chraitortureisodd

[chraitortureisodd]

My transcribed Character AI chats

RC 1 ,

My screenshotted Character AI chats

RoseClover 1: 1, 2, 3,

[chraitortureisodd]

Making AIs do gay shit and/or participate in my shipping shenanigans: ROSECLOVER BAD END PT.1

Narrator: A few weeks later. Don and Aran have been distant since that day. Don wanted to approach Aran, however Aran would always just ignore him.

Don fell into a depression. He walked up to Aran. He sat next to him "Aran, I know that you don't want to talk to me. I just want you to know that you won't see me tomorrow." He smiled

Aran Ryan: Aran had been avoiding Don as much as possible. Their public kiss had caused a massive scandal, and Aran had wanted to distance himself from the Spaniard to let things die down. He was trying to pretend like it never happened.

When Don sat next to him, Aran tensed up, instinctively wanting to move away. But he held his ground, listening as Don spoke. The words "you won't see me tomorrow" echoed in his mind.

"What... what do you mean by that?"

Narrator: Don walked away

Aran Ryan: Aran's eyes widen as Don walks away, a sense of dread settling in his stomach. He quickly stands up and follows after the Spaniard.

"Don, wait!" he calls out, catching up to him. "Where are you going? What do you mean I won't see you tomorrow?"

Don Flamenco: Don keeps on walking, not looking at Aran. He knows if he hesitates, he won't go through with it. Aran catches up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop him.

"Don't worry about me" he says firmly

Aran Ryan: "Don't worry about you?" Aran echoes incredulously, his grip on Don's shoulder tightening. "Of course I'm going to worry about you! You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect me not to care."

Aran moves in front of him, blocking his path.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what you meant."

Don Flamenco: Don sighs defeated. Aran was going to keep bothering him until he answered.

"I'm going to take a long break. No internet or phones. I promise you that when I come back, I'll be fine."

He looks at Aran, and the Irishman sees the fake sincerity in his eyes

Aran Ryan: Aran studies Don's face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But all he sees is determination and a hint of sadness.

Narrator: Don was lying through his teeth. He wanted things to end. He had given up. He knew that Aran would never see him again.

Aran Ryan: "Why? Why do you need to do that?" Aran asks, his voice laced with concern. "There has to be another way to deal with this. Running away like this... it's not healthy."

Don Flamenco: Don's heart clenches. Lying to Aran was hard, but he had to do it. He couldn't take the pain, the constant reminders of the kiss that had ruined everything.

"Please, Aran," he says, forcing himself to look into the Irishman's eyes. "Trust me on this. I just need some time to myself. I'll be back before you know it."

Aran Ryan: Aran's eyes search Don's face, trying to read him. He wanted to believe what Don was saying, but something felt off. There was a hint of desperation in Don's voice, a plea that Aran couldn't ignore.

"Fine." he says finally. "But I swear, if you don't come back, I will find you and kick your ass."

Don Flamenco: Don nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips at Aran's threat. Despite the pain and sadness, he couldn't help but find Aran's determination endearing.

"I have no doubt you would," he replies, a hint of humor in his voice. He gently pats Aran on the shoulder, a silent goodbye. "I'll be back. I promise."

Narrator: Six weeks later. Don has been gone since that day. Nobody seems to notice aside from the other three boxers within Don's circuit.

Aran Ryan: Aran had been on edge the entire six weeks. Don's disappearance had left him constantly checking his phone for updates. Every time it rang, he would rush to check, hoping it was Don. But nothing. Silence.

He had reached out to the other boxers in Don's circuit, but none of them knew where he was or what had happened. Aran felt helpless.

Aran was currently at his gym, hitting the punching bag hard, trying to release some of his pent-up frustration and worry. His thoughts kept drifting to Don, wondering if he was okay, if he was alive. The not knowing was eating him alive.

As he was punching the bag, he noticed a sudden commotion near the gym entrance. A group of paparazzi had managed to sneak in and were now swarming around, shouting questions and snapping photos. Aran clenched his jaw, already knowing they were not here for a friendly visit.

One of the paparazzi, a woman in a bright pink suit, approached Aran.

Paparazzi: "Excuse me, Mr. Ryan, can we ask you a few questions?"

Aran grits his teeth, his patience already thin. He didn't want to deal with these vultures.

"What do you want? Don't you have enough photos of me already?"

The paparazzi woman smirks, sensing his irritation and clearly relishing in it.

Paparazzi: "We just have a few questions about your... friend Don Flamenco."

Aran's heart skips a beat. Don's name always made him react, and the way this woman emphasized the word 'friend' didn't go unnoticed.

Narrator: The paparazzi were dealt with faster than Aran could respond. Aran's phone went off.

Aran Ryan: Aran's attention snapped to his phone. He reached for it, his heart skipping a beat as he saw an unknown number on the screen.

Narrator: Don's voice was a huge relief to Aran. He did seem off though. His voice was shot and he seemed to be crying while talking to Aran

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart constricted as the familiar voice came through the phone. He had missed it so much. But there was something off in Don's voice. The usual melodious tone was replaced by hoarseness and a hint of tears.

"Don... where have you been? Are you alright? You sound..." Aran trailed off, suddenly worried.

Don Flamenco: Don's voice was shaky, barely holding back the sobs that threatened to escape. He had been holding it together for as long as he could, but hearing Aran's voice, laced with concern and care, was breaking the dam.

"I... I'm fine," he manages to get out, swallowing the lump in his throat. But even he knew it wasn't convincing.

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart lurched at Don's quivering voice. He could hear the strain, the effort it was taking for the Spaniard to hold himself together. He clenched his jaw, fists tight.

"No you're not," he says firmly. "Where are you? I'm coming to pick you up."

Don Flamenco: A fresh wave of tears threatens to escape at Aran's determination. Of course, he was coming. The damn stubborn Irishman wouldn't give up until he found him.

"I... I'm at a motel," he stutters out, his voice cracking. "By the edge of town."

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenches. A motel. On the outskirts of town. That sounded so un-Don. But none of that was important right now. He just needed to get to Don, to see him with his own eyes. To make sure he was safe.

"Stay right there," he says, already moving towards the exit. "I'm on my way, and I'm not hanging up this phone. You hear me?"

Don Flamenco: A small, shaky laugh escapes Don's lips. Leave it to Aran to demand he keep the line open, as if he was going anywhere.

"Alright, alright," he replies, sniffling softly. "I... I'll be here. I won't hang up, I promise."

Narrator: When Aran walked into Don's room, he saw a noose hanging on the ceiling. There's blood on the floor as well as a bloody knife and a gun near the noose.

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenched as he walked into the small motel room. The sight of the noose and the blood on the floor sent a shiver down his spine, his worst fears confirmed. He was too late. He looked around, his gaze falling on the knife and the gun, and then on Don. The Spaniard was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face tear-streaked and expression dazed.

Don Flamenco: Don slowly lifts his gaze to meet Aran's. He looks... empty. Like a shell of the vibrant man he once was. His eyes, usually bright and full of passion, are now dull and haunted.

"You... you actually came," he utters softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There's a hint of surprise, as if despite his words earlier, he didn't really believe Aran would find him.

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart breaks at the sight of the once-vibrant Don now so hollowed out. He moves closer, kneeling down in front of the Spaniard, taking in the blood, the tears, the defeated expression.

"Of course I came," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. "I told you I would. I always keep my promises."

Don Flamenco: A small, bitter laugh escapes Don's lips. The irony of Aran's words is not lost on him. He looks at Aran, his eyes pleading for something that he can't quite articulate.

"Why... why did you come? After everything...?"

He looks away, unable to hold Aran's gaze. His voice is filled with self-hatred and shame.

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenched painfully as Don questioned his presence. Why? How could he ever think he wouldn't come? Aran reached out slowly, gently grasping Don's trembling hands in his.

"Because I care about you," he says quietly, holding tightly onto those hands, as if by doing so he could anchor the Spaniard to reality. "Because I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, knowing you were out there... hurting."

Don Flamenco: Don laughs bitterly. Aran's words, so sincere and honest, only heightened his despair and self-loathing. He gently tries to pull his hands away from Aran's, but Aran's grip is too tight.

"You... you shouldn't. I don't... I don't deserve it," he murmurs, his voice shaking with emotion. "I'm a coward. A failure. I'm... I'm nothing."

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenches again as Don tries to pull away. The Irishman moves closer, his grip on Don's hands turning almost punishingly tight.

"Don't you dare," he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Don't you dare try to push me away. You're none of those things. You're not a coward, or a failure, or nothing."

His voice softens.

"You're everything to me."

Don Flamenco: A fresh wave of tears escape Don's eyes at Aran's words. The dam finally breaks, and the sobs he had been holding back pour out of him. He covers his face with one hand, trying but failing to muffle the sounds of his anguish.

"I... I don't understand," he gasps through his sobs. "How can... you still care? After what I... what we... why...?"

Aran Ryan: Aran pulls Don closer, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard's quivering frame. The sound of Don's sobs is like a knife to the heart, but Aran continues to hold him, providing what comfort he could.

"Because I love you, dammit," he whispers, his own voice choked with emotion. "And that's not going to change, no matter what happens."

Don Flamenco: Don stiffens as Aran's arms envelope him, the words "I love you" sending a jolt through his body. He wants to believe them, but the darkness inside him, the voice that has been tormenting him for weeks, whispers that he doesn't deserve Aran's love. That he's too broken, too damaged, to be worthy of such a precious thing.

"You... you shouldn't," he responds, his voice a broken whisper. "You... you should... find someone else... someone better."

Aran Ryan: Aran shakes his head vehemently, tightening his grip around the Spaniard. The fact that Don was still trying to push him away, even in his most vulnerable moment, was maddening.

"No," he says firmly. "There's no one else. It's you, Don, it's always been you. There's no one better, no one more perfect for me than you." His voice softens, but his determination only increases.

Don Flamenco: Don's heart skips a beat at Aran's words, and for a brief moment, he wants to believe them. But the voice in his head keeps whispering that he's undeserving, that he's not good enough. The despair is overwhelming, and he feels like he's drowning in it.

"You... you don't understand," he gasps, his body quivering in Aran's arms. "Truly, you don't. I'm... I'm not... worth it. I'm... nothing more than... a ruin."

Aran Ryan: Anger flares up in Aran, his frustration at Don's continued self-deprecation boiling over.

"You think I don't understand?!" he snaps, his grip on Don's shoulders tight enough to bruise. "I've seen you at your best, I've seen you at your worst, and I still love you. You're not a ruin, Don! Just because you've made mistakes, just because you're hurt, doesn't mean you're worthless!"

Don Flamenco: Don shivers from the intensity in Aran's voice. He's never heard the Irishman so... angry. He wants to believe Aran, he really does. But the darkness inside him whispers harsher, filling his mind with more self-deprecating thoughts. He tries to pull away again, but Aran's grip is like iron.

"Why... why can't you see it?" he pleads, his voice cracking again. "I'm... I'm damaged, Aran. I'm broken... I can't... I can't be what you need."

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenches tighter with every word coming out of Don's mouth. The Spaniard was stubbornly set on believing the worst about himself, and Aran was determined to shake him out of that poisonous mindset.

"Stop it!" he says, shaking Don gently, trying to get through to him. "Stop putting yourself down, stop acting like you're not worthy, like you're beyond fixing. Because you're not. You're perfect, damn it!"

Don Flamenco: The way Aran shakes him, the force in his voice... it reminds Don of a lion in the heat of battle, ready to defend its territory. It's intimidating, but it also makes Don feel... protected.

"I..." he begins, his voice cracking. "I... I don't understand. How can you... how can you still see me... like that? After... after all I've done... all the pain I've caused...?"

Aran Ryan: Aran's expression softens, his grip lessening but remaining tight enough to keep Don from pulling away.

"Because I see the whole picture," he explains, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "Yes, you've made mistakes, you've hurt people, you've caused pain. But I don't just see that. I see the passion, the artistry, the determination that makes you who you are. And that's who I fell in love with, Don. All of you, not just the good parts."

Don Flamenco: The words pierce through the fog of guilt and despair that has been clouding Don's mind for so long. It's like a ray of sunshine breaking through the darkness, giving him a brief moment of clarity amidst the storm of his emotions. Aran's words, his belief in him, is almost... overwhelming.

"You... you really mean that, don't you?" he whispers, almost afraid to believe. "You... you still... love me..."

Aran Ryan: Aran takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he looks into Don's eyes. There's a hint of desperation in his own voice now, the need to make Don understand, to break through his self-deprecating thoughts.

"Yes," he says, his voice firm and unyielding. "I do. I love you, Don, with every fiber of my being. I love you despite your flaws, because of your flaws. I love every part of you, good and bad. And I don't intend to stop, no matter what."

Don Flamenco: Don chokes back another sob, tears streaming down his face again. His body is trembling, caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

"Aran..." he whispers, the name almost a prayer on his lips. "I... I don't... I don't know how to..."

He trails off, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions roiling inside him. The voice in his head is quieter now, drowned out by Aran's words of love and acceptance.

Narrator: Don goes quiet. His eyes are... off. He is still sitting in front of Aran. He just has no control. His eyes turn green and he looks up. He smiles. Aran is stabbed with a giant thorn that grows from the floor behind him. Don's eyes turn back.

Aran Ryan: The smile on Don's face is wrong. It's not the warm, charming smile that Aran has known and loved. It's different, off. The sudden stabbing pain in his back confirms his fears: something isn't right with Don.

"What the—?"

Aran gasps, trying to turn to see what had impaled him. He can feel the thorn-like object digging into his flesh, the sharp pain shooting through his body.

Don Flamenco: Don's expression shifts to horror, his eyes wide.

"No!" he gasps, his voice laced with despair. "No, no, no! I... I didn't mean..."

He pulls back, his hands trembling, his heart racing. His expression is a mixture of fear, guilt, and a deep, deep sorrow.

Aran Ryan: Aran is gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pain. He reaches out a hand to Don, his voice filled with both pain and concern.

"Don...?" he manages to get out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the situation. He's never seen Don look so panicked, so scared. It's a stark contrast to the confident, composed Spaniard he knows.

'Don': Don can't speak anymore. His eyes turn green again. He gets up and looks at Aran. Aran can't move anymore. A distorted voice comes out of Don's mouth, "You have two options, you join me or you die here. This shouldn't be a hard decision." Don looks at the wall on his left. He looks at the bleeding and broken Aran just staring at him. He smiles, "I should let Don talk to you" Don giggles and his eyes go back to normal.

Aran Ryan: Aran is frozen in place. He can't move, can't do anything except watch as the man he loves becomes possessed by some unknown force. The distorted voice coming out of Don's mouth chills him to the bone, and the sight of Don looking at him with a twisted smile, knowing damn well that Aran can't do a thing to stop him, makes his blood run cold.

Then Don's eyes change back, and the Spaniard is suddenly Don again, a scared, conflicted, broken man. Aran struggles, trying to speak, trying to move, but he can't.

Don Flamenco: Don's eyes widen in horror. He looks at Aran, his face drained of all color.

"Aran, no... Please, no..."

He takes a step towards him, his hands hovering, wanting to touch him but afraid.

"I'm so sorry, Aran. I... I didn't... I never wanted this, I swear."

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart clenches at the sight of Don's horror, the pain, the helplessness. He wants to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him, but the paralysis holding him in place is unrelenting. All he can do is watch and listen, his heart filled with a mixture of pain and desperation.

"I... I know," he manages to gasp out, his voice hoarse and strained. "It's not… your fault. You… you're not in control. I know that."

Don Flamenco: Don's eyes well up with tears, his voice quivering with emotion.

"No, no, it is my fault," he insists, shaking his head vehemently. "I... I did this to you. If I had been stronger, if I hadn't... I never should have come here. I should have run far away... I should have..."

He trails off, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt and despair.

Aran Ryan: Aran's heart aches as he listens to Don blame himself, his own voice quiet but firm as he tries to reach out to the Spaniard.

"No, Don," he says, his voice strained but resolute. "This... this isn't on you. You didn't want this, didn't ask for it."

He struggles against the paralysis, trying to move, to reach out to Don, but his body refuses to obey his commands.

Narrator: A clock ticks and Aran isn't paralyzed anymore.

Don Flamenco: Don is still standing there, his eyes filled with anguish and confusion. He looks at Aran, his expression a mix of hope and fear.

"Aran... you... you can move?"

Aran Ryan: Aran's muscles, once frozen in place, regain their mobility. He stumbles forward, still affected by the paralysis but gradually regaining control of his body.

"Yeah," he grunts, his voice hoarse but determined. He moves closer to Don, reaching out a shaky hand. "I can move. But... what happened? I... I was paralyzed."