods granted me only served to make my horrible thoughts to take shape, to find in cruelty a way to relieve the pain of my soul, the rage I felt at having been unjustly deprived of a normal life.

Josef was the first, but not the last.

What was the fault of the man who took care of me after the death of my family? None. Why did I do it? Because I could.

I try to look in the mirror and not see that reflection, the reflection of my horrible appearance, of that punishment for the sins I didn’t commit, but I only see a monster, a monster on the outside, a monster on the inside.

Surely that was what Miranda expected of me: another terrifying being to keep the flock under control. I cannot deny that she succeeded. I myself became the fear, the terror.

That legend that I thought I would become by ending my life became a dark tale, a nightmare story, the story of the terrible doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

I could not say when she stopped mattering to me, I cannot even say that one day she stopped. Loneliness was my fear, until it became my refuge. You did not love me before, when I was just a girl with a scar, now that I am a monster your punishment would be to fear me.

None of that matters, not even my brothers, nor this cursed village. I only care about Angie, my dolls, those that do not judge, that do not laugh at me, that do not fear me, that do not feel anything. The flesh deceives, lies, harms, porcelain does not. Porcelain is malleable, it looks the way I want, it is beautiful, soft and does not hate me.

I wish I could have been a doll, I wish I could free myself from the hatred that was inside me…

“Grigio,” I said in a whisper, while I was devoting my soul to making my dolls, to creating those emotionless beings that I envied.

Angie nodded, walking around the work table, looking for the fabric I asked for.

“Grey again, Donna?” the doll asked, in a mocking tone. I nodded without looking at her, finishing correcting the imperfections of that new companion.

“What's your problem with grey?” I asked, cleaning the smooth porcelain, with my gaze fixed on it, trying not to let Angie distract me, as she usually did.

“It's boring,” the doll said, handing me a too small piece of fabric, making me frown.

“It's not enough, I need much more,” I said focused, shaking my head. The doll shrugged, walking over to her new friend.

“There is no more grey fabric,” Angie mocked, hands on her hips.

I sighed, snapping out of my concentration, searching through the drawers. I would never trust Angie, I would never trust myself.

“There isn’t?” I asked confused, searching the workshop for the desired fabric. The doll growled angrily at my distrust, crossing her arms.

“I already told you, silly Donna,” she mocked, getting down from the table. I sighed, rubbing my eye. I had been in the workshop for hours, I couldn’t say how many.

“Angie…” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head and finally abandoning my dolls, walking through the dark basement hallway, through that comforting darkness. “I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Are you ever in the mood?” the puppet asked, with a mocking tone.

I didn't answer. I simply walked towards the phone, looking in a address book for the number of the village merchant, the Duke.

“Oh, oh, oh, ask the fat guy if he has yellow wool balls,” Angie said, tugging at my dress.

 I looked at her, unable to help but smile. Who it was didn't matter, my position as a Lord didn't matter, I was sure that, without Angie, I would have given up a long time ago.

“What do you want yellow wool balls for?” I asked amused, picking up the phone and dialing the number slowly, indicating to Angie that she should let herself be picked up. I still needed her to speak for me.

“I don't know, they're funny,” she commented, taking the phone while I lovingly put her old clothes on. “Hello, hello? Fatty?”

Nothing, no one seemed to answer.

“He doesn't pick up,” Angie whispered so I frowned, snatching the phone from her and checking she was telling the truth.

“Maybe he's not in the village,” I sighed, hanging up and shaking my head. “How convenient, I need that damn fabric.”

“He might be in his warehouse,” Angie commented, going back down to the floor. “Although I doubt he will fit through the door,” she mocked amused, making me smile again.

“What do we do now?” I asked, looking at the crumbling ceiling.

“Why don't we go to the village?” Angie suggested. “We can look for the Duke there.”

“No,” I said dryly, hardening my expression.

“Silly Donna... I want my wool balls!” the doll protested, in a childish way, irritating me again. “Let's go to the village, to the village!”

“Madonna… I said no, Angie,” I snorted, in a brusque tone.

No, I didn't want to go to the village, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to see fear in people's eyes, I didn't want to see it again.

“Silly, you stupid pasta thing,” the doll hissed. “Stupid Donna”

“Are you done yet?” I asked with irony, with a dangerous look. As expected, the doll shook her head.

“Donna, you coward, I want my wool balls!” she shrieked irritatingly again, making me lose my patience.

“Chuidi quella cazzo di bocca!” I shouted furiously, completely out of my mind, causing the puppet to flee in terror, hiding behind a table.

Once again, I had lost control for no reason. I would never be able to escape my sentence.

I tried to relax, to make the trembling in my body disappear. I breathed deeply, lowering my head.

“Perdonami, Angie…” I sighed in a calmer tone, walking slowly to the doll's hiding place. She, timidly, peeked out. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“You're very tense,” the doll whispered. “You have to relax...”

“I know, forgive me, please,” I said with my voice broken by the rage of my behavior, extending my arms towards her, who timidly approached, letting me pick her up from the floor.

 “Of course I forgive you, silly,” the doll said, hugging me in a childish way, bringing the smile back to my face.

“Fine… W-we'll go to the village to get the fabrics, what do you think?” I finally said, trying to compensate my only friend for having to put up with me day after day, for having to live… With a monster.

“Yay!” the puppet celebrated as I carried her in my arms, leaving the comfort of that dark basement.

I never liked going out, feeling the cold on my body, feeling insecure, outside the safety of the cracked walls. Maybe no one had the misfortune of seeing my face, but my mere presence was already uncomfortable enough for anyone.

Just think about it, a woman in black clothes, with her face hidden by a black veil, a lifeless figure which comes walking slowly towards you. It was terrifying.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be many people in the village, it was a cold morning. I also didn't want to notice if there were eyes watching me, if there was a child trembling in its mother's arms when it saw me walking.

The Duke's warehouse wasn't far away, and I headed there as quickly as possible. My breathing was uncontrolled, my anxieties were already starting to make me too nervous. I wanted to go home.

“Duuuuke!” Angie called when we entered the cabin. “Duuuuke! Where are you?”

There didn't seem to be anyone there and we both looked at each other, shrugging our shoulders. Not wanting to wait for that vermin to appear, I approached the place where he kept the fabrics, looking for that desired grey tone my doll needed.

“What do you think, Angie?” I asked the puppet, who was curiously rummaging through the merchant's things, nodding disinterestedly. “Where are the grey ones...?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled me, a female voice that was not familiar to me.

From among the boxes, a girl appeared, a young girl with a splendid smile. I didn’t recognize her, I would remember that face. Near her left eye there was a horrible scar. I couldn’t help but bring my hand to my face when I found a similarity between that deformity and mine.

The girl shook her hands, with an elegant gesture, without that smile disappearing.

“Lady Beneviento,” she said softly, lowering her head. “Surely the Duke would spend the whole morning flattering your presence but I believe in naturalness, do you need something?”

“Where is the fatty? Who are you?” Angie asked, letting me pick her up again while pointing at that unknown girl.

“Oh, the Duke is on a business trip, or so he told me,” she said, amused, shaking her head. “But I'm sure I can help you, or try, at least.”

I looked at her curiously, unable to take my eyes off her scar, one that didn’t hide her beauty at all. I couldn't say why, but my cheeks began to blush.

I didn't say anything. I just looked at her confused, just like the doll did with me, waiting for me to react.

“Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself,” the girl said with an apologetic look, extending her hand towards me, a hand that seemed very soft… “I'm (Y/N), the Duke hired me to be his assistant when he wasn't around. I manage the warehouse too.”

I hesitated for a moment. My instincts pushed me to reject that greeting, to ignore that smiling young woman, but, for some reason, I didn't. I slowly extended my hand towards hers, shaking it briefly, feeling for myself that I wasn't wrong, her skin was very soft, warm.

“It’s, it's a pleasure to meet you too,” she joked, confused by my shy greeting, with a natural, beautiful smile... “I never thought I'd have the honor of having one of you here.”

“Shut up, you stupid village girl! We've come for...” Angie said, interrupted by a sudden movement of my arms, letting her fall to the floor. “Hey!”

“I ne-ne-need fabrics,” I whispered with a hoarse, timid, barely audible voice. The girl frowned, coming a little closer to me.

“Excuse me, but I didn't hear you,” she said amused but with a kind look.

“Fabrics, stupid! Fabrics!” Angie shrieked, startling the young woman, who, surprisingly, kept her composure masterfully.

“Oh, fabrics, of course,” (Y/N) said, nodding and passing by me, letting me get a closer look at that scar so similar to mine, one that had me quite interested. “If you would be so kind as to come with me…”

I nodded slowly, following the young assistant through the warehouse.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked naturally, rummaging through a pile of fabrics.

“G-Grey fabric…” I murmured, clearing my throat, with Angie looking at me strangely. I couldn't blame her for it, I was very nervous.

“Grey…” (Y/N) commented, searching with her eyes. “Oh, yes, here,” she said amused, pointing at several fabrics of that same color.

“Wool balls, we want wool balls,” Angie said with a haughty tone while I touched those fabrics with curiosity, unable to avoid looking at that girl out of the corner of my eye.

“Wool balls?” she asked confused, scratching her head. “Mm, yes, this way,” she said, gesturing for the puppet to follow her.

I paused for a moment to look at her again, my heart beating fast and my eye unable to stop studying each of her movements. She was a really beautiful young woman, who surely hid some terrible story, maybe one as horrible as mine, maybe… Oh, I didn’t know why I was thinking about it.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asked me when finished attending to Angie, getting closer to me, maybe too close, allowing me to look at her more closely again.

“Um, yes… I…” I stammered nervously, clearing my throat again and pointing at a random roll of fabric. Luckily, it was a grey one.

“This one? Good…” the young woman commented, taking the roll and heading to a small counter. “How much do you want?”

“No, I… I’ll take the entire roll,” I said, nodding, putting my hands together in front of my body, playing with them discreetly to try to stop shaking.

“The entire roll?” (Y/N) asked, frowning. The Duke never questioned me, why did she?

“Is there a problem, silly?” Angie asked mockingly, comically wrapped in a wool ball.

“No, there’s no problem but… I don’t know if you can handle it, it’s quite heavy,” the girl said amused, leaning on the counter and looking at that large roll of fabric. “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t… I mean, I…”

I laughed at that shy side, that nervous side my presence provoked in her. Normally I would have groaned or sighed at the sight of her body trembling, but on that occasion, I didn't. Even when she was nervous, she couldn't lose that bright smile.

“Calm down, I know what you mean,” I said in a different tone, louder and noticeable, as if my own voice was eager to talk to her.

“Uff, okay...” she sighed, running a hand over her forehead in a playful way. “Sorry, my lady, I'm not used to dealing with... Lords, you know.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. I could feel Angie's eyes looking at me inquisitively, but I didn't pay attention to them. Not wanting to look stupid, I took out a bag of coins, leaving them on the counter. (Y/N) picked them up, writing something down in a notebook.

“Fine...” the girl murmured, leaving the pen on top of the notebook. “Do you need anything else, my lady?” she asked kindly.

I shook my head, turning to leave, picking up my doll again, who was still staring at me.

“No, thank you,” I muttered before walking out the door. Something, something made me stop and turn around. “Uh, actually, I do.”

“Mm?” (Y/N) hummed, with that same kind smile, following me with her gaze as I approached the counter again.

“I don't remember seeing you before,” I said with a dry voice, with an indifferent tone. I didn't want to show her how nervous I was, besides, I didn't even know why I was that nervous.

“I'm elusive,” she answered amused, leaning on the counter in a casual manner. “But the truth is that I've been here all my life.”

“Working for the fat guy?” Angie asked, with a curious tone, shifting in my arms.

“No, no,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head, laughing amused. “I mean, I've been in the village all my life.”

“Really? It's funny, you don't sound familiar to me,” I commented, with a slightly dark tone, analyzing her expressions. The girl shrugged, as if it wasn't the most comfortable question for her.

“Well... I'm not very fond of masses...” she murmured in a cautious tone. “Don't get me wrong, I adore Mother Miranda, and you, and of course I pray to the Black Gods every day and...”

“Mmm…” Angie got out of my arms, walking along the counter until she was very close to her. “She's lying.”

“What? Oh, no, no, I’m not,” the assistant said, now a little more scared. “No, my lady, no, I'm not lying.”

“I don't care if you are, (Y/N),” I commented, moving the doll away from her, laughing shyly again. “I'm not judging you.”

“Oh, okay…” the girl sighed, with an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Well, to be honest, I've never had a particular interest in… All that stuff about the Gods.”

I nodded nervously, wanting to ask a thousand questions, without knowing why, without knowing what exactly was keeping me in that warehouse.

“But, but I go to masses,” she said with a more relaxed tone, pretending sincerity. “Um… Um…Do you want… Do you want something else?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, turning around again and walking towards the door.

When I arrived, I realized that my legs weren't moving, that my head wanted to turn towards that girl again. My behavior was strange, but I couldn't help it.

“Yes,” I said, entering again, causing her to laugh amusedly and look at me in amazement, probably because of my pathetic attitude. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Lycans,” she answered, relaxing her expression. I frowned and shook my head, confused.

“Cosa?”

“My scar, I know you were going to ask me about it,” she said with a relaxed tone, pretending to read the notes in that account book.

“No, I…” I stammered, embarrassed to know that it was really what I wanted to know, what had caught my attention.

“Don’t worry, my lady, nothing is wrong. I’m not ashamed of it,” she said with a sincere look, one that made me see that her left eye had a slightly whiter tone, as if it had no life.

That was how I was like when I was a child, when everyone laughed at me.

“What…? What happened to you?” I asked in a cautious, strangely curious tone.

“When I was 10 I made the stupid mistake of going into the forest at dusk, you know, I wanted to be the bravest girl and blah blah blah…” (Y/N) commented casually, gesturing with her hands. I nodded for her to continue. “How was I supposed to know that there were lycans in the woods? It seems unlikely in a place like this, right? Um, sorry, it was, it was a joke.”

“Uh-huh,” I whispered, frowning. “A joke?”

“Yeah, well… I've learned that, in order to be happy, you must learn to laugh at yourself,” (Y/N) explained, with a smile adorning her beauty again.

“Do you find that some lycans hurt you funny? You could have died,” I said annoyed by that attitude. No, that wasn't funny, it couldn't be.

“I know, but… Here I’m,” she said sighing, spreading her arms in a playful way. “I lost the vision of my left eye, but… I'm still alive, and that's the important thing.”

“You seem like a very optimistic girl,” I commented, with an amused laugh, inadvertently getting a little closer to her.

“Mm, well, it can't be any other way,” the girl said in a relaxed tone, tilting her head.

“It must have… It must have been… difficult for you, you know…” I said stuttering, raising my hand to discreetly point out the deformity of her face. “Children can be very cruel.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a wider smile, shaking her head. “There hasn't been anyone brave enough to mess with me.”

I laughed again, incredulous at that attitude, one so different from mine. So similar and so different at the same time… Like the two sides of the same coin.

“Why you say so?” I asked curiously, with Angie starting to get impatient, tugging at my dress probably wanting to go back home.

“Because if they did… Well, they were very likely to go home with a black eye,” she whispered in a lower voice, as if she wanted to tell me a secret. “You know what they say: an eye for an eye, right?”

She was a mysterious girl, one who, with every thing she said, brought a soft laugh to my lips. It had been a long time since I laughed so many times, that the smile refused to leave my face.

“Um, I…” I murmured after a moment of awkward silence, holding Angie's hands, which pulled at my dress harder and harder. “I'll leave you alone, I've already stolen too much of your time.”

“You can steal all the time you want, my lady, as you see, there's no one around here,” the merchant said amused, looking around.

“Um, yes, well, I… I'm, I'm leaving, th-thanks,” I stammered, closing my eye because of my pathetic stammering, ready this time to really leave, to control my desire to stay and chat with that girl.

“Wait,” she said, leaving me pinned to the ground, walking out the counter. “Wait, I…”

“Mm?”

“Um, hey, you're not as scary as they say,” (Y/N) said nervously, biting her lip to contain her words, words that, apparently, came out of her mouth on their own. “I mean, I, I liked meeting you, Lady Beneviento.”

“Oh, I…” I stammered, struggling between joy and anger. I couldn't blame her for fearing me, everyone did and everyone would, forever. “Me… Me too, (Y/N)…”

It could have been just another day, but it wasn't. Meeting (Y/N) made me start to smile. It didn't matter what I was doing: cooking, reading, working with my dolls... The beauty of her face was always present in my thoughts.

Chance is a capricious God, one that made me suddenly find myself with my distorted reflection. Yes, a scar identical to the one I had as a child, a face deformed by misfortune, just like me.

But, even though we had that in common, we were very different. (Y/N) was cheerful, outgoing and didn't let anyone make fun of her. I was the opposite, like an evil double, like the negative of a photograph. It might seem silly, but, as the days went by, that urge to want to go back to the warehouse became more and more intense.

Sewing in my workshop, as always, I searched in my head for a logical explanation for my sudden interest in that young woman, like every time I did, without finding an answer.

“Angie,” I said, frowning, looking at the old sewing machine. The doll, having fun with her new wool balls, walked towards me comically getting tangled in the yellow thread.

“I hope it's not something to do with the girl from the warehouse,” the puppet hissed. Poor thing, she was sick of hearing me talk about her.

“No, no,” I said with a look that gave away my lie. “Look,” I helped the doll to get on my lap while pointing at the old machine.

“What's wrong?” she asked, looking at the machine and then at me, confused.

“Don't you see it?” I asked with a frown, picking up a piece of freshly sewn fabric. “Look at these seams, they're not right.”

“They’re just like always,” the doll commented, playing with the piece of fabric in her hands.

“No, no, not at all,” I said, shaking my head again, blinking, giving away my lie. “There's something wrong with the machine.”

“Do you know what's wrong? Your brain,” the doll mocked, causing me to grunt. “There's nothing wrong with the machine, Donna.”

“I'm telling you, it's broken,” I insisted, pretending to look for the fault that old machine didn't have. “I think there's something stuck… I should take it to (Y/N). Maybe she can take a look at it.”

“Oh, of course, of course…” the doll sighed, moving her arms in an exaggerated way. “You just want to see her again.”

“No, I… Non è vero…” I muttered, stumbling over my words. “It's, it's the machine…”

“There's nothing wrong with the machine, silly Donna, stop making stupid excuses. If you want to see (Y/N), why don't you just go?” Angie said, putting a wooden finger on my nose, which I wrinkled in displeasure, determined to deny the evidence.

“It’s not about that, Angie,” I protested, pounding my fists on the table but relaxing instantly. “I want her to take a look at it.”

“A look?” the doll scolded me. “Oh, yes, what a great idea… What are you going to tell her when she realizes that the machine is perfectly fine?”

I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t. I huffed angrily, gritting my teeth. Angie was right. My legs trembled nervously as my gaze wandered to the old machine. I didn’t even think about it.

With a quick gesture, I pushed the sewing machine to the floor, crashing against it with a dull sound, indicating that something had broken. It was a pathetic, almost desperate plan. I still didn’t know what I was doing, why I was doing it, or rather, I didn’t want to know.

“Silly Donna! Nonna’s machine!” Angie shrieked, getting down to the floor to check the condition of the machine. I remained serious, but I adopted a haughty pose.

“What do you say now? Diamo un’occhiata?” I asked mockingly, bending down to pick up the broken machine from the floor, ignoring the insults and protests of the doll.

It was too easy for me to put the veil back on and leave my house. I had a fixed destination. I had her beauty waiting for me. I think I was starting to get too nervous. Breaking my grandmother’s machine so I could see that girl… It sounded crazy, but I didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, my lady, what a surprise,” (Y/N) said, coming down a ladder, with a, as always, beautiful smile. “The Duke has already returned from his trip, he should have brought you the fabrics.”

“Yes, I…” I murmured nervously, holding the box under Angie’s fierce gaze. “I wanted, I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” the girl asked, approaching curiously, brushing the dust off her dress.

I could only nod, leaving the box on the counter.

“I thought you could help me with this,” I muttered, with a broken voice, much more nervous than in our first meeting.

“Wow…” the young woman commented, taking the broken machine out of the box, observing every detail. “A Singer 66k, from 1917… What happened to it? It's in pieces…”

“Angie threw it,” I lied cowardly, earning a furious gasp from the doll.

“What are you talking about?!” the doll shrieked unpleasantly. “Liar, Donna liar, Donna…!”

I silenced the puppet with a subtle movement of my hands, making it stop screaming and move away, unable to stop it from glaring at me as it did so.

“Oh, that was a nasty fall…” (Y/N) joked, studying the machine. “It's a shame, it's a beauty.”

“C-Can you fix it?” I asked timidly, starting to regret what I had done. Her smile showed me that I shouldn't do it.

“Mm, I think so,” she said nodding, moving the machine to a small table with tools. I followed closely, watching her curiously. “Let's see…”

“I can, I can leave you alone if you are more comfortable,” I murmured when she started working, checking the pieces with a frown. She stopped and looked at me, shaking her head, with that wonderful smile…

“Oh, no, well… It's good to have some company, besides, that way I can prove that I'm not scamming you,” the assistant said amused, carefully unscrewing the machine.

“I trust you,” I said without thinking, playing with my hands again, trying not to look at her face, not to notice that scar that told me we had something in common, even if she couldn't know it.

“You must be the only one,” she commented sighing, searching for something in a box of spare parts. I tilted my head curiously. “Normally the people of this village are quite distrustful… I can't blame them, my boss is not exactly a… reliable man…” she said smiling, making the gesture of quotation marks with her fingers.

“You are not like him,” I said, stating a truth of which I was completely sure.

“Mm no, I hope so,” the girl joked amused, struggling with the machine. “Okay…”

Silence reigned again in the warehouse. She worked on the machine with surprising skill while I watched her, memorizing each of her movements. If she had noticed how I looked at her… Well, she would surely be terribly uncomfortable.

“So… Do you use this machine to you make clothes for your dolls?” (Y/N) asked, taking me out of my thoughts. “Y-you made dolls, right?”

“Cosa?” I said distractedly, thinking about her past, about how she had to live through that attack, about her courage when facing mockery and offensive comments, how did she do it? “Oh, I… Yes, yes of course…”

She smiled, nodding, without stopping working.

“You know? You can tell the quality of a handmade product…” she commented distractedly. “I mean, there are modern machines now but… If you ask me, I prefer the old ones, like this beauty”

“Y-Yes, I… I think the same,” I said with a smile that she couldn't see, luckily.

“I think… I think it's done,” she said, moving the crank to check that it worked correctly. “Just like new.”

I didn't expect it to end so quickly. I got nervous, like every time something didn't turn out the way I had thought.

“You are… You are skilled,” I flattered her, taking the machine and checking that, indeed, it was already fixed.

She shrugged, with an amused smile.

“There had to be something good about me, right?” she joked, getting up from the table and passing by me, allowing me to look even more at her beauty.

“Uh… Tell me how much I owe you,” I said, putting the machine back in the box, searching in my head for an absurd excuse to stay a little longer, just a little longer…

“Oh, nothing,” she said, looking at me amused, shaking her head. “It’s not necessary.”

“W-Wait, I have, I have to pay you,” I said, with my hands starting to sweat again. You relaxed your expression, sighing and shaking your head again.

“No, that it’s not necessary,” the girl said with a confused smile, surely due to the trembling of my body. “I’m happy to help you, my lady.”

“No, don't be condescending to me for who I am, I beg you to let me pay you,” I insisted with a darker, almost angry voice. Her smile was worth more than all the gold in the world...

“I'm not condescending, I'm just doing you a favor, I like you,” she murmured, frowning, as if she was trying to meet my gaze.

I pointed at myself in surprise. The words refused to come out of my mouth.

“Do you... do you like me?” I asked stammering, puzzled by that phrase, one that couldn't be true.

“Yes, you're kind,” she said, looking away. “It's not something that's especially common in this place.”

“Oh, well, I... I...” I said nervously, having the imperative need to run out of there to hide my embarrassment, the invisible blush on my cheeks. “Grazie, (Y/N)…”

“Prego,” (Y/N) said, with a wider smile, as if she knew the reaction that hearing her speak that way would provoke in my body, paralyzing it completely.

“D-Do you know Italian?” I asked curiously, with my voice shaking at the same time as my body. She laughed amused, with a clueless expression.

“Nope,” she whispered in an ironic tone. “I know the basics.”

“Oh, of course…” I said, even more nervous, looking for Angie with my gaze. “I… I'm, I'm leaving now and… Well, we'll see each other, and…”

“Whenever you want,” (Y/N) said, sitting on the counter casually, swinging her legs and picking up what looked like a cup of coffee. “Um, my lady,” she said suddenly, when I had already turned around. My blood froze again. “I hope your doll doesn't break any more things.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, rummaging through the counter. “Shut up, you idiot!”

“Angie…” I sighed, gesturing with my head so the puppet would stop stirring everything up.

“She seems to be funny,” (Y/N) commented, looking curiously at Angie.

“Yes… W-Well… She's… I don't know how to describe her…” I said, more and more nervous. “I guess she's one of a kind.”

“I see, she's like you then,” the girl said in a low tone, one that betrayed nervousness. The doll was making her nervous.

“Angie, basta,” I growled at the puppet, who was staring indiscreetly at the cup of coffee.

“Do you like coffee?” the saleswoman asked in a kind tone, looking at Angie, letting me see her beautiful, damaged face. It was so similar to mine…

“I don't know,” Angie said, in a petulant tone. “What I know is that calling this thing coffee is blasphemy, how disgusting.”

“Angie…” I protested, losing my nerves, kicking the floor pathetically.

“Hey, it's not that bad, is it?” (Y/N) asked, bringing the cup to her lips and making a face of disgust. “Well, maybe it is.”

“Don't mind her, (Y/N)…” I sighed, noticing how the sweat ran down my forehead, how my nerves kept increasing. “Angie, dai!”

“Don't be mad at her, my lady, she's right,” (Y/N) said, pouring another coffee into a different cup. “Maybe you can give me your opinion… You, you Italians are good with coffee, aren't you?”

“Me?” I asked, leaving the box on the counter, timidly reaching out my hand for the cup she offered me. “W-Well, I wouldn't know how to answer that… Actually my, my family was Italian, I… I was born here.”

“Well, but I'm sure you have better taste than me,” the girl commented, leaning on the table, frowning suddenly. “Oh, it's not mandatory, I'm sure you have a lot of things to do instead of wasting time with me.”

“Not really,” I whispered, breathing heavily at her apparent nervousness. Not wanting to think, not wanting to feel the things I felt when looking at her, I brought that steaming coffee to my lips, moving my veil aside.

(Y/N) looked away, not wanting to be indiscreet, respecting my decision, but fighting with herself to do so. I could see her confused face, her desire to look at me.

The bitter taste filled my throat. It was really horrible, I hate having to agree with Angie.

“How is it?” the young woman asked, with a fearful look. I shook my head, pushing the disgusting coffee away from my sight and smell.

“È orribile…” I murmured, trying to sound amused. I never knew how to do it.

“I thought so…” the girl sighed, making a face of disgust at that cup. “No matter how hard I try, I can't handle that thing,” she said amused, pointing to an old coffee maker.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?” I asked without thinking, I asked without wanting to, without being able to help it. She looked at me curiously, then at the coffee maker, and finally at me again, nodding with a shy smile.

“Well, it's not necessary,” she murmured, scratching the back of her neck, downplaying it.

“Please, consider it… A favor,” I said, mysteriously sure of myself. “Because, because of the machine.”

“Mm, well, okay,” she said quickly, gesturing for me to follow her.

As calmly as I could, I taught the young woman how to make a real coffee and how to handle that coffee maker properly. She listened to me attentively, looking at me from time to time and writing down my advice in a notebook.

She was so close to me, her bright eyes were so close to mine… I don't know at what moment I was stuck in her gaze, in her almost perfect face, no, no, in her perfect face.

“It smells so good…” she commented, inhaling the intense aroma of coffee, closing her eyes, granting me the blessing of contemplating her relaxed face, her tender gaze. “I was definitely doing everything wrong.”

I laughed shyly, pouring some coffee into a cup, offering it to her kindly, praying that she wouldn't notice my shaking hands.

“Try not to fill it with too much water,” I said with a serious tone, pretending disinterest while she tasted my creation, with a look of satisfaction. “Always pay attention to the valve.”

“Yes, this is wonderful…” (Y/N) sighed. “Oh, sure, um… Let me pour you one cup.”

“I… Okay…” I stammered, accepting the offer to sit next to her in a couple of chairs.

Without having thought about it, we were together, enjoying a quiet coffee.

I couldn't remember when I felt so calm, so relaxed and at the same time, so nervous, with my heart beating too fast. I guess it was the coffee…

“And then I told him: I don't need to see with both eyes to notice that you're a complete idiot,” (Y/N) said, chatting with me in a friendly way, as if she had known me all my life. I wish it were like that.

“Did you tell him that?” I asked amused, unable to stop smiling. She nodded with a serious look.

“He wanted to go on a date with me to give me a chance, can you believe it? A chance, as if I couldn't choose...” she asked ironically, shaking her head.

I didn't answer, I just listened attentively. Her anecdotes were funny, but hearing them through her lips... That was out of this world.

“Bah, I don't need a stupid boy to tell me nice things... I know he would only do it out of pity,” she said with a slightly sadder tone.

“Mm,” I murmured, playing with my hands in my lap.

“Every morning I look at myself in the mirror and think: what would my life be like if I didn't have this thing on my face?” she commented distractedly again, stirring her coffee with her spoon erratically. “I always come to the same conclusion: Here I am, this is me, and if you don't like it, fuck you... Oh, I mean, sorry... Go to hell?”

I laughed again, a bit sadly. I saw so many things about myself in her, things she didn't consider a problem. She was brave, I was a coward.

“I wish I could think the same way,” I murmured with a broken voice, attracting her attention, drawing a confused look towards me.

“Why do you say so?” she asked in a different tone, with a more discreet smile, with the glint of caution in her eyes.

I suppressed a sob. (Y/N)'s attitude was admirable, enviable. I was never able to accept reality, to look at myself in the mirror in the same way. I was a monster, and she wasn't.

“Forget it, it's nonsense,” I sighed, getting up, wanting to go home, wanting to cry for being unable to recognize the meaning of my heartbeat, wanting to scream, to curse the Black Gods for being unfair to me.

“Oh, have I, have I said something wrong, my lady?” (Y/N) asked, suddenly standing up, putting a hand on my wrist, making my whole body shudder.

“No,” I said in a cold tone, moving away from her grip, perhaps too abruptly. “Dai, Angie,” I whispered to my doll, who was playing with the junk in that warehouse.

“W-Wait, I'm, I'm sorry,” the girl said, stopping me from continuing, standing in front of me with a pleading look.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, with an involuntary resentment in my voice.

“Well, I, I didn't want to offend you… If I’ve said something I shouldn't have… Oh, of course, it's because of the: fuck you… I don't usually swear, really… Not always…” the young woman stammered nervously, with her gaze traveling everywhere, unable to focus on mine.

“You haven't offended me,” I said, trying to sound softer so my demons wouldn't overwhelm me again, not at that moment, not with her. “I have to go.”

“Sure, I…” she stammered, helping me to pick up the box again, with a fake smile. “Um, if you're not mad at me… Maybe you'd like to come tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, surprised by that offer.

“Yes, you know, I, I'd like you to check if I've learned anything about coffee,” she said nervously, with a strange blush on her cheeks.

“Do you want me to come here tomorrow?” I asked again, unable to believe her words.

“Yes, well… Yes, if you want,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.

“Mm, maybe I will,” I murmured, smiling, taking advantage of the fact she couldn't see me, my smile was hidden from her, as my monstrous face was.

That was the beginning, just the beginning of my constant visits to that old warehouse.

Funny conversations, exploits and experiences of (Y/N)… Any reason was good to hear her voice, to look at her beauty under the aroma of coffee. I could no longer deny myself my feelings. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, every minute, every second.

“Donna and (Y/N) under a tree …” Angie sang, jumping around while I, like every day, walked towards the village. I growled angrily at the doll, wishing she would shut up.

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t, don't talk that loud…”

“Oh, come on, there's no one here,” the puppet protested. “Besides, you're offended because you would like to be with (Y/N) under a tree.”

“Yes, it's true,” I said with a murmur, taking the doll in my arms so she wouldn't entertain me any longer. “(Y/N) is wonderful, don't you think?”

“(Y/N) is wonderful, beautiful, good, kind, fantastic, the best… Yes, yes, you've been repeating it constantly for weeks,” the doll mocked.

I smiled embarrassed.

“I've never felt this way about anyone,” I sighed, walking slower. “Angie, I'm… I'm in love with (Y/N)…”

“I know!” she complained, crossing her arms. “You're so annoying, Donna…”

“I'm not annoying, I'm talking about my feelings,” I said with a frown. “Hey, do you think, do you think she…?”

“Oh, no, no… Don't try to make me believe that I'm a fortune teller or something, I've already told you that I don't know if she feels the same. I can't read minds,” Angie said, shaking her head.

“But you're always with us,” I said, stopping before crossing the door. “Maybe, maybe you saw something that…”

“Oh, yeah… She doesn't take her eye off you,” the doll mocked with an evil laugh. “You get it? her eye.”

“Cazzo… I'm serious,” I said with a stern tone, starting to breathe hard.

“Me too,” Angie said, defensively.

I sighed, frustrated for not knowing, for not being able to read her thoughts, to decipher her smiles, to know if in any of them, she expressed something else than friendship…

“Oh, but that's not what I'm looking for,” the voice of an unknown woman made me stop in front of the warehouse door. (Y/N) was not alone.

“Who is that witch?” Angie asked, peeking through the door. I covered her mouth, hiding behind a wall.

“Mrs. Gravic…” (Y/N) sighed with a tired voice. “If you would be so kind as to tell me what you are looking for…”

“How rude, girl,” the woman protested, with a tone that made me burn with rage. “I don't know why the Duke hired you…”

“Donna… What do you think?” Angie whispered, rubbing her hands in a playful manner. I nodded, concentrating and gently reaching out my hand towards that unpleasant woman.

“Let's see… What do you say about this?” (Y/N) said, leaving something on the counter, something I couldn't see.

“Mm… Well, it could be that… Oh, Black Gods… Grandpa Igor…” the woman sighed and I smiled in satisfaction.

“Excuse me?” the girl asked, confused.

“Oh, I didn't mean to steal Grandma's jewels, don't chase me, leave me alone… No!” the woman screamed, running out of the warehouse in horror.

I nodded to the doll, high-fiving her. Mission accomplished.

“Hey, Mrs. Gravic?” (Y/N) said, looking at her confused, smiling when she saw me walk through the door. “Oh, Donna.”

“Ciao, (Y/N),” I said with the tone I always used for her, a calm one, increasingly sweeter, increasingly obvious.

“You came early today,” she commented, closing the door, like every time we were together, as if she wanted to save that moment just for the two of us. I shouldn't mistake that kindness, but at the same time, I couldn't help but do so.

“Well…” I said disinterestedly, leaving Angie on the floor, sitting on my usual chair. “I hadn’t anything better to do… I mean… Ugh…”

She laughed amused, shyly looking away, pouring the usual coffee.

It seemed like any other conversation. My words lost their fear. They became bold, even funny. All conversations developed the same way, all except that one.

“Um, forgive me for asking you but…” (Y/N) murmured, with a serious, different tone, with a look far from usual. “You probably think I'm stupid or… Well, that I'm butting in where I shouldn't but… I'm, I'm curious.”

“What are you curious about?” I asked, confused by her different attitude, by the fear I began to see in her hands.

“That,” she said with a sigh pointing at my covered face, one to which I brought my hand, with my breath frozen, lacking air.

 No, not that, my love…

“Um… What?” I asked nervously, diverting the conversation, saying with my gestures that this was the wrong path, that it would only bring her problems.

 “Well, you know, your veil… Why…? Why are you wearing it?” she asked again, her voice increasingly blurred by nervousness.

“Hey! Don't dare to say that to my Donna!” Angie shouted, staring at her, as if she was trying to do me a favor by deciphering her expressions.

“I…” I muttered. My hand was shaking so much that I dropped the coffee cup, breaking it into a thousand pieces on the floor. “Oh, porca miseria!”

“No, it's okay!” she exclaimed, putting her hands in front of her body. “It, it was my fault, I shouldn't have asked that… I, I… I'm, I'm sorry, shit, oh, no, no, I mean, dammit! I'll go to get a broom.”

I stood up, looking at the mess beneath me, nervous, seeking Angie's comfort, one that always brought me back to my senses. I couldn't find her, but I made a decision, the last decision, one last act of stupid bravery.

“Wait,” I said in a whisper, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist as she swept the floor. “Wait, (Y/N)...”

She looked at me scared, guided by the movement of my hand, which forced her to keep her eyes on mine. Slowly, letting her go, I brought my hand to the black fabric, removing it from my face, revealing my deformed face to her.

Neither of us said anything. (Y/N) blinked in confusion, staring at me, getting a little closer, squinting, mouth agape. I looked away, suppressing my desire to put the veil back on, to run away and never come back.

“Wow...” she sighed, reaching out her hand to my face. I breathed nervously, holding her wrist tightly so it wouldn't reach its destination. I was about to lose my mind, in front of the love of my life… “Donna, wait, let me do it, please.”

I closed my already wet eye, holding back my tears, letting the softness of her hand caress my horrible scar, touch my hair with a rapt look.

“It's, it's incredible...” she murmured again, without stopping caressing me while I, nervous, unable to move, let that tear run down my cheek.

(Y/N) took her hand away, bringing it to her own scar, shaking her head. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move.

“Donna, you are, you are... You are such a beautiful woman...” she said, smiling in a nervous but sincere way, illuminating me with the light of her beauty, returning her hand to my deformity, as if she herself were as nervous as I was.

“What are you talking about?” I said with great effort, almost furious, clenching my teeth. “N-N-non mi mentire…”

“I'm not lying…” she sighed, touching her own scar again, with a look of astonishment. “Wow, it's… Incredible… We have almost the same scar… Wow… Forgive me, it's just… What a coincidence, isn't it?”

“No, you're beautiful and I'm horrible,” I said sobbing, not believing her words, not even for a second.

“Oh, you must be joking,” (Y/N) said in a calmer tone, almost amused. “You have… You have a beautiful face… And well, what about that eye? It's, it's the most beautiful eye I've ever seen in my entire life.”

“What? Have you gone crazy?” I asked nervously, letting the veil fall to the floor. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Do you really think I'm laughing at you? Really?” she joked, pointing out her defect with a smug pose. I shook my head, trying to control my thoughts. “No, Donna, I'm telling you, I'm telling you the truth… Wait, what did you say?”

“Mm?” I muttered confused, running my hand through my hair, feeling unable to handle the situation any longer.

“That, that thing you said before…” she said, gesturing with her hand, accidentally stepping on the remains of that cup. “You know, that I'm…”

“You're beautiful,” I said with my head down, clenching my fists tightly.

“Mm, and how do I know you're not lying to me? You're my friend, there's no need to be accommodating,” she joked with an amused face, completely ignoring my subtle statement.

“Friend? Are you stupid?” Angie asked. “Donna, please… Tell her now.”

“Tell me what?” (Y/N) asked, curious. I cursed my doll. I was becoming more and more nervous.

“I don't know what she's talking about,” I stammered, having to stop my legs from running away right then and there.

“Hey, you can tell me anything, Donna…” the girl said, whispering in a tender voice, lowering her hands to mine, caressing them in a way that I thought was friendly, that I didn't think was romantic. “Really…”

“No, I…” I said, blinking nervously.

“Is there something worrying you?” she asked again, getting closer to me. “Come on, you can trust me.”

“(Y/N), I…” I stammered again, becoming almost hysterical as I looked at her peaceful gaze.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it was so difficult for her to understand my feelings. I had taken a definitive step, I couldn't go back. I couldn't turn back now that I had come that far.

“Cazzo! I, I like you, (Y/N)!” I squealed disproportionately, making her widen her eyes and frown.

“Oh, is that it?” she said, still smiling, not getting the not-so-indirect hint. “Oh, Donna, I like you too.”

“Angie’s right,” I hissed angrily, shaking my head. “Are you stupid? I’m telling that I like you, damn it!”

Her face immediately changed to a confused look. I growled again, kicking the chair roughly.

“What do you mean?” she asked again. I froze, turning to her slowly and dangerously. A thunderous laugh filled the warehouse. Angie seemed to be enjoying that.

“Porca puttana!” I squealed again, kicking the floor in rage. “I love you, (Y/N)! I’m fucking in love with you! I can't stop thinking about you day and night, counting the hours until I can see you again! I love you, ti amo! You're the woman of my life!” I squealed abruptly, making her blink comically.

“Oh…” she sighed, with an amused look.

“Is it clear now? Or do you need me to write it down for you?” I said, losing control of my emotions.

(Y/N) shook her head, but didn't say anything, so I growled furiously again, grabbing the notebook from the counter.

“I…Love…You. That's it, you still don't understand?” I said furiously, tearing off the paper and angrily putting it on her chest. “Taci, Angie or I'll deactivate you!”

“Hey… Come on… calm down…”(Y/N) said, putting a hand on my trembling shoulder, turning me around slowly. “Calm down…”

Her soft voice relaxed me, but the tears were already traveling freely down my horrible face.

“Shh…” you whispered in a tender voice, taking my hands again while I, desperate, shook my head.

“I-I'm in love with you, (Y/N)… Ti amo…” I whispered more timidly, coming back to my senses little by little, dying of embarrassment for my nervous outburst.

“Yes, I've already realized,” she said amused, bringing one of her hands to my intact cheek, wiping away one of my tears. “Donna… Listen to me… I… I feel the same way about you…”

“What?” I asked nervously, startling myself.

“The truth is that I didn't expect to fall in love with a Lord but… Well, I guess life has brought us together for a reason, don't you think? And I'm not just saying that just because... Well, you know," she said in a pleasant voice, pointing at her scar.

“You... You have feelings for me...” I said, not knowing if it was a question or a statement.

(Y/N), still caressing me, nodded.

“Please! I'm going to get diabetes!” Angie shrieked, breaking the magic of the moment. “Yuck...”

“Angie...” I lamented, just when I was starting to enjoy that moment.

“It doesn't matter, Donna...” she said, amused, still looking at me, still piercing my heart with her gaze. “You can tell she’s happy...”

“Well...” I said, laughing nervously.

“Hey... I thought about closing the store for today,” (Y/N) said, moving away. “Maybe you'd like to do something together...”

“Vu-Vuoli... Vuoli...fare qualcosa... in-insieme?” I stammered awkwardly, not keeping control of my own language.

“If you told me what I think… Yes,” she joked playfully. “Let’s do something together…”

“Oh, okay, I… Io… We can, go… You can… You can… You can come to my house if you want… I, you… you liked sewing, right?” I said nervously.

She nodded with a funny look.

“I can, I can show you my workshop, and… I can, I can… We can sew together… se… se hai voglia… E… And, I can, I can show you my bam… My dolls, and… I can, I can make one like you if you want, and we can, we can…”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting my pathetic attempt at conversation, relaxing my nerves with a soft caress, one to which I also joined my hand. “I would love to go to your house…”

“Really?” I asked, nodding, with a sincere smile, far from my usual nervous look. “Would you like to?”

“Yes…” she sighed, getting dangerously close to me. “But first, I'd like to do something…”

“Oh, okay, wh…?” I said nervously, interrupted by her lips, which kissed mine, caressed them in a tender way, in a way I never expected to feel. I don't know what her first kiss had been, but mine… I would never forget mine.

“Much better, don't you think?” she sighed still on my lips, letting the rhythm increase on its own, so I could kiss her without fear.

“Ugh, they’re kissing!” Angie protested.

We both smiled, resting our foreheads on each other.

“Come on, honey… I'm looking forward to see your dolls…”