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oceantornadoo · 2 months ago

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idiots doctors in love

dr. michael robinavitch x resident f!reader

smut. oblivious reader. down bad robby. jazz obssessions.

based on the vibe of the music robby was listening to in ep1 and 15, i headcanon he's a jazz man. SORRY NOT SORRY.

"what do you mean you can't go?"

you frown at dr. mohan, your pain-in-the-ass best R3 friend who's currently breaking your heart. "you're telling me you'd rather stay here than go out?" you gesture to the ER, workers fluttering around as day shift turns to night. out of the corner of your eye you catch a head of almost-silver hair and smirk. "so that's why you want to stay?" she finds the man in your line of sight and immediately shakes her head. samira unclips her clip, shakes her head, and reclips it -- something she never does in the ER. it's a sure sign of her crush on dr. abbot, even if she won't admit it.

"it's not even a crazy club, samira." you hook your arm through hers and drag her away from the board that she was scanning with a single-minded ferocity. "it's r&b night at this new jazz club. we can sit and still have fun! you don't even need to wear heels." she's already dragging you back to the board and shaking her head. "i came in late today. i need to finish my 12 hours." by late, she means the two hours she spent throwing up from food poisoning. even robby told her she could go home and here she is, staying. "fine. but you better text me, i expect you to leave here by 9pm sharp. no more than what you were supposed to work." you squeeze her arm and only let go when she smiles at you. what a liar. you know she'll work way into the night. "sure thing, mom. i'll text you what i eat and when i go to bed, too." she shoots back, smiling. you nudge her side before locating your water bottle and gathering yourself, mentally, to leave the chart board. "i expect nothing less. see you sunday!"

when you turn, your water bottle smacks into your attending.

"shit, i'm sorry." you look up and there he is, crow's feet crinkling as he smiles. rounded black eyeglasses compliment the black ipad he holds, likely updating someone's chart before you whacked his hand with your sturdy bottle. "what's that thing made of?" he lowers his head like he's examining the pink steel of your bottle, and it's hard not to feel giddy under his full attention. stupid, stupid crush.

"confidential weapon materials. it's indestructible." you grin as he shakes his head, clearly done with your antics. "get out of here, doctor. there's only room for so many dad jokes." you roll your eyes, untwisting the cap of your water bottle and drinking just so you can have a few more seconds with him before you really have to go. today was one of those days where you still feel human when you leave work -- no soul-crushing experiences. you're sure one will come on your sunday shift, but the rest of friday night and all of saturday scream freedom to you. a drop of water escapes your mouth and trails down from the corner of your lips to your chin. a lapse in control, something you usually have in spades, but never around robby. how embarrassing, not being able to drink water with more etiquette than a child-

a warm finger brushes the skin of your chin, wiping away the droplet.

you lock eyes. his are brown and a little out of it, his nose flaring and immediately condensing when he retracts his hand. he tucks it in his cargo pants and it's like you've imagined the whole thing.

must be ER-induced delirium.

"any weekend plans, robby?" absolute insane, to ask that question after you just displayed your lack-of-drinking skills. fortunately, all robby does is shake his head. his veiny hand swipes his glasses off his face and tucks them in the front chest pocket of his scrubs. unfortunately, the fluidity of it does a lot for you. must be the competency? "don't call me old, but the record store i like is having a sale on all their duke ellington records tomorrow. might stop by, pretend i have a life." he laughs in that self-deprecating way of his, like he's embarrassed to admit he's human and not just an attending.

your heart melts.

"i love jazz." you murmur, a little self-consciously, as you set your eyes on his stethoscope instead of his face. "i know." you pick your head up immediately, brows furrowed. when did you tell him that? "i mean, i heard you talking to dr. mohan." he clarifies. you nod, a kernel of hope growing when you realize he was eavesdropping. maybe this obsession is more than one-sided. maybe.

"you goin' to that thing you mentioned?" he asks, rolling his shoulders and looking away before looking back at you. "maybe. samira, i mean, dr. mohan can't go, so i might see if my roommate wants to go. she's really into rock though, like die-hard metal fan, so i'm not too sure if she'll want to..." you trail off, a bit saddened. you do want to go, and if it was daytime you would, it's just being alone at night in the city can still be scary. especially after a long shift, even if you're sober. your senses are dulled, worn out from all-day usage. the idea of a long bath and playing a favorite playlist sounds equally appealing and way less work.

"i'm free."

you gape at him, then quickly recover before he can notice how wide open your mouth is. "really?" he looks shocked at himself for even offering, so all he does at first is nod. robby looks off-kilter, far from the confident attending you've spent your last two years with. "you don't have anyone- i mean, any plans tonight? i don't want to take up too much of your time, it starts at 8:30 and it'll probably be at least an hour, maybe two." he barks out a laugh, swiping a hand down his face before answering. "no one's waiting on me. plus, i'm not that old, doctor. my bedtime is 12 anyway." he winks, recovered from whatever shock he was experiencing. you laugh, covering it with your hand before it becomes a full-force giggle. he's not even that funny, but he's just so endearing with those soulful brown eyes and terrible humor and warmth. on hour 12 of your shift, you simply can't take it.

"let me talk to dr. abbot and then i can walk out with you. it's kind of a speakesy so there's this password and this back door and," you realize you're waving your hands around, priming him for another water bottle attack, and quickly fix them to your sides, "and, i'll be right back. don't take another case or i'll go without you." his eyebrows crinkle a little at your mention of dr. abbot but you write it off as tiredness. he nods his affirmation and you bolt through the ER, desperate to finally get out of here.

"dr. abbot!" thankfully he's charting and not gut-deep in a poor patient. he looks up and nods you over, clearly expecting an interesting case. "i need you to do me a favor. dr. mohan is abandoning our jazz club plans to work her full shift and i need you to promise me she leaves here by 9pm. she already had food poisoning this morning, she does not need to work longer than necessary." he's smiling by the end of your demand, clearly amused than angry you're making demands. "you'll make a perfect chief resident, doctor. she won't be here past 9 or i'll walk her out myself." that's what you're hoping for, but you don't mention that. "sorry about your plans." he adds. you shrug, rocking back on your feet as you try not to give away your excitement. "it's okay. robby's coming, of all people."

an odd thing happens to the attending you thought was unflappable. he looks past your shoulder, clearly searching for robby, before quickly pulling back to look you up and down. his mouth opens slightly, then closes shut immediately. "fucking finally." he mutters under his breath, underestimating how good your hearing is. "sorry?" you ask, a little off guard. he shakes his head, resetting. "nothing. have a good night, doctor. have fun." when has he ever told you to have fun? you nod, extremely confused with whatever oddness has affected the Pitt attendings. you wish him a goodnight and beeline back to Robby, who's trying not to involve himself in two GSW's that just burst through the doors.

it's intimate, walking out with him. he holds the door for you but with his hand up high, making you almost duck under it to exit. you talk all the way to the parking lot, only realizing he doesn't even drive when you arrive at your car. you explain how to get into the club, the password being "April 29th" for the NYC Duke Ellington Day in 2009. he takes all of it in stride, nodding precisely at the right points like he's actually listening. "you need a ride home?" you offer, hoping he says no. this past hour has been too much of a whirlwind and you need a moment to contemplate, but the people pleaser in you demands hospitality. thankfully, he shakes his head. "i like walking home. not too far and clears the head." you nod, completely understanding. usually when you drive home, you keep the windows down and the music low to decompress. unsurprisingly, it's jazz or more modern r&b that clears your head.

"i'll see you there, then. text me if something comes up or you'll be late." you tack on, trying not to seem desperate. not to seem like this is a date, of course, which it is not. he's just being friendly, eavesdropping on your personal conversations and connecting over hobbies and offering his time outside of work when he could be, for one, sleeping. "i'll see you at 8:30, doctor."

you splurge for a cab, figuring the moment allows for it. plus, your feet ache from hours on your feet and the kitten heels you're wearing don't exactly help. after paying the fee, you step out onto the sidewalk and smooth out the creases in the dress you chose. it's the original outfit you were going to wear: a little black dress that hits above the knee paired with black heels that have bows on them, a small purse around your shoulder. except, you did your makeup instead of going bare face like you originally would've. it's armor to face multiple hours with the man you've been crushing on for months. sure, you've shared beer in parks and much-needed coffee on the roof, but nothing outside of the confines of work. nothing like how he looks now, waving at you awkwardly as he walks down the street in dark pants and a button-down paired with a jacket to stave off the chill. it shocks you for a second -- the first time you've seen him out of his scrubs. he comes to stand in front of you and beams a little, his cheeks pulling up. he's more relaxed without the weight of the ER on him and you yearn to see him like this a thousand times more.

"hi."

you stare for a second before reminding yourself that you are not a teenager and can have adult conversations. except this is your boss, a fact you keep forgetting. "i honestly imagined you showing up in scrubs." you tease, gesturing at him to follow as you make your way to the entrance. he chuckles, a low tone that hits like a shower after a long shift, needed and soothing. "i like your dress, too, doctor." he replies. your skin heats at his compliment, glad you're not facing his direction. you wander through the side hallway that accompanies the front of the restaurant, pausing a little before the secret door. before you approach, you turn to him. "you don't have to call me doctor, robby." you remind him, tilting your head a little. he takes the moment to scan the length of your dress, the sheer tights that feed into your heels, before landing back on your face and saying your name. your first name.

it's the first time he's said it, you think. like a shock of epi to the veins, waking you up. his eyes darken and it must be a trick of the light, but you see his pupils expand. you grin shyly before turning and approaching the door. a gold-embossed slit in the door slides open and a pair of blue eyes blink at you. "password?" there's a sudden presence behind you as robby hovers, a touch away from your back. not the closest he's ever stood but you feel practically naked without your scrubs, like he's seeing your bare skin. "april 29th." you supply, clearing your throat as you remind yourself he's just being courteous.

the door swings open and you stifle a gasp. it's all mahagony wood and low lights, candles on every table with velvet-covered chairs and clinking bar glasses. an acoustic version of a leon bridges song plays as you make your way inside, robby only a step behind you. "isn't it pretty?" you turn your face up and there he is, staring down at you. "very pretty." he refers to the room, but his eyes stay on you, warm pools of chocolate in the lamplight. you find a table far enough away from the band where you can talk, even though your tongue is currently tied. robby murmurs something about getting drinks and you sit gladly, your feet straining from being put through even more walking. you set your purse on the table and close your eyes, letting your body finally relax as you take in the music. your head sways a little, the rhythm soothing you after another long-but-worth-it day in medicine.

"i wasn't sure what you wanted, so i got the specialty drink they were serving." he sets down what looks like a fancy dirty shirley with edible gold glitter swirling around. it catches the light and reminds you of the gold flecks in robby's eyes, illuminated by the candles. he sits down in the chair next to you, the table small enough for your knees to brush as you both face the stage. neither of you pulls away.

"they must have upcharged an extra $10 for the glitter." you take a sip and close your eyes, loving the fruitiness. a look left reveals his own drink, dark liquid in a glass tumbler. "part of the experience." he shrugs, nudging you with his knee. "plus, i know mohan wouldn't comp your drinks like i will." you giggle at that, keeping it at a low volume as the band continues. you take another sip for courage before putting the glass back down. "thank you, robby. for the drink and for coming." he takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. the table must be too small or his eyes really that bad, because he sets it so close to you that your knuckles brush. these accidental touches keep sending ill-advised sparks to your core, making you shift in your spot and press your thighs together.

when you gather the courage to look in his eyes, they seem to be on your thighs. a trick of the light, as they flick up and catch yours, no apology on his lips. "i wanted to-"

"hello everyone!" the saxophone player has the mic, greeting everyone with a bright smile. "thank you for coming to our little gathering tonight. it'll be a mix of jazz, r&b, and anything that sits right in the soul. we've got our singer coming on in about an hour but for now, enjoy the music." the bassist plucks a few strings and they start, launching into a louis armstrong song.

it's something close to peace that you feel. taking in the music silently, robby closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. you make small talk occasionally, learning more about him than you ever knew. how he used to live in chicago, how he's the older sibling of a much younger brother and sister off doing Great Things. you tell him about your favorite bagel spot that you stop by when you have the time and how sometimes, you think your roommate might hate you and not actually tolerate your late-night taco cravings. it's addicting, every smile he gives you, each one more endearing than the one before it. you like that he barely drinks, only sipping after a long conversation. you want to remember this, so you let your drink slowly lessen but don't ask for a second.

his knee stays against yours the whole time, a tender anchor to the moment.

after an hour, the singer graces the stage. her voice is raspy and low, perfect for the songs she picks. "these next few are perfect slow songs, in my opinion. and would you look at that, we've got some empty room on the dance floor." she launches into an etta james song about sundays and you can't help but gather your courage. "dance with me? if your feet aren't too tired, of course." you add, suddenly worried you overstepped. he shakes his head, stepping out of his seat and gesturing you forward. when you look back, you watch robby tuck your purse under his coat and your heart aches. just a little.

at first, you feel like a kid at her first dance. there's too much space between you, his hand so high on your back that it almost reaches your neck. it's hard to move together this far apart, so you take a deep breath and step closer. "this okay?" you whisper, face inches from his. he nods a little sharply, but steps closer until your cheek is flush to his chest. "it's perfect." you smile to yourself and lose yourself to the music.

as more people join the dance floor, robby pulls you snug to his chest. "having fun?" he asks, lips grazing your ear. his hand slides lower, still on the small of your back. it's the most you've ever touched him, felt the woodsy scent of his cologne and the hardness of his torso. "yeah." you mumble, drunk on the music and his presence. he seems to understand, tucking your head under his chin as you sway, his other hand tightening in yours as you grip his shoulder lightly. the singer croons about love and loss and you feel it, right under you.

after a few more songs, the band takes a break. when you pull back from robby, something has changed. he has to have felt this pull in your chest, the one tethered to your heart strings. "take a break with me?" you nod to the quiet hallway that leads to the bathrooms, perfect for a break from the crowd. he follows you loyally, hand hovering at your back as you walk down the hall. voices fall away until it's just you two in some alcove between the bar and the bathroom.

he puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. you take a deep breath and one step forward.

"robby."

his eyes squint when you don't follow with a question and widen when he realizes what you're asking, or not asking.

robby swipes a hand down his face before it falls to his side, tapping the top of his thigh. "we can't." he reasons. your toes touch his shoes, shiny ones you didn't even imagine him owning. "says who?" you murmur, standing your ground. both of his hands are at his sides now, flexing and unflexing. if he wasn't wearing long-sleeves, you'd be tracing the veins. "the pittsburg medical board. gloria." he answers, not doing anything to move from where you stand. this time, it's him who straightens, bringing him closer to your heaving chest.

"i'm not going to tell them." you murmur. there's an instant sense of a mistake as he leans back into the wall. "it's not like that for me. it's- i'm not a casual person." the confession is more than you were hoping for, a long-forgotten dream that lay buried in your heart. "it's not like that for me either, robby. i really liked tonight. i want to do it again."

strong, capable hands cup your face. his thumbs swipe under your eyes, probably ruining your makeup, as he tilts you into his eyesight. "you have no fucking idea how long i've waited for this." he confirms, the tips of his fingers brushing your jaw. "really?" you plead, off-kilter from his sudden admission. "since you found me on that roof, still soaked in blood from two child GSW's." a year and a half ago. your heart pounds and you smile.

"can't deny you anything when you look like that." you're not entirely sure what he means -- when you're covered in blood or when you're in this dress? doesn't matter.

"won't you kiss me, then?"

and he does.

robby kisses like a man possessed. his hands on your face stay there, keeping you open even as you gasp into his mouth. it's not sloppy but toes the line as he keeps himself restrained, only allowing his tongue to peek out when you moan in delight. robby leaves little bites and licks with every sound you make, letting you melt into his arms with your arms around his shoulders.

"i don't want our first time to be tonight. i want to do it right." he demands into the wet heat of your mouth, covering the burn of his words with a solid kiss. you agree but still hitch your leg up around his waist as far as your dress will allow. "these fucking tights." he nips your jaw and you giggle, melding yourself further into him. "c'mere."

you lead him to a one room bathroom, locking the door behind you. instead of the perfectly good countertop, he corners you against the wall, hands sliding up and under your dress. "this okay?" he asks and you whine, pushing your hips further into his grasp. your dress gathers at your waist as he finds the band of your tights digging into your skin. "you gonna let me taste?" you nod, practically begging.

he yanks down your tights and you ignore the sure sound of them ripping, glad they were a sale purchase. "i'll buy you new ones." he promises your inner thighs, kissing gently upwards. with your demolished tights, you're able to swing one leg over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto his knees. you've been wet all night from his touches and it doesn't surprise you when he has to peel your lace underwear off, slick clinging in strings as he works them to the side.

"so wet for me. i know, baby, i know." he hums as you whine impatiently, moving forward until his words land on your empty cunt. he works you like an expert, splitting your folds open as he licks a stripe up and down. almost all the way down.

robby isn't like the college boys who treated this like a task. he lavishes you with kisses, small sucks to your clit that end when you start bucking. the tip of his tongue teases your hole but doesn't go in, seemlingly leaving it for another time. his nose, that strong nose you always catch yourself admiring, presses against your clit and you jolt from the pleasure of it. you fuck yourself a bit on it, encouraged by his moan that pulses through your core. the friction switches between his nose and his tongue and you can't get enough, that tell-tale pressure building in your lower stomach.

"robby, i'm close." you admit, gasping when he sucks your clit even harder. waves build and tense in your core as you chase the feeling, moving your hips without thought. "c'mon, honey. come." he mumbles, muffled by your thighs. like you do everyday in the ER, you follow his command, moaning as you tense and flutter around him. he guides you through it with sloppy licks until you're pushing him away, overstimulation creeping over your shoulders.

his beard is sopping with your slick, something he doesn't seem to care about as he emerges after fixing your underwear. deft fingers guide your feet out and into your heels as he fully frees you of the ripped tights, little brushes to your ankle bone going straight to your heart. it's only after he throws away your tights does he stand, eyes glittering.

you look down at his cock clearly straining against his trousers. when you reach for it, his hand stops you, stroking the soft skin of your wrist. "tonight's not about me." one part of you is disappointed but the other is dreadfully tired, needing rest after all of this excitement. "thank you, robby." you say, unsure of how to feel the silence. his hands grip your waist and he kisses your forehead before he pulls back, thumb swiping over your bitten lips. "call me michael, honey. you want to stay or you done for the night?" you shake your head instantly, exhaustion deep in your bones. "take me home, michael."

when you wake in the late morning, he's still in your bed. if he hadn't been, you would have thought last night was a jazz-induced dream. instead, he's murmuring to someone on the phone sternly. your eyes trace his bare chest down to his boxers, the same chest you fell asleep against last night. you lay a hand on his chest and he covers it with his own, seemingly done with his phone call. "who was that?" you ask, too curious to hold back. "HR." he grins. "haven't even asked me out properly and you're already calling HR." you grumble, inching closer until he gathers you in his arms, kissing the top of your nose.

"will you go out with me, doctor?"

writing this was a fever dream.

if you haven't seen noah wyle dressed up, i highly encourage you to.

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #female reader #the pitt spoilers #the pitt x reader #dr robby x reader #tornadothoughts #the pitt episode 14 #the pitt finale

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nutmegtales · 11 days ago

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Fucking Clowns - Part 5 in n out

Dick was in, the moment he saw the call from Jason, he was in. Was this reckless? Sure, dangerous? Absolutely, illegal? Yeah, most things they did were. But honestly when Jason asked, when he practically begged, when he said please like that all raw and pleading. I mean really what was Dick gonna say, no? Fuck that, his baby bird needed him and he sure as shit was gonna show up.

Jason had thought Tim would be a hard sale what with the whole murder attempt and everything. He'd hesitated and worried to try and bring in anyone more than Dick, but big bird was right, they'd need all the help they could get on this. And so he'd reached out, all the bridges he couldn't repair for himself he would try to repair enough to pull this off. It had been hard to set aside all the grudges and frustration and hurt he felt towards the others, especially Tim, but after Jason had given all the facts the kid had actually taken the time to consider it. He'd done his own research, pulling up all the Arkham files, watching the footage, reading the reports, attempted to track the identity. He'd been thorough, and methodical, and then he'd surprised Jason by calling him back the next day and saying he was in.

As the plan unfolded the other bats and birds were gently brought in on the plan, excluding the Batman himself. For the most part the others were asked to play distraction to keep B and A from catching wind of what they were doing. They'd find out eventually, 'course they would, but they'd all mostly agreed Bruce did not need to be anywhere near this until the kid had been made safe, and determined to be safe for them.

Tim made his way into the systems at Arkham, following the clumsy digital steps of something he'd identified as an entity that goes by GIW. He made a note to follow up on what that might be and why they might have been clumsily trying to hack their way into Arkham. He used their presence to mask his own as he took control of the subsystem they'd need for this operation.

The lights cut out in Ward A, the generator kicking in a few seconds later but the left side wing stayed plunged in darkness as an electrical fault delayed it's return to full power.

Two figures made their way through the dark minimum security area uninterrupted. Their path plotted carefully to avoid the patients and employees on the way.

The lock takes barely a second, and there's only a moment of hesitation before the unresponsive body of the rooms resident is carefully scooped into strong arms and carried away.

It was hardly 5 minutes after the initial black out that Tim reset and checked all the Arkham systems ensuring no one else was misplaced, carefully erasing any trace he had ever been there. The only thing they left behind was a now empty bed in the cell of one Danny Smith.

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#dc x dp #dp x dc #fucking Clowns #jason todd #tim drake wayne #dick grayson #bat fam #Danny Phantom

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5starssz · 6 months ago

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All For Me

Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Your two year relationship with collegiante basketball star Paige Bueckers ends suddenly in both of your senior year. You couldn’t seem to detach yourself from her even though Paige had seemed to move on. Once you graduated and Paige was doing her 5th year, Paige finally realizes what she lost.

All For Me- Mariah The Scientist

!Warnings! Angst

Purple= Paige

Pink=You

All For Me-Part one

One Year Ago

“Why are you doing this?”, my voice was low, heavy with all the emotions I was forced to bear in that moment. No one expects the person they thought was THE ONE to break up with them on a random Wednesday in December at 2am. Paige sat across from me as we both sat on the floor of a tight hallway in her residence hall. It was an empty hallway with no dorm rooms where we would meet. Paige’s eyes shifted down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just can’t do this anymore”, she bluntly stated. “You’re lying Paige, i’ve done nothing but be the person you needed. I grew for you Paige, we grew together. What can’t you not do?!”, you emotionally explained. My voice being unstable due to the puddles forming in my eyes. Paige lifted her head, eyes dialed on mine. For once I couldn’t read her. There was nothing behind those blue eyes that were once filled with love. “I’m sorry”, was the last thing she said to me as she got up and walked off. ‘I’m sorry’ the last words I thought would be exchanged between us. I sat in the same spot until 4am hoping she would run back to me and say she didn’t mean anything she said, i really hoped. She didn’t.

Current

I woke up in my small disheveled apartment to my phones alarm sounding in my ear. Ive lived in this apartment since my Junior year of college. I had a showing for a house that’s up for Sale about thirty minutes from me. I did my normal morning work routine: Brush my teeth, skin care, makeup, hair, and fish for an outfit. Luckily last night I felt like being organized and picked my work outfit the night before, a grey pant suit and some black heels. I hated my work attire but I gotta do what I gotta do. I headed out a few minutes early so I could grab a coffee before I had to drive to the house. My normal coffee shop was closed so unfortunately I have to venture onto campus for coffee. ‘I’m praying i don’t see anyone’, I say to myself knowing exactly who that ‘anyone’ was. The drive isn’t far, which was the goal when I first rented the apartment. I parked in a parking lot next to the shop, walking in and immediately being hit with the scent of coffee and pastries. Due to my amazing luck, the line was extremely long. “fuck it, a girl needs her coffee”, i said quietly walking into the line. As I stood in the line I heard a large group of people laugh, it didn’t catch my attention that much to pull my eyes off my phone. The laughing continued until the sound of a breaking plate made the whole establishment fall into silence. My head quickly turned to the source of the sound. “oh my god”, I said out loud when my brain finally processed what I’ve been looking at. A group of girls in dark blue sweat suits and one standing up with her hands rested on her head. Her eyes shifted around the small shop realizing all eyes were on her. Her eyes were met with mine and my heart dropped. Her eyes grew and her hands dropped to her side. Everyone else around us had gone back to whatever they were doing before and the rest of the girls started laughing at Paige and helping clean up. Not Paige though, she remained in the same spot maintaining eye contact with me. ‘I can’t do this today’, I thought to myself breaking the eye contact with her. I can’t really tell but it looked like she was….sorry? or sad? I can’t read her like I once could. Her eye contact was so captivating, it brought back a flood of memories in that short amount of time. I was left in deep thought in the middle of this long ass line. “Hey”, the voice broke me out of my deep dive into memories. My eyes moved to the right of me to be face to face with her. “Hi Paige”, I said to her with a small smile. “You look great…..and i’ve been thinking lately and I’m sorry about how I ended things with us-“. I cut her off. “I’m sorry Paige but I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation. I have a house showing to get to”. “I understand. I shouldn’t have dumped all this shit on you right here, right now. We can talk later?”. I grabbed my coffee off the counter and turned back to Paige. “yeah, I still have your number. See you later Paige”. I squeezed my way through the crowd of busy people and walked out the double glass doors quickly until I felt something on my arm. I stopped to turn around and saw Paige grasping onto my forearm. “Paige I-“. “I know you have to go but just know I never closed the door on us……I’m stupid as shit and thought there was someone else for me. I fucked up and i’m so sorry”. Her voice sounded like she was hurt, like she really regrets it. But she left me for someone else?! “We’ll talk Paige”. I said walking away and out of her grasp. I still can’t hate her though, I cant bring myself to hate her. My heart still beats faster for her like it did when we were deep in love, I don’t get it. The only thing I was left thinking was ‘what did that girl have on me?’

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to be continued….

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #angst #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #ncaa wbb #paige x fem reader #fluff #azzi fudd #kk arnold

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meadowfics · 5 months ago

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meet me down on polk street

cho hyun-ju x f!woc!reader

part one here - this is part two - part three here

this is a series that is based in the united states during the 1960s. after coming out as a trans woman back in south korea, hyun ju moves far away to california and has met the girl who will be the love of her life.. y/n l/n.

warnings: transphobia mentions, homophobia mentions, homophobic dialogue. racism, fears of racism, dark themes presented throughout this series (and many others). y/n is downbad for hyun ju. mature content.

your outfit in this fic is linked, its the far left outfit in the pinterest pic <3

the neon glow of the black cat bar pulsed against the san francisco night, a beacon in the dark. it was just another friday evening on polk street, and the air carried the city’s usual late-night hum.

the distant sound of car horns, laughter spilling from doorways, the occasional bark of a street vendor trying to make a last-minute sale.

standing at the entrance to the bar, your world had narrowed to just one thing:

the broad-shouldered man blocking your way.

he was older, probably in his forties, with graying stubble and deep-set eyes that had seen too much. his thick arms were crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up to reveal a tattoo that had long since blurred with time.

a cigarette dangled lazily from his lips, glowing as he took a slow drag, exhaling through his nose.

the hazel eyes of his gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, before settling back on your face.

"you an undercover?"

your breath hitched.

“what?”

he gestured toward you with his cigarette, as if that explained everything.

“you know. a cop.”

you blinked, your brain scrambling to process the question.

a cop?

you glanced down at your outfit…your crisp red button-up blouse, neatly tucked into your fitted denim dress, your heels clicking neatly against the pavement.

nothing flashy, nothing dramatic, but clean, put-together. too put-together, maybe.

the realization settled in your stomach.

you didn’t look like you belonged here.

not in the way others did, with their silk shirts unbuttoned just a little too low, their smudged eyeliner, their slacks that clung a little too well.

you were still learning what it meant to dress like yourself.

but you were not a cop.

you shook your head quickly.

“no, i live down the street. that blue house over there.”

you pointed down the street before cringing, realizing that you did not need to tell a stranger your place of residence.

the man’s expression didn’t change from your words.

you felt his eyes scan you again, slower this time, searching for something.

"m’ just looking to get a drink after work," you added, keeping your voice even.

he is still skeptical. you could see it in the way his jaw tightened, his grip shifting slightly where his arms were crossed.

he leaned in just slightly, voice lowering.

“this ain’t just some ordinary bar.”

it wasn’t a warning. it was a test.

you had already known that.

you hesitated for only a second before lifting your right hand and making the gesture..a simple motion, thumb and forefinger touching in a loose circle, the rest of your fingers raised ever so slightly.

“who said i’m not here to find a lady, sir? it's rude to assume that me, a lesbian who moved here from norfolk, virginia, is here to bust and shut this beautiful place down!”

you said lightly, smirking.

your words and your signal.its subtle, discreet. but unmistakable.

the man watched you for another beat.

then, finally, he chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped aside.

"welcome to the black cat."

—

the moment you stepped inside, the smell hit you first.

alcohol, lavender, cigarette smoke…each scent layering over the other, thick and heavy in the air.

your eyes adjusted to the dim glow of neon signs, their hues of pink, blue, and green bleeding into the room’s shadows.

the black cat is alive.

you tugged on your red blouse sleeves as you observed the many people in the space.

people were pressed close together in booths, leaning into one another with conspiratorial smiles. sounds of laughter rippled through the room, rising above the clinking of ice against glass.

at the bar, a bartender in a white dress shirt and vest moved quickly, pouring whiskey into tumblers without even looking.

in the corner, an old jukebox flickered, its rusted edges worn from years of use.

“paint it black” by the rolling stones crackled through the speakers, its brooding melody weaving through the air.

on the small dance floor, couples swayed close.. all types of couples. gay men, gay women, and non binaries all moving together in slow, lazy circles, others pressing their foreheads together, lost in the music.

men in sharp suits, some with ties loosened, stood in clusters, laughing as they passed cigarettes between them. others, more daring, wore silk blouses, their collars popped in a way that seemed both effortless and rebellious.

near the bar, a woman leaned against the counter, her crimson lipstick perfectly in place as she stirred a drink with a single, elegant finger.

you look at her. the woman’s beauty not slipping from your sight.

the arabics woman’s gaze flicked over you once, curious, before she turned back to the conversation she had been having with a man in a pinstripe vest.

there was something intoxicating about it all.

not just the whiskey in the air, or the dim lighting that made the whole room feel like something out of a dream.

but the freedom.

this wasn’t virginia. it wasn’t a dorm room where whispers spread like wildfire. it wasn’t your parents’ voices laced with shame.

this was a place where people could exist as they were.

you took a step forward, heels clicking softly against the floor.

no one was staring at you.

no one whispered.

no one judged.

well, maybe some of the white people who worried if a ‘colored’ person like you would approach them.

however, you’ve dealt with racism enough to get used to that.

you exhaled slowly, your fingers flexing at your sides.

this was different.

this was something new.

this was something you had never had before.

just a few feet in front of you.. hyun ju had the same thoughts. never been inside a place like this before.

south korea has no clubs or places like this.. at least not for gay or trans people.

hyunju’s feet before had hesitated just past the threshold as the door swung shut behind her, locking out the san francisco night. inside, the air was thick with the scent of whiskey, lavender perfume, and cigarette smoke that y/n smells too.

she swallowed.

hyunju had rehearsed this moment over and over in her head since arriving in the city. walking into a place like this, standing among people like her.

she's seen many trans women just like her, many women who have called her many compliments that she is too overwhelmed to handle. hyun ju was not used to the positive attention.. at least not yet.

she felt out of place.

not because she wasn’t supposed to be here…she had earned this. she had fought for the right to exist as herself, to live openly, even if the world refused to make space for her.

no, she felt out of place because she didn’t know how to belong.

she tugged at the hem of her dress, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. it was a good dress, simple and bright red, not too tight, but fitted enough that it made her feel… correct. the small flats she wore clicked against the floor as she took a slow step forward.

back in korea, she would have never left her bathroom wearing this outfit. she always used to stick with slacks and a button up blouse.. while using her growing hair as a way to present her femininity.

the black cat bar was packed. men in pressed slacks and silk shirts sat hunched together in booths, their voices hushed yet animated. women in cat-eye makeup and bright skirts perched on barstools, sipping martinis with their legs crossed, their laughter rising above the hum of conversation.

music played among the bar… american and english music that hyunju has never listened to before.

the dance floor, small but lively, was full. men held men and women held women close, swaying lazily, lost in their own world.

hyun ju exhaled, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.

she had no idea what to do next.

she had spent years in the special forces, learning how to analyze terrain, assess threats, read body language..

this? this was foreign territory.

she didn’t realize she was staring until she caught someone's gaze.

her gaze.

hyun ju felt her breath catch.

the woman standing at the bar was unlike anyone she had ever seen before.

your skin was rich and warm under the neon lights, the soft glow of pink and blue reflecting off your smooth cheeks. your curls framed your face perfectly, resting on the middle of your back, bouncing slightly as you shifted in your barstool seat.

you wore a red button-up blouse tucked neatly into a fitted denim dress, the contrast against her skin making her look like something out of a painting.

beautiful.

hyun ju stiffened.

she was staring.

the woman’s eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, everything else in the bar disappeared.

hyun ju looked away first, her pulse quickening.

but then—

she heard movement.

when she looked back up, the woman was walking toward her.

—

you weren’t sure why you moved.

maybe it was instinct, maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was something deeper.

or maybe you wanted a friend in the bar. you had no idea.

yes your plan was to relax after work, but most of your coworkers probably would have cut you off if they knew your true self outside of work. how you were unmarried, how you did not want kids, how much you loved the same gender as your own.

when you caught the woman near the entrance, the way she stood stiffly, unsure, you knew.

she was new.

and she was beautiful.

you weren’t new to finding women attractive…not after everything. there was something about the korean woman. the way she held herself, poised but tense. the way her dark hair framed her face, how the soft shadows of the bar made her look even more striking.

and then there were her eyes.

deep brown, sharp but hesitant.

you wanted to know what she was thinking.

so you went to her.

hyun ju’s heart was pounding as you stopped just a few feet away, tilting your head slightly.

“you look like you just walked into the wrong place,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

hyun ju blinked.

she understood the words, but her brain took an extra second to process them due to the changed language in her life.

“uh, no,” she said quickly, voice quieter than she wanted it to be.

“i… i walk here… on purpose.”

your lips curved into a smile.

“walked here on purpose,” you corrected gently.

hyun ju felt heat rise to her face.

the korean’s english was good…she had spent years perfecting it in the special forces, learning it because she had to. in moments like this, when nerves got the best of her, she could feel the gaps, the awkward pauses, the stumbles over words.

she cleared her throat.

“yes. that.”

you smiled wider, and suddenly, she wasn’t so nervous anymore.

“where you from?” you asked.

hyun ju swallowed, steadying herself.

"korea… south korea," she said carefully.

you nodded, feeling yourself cracking a joke.

"thats good. at least you aren’t a commie… are you here for work?"

hyun ju shook her head.

"um no. i… moved here."

you raised a brow, intrigued.

most people you had met in san francisco were only passing through, running from something.

hyunju she had the look of someone who had left for good.

"well," you said, "welcome to san francisco."

hyun ju hesitated before nodding.

"you come here a lot?" she asked, the words slow but sure.

you let out a small laugh.

"first time."

hyun ju's eyes widened slightly.

“really?”

“yeah,” you admitted, taking a sip of your drink.

“i just moved here, too.”

hyun ju’s shoulders relaxed, just a little.

“so…” she hesitated, choosing her words.

“we both… new.”

you grinned.

"looks like it."

for the first time all night, hyun ju felt okay.

—

moments like this never lasted long.

just as you were about to ask her name, a voice cut through the air…sharp and full of disdain.

“john i didn’t think they let colored people in here.”

the mood shattered.

you froze.

slowly, you turned.

a man..white, mid-thirties, his suit slightly wrinkled…stood a few feet away. he was clearly drunk as his lips curled in disgust, eyes flicking between you and hyun ju with thinly veiled distaste.

hyun ju’s shoulders squared, her expression unreadable.

she didn’t understand what was happening, since this type of thing is not something she experienced much back in korea.. due to being the majority back at home.

you.. here… were alwayd the minority when it came to race.

you felt anger rise in your chest, hot and immediate.

“what’d you say?” your voice was low, dangerous.

the man let out a humorless chuckle.

“you heard me.”

hyun ju didn’t know how to react.

you..

you had had enough.

“leave us alone, go get another drink,” you scoffed, turning away in your seat.

the man scoffed, mocking you, his jaw tense

before anything could escalate, a firm hand clapped onto his shoulder.

it was the bouncer…the same one who had let you in and was told by the bartender about a rude bargoer disturbing the peace.

"think it's time for you to go," he said flatly.

the man hesitated.

after a second, he scoffed and turned away, grumbling under his breath.

you exhaled slowly, the anger still burning in your chest.

beside you, hyun ju was silent.

you turned to her.

“you okay?”

you asked, voice softer now.

she hesitated. then nodded.

“yeah…thank you.”

you smiled.

"don't mention it."

hyun ju studied you, something unreadable in her eyes.

you took a slow sip of your drink, tilting your head.

“so,” you said,

“what’s your name?”

hyun ju hesitated…just for a second…before answering.

“…hyun ju.”

you smiled.

"well, hyun ju," you said, offering your hand,

"i'm y/n."

she looked at your hand.

then, slowly, she took it.

her fingers were warm against yours.

at this point.. it's been three hours since you first entered the bar.. the room had emptied out slightly, but neither of you seemed to notice.

hyun ju was still sitting across from you, her glass resting lightly between her fingers, her dark eyes watching you as if she were still deciding whether this moment was real.

you had been talking for hours.

somewhere between your second drink and the distant echo of a beetles song crackling through the jukebox, hyun ju had started to relax.

the ex-sergeants shoulders had loosened.

hyunju’s laughter had come easier.

the woman’s words.. at first careful, precise…had started to spill with a natural rhythm, as though she had finally realized that here, with you, she didn’t need to be so guarded.

the two of you had long since stopped feeling like strangers.

“back home in virginia,” you started, fingers tracing the rim of your glass, “i had nice parents.”

hyun ju tilted her head slightly.

had

not have.

she caught that.

you let out a soft, bitter chuckle, shaking your head.

"they were good to me,” you continued, “strict, but fair. my mom used to wake up at five in the morning just to make breakfast before my dad went to work. my dad used to take me fishing when i was little, even though i hated it."

hyun ju smiled slightly, resting her chin on her hand, watching you.

she liked listening to you talk.

the way your words rolled off your tongue, smooth and warm.

the way you spoke with your hands sometimes, emphasizing a point with a flick of your wrist.

the way your voice softened when you spoke about your childhood, even if only for a moment.

there was something else.

something unsaid.

"so... you don't talk to them anymore?"

your smile faded, your fingers tightening around your glass.

"nah."

hyun ju frowned slightly.

she understood.

you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"they were good to me when they thought i was good, too," you said, glancing at her.

"when they thought i was gonna marry some nice man, be a housewife like my sister, make them proud."

hyun ju's expression softened.

"but then they found out."

you took a slow sip of your drink.

"word got around town about me. about the things i liked. who i liked." you exhaled.

"suddenly, my mom wasn’t waking up at five anymore. my dad stopped looking me in the eye. and before i knew it, i wasn’t their daughter anymore."

hyun ju was silent for a moment before she spoke.

“…i can relate.”

you glanced at her, curiosity flickering in your gaze.

hyun ju hesitated, but only for a second.

"i resigned from the special forces because hiding was starting to consume me. the environment made me force myself to realize that i couldn’t keep pretending to be something i wasn’t.”

your brow lifted slightly.

you did not ignore her vulnerable words, but she did not look like a woman who had fighting background.

“the special forces? like korea’s military?”

she nodded.

a slow grin spread across your face.

“so you left korea because you just didn’t wanna serve in vietnam with the rest of them?”

hyun ju’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter, a deep, genuine sound that made your chest feel lighter.

"no, no!" she shook her head, grinning.

"i swear, not because of that."

"mm-hmm." you smirked.

"sure, unnie."

hyunju’s laughter stopped abruptly.

she blinked at you, stunned.

“…you know what unnie means?”

you took another slow sip of your drink.

“i had a korean friend back home in virginia.. she was actually a refugee from the north.”

you sigh, remembering the days in those “colored only” schools.

hyun ju let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head in disbelief.

"you surprise me."

you shrugged, grinning.

"i get that a lot."

she smiled, and for a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the bar around you, the clink of ice in glasses, the distant sound of the jukebox.

she looked at you like she wanted to say something else.

but instead, she just watched you.

“i used to hate my older sister.”

the words slipped out before you even realized you had said them.

hyun ju looked at you, surprised.

you sighed, swirling your drink.

"she did everything right."

your voice was steady, but there was an edge to it.

"married some good man who works for NASA, had kids, made my parents happy." you exhaled, shaking your head.

"meanwhile, i was the ‘hippie’ who ran away from home to play into my ‘sick’ fantasies, according to them.”

hyun ju frowned, watching you carefully.

she could see it…the hurt you tried to mask with humor.

the way you carried it in your shoulders, the slight tension in your jaw.

she didn’t pity you.

she understood you.

you took a deep sip of your drink, exhaling sharply.

"but whatever," you said, forcing a small smirk.

"we all have our own shit, right?"

hyun ju was quiet for a moment.

then, softly, she asked, "do you think you're ruining your life?"

you blinked, caught off guard.

do you think you're ruining your life?

you scoffed, shaking your head.

"no."

hyun ju's lips curled slightly.

"good."

you raised a brow, amused.

“what, you thought i was gonna have an existential crisis right here at the bar?”

hyun ju laughed again, and god, you liked that sound.

deep and real, the kind of laugh that made you want to hear it again and again.

"you're ridiculous," you said, shaking your head.

hyun ju leaned forward slightly, her eyes warm.

“you like it.”

you laughed, tilting your head slightly.

“yeah,” you admitted.

“i do.”

she smiled.

and something shifted.

something unspoken.

later, somewhere between the third and fourth round of drinks, the conversation turned to beauty.

hyun ju leaned back slightly, tracing the condensation on her glass with her finger.

"it's strange," she murmured, voice softer now.

"the idea of beauty."

you tilted your head.

"what do you mean?"

she hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

"i look in the mirror," she said, "and sometimes, i don't know what i see. i see my face, my body. but then—" she swallowed.

"then i see what other people see. and it's... different."

you watched her for a moment.

then, without hesitation, you said…

"you're beautiful, hyunju."

she froze.

her dark eyes lifted to meet yours, wide, unreadable.

you smiled.

and after a moment…

so did she.

it was small at first, hesitant.

then, slowly, it grew into something warm.

loving.

you grinned, saying nothing while watching hyunju mentally accept the compliment.

hyun ju shakes her head, blushing.

before either of you knew it, it was three in the morning.

the bar had mostly emptied out, save for a few lingering figures who didn’t know where home was next.

you were both drunk.

however… neither of you wanted to leave.

not yet.

not when something real was unfolding between you.

not when the night still had more to offer.

not when, for the first time in a long, long time..

neither of you felt alone.

the ice in your glass had long since melted, the condensation leaving small rings on the table where you had set it down. the bar was nearly empty now.

hyun ju stretched slightly, rolling her shoulders as she sighed.

"it's late," she murmured, glancing at the orange analog clock hanging above the bar.

you followed her gaze.

3:27 AM.

you hadn’t even noticed the time.

you had been too wrapped up in her voice, in the way she laughed, in the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she was amused.

too wrapped up in her.

"where do you live?" you asked suddenly.

hyun ju blinked, turning her attention back to you.

"a hotel," she said, taking the last sip of her drink.

"a few miles from here."

you frowned, lightly fidgeting with one of your curls.

"a hotel?"

she nodded.

"until i find an apartment."

your frown deepened.

you didn’t like that.

the thought of her walking alone at this hour, through these streets, in this city…

no.

"that’s not safe."

hyun ju raised a brow, amused.

"i served in the special forces, remember?" she reminded you, lips twitching.

"i’ll be fine, love."

your heart stuttered slightly at the way she said it, even if she didn’t mean it the way you wanted her to.

you shook your head.

"no."

hyun ju blinked at you, caught off guard by the firmness in your voice.

you leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with her.

"stay with me tonight."

hyun ju hesitated.

“where?”

you tilted your head toward the door.

"just a few buildings down," you said.

"i live on this street."

hyun ju exhaled softly, shaking her head with a small laugh.

"you don't need to worry about me," she said, voice gentle.

you did worry.

maybe because she was new to the city.

maybe because she had already been through so much.

or maybe because you simply didn’t want this night to end.

you reached out, resting a hand on her soft forearm.

"please," you murmured.

hyun ju stilled.

your touch was light, barely there, but it sent something warm spreading through her chest.

she looked at you.

your brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in concern.

you didn’t want her to go.

somehow, that meant more to her than she could put into words.

"...alright," she finally said.

you smiled, squeezing her arm gently before pulling back.

"good."

hyun ju shook her head, chuckling softly.

"you’re stubborn."

you grinned.

"you like it."

hyun ju laughed, low and warm.

you took her soft hand, leading her outside to head back to your cozy apartment.

next part will be linked here

#cho hyun ju x reader #hyun ju x reader #hyun ju #hyun ju squid game #player 120 #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #multifandom account #meadowfics #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x oc #squid game x you #lesbian #trans women

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hometoursandotherstuff · 7 months ago

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Live and work, or rent out, the Egg's Nest. 1896 home and business for sale in High Falls, NY has 5bds, 7ba, 7,305 sq ft, $995k.

Look at how cozy the bar is.

This is so nice.

Huge, fully equipped commercial kitchen.

Dining al fresco.

Residence entrance.

This is pretty, it's been renovated and modernized.

Cute black & white kitchen.

Main entrance to the home.

This is lovely. I like the corner fireplace.

They incorporated nice architectural salvage elements.

Attention to details- beamed ceilings in most of the rooms.

What an interesting bedroom.

Upper floor. This home is so unusual.

Very cute family room.

What a lovely terrace.

Look at this sun porch.

Very nice private yard.

.35 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1300-State-Route-213-High-Falls-NY-12440/2056437690_zpid/?

#live & work property #house & business #houses #house tours #home tour #unusual homes #unique homes

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reasonsforhope · 10 months ago

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"Faced with declining membership, aging buildings and large, underutilized properties, many U.S. houses of worship have closed their doors in recent years. Presbyterian minister Eileen Linder has argued that 100,000 churches may close in the next few decades.

But some congregations are using their land in new ways that reflect their faith – a focus of my urban planning research. Some are repurposing their property to provide affordable housing, as the housing crisis intensifies across the country.

Take Arlington Presbyterian Church in Arlington, Virginia. In 2016, the church sold its historic stone building to the Arlington Partnership for Affordable Housing to construct a 6-story complex with 173 apartments, known as “Gilliam Place.” The building still houses space for the congregation, as well as La Cocina, a bilingual culinary job training facility and cafe. In Austin, Texas, St. Austin Catholic Parish is partnering with a developer to build a 29-story tower providing 200 beds of affordable student housing, in addition to new spaces for ministry.

Other houses of worship are pursuing similar projects today.

Same mission, new projects

Faith-based organizations have been building housing for many years, but generally by purchasing additional property. In recent years, however, more houses of worship are building affordable housing on the same property as the sanctuary.

This can be done in a variety of ways. Some congregations adapt the existing sanctuary and other faith-owned buildings, while others demolish existing buildings to construct a new development, which may or may not have space for the congregation. Another option is to build on excess property, like a parking lot.

Depending on how a development deal is structured, a faith-based organization may receive proceeds from the sale of its land, or from leasing their property to a developer – funds which they can then spend on ministry or on a new space for worship. If a new development includes space for the congregation, sometimes they rent out those spaces when the space is not being used for worship, which can also financially benefit the congregation.

Faith-based organizations often see these projects as a way to do “God’s work.” In some instances, they include community services beyond the housing itself.

Near Los Angeles, the Episcopal Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Placentia partnered with a nonprofit affordable housing developer – National Community Renaissance, also called National CORE – to develop 65 units for older people. The complex also includes a 1,500 square foot (140 square meter) community center. The city’s diocese has a goal of building affordable housing on 25% of its 133 properties.

For some congregations, these are mission-driven projects rooted in social justice.

In Washington, D.C., Emory United Methodist Church redeveloped its property and constructed The Beacon Center – which has 99 affordable housing units, community spaces, and a commercial kitchen that provides job training for recently incarcerated people – while preserving the sanctuary. In Seattle, the Nehemiah Initiative is working with Black churches in the Central District, a historically African American neighborhood, to redevelop its properties into affordable housing to keep residents from being displaced."

Potential to evolve

As states and cities struggle to provide affordable housing, studies have been conducted from Nashville to New York City on the amount of land faith organizations own, and their potential as housing partners.

In the D.C. metro area, for example, the Urban Institute found almost 800 vacant parcels owned by religious organizations. In California, a report from the Terner Center at University of California, Berkeley found approximately 170,000 “potentially developable” acres of land owned by religious organizations and nonprofit colleges and universities...

When thinking about the redevelopment process, Arlington Presbyterian member Jon Etherton told me, “the call from God to create, do something about affordable housing was bigger than the building itself.”"

-via The Conversation, July 19, 2024

#church #christianity #washington state #california #washington dc #presbyterian #affordable housing #housing crisis #good news #hope

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 6 months ago

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Modern Problems, Ancient Solutions

Based on the Mafia AU, Started by @pilot-boi and with parts written by @novankenn

Cinder Fall was not someone to be trifled with, not at all. After all, despite how small her "Family" Was, it so long as she was a part of it, she was basically invincible.

And better than that; Invisible.

The Blond Boy needed to Die.

The White Fang was an excellent Scapegoat. Violent, Second Class citizens? Targeting Humans? Well, as much as Miss Belladonna was one to stay neutral and would give all she could to the Arcs, she would not simply allow them to ransack her establishment for clues. That'd not be very "Neutral" of her. That would be Fun to Watch! Neutrality is it's own damnation after all-

Although the Malachites and the Arcs have always hated one another~ To let the keg blow would be cathartic, wouldn't it? All the hate finally rushing out, flying free?

Cinder pondered this as she wandered up the steps of the apartment building she resided in. Not as classy as she'd have hoped, but few enough patrons and a large sum of Lien meant she had near-free run of the place. The Cameras were fake according to watts, and there was one spot on the roof she would be perfectly hidden from any outside observers

Perfect, given that the apartments were across from a certain mall that a Certain boy with a Bounty on his head oft adjourned to on the weekends.

As she drew her weapon, she couldn't help but envision something.

The Schnees.

Under investigation, making everyone rush and scramble to hold off sales and hide their skeletons deep in their closets should anything lead back to them.

Oh, how fitting such a prestigious and Well-to-do Family come crumbling down on their rotten Foundations! Atlesians like them deserve to burn-

Cinder took a deep breath.

She nocked an arrow. An old fashioned, yes, but now glint of a sniper's scope could give away a position.

She Drew the string back, elegant in her form.

She could see the shining gold beside auburn red from here. they were almost at the doors.

And just as she began to loose the arrow, she instinctively fell back.

Her hand exploded in a shower of red, shock and pain over whelming her system to the point of paralysis.

She'd barely caught the Glint of someone else - they were aiming for her. She knew that. it was too well placed of a shot for it to be on anyone else. she wrapped the scraps of her hand in her dress and took down the fire escape.

~~~~~

Pyrrha couldn't breathe.

She couldn't hear anything but the pounding of blood in her ears.

She couldn't feel anything but the sharp, stabbing pinch that went through her shoulder-blade, and the tears welling in her eyes, and worst of all, the shame of not feeling it coming.

She had trained for this her whole life, and in just a few weeks, some blond fool and softened her.

Pyrrha touched the exit wound, the hard, cold metal tip of an arrow coming out just beneath her collar bone. A bad shot. Messy. Nothing vital hit.

She was aware she was on the ground, her eyes wrenched shut, teeth grit to near shattering, and only vcaguely aware of jaune's frantic movement and hurried, panicked speech - likely calling the cops and an ambulance.

He wasn't safe. She couldn't save him.

Gods, she couldn't save him.

~~~~~

Ruby Rose was your average Fifteen year-old girl. Black hair with some red dye thrown in, bright eyes, bogged down by schoolwork. She had friend, she played video games, yadda-yadda.

At least, that's what most people believed.

As she operated the bolt to rack a new round into the chamber of her rifle, she felt no joy in harming others - but for now, she had saved someones life. Nikos had took a hit, visible from through her scope, but nothing a visit to the ER and some painkillers and bed-rest couldn't fix.

Her Father and her Uncle wouldn't be the most exited to know how she was using her hunting practice, but this is what her mom did, and she was smart enough to read between the lines.

Uncle Qrow was spending ever longer times away, and ever shorter time at home.

Her dad was getting anxious, the way he gets when stuff about the past tries to join in on the present.

Looking through old contacts, she found the Contacts, and from there, she wrote some letters.

Ozpin had, at one point, refused her to work, and chided her for it.

But, he let slip just enough - and she was willing to bet purposefully so - for her to know who she should keep an eye on, and who to set a scope on.

Was it the smartest thing she'd ever done? ABSOLUTELY NOT! And Ruby knew this! She wasn't dumb! She just wanted to save lives! and She knew that if something bad happened to Jaune, then bad things would eventually get to her!

So really she's just defending herself!

Preemptively!

Oh look! There's Yang going to help Pyrrha! That's nice of her!

...

Oh she should probably hide or something. Someone definitely heard that shot, even with a suppressor.

#rwby #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #cinder fall #arkos #mafia au #rwby au #rwby mafia au

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voxina · 5 months ago

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By their own admission, 2024 was a rough year for the Black Keys. After releasing their 12th studio album, Ohio Players, the band was looking forward to a North American arena tour following successful shows in Europe. Instead, they canceled the entire tour, reportedly due to low ticket sales, and subsequently fired their management — which included industry heavyweight Irving Azoff — and PR team. Two weeks later, in a since-deleted tweet aimed at Azoff, drummer Patrick Carney wrote, “We got fucked. I’ll let you all know how so it doesn’t happen to you.” (In another deleted tweet, Carney sarcastically wrote of Azoff, “So great to know you are always looking out for the artist.”)

Short of a few shows — more on the group’s “America Loves Crypto” gig in their hometown of Akron, Ohio later — the band went relatively quiet, establishing a semi-frequent Nashville residency for their all-vinyl “Record Hang” dance parties but not speaking publicly on the fracas that both fans and the music industry watched closely.

Last July, the duo did what they usually do when faced with adversity: They hit the studio, spending the better part of last summer and fall writing and recording more than 15 songs for their upcoming album, No Rain, No Flowers. (The group is still deciding how many tracks will make the final cut and will release the album later this year.) On first single “The Night Before” (written with Daniel Tashian, who co-wrote and co-produced Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour), the group leans into its upbeat pop-rock side. “It was very organically [done] in the studio together,” singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach tells Rolling Stone. “The three of us just came up with it together on the spot.”

Earlier this week, the duo announced their long-awaited rescheduled tour dates, swapping arenas for smaller amphitheaters and theaters. “The whole music industry obviously has changed over the last 15 years,” Carney says. “We’re still trying to figure out how it works and feels authentic.”

In their first interview since the tour cancellation and management split, Carney and Auerbach spoke to Rolling Stone from the group’s Easy Eye Sound studio in Nashville for both a post-mortem of the past year and optimistic look ahead.

Can you talk a little about the significance of the album title No Rain, No Flowers? Dan Auerbach: Well, we wrote the [title] song with [Grammy-winning songwriter] Rick Nowels, and it was just an expression that I’d heard, and we turned it into this tune that seemed to sum up how we envisioned ourselves getting over the situation that we’d just been through.

Patrick Carney: Rick likes to start with a title, and that was the title Dan had written down in his phone. You got to take it on the chin sometimes to move forward, and that’s kind of what the last year was for us.

How would you sum up the past year for you guys? Carney: Pretty enlightening and eye-opening. Dan and I have a pretty good grasp on the music industry, but to be exposed firsthand to how things have changed, it was pretty shocking to understand what’s actually going on. I think trying to avoid getting jaded and totally flustered, we took the opportunity to reassess how we’re doing things and to make a record that’s mostly on this positive tinge.

What specifically was shocking to you? Carney: To generalize: to see how consolidated the industry has gotten and how connected things have become. It’s mind-blowing. And there’s just a lot of shared interests across the business side of this. When you’re an artist trying to interface with that and trying to receive helpful and constructive strategy and business input, you realize that that whole world is more deeply connected than I had ever really thought.

Dan, how would you categorize the past year? Auerbach: A lot of ups and downs, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of 2 a.m. phone calls, a lot of worry and stress, a lot of heartache, but also an incredible amount of creativity. I feel really excited about the music we’ve been making. It feels like the creative juices are flowing in a really positive way, and I’m kind of loving it.

Let’s get into some details. Two weeks after the tour was canceled, a rep for Azoff Management said the split was “an amicable parting.” Is that how you would characterize it? Carney: [Pauses.] I mean, we fired their ass. Shit happens. We spent a lot of time making Ohio Players and turned it in in October 2023 and had all this time to plan how we were going to tour. Things got off to this weird start where I was waiting for these European dates to pop up because our plan was to go to Europe first. We ended up getting nine shows sent to us [on] a three-week tour. There’s absolutely no way to make money [from] that.

We kept having to move shit around for a Manchester show because there was a venue that our management company co-owned and wanted us to play, and it wasn’t ready. After going to Europe 30 times in our career for tours, this was the most poorly orchestrated tour we had been on. The shows were incredible, but [it] just became the first sign that maybe there was some poor organization happening.

When did the relationship with Irving Azoff sour? Carney: The ultimate answer to this is that it’s a broader thing. I don’t even want to mention that guy’s name. I want to look at this from a bigger perspective. The essential thing that we learned here was how many management companies are directly connected to a company that runs every single aspect of promotion in this country. This whole industry is so intertwined from ticketing to promotion to the management company. But essentially as artists — and this is the thing that we care the most about — it’s almost impossible to talk about this…. You’re dealing with management companies that co-own festivals with this other company. You’re at the [whims] of these people who have other interests.

So when you’re called into a manager’s office and he suggests something to you, I was naive enough to think that that was on the up-and-up. And more and more, it’s just not. So it’s a hard thing because I don’t think Dan and I want to sit here and look like whining bitches. But we got a little bamboozled here.

Patrick, last year you tweeted: “We got fucked. I’ll let you all know how so it doesn’t happen to you. Stay tuned.” How do you feel you got “bamboozled”? Carney: Well, I had to delete it, so I didn’t get sued.

Who threatened to sue you? Carney: No one threatened, but it was a big no-no to even talk about what’s going on here. There’s a concentration of connectivity that eliminates competition. [For] a capitalist society to function, there has to be competition. And if everything’s connected and all the interests are shared on one side, there’s no way to compete. Our tour, we had about 10 [arena] shows that were not doing great. They were just in rooms that they shouldn’t have been in.

So in any situation like this tour, we might’ve had to take one on the chin and find new venues to play in certain cities, but instead we were advised to cancel the whole tour. We were told … there were other venues being booked, and it was all going to get into more intimate rooms, and it would be great. But that wasn’t accurate. That didn’t exist.

It’s all very fucked up, and the bottom line is that we can’t even really talk about it because we won’t be able to work.

Dan, did you know Patrick was going to tweet that? Auerbach: No, I woke up to that one.

How did you feel when you saw it? Auerbach: I understood the intensity of it.

Anything else? Auerbach: No.

Did you two ever personally consider scaling down the tour rather than cancel, or are you claiming that wasn’t even an option? Carney: No, it was told to me by someone that we ended up parting ways with that the dates were being rebooked into rooms that were scaled down. So we could cancel this tour and we would re-announce dates in a couple days in these better rooms. But the plan wasn’t there because there were no holds on rooms. It was bullshit. I don’t want to use the term “lie” because I don’t want to get fucking sued, but what was presented didn’t exist.

There’s certain cities where we know we can [sell] … but you want to look to your management to make these decisions. We spend so much time making the music [and] figuring out promotional shit. This is what you lean into for management, and you hope that there’s decisions that are made on the up-and-up so that they help everybody. That’s just harder and harder to come by.

Now I’m curious about your thoughts on the Department of Justice’s lawsuit against Live Nation, claiming the company is a monopoly. (Live Nation vehemently denied the claim when the lawsuit was filed.) Carney: When [the Live Nation-Ticketmaster merger closed in 2010], Obama said, “This is so close to a monopoly. You need to watch this.” And the reason why it was allowed to go through — because it was a monopoly — the argument was artists aren’t signed into long contracts. The artists can always just opt to go to someone else … But at this point, if you don’t work with a certain company, where are you going to work?

The thing that most people don’t understand is that when you control ticketing, promotion, and all this stuff, and then you get into owning the venues and then having shared interests with management, it just becomes harder and harder [for artists] to do business. This isn’t something that’s unique to the music business. All across this country, things are getting so intertwined [and] so consolidated that it’s harder to compete in general.

It was widely reported that ticket sales for the tour were weak, with The New York Times saying last year, “Some tours like the Black Keys may simply be a matter of the band overestimating demand.” Is that a fair statement? Carney: I don’t know, but all I know is this: After the tour was canned, I went through my email, and I had one email from Ticketmaster about the tour on the day it was announced and nothing else in my inbox for six weeks. When I finally went through the numbers after the tour was canceled, we had sold nearly $10 million worth of tickets, and we had four months till the first show. We just had to take one on the fucking face.

After the tour was announced, more than a few fans complained about high ticket prices, and it’s the artist that typically sets those prices. Nosebleed seats were reportedly going for $100 at some venues. Carney: We weren’t even asked about the ticket prices on the last tour. We didn’t set them. On this [next] tour, we realized that we have to be more involved in this. The last thing Dan and I want to do is gouge a fan on a ticket.

But in retrospect, would you have tried to lower the ticket price? Carney: Yeah. This is this ongoing thing where it’s like when we did the El Camino arena tour [in 2012-13], the average upper bowl ticket was $40 or something. And then after scalping and stuff, those tickets were $65, so scalpers were making more money off those tickets than we were. Which I think is disheartening because the fans are paying it and it’s not getting to the band.… The cost of going on tour now versus 2012 is 3.5 [times higher]. Our ticket prices haven’t gone up that much.

You fired your management and PR team after the tour was canceled, but not the agency that actually booked the tour. Why is that? Carney: [Pauses.] Because I think a lot of these deals are done between management and another bigger company.

You did play a few live shows last year, including a show called “America Loves Crypto,” whose goal was to “rally the 5 million crypto owners that might just decide the 2024 election.” How did that gig come together? Carney: It was very simple: We had lost all of our income for the year. We had retainers for people that we were working with. We got offered a lot of money to play a show, and we saw that the Black Pumas had done the same event and we were like, “Book it.” It’s that simple, bro.

I was going to ask if you guys consider yourselves crypto enthusiasts. Carney: We’re Crisco enthusiasts.

You did get a fair share of criticism, though. The top comment on your own fan Reddit is, “LMAO. It’s a PAC that has endorsed all the worst candidates from both parties. What the hell are they even doing?” Did you talk about the optics of doing this gig? Carney: Of course we saw all the shit coming in, but it was like, “What are you going to do?” We were told it was a bipartisan thing. It was what it is. It was very small. It was in our hometown, so we got to go home and see our folks. I’ve definitely seen my name in bad light in the press before, so it wasn’t anything fucking new … If us playing a concert for 300 people is going to sway the whole state’s vote, then we have bigger fucking problems, bro.

Given the past year, does your mindset change going into the next tour? Carney: The most important thing for us right now is to just put on good shows that the fans enjoy. We’ve been looking to bands whose records maybe don’t chart well, but they connect with their fans in a deep way. We’ve been on this creative streak where we’ve released four albums in five years. We might just be saturating the fucking market, but it’s like while it’s happening, you just have to do it.

We’re both in our mid-forties. We’ve been doing this for 20 years. We have a greater appreciation now for what we have together than ever before. And over the last year, we’ve seen people we care about get sick. Life isn’t a guaranteed thing. So if you have this thing that’s working, why not just fucking move on it?

It’s important for people to know we got a little bit complacent with the business shit because we’ve been so busy with the creative shit, and so we just got reminded that we have to pay attention to both things.

When you look back on the five-year period between 2014’s Turn Blue and 2019’s Let’s Rock, when you guys weren’t really speaking, do you think it cost you any momentum or potential success? Carney: I looked at it like this, dude. Back then, we were literally printing money, and we were miserable. Now we’re just making tons of songs, and we’re in a much better place. The gigs were coming in, and we weren’t able to make music as often as we wanted, and that’s where the break came from … We just wanted to make some music, and so that’s where we’ve been trying to navigate that road since. We’ve picked out rooms that seem like the fans will enjoy the most, that we’ll enjoy the most, and we’ll just see what the fuck happens. Hopefully, people show up.

Patrick was always the more business-minded end of the group. Dan, did the events of the past year make you want to become more involved in the business side? Auerbach: We just have to focus on what we do best, and each of us have talents in certain areas. We just put trust in each other, and that’s the most important thing right now, and that’s what we’ve been doing. It’s funny because it’s probably a direct result of all this trauma that we just went through the last year, but we’ve been hanging out together more than ever. We’ve been getting obsessed with music and collecting records, and hanging out more is making the music better and the business better.

What exactly do you mean by “trauma”? Auerbach: Going through all the work to put this whole thing together to be able to present it to our fans, and then going out and supporting it on the road and playing shows for our fans, and then to have all of that taken away and mess up the connection that we had to our fans for so many years right when we felt like we were really in a great place. Like we said with those shows in Europe, even though the business side of the tour was so bad, the actual shows were amazing, and we expected the same when we went back to the States.

We’d been opening up our sets, doing covers, and we had plans for doing more of that too. And to just have all that completely pulled out from under us, it was not something we’d ever experienced before in 20-plus years of doing it. So yeah, it was traumatic. But I guess we’re feeling more thankful than ever that we’re able to go out on the road and play shows and be able to see our fans again.

It sounds like mentally, you guys are in a better place than you were six or nine months ago. Carney: Yeah. We’re competitive, and we like to work. And when it seems like the rules have been changed to the point where the game isn’t winnable, that’s when we start getting fucking flustered. We’ve been looking to people who play a different game. They don’t get caught up in that bullshit. Their version of winning is more about how they connect with their fans. That’s the inspiration.

[Full article here]

#music industry #live nation #ticketmaster #monopoly #the black keys #irving azoff

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pillow-ghost-nan · 6 months ago

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VERY LONG wolfstar fic rec list PART 1

I spend way too much time reading fanfictions and wolfstar is the love of my life so yeah. Also most of these are E and M rated cause I just love my smut

PART 2

PART 3

Please let me know if any link needs fixing or if there are any mistakes. Enjoy!

Multi-chapter:

Led by Light of a Star Sweetly Gleaming by wolfpants

Rating: E, 53k words Remus Lupin is a student and temporary sales assistant at Oxford's finest department store when a mysterious, handsome young man by the name of Sirius Black enters his life and introduces him to a world of sprawling country estates, parties, and London's underground bar scene. A 1960s Wolfstar AU with lots of music, smoking, fine interiors, and, of course, romance.

Of Cinema and Sticky Notes by bluepeony

Rating: E, 12k words Remus Lupin is the office bore. Sirius Black is the office sweetheart. They fancy each other, on a purely aesthetic level.

The Road to Sweetwater by EuripidesTrousers

Rating: E, 57k words “Well. They don't call me Mad Sirius Black for nothing”, Black drawls lazily, “Speaking of drinks - you got any whiskey in your pack there or just old biscuits? Caught me talking politics and now my throat's awful dry.” Remus lifts his brow incredulously, disbelief creeping into his voice, “You must think I got a real short memory thinking you're owed a drink after that show back there. You clean forget you're at my mercy, and then go trying to steal my horse-” “Not in the habit of letting a man put me in the dirt without buying me a drink”, Black drawls, his grin turning sly, “Or maybe you got something else that'll make defeat a mite easier to swallow.” Sirius Black is wanted by the law in the state of Wyoming and Remus Lupin, who's still deciding which side of the law a bounty hunter sits on, captures him for the price on his head. It should be simple. But there's something in the air that Fall that sets Remus' compass spinning, and nothing seems simple anymore.

Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings by Soupy_George

Rating: E, 126k words Heirs to the peerage didn’t write rock songs or play bass, they wrote poetry and learnt the cello from the age of five. Heirs to the peerage also got married and continued the family line. They certainly didn't get struck by a bolt of homosexual lightning in the middle of a grotty pub in Sheffield…. * “No doubt,” the barman said easily, handing the card back across the bar, “Just thinking it were nice tha’ posh twats have stupid names too.” He pointed to his chest, “Remus, thanks t’me daft mam.” A story about music and family, the price of fame and finding love somewhere completely unexpected.

Statten Park and Sunshine on Leith (Freedom & Whisky series) by eyra

Rating: E, 32k words He's absolutely maddening. It happens every summer: this dance, this flirting that Remus has never quite managed to get to the bottom of. Either it's a complete wind-up and Sirius is even more of an entitled bully than Remus has always thought, or it's going to end with Remus letting Sirius bend him over the storage crates behind the catering tent one year. It's one or the other. The boys spend a glorious long weekend together at Sirius's family estate in the height of summer.

The Long Way Home by HollyIvyDruzy

Rating: M, 177k words "SEEKING TWO ROOMMATES FOR HOUSE SHARE – SINGLE ROOMS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY. FOUR BEDROOM HOUSE LOCATED ON EAST SIDE OF TOWN BY CATHEDRAL – CURRENT RESIDENTS FIRST YEARS. NO WEIRDOS PLEASE." Remus never expected to go to Westerbury University, but then he also never expected to meet force of nature Lily Evans while house-hunting, James Potter while replying to a horrendous handwritten advert, or Sirius Black once he had already decided to move in. Soon it becomes clear that even the best laid plans can be thrown out of the window when starting university living with a group of strangers. A university AU with a dash of humour, a sprinkling of angst and some pining for good measure.

Honeydew by lunchbucket

Rating: E, 40k words Healer Sirius Black feels like his life is going through the motions. He is still recovering from the tragic death of his best friends four years prior while doing his best to parent their five-year-old son. However, when a new patient's encounter with a mysterious creature leads him to contact a person from his past, his life gets shaken up into one giant beautiful mess that he isn't sure he knows how to handle. Or, That magic feeling when you find someone who can see you when you can't even see yourself.

Odi et Amo by afieryfox

Rating: E, ongoing Classics student Remus has everything figured out; his courses, his career path, his life — until a mysterious transfer student turns his whole world upside down. Remus despises Sirius Black from day one, quickly set out to beat his new academic rival in any way possible. Angry glares over text translations follow angrier words thrown at the other late at night. All too soon, hate morphs into obsession. And everyone knows what obsession leads to.

Petty (With A Prior) by lunchbucket

Rating: E, 65 words Showing up for his ‘civic duty’ is one thing, getting out of jury duty without losing his shit is another. Tack on an attorney who finds the whole fiasco hilarious, and Remus might as well be in hell. The Courthouse AU of my dreams.

Dunes and Waters by MarigoldWritesThings

Rating: E, 37k Remus is sensitive to changing tides, a part of the moon always with him, and Black is like the sea. He can smell it on him, the way his magic builds up and crackles about the fingertips. *** A werewolf, a convict, and a riddle.

Like an Accident by lurikko

Rating: E, 12k words November 1993: detective Sirius Black has a new case, and a new partner.

Black Diamonds and Moonlit Snow by iamafullyrealizedcreation

Rating: M, 66k words “A marketing manager from Wales, moved all the way to Maine, to work for a ski mountain, and you don’t even ski. Remus Lupin, you just keep becoming more and more mysterious. What other secrets do you have?” There were two paths in front of Remus, one where he flirted back with the beautiful, handsome, dangerous man in front of him, and one where he remembered that Sirius was his co-worker, and more importantly, made his living doing the one thing Remus hated most in the world. “You’ll find that beyond all that, I’m rather quite boring.” Remus said, as he settled on a decision. Sirius sat back in his chair and gave him a doubtful look, and the start of a smirk. “We’ll see.” Remus Lupin starts work at Mount Calset with the goal to bring people to the ski mountain, and has to learn to deal with "face of the mountain" famous ski racer, Sirius Black OR A story about overcoming your fears, and the type of love that makes you feel brave.

Go East by xinasvoice

Rating: E, 84k words Remus has been running for a long time. Eventually, he runs into a strange castle built by a wizard and his young apprentice. The longer he stays, the more secrets he uncovers...and the less he wants to leave. This is a novel-length adventure story that loosely follows the plot of Howl's Moving Castle. It does not require knowledge of the HMC book or movie to enjoy it.

The Horcrux Hunt by lostmy_keys

Rating: M, 143k words He is a Slytherin, a Black, and an ex-Death Eater. Of course he makes it out of the cave. Regulus sets out to destroy the Dark Lord's Horcrux with no one but a house-elf to help, until he realises his task is bigger than he alone can handle. Reluctantly he turns to the only man Voldemort fears for assistance - Dumbledore - who loans out his pet wolf for the job, much to Regulus's dismay. Together they embark on a hunt for Horcruxes - a long and arduous journey that both makes friendships and destroys them. And a few people get hurt along the way. Slowburn Wolfstar, Regulus character development, a very flirty (but platonic) Regulus and Remus friendship, and a canonically manipulative Dumbledore.

Where the Mist Falls by YumeNouveau

Rating: E, 30k words Remus loves being a deputy in the snowy mountain town of Greyback Peak. But when a crazy cult leader escapes in his woods and the FBI is called in, he's not about to just hand everything over to the stuffy know-it-all feds. That is, until he's confronted with silvery eyes, perfect cheekbones and a tailored suit that make his heart beat so loud it might start an avalanche.

Wish You Were Here by afieryfox

Rating M, 70k words Moony and Padfoot are both well-known online streamers that meet in an Among Us lobby organized by Lily. They instantly connect with their quick banter and similar interests, even with a whole ocean between them. Remus is alright with crushing on Sirius from afar. Until fans start shipping them and give them the name Wolfstar. Utterly ridiculous, of course. But why does Remus’ heart make a leap every time he thinks about it? And why, after countless hours on Discord calls, does he get the feeling that Sirius might feel the same?

Currents by lunchbucket

Rating: E, 109k words Remus Lupin and Sirius Black arrive in Sydney to compete in the Summer Olympics, both intent on making these games a better experience than the last. The two swimmers have a tumultuous history and intense rivalry, but can America’s golden boy and Great Britain’s notorious bad boy put their past behind them and find some common ground?

Where There Is Smoke by moongnome

Rating: not rated (oficially but it's actually E), 109k words "If he closed his eyes, he could have been there again, back in the cold river, water rising up to his shoulders, with a beautiful boy who wouldn’t leave him alone." It is 1865. Stuck in his house with his overbearing parents, Remus Lupin cannot shake the feeling that he's missing something. Returning from abroad after the death of his mother, Sirius Black is now the owner of a massive estate and he has the attitude to match. He has everything, including people who are determined to take everything from him. It takes seconds for Remus to know he will never hate anyone as much as he does Sirius Black.

The Homecoming of Sirius Black by lunarlivs, MissAmericanBi

Rating: E, 44k Sirius Black is burned the fuck out. From his high-pressure job, his unfulfilling love life, the concept of existence in general... you get the idea. With what used to be his life now just a smoldering pile of vaguely millennial-shaped wreckage drifting somewhere over the Manhattan skyline, Sirius leaves New York and moves home to Slytherin, Georgia—a wealthy suburb outside Atlanta—in an attempt to figure out what he is really doing in this prison of a meatsuit people call a body. Enter: a smoking hot bartender with big hands, amber eyes, and a stubbornly hardened exterior Sirius is determined to crack.* But with the passing of each month, Sirius starts to see that leaving a place doesn't mean forgetting the loss, returning to family doesn't mean coming home, and while love isn't found at the bottom of a pint glass—he may be the one pouring it.

How Remus Got His Groove Back by RealityShowJunky

Rating: M 43k words After two years of noncommittal sex: Remus tells Sirius that he loves him. Sirius firmly rejects him. Remus tries to move on. Sirius is not happy. OR Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot.

Maybe this time is different (I really think you like me) by fiddleleafedfig

Rating: E, 73k words “Because you’re not just writing about Picasso, Sirius. Remus Lupin is a writer and an introvert, he has published a few novels that have been very well received. We want the story of it all, the family estate, his writing process, the decision to display these sketches now.” “And what on god's green earth makes me the best man for that job?” “Because you’re charming, we think he’ll like you.” * Or; The story of how Sirius Black gets a writing assignment, banters his way into the art-elite of London, and ends up falling head over heels in love.

Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing

Rating: E, 44k words Summer, 1999. Harry comes home with news. Quite a lot of news. Harry takes a deep breath. “I'm quitting the Aurors,” he starts with, which is followed by a moment of stunned silence. “What?” Sirius says. “All right," Remus says. “Do you know what else you want to do? Did you think about it?” Harry blushes, the way James used to—a rosy glow lighting up his brown skin—and says, “I wanted to—that is, I thought I might be a teacher.” Remus, quite suddenly, seems to have something in his eye. "Oh." “What?” Sirius says. “And uh—there's more. I was thinking I might like to. That is. I want to become an Animagus.”

Lines by Krethes

Rating: E, 24k words "As if feeling Sirius’s eyes on him -- and maybe he does, Remus just Knows Things sometimes -- he looks over his shoulder with eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy. “We’re far too old to be having morning sex and you know it, Padfoot,” he warns, his voice still gravely and deep from slumber." OR: DILF Wolfstar getting the happy ending they deserve. Chapters are chronological, but it's largely PWP and we're just here to have some fun.

No Expectations by thisbluepeony

Rating: M, 98k words Remus Lupin is a little-known music journalist working on a little-known music magazine. Blue Stag are his next Big Project - well, his first anyway.

Ever Thus by WrappedUp

Rating: E, 135k words “Right, well I’d say it’s about time to put an end to this nonsense, wouldn’t you?” James nodded sagely. “You’ve obviously still got some things to chat through with him, but he will talk to you about it, Remus. He thinks the world of you, you know that. But the important thing is that you do talk because nothing’s going to get sorted if you just sit cry-wanking in your room.” The world is excruciating and enthralling in equal measure. The gang try their hardest to navigate it as real, legitimate adults.

Language Lessons by MsAlexWP

Rating: E, 150k words September 1982 The war is over. Voldemort was defeated on October 31, 1981. Regulus Black discovered Voldemort’s horcruxes and informed the Order of the Phoenix, which destroyed them. When Voldemort arrived on Halloween to kill baby Harry, the Order was standing by, ready to kill him first. Almost a year later, the Marauders and their friends are rebuilding their lives. Everything is going well for Sirius Black. Everything but love. OR Sirius Black is great at sex but shit at relationships. Remus Lupin is an amazing boyfriend, but not so great at sex. Could these best friends learn from each other? Platonically, of course.

Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars by WrappedUp

Rating: M, 41k words “He’s coming home, James. What the hell am I meant to do with that? It’s been eight fucking years and we’re meant to... what? Just meet him at the pub? Buy him a drink like-” He shakes his head. “What will I do with my face?” James takes a sip of lemonade, taking his role as designated driver very seriously as always. He has a smudge of dirt on his nose from ‘wrestling a conifer the size of a bear’, but Sirius doesn’t think to mention it because he’s somewhat preoccupied with his own problems, which, for the avoidance of doubt, are many and insurmountable. “Your face?” “Yes, exactly! It’ll give me away the second he sees me. He’ll know right away that eight bloody years has done nothing at all to dampen it down. Dripping with hurt. As if I don’t still feel-”

One-shots:

Babysitting by A_factorygirl_69

Rating: E, 5,5k words Sirius and Teddy's excellent adventure, or why Remus is a master manipulator.

No Reckoning Made by A_factorygirl_69

Rating: E, 22k words Trying to remain friends but also wanting more while in the middle of a war is far more difficult than Remus ever imagined. Sirius certainly isn't making it easier on him either.

Secrets in the Black of night by TracingPatterns

Rating: E, 6k words It all starts when Remus is paired with Sirius fucking Black in Potions, but Remus didn’t think this was where they would end up.

Buy the Stars by wilteddaisy (taotu)

Rating: E, 23k words Sirius Black, respectable pureblood patriarch and heir to the Black family fortune, has a wife and three children at Hogwarts. Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin wrestles with the aging wolf inside of him. When Black offers him a hand, Remus reluctantly takes it.

Nosebleed by WrappedUp

Rating: T, 8k words “I can’t have a threesome, Lily. I do puzzles for fun. I drink Ovaltine. I have a mug that says ‘I heart spreadsheets’. And it wasn’t even a present; I went out and bought it for myself because I really do. I heart spreadsheets.”

That Old Black Magic by fallovermelikestars

Rating: M, 37k words AU in which Remus, being as he is a werewolf and all, is homeschooled til he is 16. Hogwarts is something of an experience, not least because there's this boy called Sirius Black.

illicit affairs by dykesiriusblack

Rating: E, 8k words They shouldn't. But they do.

The Power Of The Dog by Suchsmallhands

Rating: E, 71k words Sirius thought he left the Black family behind but he is forced to face them once again when charged with the death of his mother. Who do you think will be his defender?

you jump, I jump by grumposaur

Rating: M, 17k words When Remus witnesses a disturbing event walking home one night, it sends him down a twisted path of many discoveries: secret societies, macabre rituals, cloaked figures, and a dark-haired boy who proves to be the most dangerous of all.

Satellites by jennandblitz

Rating: E, 23k words Sirius Black is the guitarist for Starsign, a band on a meteoric rise to fame. One evening in Edinburgh and he finds himself face to face with Remus Lupin, gig photographer an in almost-criminally oversized punk shirt. Perhaps things aren't meant to be at first, but the universe has its ways…

After us, the flood by aryastark_valarmorghulis, bloodsuitsandtears

Rating: E, 10k words “I was hoping you might be waiting for me.” His tone is light and friendly, but Remus isn’t fooled. “I stopped for a smoke.” He wonders, though. Was he unwittingly waiting for Sirius? In the last eight years, there had been countless smoke breaks, quick trips to grab another wine bottle and rendezvous to decide James’ birthday gift that dissolved into a sloppy snog or a quickie. It didn't happen every time Sirius was back in the country, but it was close enough.

bookends by drowsyanddazed

Rating: E, 12k It’s 1995 and the only flat in London that Remus Lupin can afford is one that’s falling apart and riddled with curses. When the curse-breaker comes in to survey the place, it’s Sirius Black who shows up at his door. On Remus’ doorstep, in 1995, they go through introductions. But they knew each other in 1982, back at university, they knew each other quite well, so why are they pretending they don’t have history? He’s not quite sure what’s going on between them, what they’re doing, what this tightrope they’re walking is. He’s not sure it’s a good idea.

Love, Trust and Other Wartime Casualties by BellaBabe

Rating: M, 8k words “Full moon?” Sirius asks, realizing he doesn’t actually know. Remus looks at him oddly. “You know you were always the most attentive. James was too carefree, too unburdened and Peter too forgetful… but you, you always knew.” It’s a well placed blow and it leaves Sirius breathless. “Things change I guess.” Remus says softly. “I’m here now.” Sirius can taste the lie on his tongue. Remus hums noncommittally and pours them more tea.

Lie With Me by mblematic

Rating: M, 12k words Sirius meets Remus unexpectedly, in somebody else's body. Nobody trusts anybody.

Elucidation Practice by montparnasse

Rating: M, 21k Christmas, 1978. Remus, wrestling with the mighty problems of gift-giving on a budget, contemplates life, love, London in winter, and falling off the edge of the world with Sirius Black.

Don't Make Me Beg For You (Because I'll Beg For You) by CuriousMay

Rating: E, 14k words Sirius' head jerks round, eyes wide with shock. Remus is still speaking but all Sirius can hear now is white noise. He stares at Remus, who is carefully constructing his chicken sandwich as he talks, seemingly unaware of the conversational grenade he's just launched into the room. "What?" "You know, Rita Schaffer? She was that 4th year who had that incident with Bleatchley's Beauty Bleach in '75 just after our exams and Madam Pomfrey had to regrow all her hair-" Remus starts as he puts down the tomato but Sirius cuts him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "No, not that, you idiot. The other bit. You said - you said you're in love with me?"

Horoscopes and how they caused the Plague of Frogs by Woldy

Rating: E, 6k words This is the story of the most improbable job Remus ever had, the Chocolate Frog Plague of 1980 and, incidentally, how he first kissed Sirius.

A Series of Sketches Done in Black Ink by mustntgetmy

Rating: E, 57k words Non-magic AU. Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing. An almost year in the life of Sirius and Remus's first year as a couple replete with art and tangled sheets, and containing the following: filled sketchbook pages from people lost and people found, terrible biscuits from an excellent therapist, mismatched music records, expensive hot chocolate, a lost brother, photographs (some invasive and some invoking terrible memories), a reckoning with the past, a promise of the future, and yet another ridiculously over the top Halloween party.

Within White Space by mustntgetmy

Rating: T, 9k words Non-magic AU. Remus spends his all his lunch breaks the same way: he sits at the university cafe, orders the cheapest thing on the menu, and stares at Sirius. Getting a good long, look at Sirius (and fantasizing about said look) is all Remus expects from Sirius. But Sirius has never been one for fulfilling expectations.

Black Glass by estas_absentis

Rating: E, 4k words Remus already holds Sirius’ heart in his hands, carries it with him through the world, could crush it if he chose. Why not his mind, his self, too?

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dovesick · 1 year ago

Text

(following the trail) the black market is located in an old warehouse. sellers have taken up residence there over the past year, after repeated shutdowns in other locations. moxie walks past various stands, with all manner of items for sale. the memory seller is at the back, and he follows the trail to his stand.

#misadventure may #misadventure may 2024 #anthro art #background art #artists on tumblr #story of moxie #this one took me the longest out of all of them (so far)#i love drawing items…but there were a lot of items to draw haha #wanted to create a warm & busy atmosphere here

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sunbookie · 6 months ago

Text

In 1969, Elijah Muhammad purchased cattle and 900 acres of land in St. Clair County, Alabama to build a $2.5 million industrial-agricultural complex. The complex was to be used for farming and to produce food, a slaughterhouse, a meat processing plant, a cement manufacturing plant and a lumber yard.

Then the white people in Alabama got mad...

A crowd of 2,200 or more angry whites met at a local high school to decide what action should be taken to regain the land legally sold to the Black Muslims. The first move was to demonize Black Muslims in the local press.

The Muslims were also attacked in speeches as being anti-Christian and a threat to the local community. The white conservatives said that the Muslims were seeking to use the land as a guerrilla warfare training base for black revolutionaries...

With the support of the governor, Albert Brewer, state Atty. Gen. McDonald Gallion and U.S. Rep. William Nichols, D-Ala., the whites had seven court suits filed. Four of the suits contested the legality of the Muslim organization and its non-compliance with Alabama State law which required Muslims, Communists and Nazis to register after spending five consecutive days in the state. The three remaining civil suits challenged the legality of the land title.

The land was one of the many properties owned by the Black Muslims who were considered to be among the most peaceful citizens anywhere. When they bought land in Missouri, there was tension for a while among white residents but that changed and they went on to operate one of the most modern and productive farms in the state.

In Alabama, the court suits filed against the Muslims failed and in March, 1970, the Black Muslims found scores of their cattle dead in the pastures, victims of cyanide poisoning. With that, the Muslims put the poisoned land up for sale, loaded up the remaining cattle and, under threats to their own lives, departed St. Clair County....

🤔🧠✊🏿❤️🖤💚📚💯

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 9 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foreign Business

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Italian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,585

Summary: Should you leave that gloomy village?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nonsense and legends in your opinion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear (Y/N)

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

I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

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

Duke

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

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

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

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

Curiosity or cowardice, that was your dilemma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young Elena nodded curiously, glancing at your suitcase.

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

You nodded slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

At least that girl helped you not to lose hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luiza made a strange gesture, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't let the shadows invade you...

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

Yes, maybe it was time to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Books and movies?” the puppet asked.

You, nervous, still scared, nodded erratically.

“Do you have Italian stuff?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The veiled lady looked up with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked back at the lady, a bit confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angie”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That scared you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Sure…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, her hands were very soft…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lady nodded, pointing to a small table.

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

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

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

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

“No…! No…! Mother Miranda!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chi va piano…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Per sempre…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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