#i kind of feel like whatever she says about her life and feelings is just totally reflective of the image she wants to project at the time

[userautumn]

He knows he shouldn't, but Buck texts Tommy anyway. Once Jee is covered in chocolate and cookie crumbs, once she's drifting off to sleep against his arm with Moana playing softly in the background, he pulls up their text thread with his unoccupied hand and clicks on the message bar. He ignores the grey and blue messages that sit above, messages—warm, kind, and loving—that speak to a happier time and instead chooses to type out a quick message.

Jee misses you.

He sends off the text and then pockets his phone. Slips out of Jee's sticky grasp so he can start cleaning the kitchen before it's time to put her to bed. He's so deep in thought that he almost misses the way his phone vibrates in his pocket.

What did she say?

"Uncle Tommy come play?"

Tommy doesn't respond for a while, long enough that Buck gets to imagine his face, pinched and in pain, with tears in his eyes. Or maybe Tommy's just fine. Maybe Buck is the one pinched and in pain, emotional and so damn sick of crying all the time.

I'm sorry.

Sorry to her or sorry to me?

It's not fair. Buck knows it's not as soon as he sends it, but Tommy replies seconds later anyway.

Sorry to both of you.

Buck stares at the text until his screen goes blank, trying to decide which of the emotions he's currently drowning in that he wants to feel. He settles on anger.

If you were that sorry, you wouldn't have dumped me three days after our six month anniversary.

Never mind.

This was dumb.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Bye.

Goodbye, Evan.

Buck's heart lurches into his throat at the sight of his name on screen, his eyes widening and his breath quickening. An embarrassing rush of hope stirs deep in his chest before he can clamp down on it and it feels like breathing for the first time in weeks. Another text comes through immediately after.

Sorry. It's a habit. I'm so sorry. Goodnight, Buck. Please tell Jee-Yun that I hope to see her soon.

Buck stares for a long moment, then lets out a laugh, thin and mirthless, as humiliation—so much fucking humiliation—crawls up his gut, filling his mouth with bile and shame. Right. He should have known. Did know, probably, somewhere deep down in his gut. But Evan Buckley has always been a dreamer, a believer in the impossible. Even and especially when it costs him.

I'm not going to lie to her.

Tommy doesn't answer, and this time, Buck knows he won't. He slides his phone back into his pocket and stares down at the countertop. His hands are braced on the flat, smooth surface, the fingers of one hand slick with soapy water. He doesn't cry, but it's a damn near close thing. Hell, with the pain currently slicing and carving its way through his chest, he could probably scream with it, but he won't. He won't scare Jee and he won't wake the neighbors, he'll just... deal with it. Like he has been dealing with it, like he always deals with it.

Buck takes a deep breath. Then he grabs the dishcloth he'd thrown aside and walks back over to the sink. Dips the rag in hot, soapy water and wrings it out before returning to wipe down the counters once more. Whatever. All of this is just... whatever. Tommy breaks his heart—he lets Tommy break his heart—for the second time in a row and it's just fucking whatever. Right now, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and Jee-Yun needs to be woken up so she can brush her teeth before he tucks her in, and life does what it does best: it goes on.

He can cry about Tommy Kinard later. It's not like he gets much sleep these nights anyway.

[doeeyeseddie]

Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

I.

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving. 

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do. 

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately. 

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

V.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have. 

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 88 (Bringing Home a Ghost)

After Ghost Night ended at the Salty Paw, Heather, Conrad, and their new friend Felix Psyded left Fisherman's Wharf and returned to their home on Sable Square. Heather entered first, finding Hazel on the sofa watching TV. "Hey, how were the kids tonight?"

"They were great! Ashy said you guys usually read him two bedtime stories but he fell asleep after the first one, and Lava hasn't woken up since I put her to bed. I got to watch Moonlight Massacre after all! How was your night?"

"It was nice! We went looking for a man we didn't find, but we met someone else while we were there..."

Conrad walked inside the front door as Felix floated in behind them. Heather stood, as Hazel looked up from her phone in quiet awe. "Felix Psyded, Esquire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss."

"Hazel Moody-Nesbitt," she replied. "Heather's cooler younger sister. You're, like, really a ghost!"

"Since 1915." He warmly tipped his bowler hat. "May I say, you're stunning like your sister."

"You may say! But I'm married."

"Of course the lovely Nesbitt women would all be spoken for. Though I hope your husband is friendlier than Sargent Gordon."

Hazel laughed. "My wife is sweet, but Conrad's great! Are you the one guy in the world he doesn't get along with?"

Heather sighed, sliding over to make room for Conrad on the sofa. "They got off on the wrong foot."

"Well, why'd you bring him home? I know you love strays, but I didn't think that meant people who've been dead for over a century!"

"They've promised me a plate of ambrosia in exchange for my services."

Hazel gaped. "When you guys said you were doing this challenge I just thought it was, like, a team building exercise. I didn't think you were really going to resurrect anybody!"

Heather shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't we? We went through all that to learn how to do it, so we might as well help someone with unfinished business while were at it."

"So is that it, then? No one dies, they just get to live again with ambrosia?"

"Not everyone's unfinished business is to live again. Some die so old, with bodies so used and broken, living again isn't worth it. Even some of the younger ones. Everyone is different and fascinating in their own way, which is why I took to studying ghosts and their stories in the first place."

"He's going to help us figure out if Conrad met a ghost out on Deadgrass Isle."

Hazel grinned as Conrad stood to shoo one of their chickens back outside. "You're fighting crime by day and paranormal activity by night? Holly was right, Conrad. You're basically a superhero."

He blushed, and Felix turned a dour look in his direction. Ending the tense conversation in the living room, Hazel left to return home.

Heather and Conrad left Felix on the sofa and headed to bed. But before they'd changed into pajamas, she blurted her question with concern. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you snappier with anyone than you were tonight with Felix. Like I brought home two ghosts tonight instead of one."

"He was kind of acting like a dick."

Heather nodded. "And you met him there. That's not like you. Is it George Brindleton again?"

"No, George has been quiet. He and his wife spend a lot of the winter in Sulani every year." He could see Heather found this insufficient and kept talking. "I'm just dealing with a lot. I know I wasn't really myself tonight. There's this one case I can't crack and it's making me a little crazy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do, but I can't say much about it."

"I know. Confidential. But I want to give you whatever you need to be able to keep your work life at work, and not take the stress home. Not even for me and the kids, because you're so good to us. That's not the issue. I'm worried about you, and I want you to talk to me. The night we got engaged, you promised you would always tell me how you're feeling."

Joining her on the bed, he held her hand against his chest. "When I've finally solved the case, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

She grinned. "Not every gory detail, I hope."

"Do I ever? I don't want to think about the case tonight. I don't want to think about the ghost in our living room. All I want to focus on the rest of the night is you."

They made love before Heather fell asleep in Conrad's arms, (at least temporarily) satisfied by their conversation. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I debated whether or not to bring Felix Psyded and his lore into this generation because there's a university generation much, much later in this challenge, but Felix was the first ghost that showed up to Ghost Night, sat right next to them and was immediately enamoured with Heather. So my mind spun with a bunch of possibilities for him and I went for it, even though he's mentioned in urban legends for UBrite students and those obviously won't be canon to my timeline anymore.

The In Bloom challenge doesn't have anything related to Felix in the challenge rules, even in the university generation, and Reaper Rewards didn't even require use of the ambrosia Heather made. But I wasn't going to do all that and not fully finish what they started. They're not really the type to lure sims into a cowplant just to test whether ambrosia works, no one in my save needed to die and be brought back, and I have a plan now for Felix! @pixeldistractions mentioned a possible prequel flashback and I'll never say never, but setting up an early-20th Century photo save will take a while if I do it, so no promises. I am invested in him getting a happy ending to his second life, however!

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hi blusy!! i have a G!P donna request to make...

following the canon events of resident evil village, ethan winters went to the beneviento estate to search for his daughter rose and comes across reader, donna's maid who is appointed to take care of the young winters for the the time being. donna, for some reason (i dunno what, you can fill this one kwnsisjsj) wasn't in the manor that time and so ethan didn't experience the hallucinations like he did in the game. ethan, relieved that he can finally get back his daughter, tries to talk the reader into handing her over. (just to be clear, rose is not in the jar like in the game. rose is actually still intact, like her actual baby body is there and reader is taking care of her) reader refused to do so but ethan insists. without any choice left, reader tries to run away from him, which enraged ethan. he chased reader around the manor, easily overpowering her since reader is not experienced in combat / donna felt like there was no need since she's just the maid.

(she's not actually just a maid because she's intimate with donna and they did have sex before... but donna is stubborn and won't confront her own feelings up to this point.)

when donna finally got home, she found reader cowering on one corner, covered in blood (not her blood but ethan's because she tries to fight him off) while ethan was on the verge of stabbing her to death with scissors.

so uhh.... i think you know what will happen next to ethan (hint: not so good) donna ignored his corpse and went straight to taking care of reader. reader assures her that she's fine and that the blood is not hers so donna calms down for a bit.

and thennnn yeah, smut time!!! :D

donna, terrified and pissed at the thought of almost losing reader to winters, calmed herself down by touching reader for a while. just touching, you know, the silly hands around the waist thing and whatever. but realizing that ethan touched reader way too much than she liked, even to the point of ruining reader's dress that she made herself, donna was pissed once more... and possessive. (wink wink)

Yesss!!! I hope it wasn't too dark... Thank you for request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Her hidden heart

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut at the end, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, mental health issues, possessiveness, Donna being Donna, fluff, seriously, this is dark...

Word count: 8,543

Summary: She doesn't talk about her feelings, she will never do it...

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

To say that you, or any maid in the village, were born to serve would be a lie.

The Black Gods ordered your life as they saw fit, often without taking into account stupid dreams or ambitions. You could have complained, protested, but you didn't. Being a maid wasn’t in your plans, but, you had no other plans.

You were a young girl. At 21 years old, nature gave you gifts that were apparently useless and that you found difficult to recognize: beauty, sweetness, kindness, goodness... all of those were characteristics that were possible separately, but never together in a single person.

You weren’t special, but you were strange.

None of your friends felt good about having to leave their home to work in the castle. You, however, accepted your fate in an optimistic way, without protest. After all, you weren’t leaving the village. You weren’t abandoning your family.

You would do it because you accepted your destiny; you accepted that the Black Gods granted you those skills, that beauty solely to serve.

What you didn’t expect was that you wouldn’t live surrounded by girls your age, dealing every day with Lady Dimitrescu and her eccentric whims. It took you a long time to get used to the idea of ​​being her maid, but the plans didn’t go as you wanted.

The castle wouldn’t become your home, but a place of passage for your next destiny, one that you didn’t believe possible. You wouldn’t serve the oldest Lord, but the youngest.

You could not reject that proposition, because it was what the Gods had in store for you.

Your destination was the forest, it was that dark mansion guarded by a waterfall, it was the house of the most mysterious Lord, of the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

The lady in black received you in silence, without saying a word, assuming that you already knew what you would have to do. In part you did know, and you let yourself be carried away by the inertia of what would be your profession, obeying in silence.

Every day, every night was the same in that place. Nothing changed, perhaps the shrill voice of the doll Angie had new words for you, but that figure in mourning continued walking like a ghost at your side, as if you didn’t even exist.

Comfort wasn’t exactly the word you had in mind when defining your stay at the estate, but discomfort wasn’t either. The days, the weeks passed quickly, like a blink, revealing only a glimpse of that black shadow.

Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if everything had remained the same, if nothing had changed; a heavy and annoying thought that you tried to push out of your head.

You barely knew the lady, no one was lucky enough to do so. You had heard horrible things, rumors, exaggerated descriptions, but none of that was comparable to seeing that black veil dance when she passed by you.

Donna was a taciturn, discreet woman, who refused to acknowledge that you were there even if she had asked for it. Luckily, your thoughts about an eternal routine were completely wrong.

Your elegant “my lady” was, with the first words you heard from the lady, transformed into a simple “Donna.” It could be an insignificant change.

Hearing that hoarse voice for the first time could have been a mistake, a small detail or a thank you gift for your work, but nothing of the sort. That melodic whisper was only the spark that lit a long fuse of events.

First her voice, then her face.

She didn't take off her veil in front of you. She didn't show you her beauty as an act of friendship or trust, no. Donna simply got up that morning and didn't bother to cover herself. She would never do that again.

Her words were more eager to come out of her lips and her single eye scrutinized your reaction to an act that seemed casual and natural. It wasn't.

Showing her face wasn't a reward for your work, but rather a test, the last one the lady needed in order, according to Angie, not to get rid of your annoying presence. Of course you only flattered her beauty despite her distrust of your words.

Yes, she was beautiful, terribly beautiful. That deformity on her face was only part of a capricious gift from the Black Gods, the price to pay for eternal life and the protection of Mother Miranda. At least that's how she saw it.

They were cold, trivial conversations, but more frequent. Talking to the lady allowed you to get to know her better, learn her tastes, some of her concerns. Maybe showing up before you was a test, but you were sure that talking to you, even with that cold tone, was not.

For a young and deluded girl like you, it wasn’t difficult to start feeling something for Donna. Her rare smile, the sparkle in her eye, her hair as black as night, her thin and apparently soft hands…

She was a strange woman. Her mind was damaged, loneliness danced around her like a sinister shadow, but you were always good at dancing to the tune of that melody of laments and tragedies.

As time went by, that beautiful smile was much more frequent, the cold conversations didn’t heat up, but they didn’t stop either. A relationship of trust wasn’t enough for those moments alone in which words sometimes flowed, and other times you just looked at each other in silence.

First her voice, then her face, her body.

If you had to give a reason for that afternoon in the workshop, you couldn't do it. Without warning, without being aware of the strange gleam in her eye, the words turned into kisses. They weren't sweet, they weren't tender; they were wild, desperate. You fulfilled one of your wishes, yes, you kissed the woman you had loved for more than a year.

It wasn't the beginning of something, it wasn't the beginning of a romantic relationship, it was a wish half fulfilled. Those deep, anxious kisses weren't covered in love, they weren't accompanied by confessions, only by gasps, only by eagerness to take you.

You realized that it wasn't just her face that was the victim of the Gods' games, that this gift from Mother Miranda brought with it a change in her body that could very well seem like a mockery to poor, lonely Donna.

You didn't care what the lady's last secret was, the cruel game that gave her body an unexpected and isolated change. You were a maid and you wanted to do it, you wanted to let yourself go, let her take you roughly at the table, take your innocence and finally claim you as hers.

Not a whisper, not a declaration, none of that accompanied Donna's carnal desires. She simply took what she wanted, what was hers, when she wanted, how she wanted.

Any maid would have accepted her fate, put her body at her mistress's disposal without thinking, without asking for explanations, without asking or wondering. Not you.

You weren’t capable of considering yourself an object, a toy, a doll that Donna played with whenever she wanted. You had a hard time seeing it that way. You knew it wasn't that way.

Her kisses were sometimes hurried, other times they were slow and careful. The silence was only overshadowed by her moans, by yours, but not by words, at least, not always by words. Not wanting to accept your destiny as a sexual doll for the lady, you began to analyze those encounters, the coldness that seemed to fade from her voice.

You were madly in love with Donna, but that didn't mean she felt the same, although, refusing to believe it, you began to look for signs that proved you were wrong.

You found much more than you expected. Her caresses were infrequent, but warm, curious. Outside of passion it wasn’t common for her to kiss you, but it wasn’t something that never happened.

The most beautiful smile in the world, hers, began to appear at very specific moments, in those moments when Donna thought you weren't looking at her.

Like a child's game, she had fun loving you secretly, you were convinced of it. You wanted to hear it with her words, you wanted her to tell you everything you knew she felt, but you were never able to do it.

Donna kept her feelings behind a hard door of cold steel; she refused to share them with you.

 The coldness became a silent shield for the voices of her heart, although it was clumsy, it had cracks. It was as if she didn’t want to let herself be carried away by what she felt, as if loving you was a mistake or a danger.

Her defenses faltered from time to time, giving you kisses, glances, whispers, but soon they returned, soon the huge door that guarded her heart would close again and her face would become stoic, expressionless.

Without fear of losing, of making mistakes, living for more than a year like that, letting her take you, enjoying her body while she did it with yours, thinking, or rather, making you believe that it was her right for being your lady, your mind set a new goal.

You would only have to be patient, study the steel door well, those feelings the lady showed without wanting to, and, with a little luck, be able to find the key, use it, and throw it far away so that it couldn’t be closed again.

“Ouch!” you screamed that morning, that morning when everything became strange.

You were cleaning, as always, standing on a stool to be able to remove the decades of dust from a shelf. Due to clumsiness or lack of care, you tripped, falling to the floor abruptly.

“(Y/N),” the lady in black said, running to your body, with an expression of concern that made you sketch a smile. “Oddio... are you okay?” she asked, crouching down beside you, helping you sit up.

“Yeah… it was a stupid fall,” you said in a sweet voice, the only voice you could have with her. “Thanks, Donna.”

The lady nodded slowly, checking that you hadn't been hurt, with a look of concern that delighted your mind, with a softness and warmth in her gestures that revealed her feelings were exposed. Her eye locked with yours for a moment, her face relaxed, but soon after she frowned again, turning away and clearing her throat.

“Um... be more careful, will you?” Donna said with contempt, not helping you up. “A crippled maid is of no use to me.”

“I'm sorry,” you said with flushed cheeks, smiling at the clumsiness with which she closed her mouth, with which she tried to pretend that, to her, you were just that, a maid. “I'll be more careful next time.”

“Fine,” she whispered, crossing her arms and looking away. “I have to go to an important meeting today, (Y/N). I hope to have the house clean by the time I get back… um, I mean, if you can…”

“Of course, Donna, don't worry,” you said with a smile, with that radiant smile you were blessed with and that caused some nervousness in your mistress.

Nodding briefly, the lady and her doll left the mansion without saying goodbye, looking at you shortly before closing the door, looking at you through the veil that hid her beauty, but also those expressions she was ashamed of.

What you didn't imagine was what would happen later, when the lady and doll returned.

“Gods, what is that?” you asked when the lady came back, with Angie not being her only company.

Donna frowned, looking at what she was carrying in her arms, approaching without saying a single word and handing it to you.

In your arms you had a baby, a baby of no more than a year old who looked at you with curiosity. You knew that anything could happen at meetings, but you didn't expect that.

“Don't you see, you silly maid?” Angie said, walking towards you. “It's a baby.”

“Um, I know it's a baby,” you said nervously, holding the girl in your arms and looking at the lady, who coldly, as always, took off her veil without paying attention. “But… But…”

“Her name is Rose,” Angie said, pointing at the girl who was writhing in your arms.

You were nervous and confused, and with good reason.

“Rose?” you asked, looking for Donna with your eyes.

The doll maker sighed, resting her hands on a table, as if she were thinking about her answer. A million possible explanations began to pass through your mind, each one more terrible than the last.

“Donna…”  you whispered, approaching her slowly. “Who is this child? Is she your daughter?” you asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

She turned around, shaking her head, with a nervous, cold expression.

“No,” she answered with an annoyed whisper. “She's not mine.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, biting your lip as the baby squirmed in your arms. “Who is she? Why do you bring her with you?”

“You're nosy, huh?” Angie hissed, as the lady, absentmindedly, poured herself a glass of wine.

She seemed nervous, much more nervous than usual.

You could see the trembling of her hands, her lost gaze. Even, if you concentrated hard enough, you were sure you could hear the thoughts roaring in her mind.

“I'm not nosy, I just don't understand who this baby is and why it's here,” you said looking at the doll while Donna dropped into a chair, with a hand on her forehead. “Donna, what's going on?”

She drank and then looked at you with disinterest, indicating with your gaze for you to come closer. You did it unsurely, calming the imminent crying of the baby.

“Mother Miranda believes that this child is the key to the resurrection of her daughter,” the brunette explained while you sat next to her. “Preparing the ritual takes time and she couldn't take care of her.”

“Gods…” you sighed, cradling the baby. “Who are the parents? Are they from the village?”

“No,” she answered, looking away with a tired gesture. “Don't… ask so many things, ho mal di testa.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologized, looking closely at the girl who moved in your arms. “This is so strange… Don’t you know who her parents are?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Shut up, stop asking stupid questions, (Y/N),” Donna protested, pouring herself another drink and sighing, closing her eye to relax. “You don’t want to know.”

Deep down you knew what that meant. That girl wasn’t from the village and her parents, of course, weren’t either.

Living with Donna had given you certain knowledge about the priestess, about her tireless search, about the methods she would be capable of using to get what she wanted.

“This is going too far… Kidnapping a child…” you murmured, cradling the baby, deducing for yourself where the little girl came from. “Poor parents… it’s unfair.”

Donna looked at you with a sad look, nodding as she played with her glass.

“Yes, it is,” she said in a low voice, emptying the wine into her throat and shaking her head. “I know what you're thinking and no, it's not my fault.”

“I didn't say it was,” you said, leaning towards the lady, who seemed terribly nervous and repentant.

In the village they could say that her heart was evil, that she had a black soul, but you, over time, discovered that it wasn't like that. Donna wasn’t that way by nature, the tragedies of her family, the loneliness... All of that turned her into a puppet in the hands of Miranda.

Knowing that the kidnapping of a little girl was something that visibly bothered her relieved your heart, made you feel less guilty for loving her.

“In fact, it's your fault” she said, with a more common tone, pointing at you with her finger.

“Mine?” you asked surprised, arching your eyebrows.

Donna nodded, crossing her arms.

“It seems that your skills as a maid have spread throughout the village and Miranda thought to leave the care of Rose to you appropriate . According to her, she is much better off with you than in the castle.”

“Oh, I don't know how to take that,” you said with a fake smile, comforting the little girl's moans. “Shh, don't cry...”

“Angie, bring the bag,” the lady ordered, to which the doll, who was comically watching the baby, agreed grumbling and bringing a small backpack from the entrance. “Everything is here, I trust you know how to take care of her.”

“Yes, of course, before coming here I used to take care of my nephew and...” you said nodding and accepting the task without asking any more absurd questions. “Um, I think we need to change her,” you said with a grimace of disgust. “Are there diapers in there?”

“I don't know, check it yourself,” Donna said with the same unpleasant face, getting up from the chair with a tired sigh, with a pained expression and a hand on her forehead. “I'm going to the workshop. “

“Oh, okay,” you said, disappointed at not being able to keep up even one more stupid word with her. “Do you need something?”

“No, lasciami estare.”

That day she didn't seem to be in a good mood, and you knew it was best to leave her alone.

 Donna would have to wait. You had something more important to take care of at that moment. Carefully you cleaned little Rose, in silence, thinking who the unfortunate parents were, why Miranda, protector of the village, would do something like that to an innocent family.

Questions in that place were dangerous and besides, Donna trusted you

“That's it... now little Rose is clean... you like being, don't you?” you said talking to the baby with Angie, without knowing anything about the brunette.

“Gross,” the doll protested as you got rid of the trash and the little girl writhed playfully on a table. “How long is she going to be shitting herself?”

“Angie, it’s a baby,” you said, frowning and picking up the little girl, cradling her in your arms. “We all have been.”

“No, not me, silly,” the puppet said, sitting next to you on the couch. “I’m a more evolved specimen than that poop machine.”

You laughed, shaking your head and watching the hallway, not sure you wanted Donna to come back, not when the thin line of her sanity was so weak in the face of madness.

“Rose, mm? Rose or Rosemary?” you asked the baby, who was playing with your necklace, the necklace Donna gave you some time ago.

According to her, it was a mark, a proof that you were hers. The fact that the gold chain mysteriously coincided with your birthday was, according to your mistress, a stupid coincidence.

“You should read her a bedtime story,” the puppet suggested, making you frown in amusement.

“Wow, Angie, that’s a good idea,” you said, surprised, while Angie and you watched the little girl, who seemed restless. “Find me a story, will you? Oh, and… there isn’t a crib in the house, is there? She can’t sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, yes, there is one in the basement, come, come silly,” Angie said, getting off the couch and leading you.

With the little girl asleep, the day ended.

That day was definitely not the best for Donna. Many times, almost every night, she would take you in silence, falling asleep beside you in the bedroom, not asking you to leave. It could be because loving you was an exhausting task, but once again, Donna didn't know how to hide her true intentions.

Under the sheets, with your bodies naked and exhausted, she pretended to sleep, pretended that her arms around you were a product of the inertia of sleep and not a desperate gesture to maintain contact with you.

You knew when she was sleeping, when she was awake. Those arms, those soft caresses in your hair while she watched you, believing that you were sleeping didn't mean anything of what she wanted you to see, but quite the opposite.

You never dared to play with her, to make her see that her attempts to be stubborn and insensitive stopped working a long time ago. You didn't dare, the fear of discovering that perhaps her sick mind made her behave like that, that she really didn't feel anything for you was the worst of your fears, although you were completely convinced that it wasn't like that.

 That night there were no hugs, no cuddling under the sheets.

You enjoyed those caresses, those kisses that meant nothing, that sometimes didn’t lead to passion, to her eagerness to take you. She closed the bedroom door, thus indicating to you that she didn’t want your company.

It was the first night you slept alone in a long time, but the circumstances were delicate, little Rose had been too abrupt and unexpected a change, which surely unbalanced the lady's sanity, you didn't know to what extent.

“Oh, what is this? A cow... what does a cow do, little Rose?” you said, playing with the girl the next day, while Donna was having breakfast.

She didn't even look at you or talk to you, that day, that morning, she went back in time, pretending you didn't exist.

The girl hit the old book you were holding with her hand, a children's book full of pleasant drawings. You didn't know what that poor baby had been through, but, above all, you didn't want the shadows of the village to haunt her, not before... Miranda took her away.

Rose laughed, innocent, unaware of the uncertain fate that awaited her. Donna looked at you out of the corner of her eye, smiling, pretending that you couldn't see her, even though you did and your face, subtly, smiled back at her.

“Oh, you want some of (Y/N)'s delicious mashed apples, right?” you said, closing the book. “Angie, can you help me?”

“Aye,” the doll said, fulfilling your request without any protest.

The doll was unpredictable, sometimes she was a devil from hell, and other times she was as cute as a teddy bear. It seemed that little Rose's presence didn't bother her at all, quite the opposite of her owner, who seemed even more absent.

When the girl finished eating, you made a great effort to try to get her to sleep, but you were distracted by the lady, who approached slowly, sitting on the armchair in front of you, watching in silence.

You looked at her tenderly and she did so coldly, but also with a spark of curiosity.

“She's an adorable girl,” you commented after a few minutes of tense silence. “She's very good.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, disinterested, looking away.

“Do you want to hold her?” you offered, bringing the girl a little closer.

The brunette moved her arms exaggeratedly, shaking her head with a grimace of disgust.

“No, take her away from me,” she said with a childish hiss.

“Mm, Donna is so mean, huh? She doesn't want to play with little Rose,” you said amused, watching the girl smile at your comical voice. “Well, never mind, you should sleep now.”

“You're good at it,” she commented with a relaxed gesture, tilting her head to watch you cradle the baby.

“Yes, I already told you that I used to take care of my nephew,” you said, looking at her briefly, with that sweet smile that didn't usually leave your face. “Babies aren't a problem for me.”

“Mm,” she murmured again, looking away.

Seeing Rose's face, how sweet and tender she was, you began to fantasize, to imagine scenarios that were previously unthinkable, to imagine a future with Donna, a real one, one in which you weren’t her maid, in which the whispers of love lasted all day, in which those words, those three words that you so longed to hear, ran through your ears.

You were so engrossed in the baby, so hopelessly in love with Donna, that you stopped having control of your thoughts, and also of your words.

“You know what? I've been thinking,” you murmured, cradling the girl, letting yourself be carried away by your emotions. “I wouldn't mind having one of these.”

“Mm? Di che cosa stai parlando?” the lady asked, blinking and frowning.

“Well, I'm talking about this, about a baby,” you sighed, playing with the girl to distract her with your hand. “Can you imagine? A baby, our baby…”

“What?” Donna asked in an unpleasant tone, shaking her head. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not? I've been here with you for over a year, and… well, I always wanted to start a family and…” you stammered, regretting having let your feelings speak for themselves.

“Are you crazy? Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N),” she said, sighing in disbelief.

“Nonsense?” you asked, in a sad tone. “Wanting to have a child with you is nonsense? You and me…”

“You and me, what? Huh? You and me what!? The woman asked in a cold, nervous tone, fixing her bright eye on yours, increasing the volume of her voice.

“Shh, don't talk that loud,” you said, calming Rose's nervousness, and your own. “Donna, stop pretending that I'm just a maid to you, I know that's not the case.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, with a mocking smile. “You know… what? Stop making things up, (Y/N). You are my maid, that's all.”

“That's not true,” you said, with an involuntary hiss. “You know that's not true.”

“You're stupid, (Y/N),” Donna growled, getting up abruptly from the chair. “I'm going to make one thing clear to you, stupid maid. You are mine, you serve me. If I want to fuck you, I do it, if I want to ignore you, I do it. You are here to serve me, to meet my needs, nothing else, do you understand?”

“Why are you so stubborn?” you asked, raising your tone as well. “Look at yourself. You can't even believe your own words and… don't say those things in front of the girl, Donna.”

“You dare to give me orders?” he asked, approaching in a threatening manner. “Stop dreaming about babies and stupid ideas about our relationship. There is no such relationship, do you hear me? I don't love you... you are my doll, my toy, nothing else.”

“You can say whatever you want. I know it's not true,” you said, looking down, with a serious expression, not feeling the slightest pain for her words, you knew they weren't true. “Deny it to yourself the times you want, Donna.”

“I think you've gotten too close to me, stupid...” the lady hissed, looking down, staring her anger into your eyes. “Have a child with you? Don't be an idiot, I would never have a baby with a stupid maid like you,” she growled madly, with her hands shaking, losing control little by little.

“You're shaking, Donna, and do you know why? Because you're lying, because those insults hurt you much more than they do to me, because you would do anything before admitting your feelings,” you said defiantly, trying to keep the girl calm.

“I should never have hired you,” she whispered dangerously.

You, who were determined to face her hard wall, kept your composure, a defiant face, equal to her false madness, her false claims.

“That's the only thing you've sincerely said,” you murmured. “You know why? Because it hurts you, it hurts you that a stupid maid like me has stolen your heart; it hurts you to recognize that behind that powerful and feared Lord there is a soul wanting to be loved.”

“Shut up,” Donna hissed, breathing with more difficulty. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she yelled furiously, kicking the floor angrily, causing little Rose to start crying. “Ugh, make her shut up! Shut that stupid brat up!”

“Stop yelling, you're scaring her,” you said nervously, trying to calm the baby, who was crying inconsolably.

“Vaffanculo,” the lady said, turning abruptly and cowardly fleeing the scene.

The tears couldn’t help but run down your cheeks as you calmed Rose's crying. It wasn’t the first time you insinuated something like that, that you wanted to make her understand that what she believed didn’t matter, that there was something between you, something intense, something strong. Donna was too stubborn and you were too in love.

Of course, she had never been so abrupt with you. Maybe she was telling the truth, and you were nothing to her.

“She's a very stubborn woman,” you said to yourself. “Why is it so hard for her to admit what she feels? Gods...”

A little while later, when Rose managed to calm down, the lady returned with a different look, one that wasn't directed at you.

Donna, without saying a word, dropped down next to you on the couch, looking at the baby, who was struggling to fall asleep. You, feigning annoyance, moved your body away from hers a little, pretending that those words didn't hurt you, that you were strong.

“May I?” she asked after a few tense minutes, extending her hands towards the baby.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, nodding, unable to suppress a smile.

“Be careful with her head... that's it...” you said in a sweet voice, handing the baby to the lady, who took it unsurely, following the guide you made with your hands in hers. “That's it…”

The brunette looked at the girl and then at you, cradling the baby slowly, with a close, but at the same time very far from reality look.

“Say hello, Rose, hello…” you said with a loving voice, calming the girl's nervousness due to those unknown arms. “It's Donna, honey, say hello, Donna…”

The lady sketched a smile, and then sighed very deeply.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N),” she whispered with a bit of pride. “I'm sorry for speaking to you that way.”

You looked at her, nodding to accept her apology.

“I have nothing to forgive you for, I know you didn't mean it,” you said with a tender voice, enjoying the view you had of Donna with the baby.

“No, of course I didn’t,” she murmured with a shy stammer. “You're not stupid.”

“Sometimes I think I am,” you sighed, helping Donna keep Rose in a comfortable position. “You know how I feel about you. You know I love you, right?”

Donna looked away with a strange, bewildered expression.

“I just don't understand you, Donna,” you said again, shaking your head. “You think I don't notice what you do. You think I don't know that you caress me when I sleep, that you whisper in my ear, that you smile at me when you think I'm not looking… I'm afraid you're not that good at hiding what you feel.”

“I don't…” she said, regretting talking and controlling her breathing. “It's not that easy, (Y/N).”

“Of course it is,” you said with a hopeful smile, reaching out your hand to guide her face, her gaze, to yours. “Donna, just tell me, say what you feel. Tell me I'm not a toy for you, tell me because otherwise... I'll end up going crazy.”

The lady lowered her eye, pressing her lips together, letting a tear roll down her cheek, starting to sob.

“You are not a toy,” she said with a broken voice. “You, you are…”

“Yes, come on, tell me, my love,” you insisted, seeing, for the first time, her defenses falter. “Your gaze says it, but your words remain silent, why, Donna?”

“Don’t you understand? You don’t know what it’s like for someone like you to tell me those things, to look at me that way. You don’t understand that it’s hard for me to accept that someone loves me just the way I am… I want to believe you, but, but I can’t… they, they don’t let me, they say that you will leave and…” she said nervously, blinking uncontrollably, being immediately comforted by your caresses.

Slowly, you approached her lips, placing a different kiss on them, one that she didn’t ask for, one that came from the depths of your heart. She sobbed, but her lips kissed yours too, slowly, without saying anything, but saying everything at the same time.

“Shh, Donna… my Donna…” you whispered in a tender voice, with your hand running over her cheek, wiping away her tears, touching her scar.

“Don't do that,” she interrupted, shaking her head, embarrassed.

“I like everything about you, Donna, everything,” you said in a tender voice, looking into her eyes, at her sad and weak expression.

Maybe, finally, you could get that confession you so longed to hear from her lips.

“If it's true that you don't love me, look me in the eyes and tell me, I promise to accept it, I promise not to abandon you if you do, I will always be faithful to you, my love, no matter what you feel.”

“I can't do that,” the brunette murmured, shaking her head.

“Why?” you insisted.

“Because I'd be lying,” she finally said, handing Rose back to you, breathing nervously at that veiled confession. “(Y/N), I…”

A horrible noise, the intrusive ringing of the phone interrupted the most anticipated moment of your life. Her gaze lowered repentant, and her eye begged for your silent forgiveness.

“Go,” you said with an understanding smile, putting Rose in her little crib. “I've been waiting for this conversation for a long time. I can wait a little longer.”

Donna nodded, kissing the back of your hand quickly, like a different gesture, one that said she wouldn't change her mind soon, as it always used to happen when she was close to admitting her feelings.

“Pronto,” she said, picking up the phone, looking at you out of the corner of her eye with a sad smile that you returned.

“Cosa?” Donna asked scared, changing her expression radically. “Dead Lycans? ... Where? Cazzo… yes, Mother Miranda, yes, the girl is with us, (Y/N) is… yes, right now, Mother Miranda,” she said nervously, calling your attention and hanging up abruptly, running towards you.

“What's wrong?” you asked nervous by her erratic behavior. “Donna.”

“I have to go. Something happened…” she said without giving more explanations, searching for her veil. “(Y/N), listen to me… I don't think anything will happen, but… promise me that you will protect Rose, that you won't leave her… do you promise? Per favore! Tell me you understand!” she squealed nervously at your lack of response.

“Y-Yes, of course, Donna, no one will touch the girl, but what's wrong? You're scaring me,” you said nervously, getting up from the couch.

“You, just… wait for me, okay? I'll be back in a moment, come on Angie,” Donna said, gesturing to her doll, the silent witness of that conversation, making her jump comically into her arms.

“Donna, what…”you said, answered by a loud slam of the door.

You were nervous and scared. You didn't know what was happening, why Donna ran out like that. Not knowing anything was always your biggest anxiety, in any aspect. Walking around the house, you looked at the girl, who was lying asleep.

You would just have to wait, or so you repeated to yourself. The minutes passed and everything seemed as usual, until a loud knock, coming from the entrance, scared you, making you run there.

On the floor, surely because of the knock he gave to the doors, was an unknown man, dressed in clothes that weren’t typical of the village. Of course, you backed away scared as he stood up, looking at you curiously.

“Hey, no, no, easy,” he said, extending his empty hands as a symbol of peace. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you asked, backing away slowly, totally distrustful.

“H-Hey, I'm coming in peace… Let me explain,” he insisted, chasing you into the living room.

“I-I don't know what you want, I'm just a maid,” you said in your defense, terribly scared and looking around for something to defend yourself with.

“A maid? Oh, yes… you seem like a pretty normal girl, you're not one of them,” he said, with a nervous and relieved smile. “I'm looking for…” As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the crib. “Rose!”

The man ran towards the baby, towards the poor creature that you had to protect at all costs.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously as he bent down to pick her up. “That baby isn't yours.”

“Of course it's mine, I'm her father,” he said with a pleasant smile, relieved to be reunited with his daughter. “Thank goodness you're here, Rose... come, we'll get out of here, together,” he said, extending his hand towards you, making you step back and shake your head.

“No, you can't take her, Donna told me to protect her,” you hissed, studying the situation.

You understood his joy, his desire to get out of there, but you simply couldn't allow it, you couldn't fail Donna, your Donna.

“Donna? One of those monsters? Listen, I’ll call people who could blow this place into a thousand pieces, you wouldn't have to worry about those monsters anymore, we can get out of here, the three of us,” the man said, speaking slowly so as not to scare you.

“No,” you said horrified quickly approaching the crib and grabbing the little girl. “You won’t take Rose!” you screamed, running away from him.

“Wait! Hey!” he shouted, chasing you through the mansion. “Come back here! She's my daughter!”

You didn't listen to him, you ran through the house while that enraged man chased you. Cornered, with the little girl in your arms, you knew you couldn't run away forever, you would have to face him sooner or later.

Hiding behind a door, you grabbed a vase from a table, letting the little girl's crying draw his attention, making him come closer. When he did, you didn't think much about it, you slammed the object into his head, breaking it into a thousand pieces, making him bleed.

“Damn it! Give me back my little girl!” the man screamed, blinded by the blow, bleeding from the head and stretching out his hand to try to catch you.

You could run away, but you couldn't escape. Naturally, that man was beyond your physical capabilities; you were the best of maids, but the worst of fighters. After a frantic chase, the man grabbed some scissors that were on a table, threatening you with them.

“Give Rose to me, come on, or…” he hissed, cornering you while you held Rose tightly against your chest.

He struggled with you, causing your clothes to be stained with his blood. You weren't strong, but you didn't let him take the baby from you, making him lose his mind completely, causing you to fall to the floor, with no way out.

The man breathed for a moment, raising the scissors in the air, surely ready to stab you with them, even at the risk of hurting Rose. You couldn't blame him, he was desperate.

Just when you thought it was your end, when you could feel those scissors digging into your flesh, the girl's father stepped back, dropping the scissors and covering his head with his hands.

Through the front door, the lady in black appeared, covered in her veil, reaching out to him, exerting her influence on his mind.

“Donna!” you cried out, sobbing as you saw your savior tormenting the man, bringing him to his knees.

Behind her was a dark figure, Mother Miranda, who, ignoring the man approached you, retrieving the baby.

“(Y/N), right?” the witch murmured with a sinister smile. “Good job.”

You nodded trembling as the priestess enveloped herself in a black cloud and Donna, agitated, crouched next to you.

“(Y/N), amore mio, are you okay?” she asked, cupping your face in her hands, nervously looking at every part of your body. “You're bleeding... where has he hurt you? Gods, (Y/N)…”

“I-I'm not hurt,” you murmured, letting her look at you. “The blood is not mine.”

“Meno male…” the brunette sighed, resting her forehead against yours. “(Y/N)…”

You glanced at the witch, who had completely changed her appearance, causing the tormented man to notice that new young woman.

“Mia?” he asked, dazed. “What are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Ethan, it's all over now… let's go home,” Miranda whispered in that new form, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “A pity, I had high hopes for little Rose, but I'm afraid she'll have to go back to her pathetic family.”

Laughing sinisterly, accompanied by the zombified Ethan, the woman left leaving you alone.

There was a moment of silence in which the two of you looked at each other nervously.

“I-I thought I had lost you,” Donna whispered, taking off her veil and shaking her head while pushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “That he had hurt you.”

“I-I'm fine,” you said with your nerves still uncontrolled. “I only hit the floor, but, but I protected Rose, like you asked me to.”

“(Y/N), you are the only thing that matters,” Donna said, with a brusque tone, still covering your face with her hands. “You are… The only thing I have.”

“Calm down… I'm fine, you saved me,” you said with a slightly fake smile. “Shh… everything is fine, I'm not hurt…”

“I can't stand seeing you like this…” Donna hissed, shaking her head, her expression darkening. “Come.”

You took her hand as you walked down to her bedroom, where, without wasting any more time, she took off your ruined dress, cleaning your skin without saying anything, in complete silence.

Her hands were shaking and her eye was blinking nervously, on the verge of a breakdown.

“Sono una stupida,” she growled, panting nervously as she looked after you. “Sono una stupida!”

“Donna,” you said, moving away, a bit scared. “Calm down, my love.”

“No, I'm not calm, I can't be calm,” she said nervously, throwing away the towel she was cleaning you with and holding her hair. “You could have died!”

“I haven't, darling, I'm fine,” you said nervously, with a sad voice, sweet as always.

“No, no, no, no, no, you're not fine… nothing is fine!” she shrieked furiously, kicking the floor. “If you had died, I would…! I can't stand it. I can't stand you leaving me without knowing…! Not knowing that you… are the love of my life.”

“What did you say?” you asked, surprised by that whispered revelation, by that confession you didn’t expect in those circumstances.

“I’m tired of pretending!” the lady shrieked, kneeling in front of you, holding your hands too tightly. “(Y/N), listen to me, I’m completely in love with you, I’ve been since I met you and I’ve never told you because… I’m an idiot!”

“Shh, I know,” you said in a reassuring tone, hissing in pain from her grip.

“No, you don’t know… all this time I’ve been… running away from my feelings because I didn’t… I didn’t think I deserved you, I didn’t know that you… that I… I don’t deserve to love and I… they…” Donna said, stuttering, closing her eye to fight her madness, to be able to speak more clearly.

“I thought you would leave me, that you would never… (Y/N), I beg you to forgive me, but I was scared, scared because I never felt love for anyone, I was afraid of everything, I was afraid of getting my hopes up, of you breaking my heart…”

“Donna, I love you,” you said, fighting against her grip so you could hug her.

“I, I-I love you, (Y/N), I don't want you to be my maid ever again; I want you to be my wife. I want you to be mine only if you want it… I want to have children with you. I want you to be always by my side and…”

Seeing that she wasn’t able to control herself, you chose to silence her with your lips, to taste her salty tears in a tender, deep, revealing kiss, one that said much more than any words; that expressed the joy of your heart at having finally found the key to hers.

“That's a lot of propositions,” you said in a relaxed, amused tone, slowly detaching yourself from her lips. “But I have the same answer for all of them…”

“Quale?” she asked, with an almost childish, expectant look.

“Yes, yes, Donna,” you answered, melting into her lips again while she cried, this time from joy.

“(Y/N),” she said, moving your hair away as she always did, with a sincere smile.  “Will you marry me? I-I don't have a ring but…”

“Donna…” you said, rolling your eyes. “Of course I will.”

The doll maker hugged you very tightly, burying her head in you chest, crying desperately, regretful for her attitude, happy for having been able to open her feelings. Her mind must have been a complete mess at that moment.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeated, soaking your skin with her tears. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“Shhh,” you whispered, caressing her head, hissing in pain as her nails accidentally scratched your naked back. “Donna, my love… that's it, relax, okay? Everything is fine, my love, everything…”

She nodded effusively, touching your body, your waist, enjoying your skin with a smile she always wanted to have on her face, but that slowly faded.

“What is this?” Donna asked confused, pointing at some marks on your arm, the marks of some fingers. “Did I do it to you?”

“No, I think that man grabbed me and…” you explained, letting the lady go over the rest of your body in a different way, studying it.

“H-He grabbed you… he grabbed you…” she murmured shaking her head, moving away a little and getting up, looking away at your ruined dress. “Gods… il tuo vestito…”

“It's okay, Donna, it's okay,” you said, getting up as well and placing a hand on her shoulder. “It can be cleaned.”

“No,” the lady said, frowning and turning around abruptly. “I made that dress for you! It was a gift for you!”

“Shhh, I know…” you said, rubbing her arms, afraid that she would lose her mind again. “It doesn't matter, Donna, you can make me another one.”

“That man has… he has defiled you,” she murmured, looking at you sadly as she ran her hands down your body. “He has touched you, he has… marked you…” she said nervously, running a hand through the man's grip. “He has touched what is mine… nobody touches what is mine!”

“He won't do it ever again… I'm only yours, Donna,” you said confused, letting the brunette do something strange, touch your body slowly with her hands, with a concentrated look.

“You are mine, my girl…” she whispered, looking briefly into your eyes. “Everything, your skin… your waist… your face… he had no right…” she said, running her hand over each place she mentioned. “He had no right to do it… I-I need… to take him… away from you…”

“Donna…” you sighed, letting yourself be dragged by her hands on your waist, by her wild kisses that began to devour your lips mercilessly. “Honey…”

“Shh, calm down, tesoro… I won't let anyone else touch you ever again,” she whispered in your ear, kissing you fiercely, grabbing your body, scratching it almost desperately, playing with the edges of your underwear. “I need you, (Y/N).”

“Take what you need, my love,” you said with a purr, letting the garment slide down your legs, knowing that taking you, claiming you, would serve to calm the lady down, to make her fears disappear and, well, you were always willing to do it, always.

She nodded, kissing you again, knocking you down on the bed among nervous gasps, playing with her own clothes, whispering to you, adoring you in a different way, a desperate and passionate way.

“I love you,” Donna whispered, caressing your cheek as your hips swayed while her erection pressed against your entrance, wet from ecstasy, from revelations, from confessions… “I don't want to fuck you, I want to make love, to make you mine…”

You laughed amused, catching her lips in another wet kiss, pulling her body as her shaft entered slowly, but abruptly, stretching your walls, making your body welcome the one who was now your beloved, your wife, your Donna.

“Hey, slow down, darling, you're big,” you said, moaning from the shock, earning a shy smile, a brief moment of pause, of intimate enjoyment, of glances that were very, very far from madness.

“I'm sorry, I just need to…” she said, apologizing for the anxious movements of her hips, for her hands separating your legs, squeezing your skin, melting it in her fingers.

“To make me yours, I know,” you whispered, suppressing a moan, devouring her lips while her thrusts intensified, making the bed creak, protesting due to your lust.

The words no longer came out, only hurried moans did. Your hands didn’t know where to rest, they ran over her clothed body, her legs, squeezing them as close as possible, as deep inside you as possible.

Her movements were fast and uncontrolled, her kisses were wild, her erection slid along your wet walls quickly and decisively while your whole body trembled with pleasure.

“I love you… I love you…” the lady repeated, controlling her own moans. “I don't want to say anything else, every day, every hour…”

Her soft words contrasted with the anxiety of her movements, with the desperation of claiming once again what was hers, what was always hers and always would be.

Your aching body endured the pleasure as best it could, your legs wrapped around her waist, begging her not to pull away, to keep taking you like she did, like she always did, like she had never done before.

That dirty, improvised, wet act didn't take long to reach its end, for your body to surrender to the pleasure, to tense up, to release itself with a loud squeal, with your nails clinging to her flesh.

Donna, accelerated, nervous and unable to control her thrusts, also released herself inside you, leaving her mark on your walls, moistening your insides with her warm seed, with a muffled moan.

“(Y/N),” she said, taking a breath, not wanting to abandon you, playing with your face exhausted by pleasure, pointing your eyes at hers. “You were never just my maid.”

You smiled, kissing her with one last breath, your body demanding a break, the wetness of lust running down your legs.

It had been a strange way to force the lady in black to confess her feelings, but she did it, she finally did it. You would finally have the life with her that you dreamed of. You would be her wife, her lover, the love of her life.

First her voice, then her face, her body and finally, you got her heart.

[strnilolover]

NNN - vet!chris sturniolo - adopting a furry friend

You knew that with chris’ job as a veterinarian, it came with lots and lots of visits from shelter animals. Some who were on their last few moments, some who were looking for their forever homes, or some who were getting ready to go to their forever homes.

It always shattered you whenever you heard chris talking about how he felt so sad for those who have been waiting for months and months to find their homes. Always sitting there and offering comfort and supports for him.

Though, there was one time chris had taken you to the shelter with him when he had to pop by on his day off — just to check up on a pregnant dog to make sure she and her pups were doing okay. While you were there, you had wandered off — walking to the section where all the other dogs were kept at. You stopped by each one of their enclosures, reading their names and greeting them.

But, when you had gotten to this particular dog — you couldn’t help but feel attached to her already. She was a beautiful chocolate lab, her face sweet and gentle. You crouched down, looking at her paper as you stuck your hand out to her. Her name was Honey, and she was only 2 years old.

Her cold wet snout bumped against your hand, tail wagging excitedly as you interacted with her. You smiled, cooing at her. “Who’s a good girl? yeah you are, such a pretty baby.” you giggled as her tongue came out and licked your hand. You were so caught up in petting her and praising her — that you didn’t hear chris come up to stand behind you.

He watched the scene in front of him, your kindness to the little lab and how happy she seemed to make you. Chris’ hand reached out, softly being placed on your shoulder which made you jump a little. “Sorry baby, didn’t mean to startle you.” chris said, apologizing as he crouched down next to you.

You just smiled, mumbling something as you turned back to the puppy. “Isn’t she pretty chris? can we get her? please?” you asked, turning your head back to look at him — trying to give the best puppy dog eyes you could.

Chris smiled, but sighed. “I’m afraid we can’t babe…they uh — they’ve got a family coming in to look at her.” he admitted, feeling a pang of guilt strike his chest as he saw your features falter.

“Oh..” you muttered, frowning as your hand landed a few more pets across Honey’s fur. “Well Honey…it was nice to meet you when i could.” you whispered, pulling your hand away and standing up. You gave chris a look that told him you were ready to go, and he gave a sad smile, following you out to the car.

-

That had been a month ago, and to say you didn’t think about Honey would be a lie. It just felt like something was there when your eyes landed on her for the first time. You didn’t let it get in the way of your daily life, but it did gnaw away at you a little.

Currently, you were curled up on the couch — flipping through channels and streaming platforms to find something to watch while you waited for chris to get home from work. But, nothing was really catching your eyes. After a while, you gave up, tossing the remote aside as you pulled your phone out to scroll on tiktok or whatever app seemed to catch your interest in the moment.

Just as your finger hovered over the instagram app, you heard keys jingling in the door. The sound making your head snap in that direction, the sound chris stepping in through the door echoing through out the house.

“Baby? you down here?” his voice called out. You replied with a quick ‘yeah’ as his footsteps came closer to the living room. When he saw you, a huge smile cracked across his face — you were confused as to why he was so happy.

“Are you decent enough to go somewhere with me?” he asked quickly, and you just nodded slowly. “Yeah? but where are we going?” you responded, shuffling the blankets off of you and getting up from the couch. Chris didn’t respond, he just walked toward you — quickly grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the front door to where your shoes were. You were so confused, he was obviously in a hurry but you didn’t know why.

“You’ll see, now get your shoes on baby. I’ll be in the car waiting, okay?” was all he said before slipping back out the front door, leaving you to get your shoes on and your bag.

The drive was silent for the most part, only little broken conversations speaking here and there. Though, your eyes immediately recognized where you were when chris pulled the car into the parking lot of the animal shelter.

Your head turned to look at him, his eyes focused on finding a parking space. “Chris, why did you bring me here?” you asked, the sadness already laced into your voice. He smiled, “You’ll see, i promise you’re going to love what i have for you.” You sighed, waiting for chris to park the car.

Once the car was parked and the engine was killed, you stepped out. Chris already coming around to your side to loop your arm through his. He guided you toward the front entrance, stepping in through the automatic sliding doors. It smelt like animals and cleaning supplies, just like last time. But this time, the sound of whining and clanking could be heard.

Your brows furrowed, turning the small corner with chris when your eyes landed on a very familiar chocolate colored puppy. You paused, stopping where you were at as your eyes went wide and flicked to chris. “C-chris? what’s this?” you asked, already feeling the overwhelming emotions bubbling in your chest.

“Well, the family that had checked her out decided they didn’t want her…and so when i had to come back to do some more check ups, i noticed she was still here and-“ he took a deep breath, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “-i got her for you.” he whispered against your hair.

You gasped, the tears welling up in your eyes quickly. “Really? You’re being for real?” you squeaked out, and he nodded. “She’s all yours baby.” You smiled, the tears now falling down your face as you quickly hugged him and then made your way over to where the worker was holding Honey on a leash. You knelt in front of her and took her face into your hands, peppering kisses to her fur as she gave you kisses in return.

“You’re such a good baby, i’m going to take such good care of you-“ you sniffled, bringing her onto your lap. “-we’re going to take such good care of you.” you corrected yourself, look back at chris as you held Honey in your arms.

You couldn’t have asked for a better gift — or a better boyfriend.

© strnilolover

[wren-kitchens]

i will hurt you, almost definitely (ask the people who have left me)

1454 words

the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do, anyway. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next. because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost certain that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.

yea I wrote this in about a day I think I was possessed by the spirit of toxic yuri

i'm not too great at writing arguments yet so if it feels awkward or rushed just pretend it doesn't tyty

here is part two!!

the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do after all. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next.

because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost sure that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.

gem never really.. forgot what that was like. the image of pearl's face, stony and serious in the way it never is, circles in her mind every minute of every day, coupled with that agonising aching in gem's chest as she realised what that expression meant for her- for them. the way pearl spoke- as if she didn’t even know- of course she didn't want to- how could she even think-

there's a kind of creaking that doesn’t feel familiar, and gem stays as still as she can, listening as the noise seems to move. it's above her, she realises with a jolt, in the attic. gem pulls out her sword, slowly and silently, tensing as she hears the gentle sound of footsteps descending the ladder behind her. she's died once today, and that is absolutely enough for her- whoever this intruder may be is in for an unpleasant surprise.

the sound of a sword unsheathed, and within an instant, gem's blade flies to meet pearl's- and something in her burns. gem pushes herself off the chests, fighting with an intensity she hasn't needed to use since secret life; pearl clearly wasn't expecting it, if the look on her face is anything to go by. it takes but a few moments for gem to disarm her, sword at her throat, panting.

"once wasn't enough?" gem says, and something shifts in pearl's expression. "or is this some kind of tradition now?"

pearl is grinning, as if she has any right. "c'mon, I had to give it a shot, didn't I? yellow and all- who else was I going to kill?"

anger bubbles up in gem's chest, and she swipes her sword at pearl's face- slicing a clean cut across her cheek. "you’re just asking to be red, aren't you?"

it appears that pearl didn’t expect anything other than banter—and maybe she didn't expect to win in the first place—because it takes her a moment to recover. she dabs a hand against the cut, and blinks in surprise when her fingers come back bloody. "I- y’know, I didn't do it to hurt you-"

"kill me?" gem says, voice sharper than she expected it to be. "you didn’t kill me to hurt me-"

"I didn't fight you because I wanted you to die, I fought you because I wanted scar to live." pearl pushes herself to her feet, grin gone from her face. "I couldn’t have both-"

"you could have let it be fair." gem's voice breaks a little, even as it rings through the still air. "you just- you just sacrificed yourself for him, you didn't let me have a chance."

pearl takes a breath. "I wanted him to win-"

"oh- and I bet he thanks you for that!" gem throws her arms out. "you- he was- do you even know?"

"so you wanted that fate?" pearl demands, and gem is pulled up short. "is that what this is about- you wanted to be stuck in purgatory for a year? is that it?" 

gem rakes a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "of course I didn't-"

"so why is it a problem?" pearl half laughs, and gem notices that the sword has left her hand. "you- you don't want to have won- what else is there?"

"I thought we were friends." gem says, and it's not quite a lie. her chest aches as she watches pearl's expression shift into that stupid sympathetic look everyone has given her whenever she says that. 

everyone but joel. he gets it- more than she thought he would.

"we are friends, I just-"

"no, you don't- you don’t get to do that." gem takes a step forward. "you don’t get to- to spout the same shit i’ve heard from everyone else. 'it's just the games', 'you guys are still friends'- no, you broke my trust."

pearl gives a helpless sigh. "I don’t- what else do you want me to say? you’re-"

"if you say 'new' I will rip your throat out." gem says through bared teeth. "weren't you?"

pearl blinks, gaze darting to the side- to the exit. "I- what?" 

gem finds herself moving unconsciously- to block any kind of escape pearl might have. her heart claws at her ribs. "when scott left you? the person  you were supposed to trust- did that hurt? or were you just new?"

"gem," pearl takes a step backwards. "what- what are you getting at here?"

there are tears in her eyes, and gem blinks them away. "I thought you’d get it. you- you lived it, I thought you’d stay."

"it's not the same thing." pearl's voice is harsher now- gem hit a nerve. 

"it's close enough." gem says, fists clenched, shoulders tense. "it's close enough that you should know how much it hurts." 

pearl shakes her head, moving in a way that's almost pacing, but far too jerky and disordered to quite count. there's a stab of regret, and gem hates herself for it. "no. no, it's- that is not the same. he- he left me- i’d done nothing-"

"what did I do?" gem's voice wavers, and she can’t help it. "did-" she can barely finish, and she hates it. "did I do something to you?"

"it- we were soulmates." pearl says, a little more certain- a little more confident that gem can’t find an argument for that. "you and I.." she hesitates, no longer as sure.

gem exhales shortly. "did you- was I not as important?" 

all of a sudden, pearl snaps. "can you just let it go?" she demands, and gem flinches. "it was a year ago- that's just how it goes, okay? why are you so- so fixated on it?"

and before gem can even think about what she's doing- "because I love you!" she yells, and the words echo through the room as if they were in a cave. 

pearl is staring at her as if she'd just stabbed herself in the chest, and gem feels extinguished. "so is that- is that good enough for you?" there are tears falling down her face, and she can’t bring herself to care about it. "is that- is that close enough to soulmates? do you want me to elaborate about how it felt, or can you just agree that it fucking hurt when you killed me like I was nothing."

"so- so you can go back to your impulse, and your cleo, and your scott." gem spits, wiping her eyes. "and you can- you can pretend you’re their loyal dog, and you and scott can do what you always do and die before things get hard and call it a noble sacrifice." gem pushes the gate open. "but I don't want to see you again until i’m the one taking you out of the series." 

"I- gem-" pearl catches her wrist, and gem has her sword out before she's even fully turned around.

her hand shakes, but her gaze is steely. pearl is crying too, and a part of gem just wants to give in and pull her close- but it's only a small part. "pearl, you know me too well to think i'm bluffing."

pearl takes a short breath, and drops gem's hand. as gem lowers her sword, pearl slips out of the back entrance and disappears into the night. gem watches as she runs across the bridge, into the woods, until her silhouette is indistinguishable from the shadows cast by the birch trees- and gem crumples to the floor.

the moon is high in the sky by the time joel finds her there, and the sun is up by the time gem has stopped crying. but there's something in the centre of her chest, something burning red—and there's something else too.

gem is going to win this game.

[kitkatpancakestack]

DMV meetcute lesbians yay! I have been writing about them in an effort to break through this hellish writer's block bc they are fun and nothing hurts in this universe and I love them <3 Anywayyy it's been a bit since I shared some writing so here's a snippet, if you're so inclined:

“I appreciate the thought,” Chloe said, breaking Gabi from her spiral. “You driving me home from the hospital the other day was enough. You don’t—owe me anything.”

“It’s not—uh, whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” She more or less threw the food onto the kitchen table in order to intercept Chloe at the cabinets, where she had attempted to reach for the plates. “You had a pen literally lodged in your chest, and I thought you were gonna die on me, like, three days ago, so maybe let me get that?”

“I can do it.”

“Okay. Humor me then.”

Chloe blew a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Beer?”

Alcohol always had the potential to make this evening better or exponentially worse. A gamble she was willing to take. “Yeah, thanks.

Chloe moved to the fridge instead and Gabi grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and went about setting out the various containers of chinese food.

“Thanks,” Gabi said, as an open beer was set down in front of her. Chloe smiled and Gabi tried to ignore the weird flip in her stomach and the dryness in her mouth in favor of sticking to her new life plan, which was to not be a walking disaster. Thus far an utter failure but call her an optimist. “So, uh, feel free to take whatever you want. Looking at it all in front of me I think I went a little overboard. Eyes bigger than my stomach and all that.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, but her posture was loose and relaxed as she dragged the lo mein closer to her. They ate in silence, nothing but din of LA continuing on outside the walls. Objectively it was a fine moment, and for anybody else it may have even been content, but Gabi didn’t think she had ever been fine or content in her entire life. As it was, she sat chewing on her egg roll hoping her cool exterior did not give away the nervous breakdown simmering underneath.

You’re just . . . you’re too freaking much, Gabi! You’re too much, until I actually want to have a legitimate conversation with you, or I need you to tell me something real, and then it’s nothing! Two years together and I still just do not understand you. I think that’s what you really want, is for nobody to know you at all!

“Gabi?”

She jerked, swallowing the egg roll gone soft in her mouth, throat suddenly tight. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted another beer.” Chloe’s mouth was soft and pink and her lips a little spit slick from licking them, and Gabi felt her face go hot. 

“Um.” Girl don’t do it. “Yeah, that would be—thanks.”

She fought the urge to bang her head on the table as Chloe returned to the kitchen. “Listen, Chloe—” she stopped when saw a letter tacked up on the fridge with "alumni" in big blocky letters at the top, the first thing she’d seen in the apartment that had any kind of individuality or hint that an actual person lived inside. “Whoa, are you a dancer?”

Chloe frowned in confusion, but then her gaze snapped to the fridge, and a weird stiffness settled over her features. There one moment and gone the next, though. She smoothed the edges out quickly and seamlessly and settled on a more neutral expression. “Yeah, I—” She laughed, a quick burst of air through her nose, shaking her head. “I graduated from Julliard, actually. No big deal.”

Gabi thought her eyes were about to pop out of her head. “No big— are you shitting me.”

Chloe set the beer down. “No.”

“I just—”

“What?” The word was defensive, biting. Gabi walked back her excitement and dug her nails into her palms to keep herself in check.

“I could see it,” was what she settled on. “Your poise handling me during that driving test was unparalleled.”

Chloe laughed for real and that was the biggest win Gabi had earned in a while. “Yeah, you were pretty bad.”

“Hey, I am aware of my many, many faults.”

“You’re human,” Chloe rebuked. “Is this about that breakup you told me before? I’m sure your ex-girlfriend wasn’t faultless. Anyway, you saved my life, so I’d put you on my team any day.”

Gabi laughed, the sound was hollow even to her own ears. “Thanks, I guess.” She fiddled with the paper label on the beer bottle. “She, uh . . .” Gabi cleared her throat. “I’d texted her, because she’d gone to the store, and we didn’t have any milk and I just wanted to make sure that she got some milk.” A stabbing pain ricocheted through her, anchoring her to that moment, a window of time she never felt like she would be able to leave. “She left her phone on the coffee table, and it lit up, and I just glanced over at it, but she’d changed my name in the phone. It just said, ‘Pandora’s Box.’”

She remembered confronting her ex about it. Still hopeful even during one of the worst moments of her life. Yeah, Gabs, it says Pandora's Box, you know, that thing you open and then it's just, fucking disaster after disaster. Sound familiar?

Chloe’s face was measured, and Gabi felt bad that each time they got together she ended up trauma dumping on her. Jesus, she really was a mess. “I’m sorry, that’s—I didn’t come here too bitch and complain—”

“Gabi, oh my god.” Chloe reached over with her good side and covered Gabi’s hand with her own. It was a little larger than Gabi expected, seeing it up close, but soft and warm, her nails well-manicured where Gabi’s were bitten down to anxious nubs and bleeding all the time. “Didn’t I tell you she was in your rearview now? I didn’t know you back then, I only know you now. It’s okay.” She smiled, a little bigger, genuine. “I like you plenty the way you are.”

If she had been one more beer in she might have started tearing up, but even as her eyes remained dry on the inside she felt soupy and warm and soothed. It would only last as long as the evening, but it had been a while since she felt anything close to this. She clinged to it. She clinged to the slide of Chloe’s hand off her own. She clinged to the freckle perfectly dotted under the jut of her jaw. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Chloe said, rising to her feet.

The buzzing under her skin made her restless, nervous, so she turned to her regular source of comfort, to the knowledge that she could leave, she could always leave, she could always disappear, if things imploded again. 

And so she clung to that, too.

[soo-won]

Hi Al! I'm not sure I have much positivity to share exactly but I still want to try to like? maybe give another kind of perspective that helps process things with more peace and acceptance?

very long post under the cut sorry..., but there is too much to say about Yona and the themes of the story!

To begin with, I don't think this scene says anything more than what we already discussed at length after chapter 257, it only confirms it even more, but this is really a time paradox huh. Hiryuu considered stopping things in his time, Hiryuu didn't throw his sword away, Hiryuu could have done everything Yona has done now too. But he didn't, because Yona was there and told him not to. Like...I don't think Hiryuu literally made Yona exists when wishing to live longer, she had to already be existing in the future for it to happen, so it's more that their soul connected through time and space in the one moment their heart called for the same. It doesn't make sense logically in term of timeline and cause/consequence because we deal with the divine and souls I'd say.

But I don't think Hiryuu had trouble reconciling with loss really? Yona definitely does, but Hiryuu wasn't really trying to like reunite with the dragons again himself. He left that to Yona. What caused him anguish is the idea of dying before freeing the dragons and especially Zeno. His wish to live longer is not so different from Suwon's, it's out of not wanting to leave things unaccomplished. To me what the gods say in chapter 264 imply that first of all they let the dragon warriors go on even having no idea whether Hiryuu would come back at all and when, and also that even if he did come back to them, they would have still not put an end to it because they just don't care. Like without Yona asking like she did they would have let the dragons die and be born again and kept Zeno immortal too. Even now I'm still not convinced they made Zeno mortal again, like isn't that something only the dragon in his blood can decide? And we've only seen 3 dragon gods out of 4 in ch264 so hm. However Hiryuu the individual is very much over and I think he was aware of it and accepted it. Again I swear I can't tell if Hiryuu realized Yona was from 2000 years in his future, but whatever he thought, he accepted to let her deal with everything after him and it means exactly that, we're after him. Hiryuu the person is no more. It is only speculations, but if Hiryuu decided to not return to heavens even after death, I'd say it's because as a soul without any vessel he maybe wouldn't have had any mean of action? But honestly what would have happened to Hiryuu's soul is complete mystery so I just don't know tbh, it's something that feels a bit pointless to theorize over for now.

But this chapter also implies Yona didn't really process in ch257 that what she was doing is dooming 2000 years of generations of dragons. She was in the middle of a quest to retrieve her friends, in that quest she was brought in that past where she stopped them from being completely erased from existence as they are now, and then chased after them again with a new resolve. Yona has a very finite goal in this arc: she wants to see her friends again. She wants to save them. She doesn't think about saving the world at all right now. That glimpse into the past was only that to her, her present is what drives her. It's not that she really doesn't care about the dragons' sufferings, it's that from her POV, it already all happened and she wants to make things different now. She had the power to make things different before we agree, but what she's doing now is trying to argue that she doesn't want the gods nor Hiryuu/her to have that power at all over the dragons or anyone to begin with. She throws away the sword, symbol of power over life and death, the one that has been teased since the prologue of the story that we thought was a flashforward to the ending...And Yona rejects it all. She's not being Hiryuu at all here I think. She's fully Yona. She's not some hero trying to restore the world from darkness like a hero of legend, she only follows her heart, and it's Suwon having that goal right now. She's not a King descending from the Heavens to make or protect a country like Hiryuu, the only thing Yona has ever done and is doing here is trying to help the people that she knows are in need, and here especially because she knows only her can do it. Of course, as the chagol arc developed she can see beyond her circle of close friends and she wants to find a way to end wars too etc...But the way she goes at everything is the same. In this chapter she realizes that she really made the dragons wait forever and all that suffering has to end here and now. She says it, she can't let them suffer any longer.

And in a way it's a nice twist to what the narrative hinted at until now. Many in the past (in universe and among us readers) thought that Yona is here now to save the whole country from some kind of "darkness" like Hiryuu in his time (supposedly), but that's not it. Sure, Yona did influence, change and help many people in her journey for real, but she finally found the meaning of her existence as Hiryuu's reincarnation: like Taejun said long ago, it is far more humbler or what we can call "selfish". The meaning of being reborn with the red dragon's soul is to save the dragons, not the world. The world doesn't need the gods after all, it needs the power of people. And driven all along by that simple prayer without even being aware of it, she indirectly moved and inspired others to protect the country and its people themselves. This is a bit different from Hiryuu too. Maybe he had similar feelings, but he failed to accomplish any of that in the end. He made the people depend on him, he saved them, but once he died they were lost and could not find the will and power to do anything but to cling on his symbol and depend on the skies again. In the end, he couldn't truly save and protect anyone in a lasting way. He himself points it out in Zeno's flashback arc actually: No matter what he does, war never ends. Maybe by then he had realized that his existence on Earth is actually pretty pointless and meaningless, that he can't give humans eternal peace. That it was arrogant of him to think he could just come and do that.

So I agree with you on this, and the story hasn't adressed this, but...Hiryuu loved humans I truly think so, but he still went at it like a god. Like? He became their King. He led people to wars. He was still very much above them. He accepted everything that made him special in the human world, he chose for them, then died and left everything behind. He should have died if not for the sword the Gods gave him and the Dragon Warriors. (By the way, the fact they didn't let him be killed is interesting? Like Hiryuu dying technically should made him come back to them sooner, yet they went out of their way to protect him like they did. Curious.) This wasn't explored at all for now but honestly I'm not surprised since Hiryuu was still new at this whole humanity thing wasn't he? That'd make sense to me that he either felt pressure to still be a special existence as a human and/or that he didn't know any other way to "help" them. He's more human than the other gods that hate anyone against them and love anyone worshipping them, but loving every humans whether they betray him or not without any conflict (as far as we know, like, we've never seen him be upset, have we?) is still pretty arrogant of Hiryuu. Yona is different because she was born human. She doesn't love and feel for everyone unconditionally and by nature. She hates and feels upset by others, she feels conflicted, she has to make the active effort to learn and understand others better, even those she doesn't like. Like what Hak said about Suwon (which was pretty unaccurate), loving everyone is the same as loving no one. Hiryuu surely developed deeper, more genuine feelings for the dragons (and I'd hope his wife and children too?), but it was already too late.

Another point is I believe what Suwon and Hak discuss in chapter 262 can apply here too. Suwon and Hak have no power to actually redo anything over, so when they talk about it it's only as a what if scenario, but the conclusion is that rather than changing or "correcting" the past by receving punishment, Suwon should rather find a better way next time in their life /now/, moving forward. And I fully agree with that. First because he didn't do anything wrong he should regret <3 But also because admitting that the way things happened was painful to him and Yona and Hak and that's the real tragedy of that night, then yeah, I want to wish for a way for Suwon to accomplish his ambitions without having to discard his feelings too.

But even if they had the power to go back in time and despite being fully aware of the suffering he caused to some, Suwon has no regrets, and yeah of course he doesn't! I wouldn't want him to! That'd be like rejecting all he accomplished and lived for and the people he helped and saved and worked with etc etc...It might have been painful and unfair at times but that's the only life he has. He wouldn't change a thing but he can grow and learn and use his past experiences to do better. So...I feel like the story applies that same logic to Yona and the dragons. Accepting to let Hiryuu put an end to the dragon warriors in the past is like accepting to reject all her life since she met them if not before, and the time she lived with them, and what they felt and accomplished together, and how she changed and could learn to stand on her own thanks to their help etc...They mean all that to her. And no matter how miserable the lives of the previous dragons were, it doesn't feel right to erase that completely either, right? They didn't deserve any of that but erasing this history and these existences doesn't do them justice imo. If there was a way to make all the past generations have fulfilling happy life without sacrificing the present that'd be amazing but then it'd feel like nothing truly matters too. Admitting we could ask for the present dragons' opinion, Zeno aside, I'd be surprised if they said they want that too. They're characters that /would be made/ to think that, sure, but that wouldn't be out of character, would it? The fact Yona decides for them still is a problem, that's true, but that's different from saying Yona made the wrong choice. As we discussed it's indeed also hard to not see things from the POV of the past, from Zeno's POV, from the hundreds of dragons who waited and suffered all their life in vain. But we're in a time paradox and we can only turn in circle about this like. Yeah that's terrible for all the dragons of the past and Zeno, but the other choice would likewise be terrible for the present dragons and everyone now, but then again it's terrible for the past dragons...etc etc...there's no end to it.

What actually bothers me more in this chapter is how easily Yona chooses to put an end to the dragons' powers in their stead. Like, the one thing people blamed Zeno for was how he took away their agency, but Yona does very much that again here. Sure it's kinda the only way to possibly free them AND keep them alive, and it's really a case of "what Yona thinks shouldn't matter bc it should be about what /they/ think, but alas to the gods Yona's opinion matters more so that's how it is" but that still leaves a bad taste in my mouth that it will supposedly be resolved like that for them. I wish things were executed in a way that showed them consent to it? like regaining some consciousness or being able to communicate with her in some way? or even hint at wishing for something of the like before? I...don't have any hope they will resent Yona for it at all since they'd probably be made more busy worrying for her next etc but I can only pray the story will dare to take some little time for them to process the loss of their powers and what does that make them now, and what can they do to help from now on etc. But wait and see.

So to me the core of the problem is not Yona's decision, it's Yona's writing overall. What we yearn for is Yona to be challenged in her beliefs. To be wrong. To fail. To be held accountables for her mistakes and grow from them. For the story to truly own the ways Yona is indeed not perfect, instead of making her not perfect but still framing it like she is. To me the solution to this isn't for her to kill Zeno with that sword or anything of the like at all. I want Yona to be wrong but not about everything and not about her feeling everyone deserves a better ending. I want akayona to reach its happy ending, I want Zeno to either be able to die happy with no such tragic conditions or either to be allowed to live a normal human lifespan from now on, I want the dragons to live as normal humans, I want the Hiryuu descendants to be saved and live long life too. But I want to see Yona struggle to achieve these. And by struggle I don't mean just the story throwing things at her that she has no responsibility over, I mean...doubting herself, falling, failing, correcting herself, learning from others and her own mistakes and not only the ones she made before the coup.

But akayona has carried this flaw since the end of the Awa arc lowkey, the spotlight is never on Yona admiring and learning from others (but Hak I guess...), it's always others admiring her and learning from her. Truthfully, I don't think that's true, and definitely she learns from others like Kouren, Meinyan, Suwon, Keishuk even lol but that's only something you can infer from what happens, whereas what is highlighted is always how admirable, noble and good and loved she is. I don't think this was much a problem before the Xing arc, as what happened in the Fire/Water tribe arcs compensated the beginning of this terrible trend for Yona's writing, but I'd say starting Xing (which I still believe is an arc with excellent character moments), every villain/antagonist only existed so Yona and the character she had more "complex" and interesting interactions with and that challenged her, could work together against a common enemy and resolve the lazy way all conflicts that existed between them. Like,, Gobi was just that for Yona and Kouren to me. Then Chagol for Yona and Meinyan (even if admittedly Chagol had more going on than Gobi lol), and now the gods for Yona and Zeno. If you zoom in, it's not just that, and I believe there is still good to be taken from how things turned out but...overall I don't think this serves Yona's character development in a way I'd find really meaningful. I assume it's this way exactly to convey the idea that all these characters are all driven by the will to protect something, and in different circumstances (like against a stupid common enemy) they realize they're not so different and are not "bad" people but I can't help but feel unsatisfied with how things are resolved everytime. She grows still but it's just like...she gains more experience and knowledge. There's nothing to resolve. It's not inherently a bad thing but it fails to move me like it did at the beginning and imo it can be a burden for the story akayona is telling.

Like I said, her goal in this arc is to save her friends but...there's nothing special or novel in that. This happened many times before. Of course she's going to save her friends. Like she always did. I fail to see anything meaningful in the new things Yona say or do now because I'm just "yeah that's nice, but it's not like she struggled with that before"(before meaning everything after the awa arc). It's so hard to feel it for me, because it feels like a given. And for a final arc I find this anticlimatic. Even now, I did want for Yona to be stuck in Heavens with the gods, but I hoped it would be a bit more the result of her own flaws than the gods 100% forcing her and her simply not realizing this would happen I guess? In a way you could call the current development a struggle, but you know, we have never seen Yona struggling defying the gods before like. She always confronted people with higher authority and/or more power than her. Kumji, Hiyou, Chagol. Sure these people have more and more power and she got hurt confronting them but it's not like Yona emotionally struggled against them the way she did with Suwon in the past, where you can clearly see her progress everytime she faces him and the people around him again. The only other place I see real progress is in her relationship with Hak like how she can more easily says she loves him now, or being able to protect him like she always wanted etc. Which is a shame because the development of these two (and more especially Hak I painfully have to admit) can actually be seen through their interactions with far more characters.

So now this is the part I make it a bit about Suwon I'm sorry... Because I can't agree with what I've read in the notes of your post about him. You did not say these things yourself but I still want to give my two cents on this as someone that loves him and often feels upset for him because of what akayona throws at him.

Things changed, god knows how much I hated it in the castle and chagol arcs pretty much for the reasons i listed just above, but despite everything I truly believe Suwon's very existence will always challenge Yona (just like she challenges his) and that it still does now. That again Suwon highlights Yona's emotional development well too (again, it's mutual). And that at least with him, nothing is resolved easily. Unlike with other characters, there was never anything more challenging for them but to work together against a common enemy. Being kinda stuck together in the Chagol arc only made things infinitely more complicated and painful and conflictual than they already were. The way it presented it was disconcerting to say the least, and I almost dropped akayona for real from it, but with them it never was as easy as "oh this person saved/helped me now I love them and I will do anything to help in return!", like, from both sides. And it's because even after chapter 221/224 and the Chagol arc I could tell Suwon would not simply end like Kouren or Meinyan or anyone Yona helped before in the narrative that I finally started to breathe slightly more easily. It can be similar in some ways, but I still see a lot more nuances with him than previous examples. And it's still not fully resolved between them. And Yona and Hak had to change their stance irt Suwon and the people around him continuously from the beginning to now too. (Yona moved me the most recently when she found Hyuri in this dark alleyway when she was in the middle of running after Zeno, stopped and sat at his level, and could talk about Suwon from the past like the child he was like no one did before, and that she could see Hyuri not as a crazy violent murderer like Hak and Mundok did in that same chapter, but the man watching over Suwon and protecting him, someone that Suwon needs by his side. That she can say she wants Suwon to live, and this time it doesnt feel like it's only about "dying selfishly on her" but simply the feeling of wanting him to be there, even if not part of her life, and that she could be grateful to Hyuri and thank him for protecting her friends...that's all immensely meaningful imo! Even if nghh Hyuri's monologue in response is siighhh...come on. (gestures) akayona.)

It's so damn slow with them, and Hak is still angry and will always have grips even if they reached a point they can help each other more honestly now, and Yona will never forgive Suwon, and Suwon will never regret what he did nor apologize for it. And Suwon still carries his own convictions and ideology that to this day still go at odds with Yona and Hak. I'm not saying Suwon is immune to akayona's problems at all, I'm painfully aware he isn't, but I still believe his existence in the story now has a lot of meaning and brings a lot of nuance and food to ponder more about everything else. And it's not a bad thing that Suwon accepts them more like...that feels like the natural progression. Of course they wouldn't always stay super distant and confrontional and they would slowly work together closer and closer as they all influence each other, grow, and understand each other better. We as readers might want for Suwon to forever act like Yona and Hak aren't special and important because yeah it's cathartic but...Suwon has never been like that. They were always special to him, from chapter 1. Suwon is his own character, not just a proxy for people tired of (gestures) the AnY narrative that makes everything about Yona and Hak. The same way the shadows can't accept how things changed and force Suwon to be what he's not. Of course, it doesn't change how irritating it is that yeah everyone sides with YonaHak eventually and tend to prioritize them over what they cared about before or themselves, like they're pawns more than characters, and of course Suwon isn't real and was purposely written this way and recently I feel so pained because I so wish it let other characters play a role in his development...but I'd say that tbh if Yona and Hak have to be special to someone I'm fine if it's Suwon. The way he chose the country over them is still so meaningful and admirable. Yona herself said she understood, Hak recently acknowledged that fact even if he could never do it himself. But it's at the same time true that it hurt him to kill his own feelings because of this ideology, and even more so if that makes him accept death so easily. Readers might do that at lot, but I genuinely dont think the manga actually judges if Suwon was right or wrong. It's not about that. It focuses on the characters' conflicting feelings in changing circumstances. As much as I think akayona has a problem with the way it frames things, Suwon's side included, it paradoxically still let a lot of nuances be. It often resolves things in a lazy, infuriating stupid way, yet it's not as bad it feels like either? If it makes sense. Once again it's not like Suwon throws away all his convictions for them! And that's part of the still on going tension and conflict! The execution stings half of the time I can't pretend otherwise but... No matter what I don't want to close my eyes to what is definitely there I guess.

Also, the fate of Hiryuu descendants weren't mentioned at all yet. I don't think it's a problem I think it will be adressed when the time comes. I don't want to wish on a star but my two cents now are: Yona freed the dragons from what tied them to the divine, and she pretty much used her divine authority to do so, but she didn't realize how herself is bound to the divine and probably needs to cut that tie as well. And I suspect that if there is a way for Yona to lose all connection to Hiryuu and be saved, then it will be the exact same key to free Hiryuu's descendants. And Suwon is on his way to the mausoleum, and Suwon famously hates Hiryuu and sees him as useless...Like if there's someone that is damn annoyed whenever Yona is perceived and treated like Hiryuu and by the crimson illness it's Suwon, so...wait and see... I'm sure Hak will have some major role as well but I don't like much when Hak has a role I don't really care about that for now, but recently I appreciate the way he's written so! (Like...flawed and struggling and having inner conflicts that he grows from and stuff...give that back to yona omfg).

In the end I think Yona's character is still meaningful in many ways. She doesn't move me like before, and it's painful to think she is not written like I'd want her to, in a way I can connect with again, but she is amazing to analyze and break down like that and she is the root of many fascinating questions. Like yes that's cool the narrative revolves around the feelings and experience of this girl in a male dominated world, i like the different layers of her identity as a normal girl, a princess and god reincarnated, it's cool it's about her gaining agency and power and that the male characters are here to support her, it's cool she hates that it's at the price of others losing that agency and she wants everyone to be there and free. It's beautiful that she always feels so grateful of people for helping her and hugs them and thanks them everytime. It's amazing that she's the kind of character to never give up, but also acknowledges she wouldn't have been able to without people being here for her first. I like how she cares for people, the "discarded" ones like she does. How even if she's ignorant and doesn't understand everyone's feelings and experience at first, she constantly tries to. I love that when meeting Zeno, believing that he had no power that could "protect" her like the others, she was glad to meet him only for his warmth and because she felt happy with him. I'm glad when she told Kija, that was always convinced he was born to protect Hiryuu, that she wants him with her even now that he feels like a burden. That she told them that them dying like that because it's their fate and duty is not okay again and upsets her, that she's grateful for Kija just being there even if he can't fight. I like that she wants to break all cycles and refuses the unfair destiny imposed to the people around her. She loves her friends, she loves people, despite the way she can be inconsiderate/insensitive/unfair too, which is important to point out of course. It's because it's not black and white that it's so hard.

There are countless things to say about her and she is more than either the perfect badass 10/10 queen everyone praise no matter what she does or the terrible person that doesn't truly care about anyone but herself and treats everyone like shit. I don't think she's shallow like that, one way or another. I do think the way people despict her in fandom space often is though, but I'm not interested in that Yona at all. I love how she stays so true to her feelings no matter what, I love that selfishness of her in the good and bad. I don't agree and I don't like when she says Suwon is selfish in chapter 252, but I don't mind that she, Yona with her very unique and personal experience and story, thinks that. Akatsuki no Yona is about people's heart and feelings clashing with reason and objectivity, and through Yona it chooses to show us things we can only see from her side of things. Yona herself is struggling with that. She wants to help her people as Kouka's princess, but she feels conflicted between her duties as a princess and wanting to save her friends. It felt easy to resolve it by Suwon avoiding her the struggle longer and just letting her do what she wants, but I think it did it this way precisely because the manga doesn't want to preach about what would be "right" here. There is no answer. There are only people doing their best to tweak things to find compromises. Suwon gave her the opportunity to follow her heart because "objectively it's better if it's yona dealing with this", and Yona uses it fully. Yet she still intends to come back too. A compromise again.

So what always bothered me is not Yona herself but how everything surrounding her is framed. Likee the narrative makes a ton about her when I don't think it's needed at all and kinda goes against the point. That it sides with her is definitely intended and meaningful in its own right, but I thought it was doing it much better before and I prefered when it was humbler about her and I felt like it was siding with more POV and characters but her (and Hak). So...she's not that protagonist I identify myself much with anymore (and the story itself kinda makes yona and hak's development something that we can only be a witness of outside of their head now, rather than following all the thought processes that make them grow from inside and their POV) but no matter how you process your feelings for akatsuki no yona in the end, keep being disillusioned, it's good! Keep being disillusioned about her and akayona as a whole again and again, and be disillusioned of your previous disillusions because that's the way to see it truly for what it is the most. Nothing erase the way akayona and yona's character are flawed, so there is no need to erase what is definitely there and good about it. Take all the good and bad and how they coexist. I just find it painful to hate everything so much that it makes doubt everything and blind to what is simply there so I don't want it to happen to you :').

Akayona is a mess like that, it's terribly flawed but it's also good in so many aspects and that's what makes it so damn complicated and frustrating! But also extremely interesting, and I think it's possible to appreciate it this way. So best wishes to you Al!! I love your akatsuki no yona writings and I'll be sad to see you stop and fall into that painful spiral, but it's also fine to take distances or drop it completely depending on what feels the best for you. I'll always love to discuss about all of this with you if you want!!

Critique ahead, read at your own discretion.

Am I understanding this correctly? Because of Hiryuu’s selfish wish to have more time on Earth, Yona was created, thus their soul did not return to the heavens to be with the other dragon gods. As a consequence hundreds of humans were damned with the dragon powers and short lifespans. If Hiryuu had accepted his own death as a natural course of life as a human and went back to the heavens then all of this could’ve been avoided. But it seems both he and Yona have trouble reconciling with loss. They’d curse strangers if it meant having more time with their loved ones. How is this not viewed as corrupt? Their resolve is painted as this heartwarming thing - that they’d bend reality if it led to the safety of those they care about. But what about everyone else? The world isn’t comprised only of those dear to your heart. They say Hiryuu loved humans but the more I examine his actions it seems he simply wanted control over them.

I want to love this manga, I have loved this manga, for many years. It was amazing seeing Yona’s growth and getting to know all the characters. Soo-Won, Shin-Ah, Zeno, and (earlier chapters) Yona will always have a special place in my heart. But the way the themes are being developed leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Idk, if anyone has some positivity to share about how things are progressing please feel free to do so, because at this point I’m disillusioned with YOTD.

[jakeperalta]

it's an odd strategy to me to have the promo for an upcoming album kind of... invalidate her past albums. it's probably not that deep, but personally, it makes me less excited, not more.

aka no one can take lover away from me and act like that's a denial song. so many swifties have gotten married to that song, please.

yeah same, I feel like in the past she's always very much tried to put the music at the forefront and resist the gossip appeal of it all whereas this time round it's like she's leaning into it for the sake of building the hype and conversation :/

[sleepinginmygrave]

can someone explain to me why does my mum don't want me to be in my room and is forcing me to do my work downstairs 😃

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[acoustic-tenor-ball]

"I grew up- I've always been- Fuck."

Sol huffs and starts over. "Life has always been strange for me. Not just because of my," she gestures vaguely at her ears," condition, but in general." He takes a breath. "Socializing is hard. I don't get people. Growing up I spent a lot of time in nature. Classrooms were a little too loud and way too fucking bright. The kids couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and I didn't care to be polite about it. Who cares if I hurt their feelings, you know? Whenever lunch or recess would roll around, I'd wander off. Find myself ways away from campus, far from flickering lights and prying hands. Was like that 'til...middle school-ish?" She scrunches her nose, staring up at the ceiling, but continues. "The teachers put a stop to it, obviously. I don't blame them. They said I needed to 'connect with my peers'. I'd been doing alright academically, so I guess that's the only real issue they had with me. Luckily for them, I had the perfect plan. I thought-!" He inhales deeply, no use in getting worked up so early. "I thought, 'What better way to make friends than to show off this cool power?' The hearing wasn't so bad then. I could hear maybe...400 feet in each direction? Just a bit longer than a football field."

[Not that I knew that at the time.]

"It's practically nothing, compared to now. Still, more than enough to impress a couple people. Y funcionó. Casi demasiado bien." "There was this girl," [Jayla? Jaelin? Jaslyn?] "She was pretty, popular, outgoing, and a perfect target for my little 'social experiment'. Paired up with her for a project and told her I could hear anything she said from across the room, even if she whispered." Sol waves a hand around lazily. "She didn't believe me, of course. Not until we tested it. Then. Then it became public knowledge. Suddenly, everyone at school wanted to talk to the girl with 'super hearing'. It was tame, at first. People would whisper things from down the hall for me to hear. They'd go further and further, testing the limits of what I could do. We tried spying on the teachers a couple of times. We even got one fired! It was fun." He shrugs. "Of course, a few kids tried to mess with me. They intentionally made loud noises; I think they liked to see me jump. They learned their lesson pretty quick, though. Violence never scared me, and I defended myself just fine. That didn't bother me," she scowls, "No. The problems came once people realized they could use me for gossip." [In hindsight, it's obvious. They're middle schoolers. I don't know what I was expecting. Kindness? Ha.] "I didn't mind it at first. It felt great to be a part of something, and I can't say knowing everything wasn't exhilarating. My friends would ask me to eavesdrop on conversations and tell them what I heard. A lot of it was petty drama, failing 2-week relationships, and the like. It didn't matter to me, I'd successfully socialized like they'd asked me to, and that's all I needed. One day I listened in on the wrong conversation and told the wrong people. And, well. I went from the 'kid with the cool powers' to 'invasive' and a 'freak'." Sol laughs something bitter. "I still had 'friends', technically. They just...needed to use my powers- curse- whatever- whenever they wanted. It's the only way they'd keep me around. I was a tool first, and a friend second. Who cares if I'm sad or tired, or if every noise was too much and I couldn't breathe? Every little way I was different would be scrutinized if I didn't comply. I would be alone again. I'd disappoint them. I hated it. I hated it so much, Morgan. It wasn't even that bad but I-" Her voice started to rise ages ago. She doesn't care. "I just- I hate being treated like an object. I have feelings, opinions, and needs. I am a person. I may not be the smartest, or the nicest, or the prettiest, or the most functional. I may not even be a good one, Dios sabe que nunca lo seré, but- I am a fucking person just like everyone else. Hell! I don't even like people! But you can't just take that away from me. You can't."

The following silence is almost a relief.

Sol knocks harshly on the door.

"Morgan? Morgan, open up!"

He takes a deep breath. A futile attempt to calm her already fraying nerves.

" I can hear you. I know you're in there."

"Alright, alright. I'm coming, jeez."

Morgan grabs their shirt off the back of their chair and shoves it on. They stumble a little as they make it to the door.

They unlock the door, swinging it open. They raise a brow as they take in Sol's disheveled appearance.

His clothes are wrinkled, and the bottom of her jeans damp from coming through the grass. He's breathing heavily, as if he'd been walking for a while.

"The hell happened to you?"

Xe usher her in.

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[hella1975]

i feel like i need to do laps of the house rn i have so much to talk to you guys about and idk where to start

[berryblu-soda]

Anyways update i just didnt bother to post earlier:

fr God is good and the whole car crash my parents got into last week was so incredibly mild in terms of injuries!!!! worst was a bruised knee im pretty sure

ALSO-

*taps mic* HUG YOUR FREAKING LOVED ONES OR SO HELP ME!!!!!!!

[an-unexpected-trollogy]

Oh to be Suzanne Collins and have little social media presence and to write a book regarding whatever current societal trend is bothering her at the moment.