#and also scenes from a characters pov of another characters expression/face

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Favorite thing in video games is when a character’s pupils dilate while looking at another character.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eleven

authors note: i'm telling ya'll right now. this one will probably leave you with a certain number of questions. that's expected. all will, eventually, be revealed and make sense. don't be freaking out on me, por favor. 😭

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw:  fluff, angst, language, suggestive themes, and scene of victim blaming/justifying dv (from character's pov, not the authors)

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes��� by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 13k (i need help)

The moment the cotton round soaked in hydrogen peroxide makes contact with the largest cut on Roman’s face, a slash across his eyebrow bone, is the first time he visibly displays any sort of reaction. The first indication that he is in fact in pain.

And he’s immediately regretful.

Nakoa, his father, a tall man of muscular build, a thick salt and pepper beard, and dark eyes that seem almost black in dim lighting, is before him with a previously unreadable expression that has now morphed into something different.

Something Roman hates to see on his father’s face.

Disappointment. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Nakoa Reigns is a man who only needs to speak once, his deep, baritone voice emanating a level of power and authority that requires no repeating of anything. The first is the only.

Despite the sting of his cut and the bruising of his body, Roman sits up straight, all 78lbs of him and lifts his chin. “I—”

“He was trying to help us, fath—”

Nakoa lifts his hand, effectively silencing the voice of one of his older boys, Pika, Roman’s half brother. 

“I asked your brother.”

Pika recognizes his fault and shares a brief look with his other brother, Tane, before both drop their heads, rendered to silent shame.

Nakoa brings his gaze back to Roman as Viviana continues to work on heeding to her son’s wounds.

Roman swallows and answers as evenly as possible. “They were talking about you.”

“So you attacked them?”

Roman quickly debates leaving out unnecessary details then easily remembers nothing gets past his father, and honesty, while uncomfortable, is the best route. “Pika and Tane did first, and then I joined them—”

“You were defending my honor.”

Nakoa’s tone, something of almost pride, takes a young Roman by surprise. Yet, he shows nothing, recognizing that can and typically does change with his father. “Yes.”

It’s a wise decision, because Nakoa’s tone instantly shifts to something chilly. “And yet you lost.” Roman winces again, and it has nothing to do with the dabbing of the hydrogen peroxide against another cut. “Tell me, son, where is the honor in that?”

Knowing that there is no excuse, Roman’s shoulders slump a bit. “There is none, father.”

“If you are to defend this family, you will do it to completion. There is no room for failure. Ever.” It’s a tale as old as time, a lesson Nakoa has drilled into all eight of his children, but especially Roman, the youngest and smallest of the bunch compared to his other sons. “Pika. Tane.”

The older boys stand at attention as their father, The Tribal Chief, turns his disappointed gaze towards them. “You have also failed me. Your brother is small, but you are not. There is no excuse.” His gaze sharpens. “If they disrespect you, then they disrespect me, and if they disrespect me, then they disrespect our entire family. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

Pika, the older of Tane and Roman, is the one to answer. “No, father.”

“Exactly.” Nakoa’s large, intimidating frame is stepping away from them as he instructs. “Come. We will fix this. Today.”

As usual, Tane and Pika fall in line, walking in silence behind their father until only Roman and his mother, Viviana, remain in their large kitchen. 

That is when she finally speaks. Her fingers move under his chin, forcing him to look up, her icy blue eyes meeting with his light brown ones, a trait inherited from his father.

“Did you hit your head?” He shakes his head no, and she drops her fingers. “Good.” She studies him, lifting his shirt to see the purple bruises forming. A heavy sigh escapes her mouth as she moves across the kitchen, opening up the cabinet and grabbing the Children’s Tylenol. She pours the appropriate dosage into the medicinal cup and offers it to him. “Here. Take this. It will help with the pain.”

He’s immediately shaking his head, shoulder length hair brushing against his face. “I must pay for my failure.”

“You will learn nothing by suffering unnecessarily.” She again motions for him to take the medicine. Roman hesitates but obeys, downing the red liquid in a matter of seconds. She takes back the cup, rinses it, and puts it away before returning to finish tending to his wounds.

“Never pick or involve yourself in a fight you can’t win, Roman.” Viviana switches to Italian, an intentional tactic to ensure privacy as well as continue to push her eight-year-old son to better his fluency. He's advanced for his age but still not where she would like him to be. Where she needs him to be. 

“Should I have done nothing, mother?” Viviana hears it. The edge in his voice, the hint of challenge to her authority. 

Again, she grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You should have been smart.”

“Pika and Tane—”

“I do not care about them.” Her dismissal is immediate and bitter. “They are not my sons. You are.” Roman is smart for his age. He’s always picked up on his mother’s dislike of his half–siblings, the five sons born to his father by his late ex-wife. No. His mother has only ever cared and focused on him and his two older sisters, Nesi and Sili. “And you are smarter than them.”

Viviana suddenly gives another sigh and places the cotton round on the counter. She crouches down in front of Roman, taking his hands in hers. “Do you know why your father and I are so hard on you?” She didn’t expect him to reply, verbally or nonverbally, and is therefore unsurprised when he does nothing. “It’s because you are not like your brothers and sisters. You are different. You come from two worlds. You are Bloodline, yes, but you are Cosa Nostra as well. That means you belong to the two biggest crime families in the world. It is your birthright to lead both of them.” Had he been looking up, he might have seen the almost sympathetic shift in her expression. “But the road ahead of you is not easy. They will challenge you. They will hate you. They will reject you, because you hail from two worlds instead of one over the other.” Any sign of sympathy quickly morphs into something determined and hardened. “That is why you must be better. You must be better than all of them. Faster. Smarter. Stronger. There is no room for you to be weak, Roman.” He lifts his head, mindful of maintaining and showing no sign of emotion, no indication of feeling. “You will show them, brutally, ruthlessly, and with no mercy who you are, and then, only then, you will rule them all.”

Roman straightens again, his posture representative of the alignment provided by his mother. By the reminder of his mother why he must always be the best and failure is never an option. He can succeed or he can succeed. There is no second option.

“Never forget, Roman.” She points to his chest, to his heart. “This is what makes you weak. It will distract you, it will deter you, and it will cost you everything.” Viviana speaks with almost sorrow to her, an almost unhealed scar from a time long ago. “But this….” She lifts her hand to his head, pointing to his brain. “This is power. This will bring and keep you on top. It is your greatest strength.”

Viviana presses a kiss to her son’s forehead and stands back up, motioning to the first aid kit. “Finish tending to your wounds, and go do your training.”

Roman is quick to hide his surprise, to hide the disappointment at still having to complete his daily combat training. He tries to be grateful though, thankful that his father, or mother, did not tack on additional training for his failure. 

But it’s when Viviana leaves and he moves to grab the gauze, a new voice interrupts.

“Boy, I thought she’d never leave.”

Instantly, Roman’s spirits are lifted in a way only his tina matua can provide.

Her warm eyes are on him, a frown falling on her face as she sees the cuts. It’s unsurprising and one of many fights he’s already been in at such a young age. But, it’s because he’s a protector. She can already see that is one of his defining traits: his strong urge and sense of duty to protect the ones he loves. 

To protect his family. 

She grabs the supplies and starts finishing the cleaning and bandaging of his wounds. “Those boys got you some good, huh?” She shakes her head, cursing in Samoan. “Don’t you worry. In a couple of years, you’ll be bigger and stronger than them, and then you can get your receipt.”

Fetu Reigns is unsurprised when her nephew says nothing. She knows his small size is a deep insecurity he struggles with, especially when all of his brothers have exceeded expected height and weight. She knows he sees it as a hindrance. 

“Did you know that your father was the smallest of our other siblings?” That is when Roman looks up and actually allows himself to show an emotion: surprise. His tina matua has always been the only person he can do as such with.

His parents would never approve, and his brothers would never let him live it down.

“It’s true,” Fetu discloses, adding. “And it bothered him too. Then one summer, he went through a growth spurt and suddenly the scrawny little boy we all teased towered over everyone.”

Fetu can see the continued struggle he has between the words she’s saying and the reality he’s living. She puts down the supplies and gently cups his face.

“Roman, I know there is pressure on you, my sweet boy. In this house and out. And you do carry a burden your brothers and sisters do not, but you also have something else, something they don’t have because your parents haven’t extinguished it out of you yet.” She lays her hand over his chest. “You have heart, Roman, and it does not make you weak. That is what makes you strong. A good leader, a great leader, leads with both his head and his heart.”

She hopes her words can penetrate the deep armor of stoicism that her brother and sister-in-law seem to want to bestow upon the child who already carries such a heavy weight at a young age.

Her heart aches for him a bit. 

She then informs him, hoping it will lift his spirits, even just a little, “Rikishi brought the twins over.”

And it pleases her to see the way his eyes light up. For a brief second, he’s just a little boy who wants to play with his cousins. But, it’s just as quickly gone, his shoulders straightening. “I have to do my training for today.”

She’s briefly disappointed but quickly reminds him of the ‘completion’ of that task. “but you did, remember? You got up early this morning to get it done. I was there watching you.” She gives him a wink, and Roman smiles. The first of the day.

“Thank you, tina matua.” He starts to run off when she calls his name, forcing him to look back at her.

“And where is my hug?”

Still smiling, he runs back over, hugging her tightly, soaking in all of the warmth she provides in his dark world.

She kisses the top of his head. “I love you, Roman.”

And his eyes shut, because at the end of the day, when all is said and done, he’s still just an eight-year-old little boy who needs the space and time to just be that innocent little boy for however long it can last.

“I love you too, tina matua.”

“Roman.”

Solana’s almost worried expression is the last and least wanted thing Roman expects to find as he’s ripped away from a memory so long ago that it almost feels unreal. There’s a moment of adjustment, a brief delay as he returns to reality. 

“Sorry.” It’s a bit gruff, a bit on the harsh side, an unintended side effect of resurfaced, previously buried memories he’d prefer to keep six feet under instead of at the forefront of his mind.

Solana steps forward, her hand on his forearm. “Are—are you okay?” Her frown deepens. “You’ve been kinda off the past few days.”

He can’t and won’t deny it, an inconvenient result of still trying to navigate just what the hell he’s supposed to do with information that feels almost too painful to sit on and do nothing about. He can’t march over and rip Xavier apart with his bare hands no matter how badly every fiber of his being wants him too. He can’t do that because he promised Solana he would let her make that call.

And now, more than ever, that’s the least he can give to her.

But the knowledge, the truth about the two events in her life he has no doubt sent her on that dark spiral, feels like something she should know.

It also, however, seems like something he feels could destroy her. And not even just the tremendous progress she’s made, but destroy her altogether.

“Just work shit.” There’s also that, but that’s nothing new nor noteworthy. It’s also insignificant compared to everything else. 

He doesn’t know if it’s her naivety or his adept skills of persuasiveness, but she seems to buy it. “Okay.” He hates this. The lying to her part. Shit fucking sucks, but he also still has no goddamn idea what he wants or even needs to do, so it’s all he has. “I know—I know there’s probably nothing I can do to help—”

“You can.” It’s an obvious surprising statement to her judging by the shocked expression on her face. Roman moves towards her, hand reaching for the small of her back as he pulls her into him. He watches as Solana bites on her bottom lip but still lays her hands against his chest. It’s a great sign of progress, as he’s always noticed the way she seems almost uncomfortable around him when he’s shirtless. “I want you to think about something for me.”

She answers almost immediately. “Okay.”

He locks his gaze with hers. “Moving into my room.”

Solana is clearly taken back by his offer, the way her eyes widen almost instantly only to settle into something that’s an almost mixture of a smile and a frown. “Really?”

He nods, fingers dancing across her back. “If you want us to eventually have a sex life, then sleeping in the same bed seems like a good place to start.”

Solana is quiet, listening to his words but also still in a bit of shock. She knows he’s indicated a desire to be with her, to want her in that way at least, but she never really imagined he’d be okay with her being in his space like that.

They’ve shared a bed on roughly two occasions now, but those were both by unplanned circumstance. Something that he was okay with because of how they came about. But now, it seems he’s okay and maybe even wants it to be a regular thing.

And when she thinks about, thinks about his offer, there’s no anxiety, no fear. There’s just…okayness.

A state of peace, almost.

“Dulce has to come with me.” She chews on her bottom lip, nervous about this being a possible dealbreaker. “She’s used to sleeping with me now.” 

He instead just shrugs. “She seems to keep finding her way in there anyway.” Dulce has also taken on the same squatter mentality of his twin cousins with her having walked her little ass into his room at various points in the middle of the night the past few days. It’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t stepped on her. “So, you’ll think about it?”

“No. I—” She gives a small shrug of her own, answering almost confidently. “I’ll do it. I’ll—I’ll move in.”

His eyes light with something that’s almost similar to excitement. “Good.” Her eyes shut when he dips his head, preparing for him to kiss her only for him to ghost his lips across hers, murmuring, “like you close to me.” He gestures down and adds with his gaze lingering on her chest a bit longer than what’s probably necessary. “I really like this outfit too.”

Roman’s noticed a shit ton of benefits from Solana being friends with Naomi and Bayley, which is a major reason why he didn’t rip them a new one for allowing her to get so shit faced drunk that night. Why he didn’t find a reason to justify keeping them apart. And one of the major benefits has become her change in wardrobe.

The baggy clothes have been swapped out for more form-fitting attire, outfits that accentuate her curves and showcase her beauty. He can also see the relationship between her wardrobe and self-esteem, specifically regarding her body. An increase.

And he likes it.

Happiness and confidence look good on her.

Roman kisses her, gentle at first, almost tentatively, just like most of their kisses. Like he’s always initially assessing her comfort level. And when she doesn’t push back, doesn’t tense, he deepens said kiss, tugging her close against him, their chests touching. Solana bites back a smile, giggling against his mouth, “Roman, you’re still sweaty from your workout.”

He’s unbothered, commenting suggestively with a wink, “you better get used to that, baby.”

Instead of discomfort, there’s only a strange, uncomfortable yet not feeling between her legs that’s unfamiliar but still….welcomed. It’s a hard thing to explain, and she’s thankful for the glance at the time on the microwave that provides her an out.

Still smiling, she informs him, “I’m gonna be late for work.” Solana is certain her cheeks are painted red judging by the heat that’s floating through her core. 

He’s unbothered. “And?”

Rolling her eyes, she pries herself away, asking, “are you still going to meet me when I get off?”

He taps her hip, hand close to the side of her ass. There’s a brief slice of anxiety that’s quickly pushed back by her daily reminder. Safe. “Of course.” 

Pleased, she leans up, kissing his cheek and backs away before he can pull her back for another kiss. She’ll definitely be late for work then. “Bye.”

He calls out bye after her, and by the time she’s outside, Solo is waiting expectedly by the SUV with that typical scowl. She expects the usual silence but is caught off guard when he observes as she climbs into the truck, “you’re late.”

Confused, she looks over at him, almost struggling with a reply as she reverts back to her overly apologetic state. “I’m sorry, I was—I was with Roman.”

He makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “Of course, you were.”

Her mouth dips into a frown. What’s that supposed to mean?

Before she can ask, or even consider asking a follow up question, he closes the door shut.

Literally and figuratively.

________

The work day seems to go by significantly faster when there’s something to look forward to. And for Solana, it’s being able to spend time with Roman. The more time they interact, the closer and more comfortable she feels.

There’s something so calming being around him. A strange dynamic, she recognizes, considering just who he is and the fact that his name alone strikes fear through most. 

But that’s not who he is to her. 

He’s….he’s a lot more than that, and though she still doesn’t quite know how to describe and label it accurately, she’s becoming less and less focused on the why and more focused on just allowing whatever this is between them to continue. To grow.

And that includes the intimacy portion, hence their current position, later that evening, laid out on his bed making out after being distracted in the midst of moving her items into his room.

Roman’s big hands are careful to remain in the safety zones of her body. The side of her stomach, the width of her shapely hips, the span of her back. It’s an intentional caution, she’s certain, one she’s appreciative of.

A boundary almost. 

But, it’s a boundary she’s currently in the space and range to play around with. 

Solana breaks their kiss, Roman instantly checking for her comfort level. “You okay?”

“Yes. I—” She’s not sure how exactly to word it but does the best she can, regardless. “You—you can touch me.” It sounds and even feels a bit weird leaving her mouth, maybe a tad bit uncomfortable too, but Solana knows that a lot about this whole thing will be uncomfortable at first. She just has to trust him. 

Trust herself. 

And when it dawns on her that a boundary within the exploration can be set, she stipulates, “just….just not there.” She doesn’t want to say it outright, a maybe silly sort of avoidance considering it’s what they’re eventually working up to, but for now, her comfort level is in the category of vague. “I can’t….not that. Not yet, at least.”

“Of course.” Roman looks at her with almost uncertainty. “You sure?”

She nods, fingers brushing through his hair that’s down instead of up like usual. She thinks she prefers it down. It makes him look…almost angelic. “Yes.”

His fingers dance across her back. “Can you lay down?”

Solana answers by allowing him to shift positions where he’s on top of her, hovering over her body. She closes her eyes when that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach forms. It takes a second to redirect herself, to recenter herself to where she is and who she’s with. 

And Roman helps with that, his lips brushing over her jawline as he reassures her, “it’s just me, baby….”

She nods, moving her hands to his face, resuming their kissing as Roman carefully navigates this newfound ability to explore her. His hand moves up her stomach in a way that makes her sigh and moan into his mouth. His touch is something that does something so different to her. It’s a combination of nerves but also something else she can’t describe nor label.

But it’s when he moves his hand to her breast, kneading them almost gently, her back arches on an accord of its own. And she exhales deeply, fingers clawing the soft sheets underneath him. “You’re so sensitive to my touch….” He’s peppers kisses against her neck, mouth opening as he sucks on her soft skin, murmuring, “I fuckin’ love that shit.” 

She’s never felt this before, and while there’s a constant battle in her head to push away those dark thoughts that would rip her from this moment, there’s a growing level of almost pleasure that’s so unfamiliar. 

But she likes it. 

Solana reaches to touch him, her fingers lightly gliding across his stomach.

He hisses against her and says something she can’t make out before smashing his lips back onto hers with an elevated sense of urgency that she finds herself matching. Her arms move around his neck as she tugs him closer to her, Roman’s big hands continuing to explore her body, respecting her request that he stay away from the sensitive space between her legs. 

And it’s okay. It’s a level she’s okay with outside of some anxiety.

But then it’s over. 

Roman pulls away from her, almost suddenly, like he’d been zapped with something. Frowning, Solana sits up, panting, lips swollen. “What—what’s wrong?”

She watches with continued confusion as he lays on his back, eyes closed, chest moving up and down. “We have to stop.”

She shakes her head, hand moving to his forearm. Solana notices his jaw clenches at that interaction, a strange response. “But—I’m okay.” And she is, though this is broaching new territory, having his big hands explore more of her body, she feels a layer of protection at the fact that she’s still fully clothed. Her outfit is more revealing than what she would typically wear, but it’s another step she’s hoping continues to move her in the right direction.

If the goal is eventual sexual intimacy, then that most likely includes being naked in front of Roman. Working her way up into wearing more revealing clothes around him feels like a way for her to ease her way into developing that level of comfort. 

When he still says nothing and Solana finds herself almost wanting to continue, she urges, “really, Roman, I’m—I’m okay. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“It’s not you,” he finally says, eyes still closed, voice almost strained. 

Now Solana is just stumped because if it’s not her, what reason would he have for stopping? Was he…..was he not enjoying it? It certainly didn’t feel like it.

She shakes her head, growing a bit self-conscious. “I don’t—I don’t under….” The trailing off of her words coincide with the way she trails his body, ceasing when she finally realizes why he stopped. “Oh.”

Solana’s cheeks are practically burning. She can only imagine how reddened she must look, and it has nothing to do with the intense makeout session from only minutes ago and everything to do with Roman’s very visible bulge.

He just makes a sound that’s equivalent to a “you get it now?”

“I’m—” She has no idea what to say, no idea how to respond. How did that happen? They weren’t even doing it. She voices her confusion. “But—but we were only kissing.”

Roman chuckles almost darkly. “You still don’t get how attracted I am to you, do you?”

She bites down on her lip, eyes briefly darting to his erection, quickly snapping back to anything but that. “I think—I think I’m starting to.” He smiles, and she asks, “do you….do you want me to leave?”

She may have no healthy sexual experience, but she knows enough to know that there are ways men tend to take care of….that kind of thing when actual sex isn’t an option. And Solana has no desire to be present for that. That’s just too much at this point.

Maybe at any point for her.

“No.” His answer surprises her. “Stay. Just….talk.”

“Talk?”

“Distract me,” he encourages. She has no idea how the hell she’s supposed to do that, how the hell her talking will help that to go away or go down. For her own mental wellbeing, she doesn’t even acknowledge the size of his bulge.

Being intimate with him is one thing, but realizing Roman is just a big human all over is something she’ll save for when that time comes. Another problem for another day. 

Suddenly feeling on the spot, she blurts out without much consideration. “I—I bought a bathing suit.” It feels so random, but she doesn't know what else to say, so she continues on this maybe not so great distraction. “I—I also want to try to get in the pool, but I didn’t have a suit, so I bought one. It’s a two piece, and I—I don’t usually like wearing those, but Bay and Naomi said it looked nice.” She thinks about the colorful two piece bikini that shows off more skin than she’s ever shown in public. She’s not sure she could ever wear something like that in public, but maybe around Roman. “The top is…it’s more revealing than I’d like, but I—”

“Solana.” 

“Yes?”

He sounds like he’s in some level of pain as he informs, almost kindly despite the suffering, “baby, that’s not helping.”

Her frown returns at hearing his tone, and another glance in his direction reveals why. “Oh. I’m—I’m sorry.” She can most definitely see why now. “I—I should just go.” 

He doesn’t protest this time around, just nods, and Solana doesn’t waste any time climbing off the bed and walking out the door, making sure to shut it all the way. She almost wishes that she could lock it too.

Solana finds herself trying to settle her own body as she makes her way down the steps and into the living room where Dulce is curled into a little ball sleeping away.

She closes her eyes and blows out a big breath, a small smile falling on her face. It’s the little things. Like being able to make out with her husband, his hands on her with only a small to medium level of anxiety being generated during the act that brings on the smile. Not even four months ago, they’d been in an eerily similar position with an entirely different outcome. She’d had a panic attack, and while he’d helped her through it, she was also left alone to navigate her big emotions on that even bigger day.

It feels almost like night and day how far they’d come. How far she’s come because this time around, Solana liked the feelings of his hands on her. There was still some uncertainty, but his gentleness with her, the way he kept reminding her that it was him and not them….it made a difference.

It makes a difference.

She finds herself reaching for her airpods, plugging them in her ears as well as the sketchbook on the coffee table.

Years. 

It’s been years since she picked up a sketchbook and pencil, years since she escaped in the form of art. Writing has been her main outlet for years, but once upon a time, she had writing and art.

Passions she shared with her mom. 

And in moving through her workbook, one of the exercises inquired about passions that died following the traumatic event, and in doing the hard work, Solana realized that the last time she drew was before she was raped.

It was a favorite hobby at one point, and she’d love to tap back into that. Even if just for the connection with her mom.

And it’s something she finds herself fully immersed in, so much so that she misses it when Roman rejoins her until she jumps a bit, pulling out one of her airpods. “Hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the sofa next to her, arm moving around her. Naturally, she moves into his side. “Are you umm—okay?” Thinking about her outfit, she offers, "I can change."

He chuckles. “I’m not a teenage boy, Solana. Seeing you is not going to make me hard.” He dances his fingers across her upper arm as he explains, “it’s just touching you like that….it’s hard to control myself.”

She swallows. His words don’t unnerve her, just make her realize yet again just how attracted he is to her. Still a bit of a hard pill to swallow given that she’s never seen a man as beautiful as Roman. And yet he wants her. It still blows her mind. “Can I—can I do something to help?”

His eyes take in her body. “Not a damn thing.” She smiles as he then focuses on the book on her lap. “Did you do that?”

She looks down, realizing just how far she got in her drawing. A lot farther than she realized, that’s for sure. She looks up, nodding. “Fuck, you’re good.”

It seems like Roman is full of compliments when it comes to her, and it feels good. The more they come, the more she’s starting to believe it. Believe that she’s beautiful and talented and the exact opposite of everything her father and brother ever tried to make her believe about herself.

“Thank you,” she then goes on to explain. “I—I haven’t done it in years, but—but I used to love it.”

He nods as well, facial expression indicating he’s storing this information for later use. “Do you do any other kind of artwork?”

She has to think about it for a second. “I used to paint too. My….mother taught me.” The ending portion quiet, her pencil dragging along the eyes of the unidentified woman.

Roman notices though, asking, “is that her?”

With one glance, without even needing to think about it, she answers, “yes.” 

Her mom.

“You know the part I hate the most?” Her voice is still quiet, low and weighed with emotion. “I can’t—I can’t remember what her speaking voice sounded like. I’ve tried—tried to remember, but I can’t.” Her tone shifts to something else, something more of a bitter and remorseful nature. “But I still remember the sound of her screams every time he beat her.” Solana remembers more than that, feels more than that. But revisiting those painful memories to that extent is something she doesn’t feel mentally equipped for. “I used to be so scared. Praying because…because I thought he was gonna kill her.” Had she been looking at Roman, she’d have seen the flash of guilt in his eyes at her soft admission. “And sometimes I wanted him to, so at least she didn’t have to suffer anymore.”

Wetness pooling in her eyes alerts her to pending tears. She sniffles, quickly wiping away any sign of the impact of revisiting those dark days. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because it’s the truth. Because it’s how you feel.” Roman’s voice is soothing, soft, a stark contrast to everything anyone else has ever seen with him. It’s a different, almost caring side. And it’s everything she needs at this moment to feel safe. 

She nods, struggling to keep the tears at bay. It’s a failed mission at this point. “I just—I miss her. So much.”

Roman tugs her closer to him, as she angles her body toward him, crying silently into his chest unintentionally creating yet another layer of complexity for the man struggling already as to whether or not the information he’s sitting on could help her finally close a chapter of suffering with the finality of truth. 

Or bring her right back to the apex of trauma and suffering. 

________

Solana shoots awake with a violent gasp and heavy panting. Immediately, she looks to her side, hoping to see Roman only to find an empty space and ruffled sheets. 

Sniffling, she wipes at the tears and tries to regulate herself. Memories are one thing, but the memories that haunt her when sleep should overcome her have always been the hardest. They weigh heavier, leaving behind an emotional stain that’s hard to scrub out.

She wipes away the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and kicks the blankets off her body. One glance at the ground, and she sees Dulce sleeping peacefully in her bed. 

Solana hugs herself, ready to find Roman. For what reason, she’s not sure. It’s not like he can do anything to take the remnants of the nightmare away. She just knows that she wants to be around him. 

A swish of a cool breeze brings her attention to the ajar double doors that lead to the balcony attached to his room.

She dabs at her eyes, doing her best to hide the tears before walking out to find him. Solana doesn’t necessarily want him to know the specifics, just needs to be near him.

He’s sitting back against the chair, eyes on the full moon and stars that blanket the night sky. But his gaze quickly shifts to her the second he’s alerted of her presence. He frowns almost. “Shit, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, doing her best to muster up a smile that doesn’t give away the truth. “No. I just….can’t sleep.”

But, she should know better than that. Better than to think that this man can’t see through any lie thrown at him.

He motions her over. “Come here.”

She makes her way to him, unsurprised as he pulls her onto his lap, keeping her face forward so she can recline back against his strong chest. Solana’s hands rest on his forearms that are almost protectively around her.

Her eyes shut briefly when he brings his lips to her temple, asking, “what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream” she murmurs only to feel a sense of regret at her answer. He’s also obviously up in the middle of the night for a reason too. It’s not just about her.

But in a surprising flip of the roles, Solana feels Roman almost tense underneath her at her answer. “Solana, if us trying is triggering you—“

Her eyes widen almost as she works to assure him. “No. No. It’s not—not that. I haven’t—I haven’t had one of those in a while.” It’s been at least a few months since she’s had a nightmare about that. A far cry from when she would have them at least a few times a week. “It was about my mom.”

He seems to settle a bit, asking, “do you wanna talk about it?”

The answer is easy but also gently supplied. “Not really.” She then angles her head to look at him, asking almost cautiously. “Do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

He chuckles, fingers tapping against the side of her stomach. She tries to focus on his words and not the action, knowing she’ll get too into her head. Her stomach has always been one of her biggest sources of insecurity. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

The rejection, albeit cloaked in vagueness, is a good distraction. She gives him a small smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” For all that Roman’s been for her in the past few months, she would feel remiss if she didn’t at least attempt to be a safe space for him. 

It’s the least she can do.

He looks at her, and she can tell he’s trying to navigate his words. “Solana, I’m not—I’m not used to talking about my problems. I keep that shit to myself, and I figure it out.” 

She doesn’t deny that one bit, knows that he’s a man who carries the weight of the world but makes it seem like a tennis ball. “I get that.” She doesn’t want to push him. Again, it's more to make him aware that should he ever want to, she’s here. “I just…..I know how lonely it can be not having anyone to talk to.” There’s a hesitation but eventual follow through as she offers quietly, “I don’t think I said it at the time, because everything happened so quickly, but I'm so sorry about your mom.”

He’s tense under her, replying almost stoically. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she points out gently.  “You—you never get over that kind of loss. Not—not really.”

She would know.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and for a second, she berates herself. Chides herself for being too pushy, for bringing up memories that must be painful. Just because she’s venturing down trauma lane, doesn’t mean she has to drag him with her. 

Solana swallows. “I’m so—”

“I have to go out of town tomorrow.”

It’s deflection but almost maybe a genuine notice that’s much shorter than she likes. Regardless, her head snaps in his direction, big eyes on him with a mixture of confusion and shock. “What?”

“I have….I have something I need to handle for work.” That feels like an oversimplification, and she has no doubt it is. Knows that there’s so much about his work and what he does that there’s not enough time and space in the world for him to catch her up on. Not that she would even want to know the full truth, to be honest.

Some things are better left unknown. 

“How—how long will you be gone?”

Solana hates the way her mood has just taken yet another turn in a downward direction. She doesn’t know why it saddens her to know that he’s leaving, to have this sense of anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge that he’s leaving. 

He answers it so calmly, so easily. Like it’s the most simplest thing. “A couple days. No more than a week.”

A week.

The anxiety is slowly trickling into something deeper and heavier. It shows in her face and body language. 

Roman notices this and asks, “what is it?”

She feels silly even saying it, but there’s also a small desire to just be honest with him. To not hide anything. Even if she does feel a bit embarrassed saying so. “It’s just…I haven’t been away from you since the wedding.”

Solana hates that she’s making this moment about her, that she’s redirecting attention onto herself, but at the same time, she can’t ignore her anxiety at just the thought of Roman being gone. Roman is her protector. The one who has made it so nothing bad has happened to her since they exchanged vows. Even with the Theory and Waller situation. That only happened because she hadn’t made him aware. There’s no doubt in her mind now that had she told him from the beginning, he would have nipped it in the bud. 

But for the first time in months, she has to think about something unfamiliar. She has to think about being without his protection.

Her right hand moves to her pajama shorts, pulling at the cotton. Roman sees this telling action and brings his hand under her chin, lifting and making her look at him. “Talk to me.”

It’s suddenly a difficult thing, because she’s not sure she knows how to describe it exactly. So she just asks him instead, voice small, “will Solo still be here?”

And it’s in how he looks at her, how something flashes in his eyes that she knows he knows. “You’re scared.” It’s more of an assessment than anything, and she can’t deny it, no matter how badly she wants to. 

Because no matter how far she’s come, the steps and strides that she’s made, there’s still this deep down fear.

Fear of her dad and brother.

Fear of their anger and punishment for how she’s been made completely out of reach and contact with them.

Fear of their threat from what feels like so long ago.

“Either you kill Reigns, or we kill you.”

And suddenly the fear shifts from what they could do to her and entirely to what they could do to the man before her who suddenly looks like he’s engaging in his own internal dialogue. 

“I figured you would be.” She’s listening, but she’s also worrying, mind starting to race with thoughts about Roman and his safety. “Yes, Solo will still be here. And I asked Bayley to stay at the house with you till I get back.”

“Are the twins going with you?”

He looks taken back by her question, and her stomach drops when he shakes his head. “No. I….I need to handle this on my own.”

Her stomach is a resting stop for daggers. Sharp and swift slices of pain circulating. Solana sits up, angling herself so she can see him better. “You’re gonna be alone?” The scenarios could be in the millions now, her chest starting to tighten, matching the knotting in her belly. “But—but what if something happens? Who’s gonna look out for you—”

“Hey.” And he’s sitting up, one hand on her face, the other on her waist. “Solana, where is this coming from?” That only makes her anxiety spike, her eyes watering at horrible, dark thoughts that involve her losing the first person since her mom who’s ever made her feel wanted. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. But even if I was, I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time. It’s nothing new.”

But that looking out for himself probably almost always involved a sense of knowing what to look out for. He can’t look out for her dad and brother if he has no idea they even have their grisly sights set on him. He doesn't know because she still hasn’t told him. Hasn’t been woman enough to be honest with this man when his literal life is at stake. 

It turns her stomach for an entirely different reason. Her sudden sense of self hatred. 

 Her internal strife must show as he gently moves his thumb across her cheek. “You worry that much about me?” It’s another statement, borderline realization, and he’s not looking for an answer.

She does. She really, truly does. Solana admits with all the emotion and vulnerability, both from his leaving and the inner turmoil at sitting on such a secret, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

And yet, she can’t bring herself to mouth those words, all of the various, horrible ways he could respond rushing to the forefront of her mind. He’ll be angry. Angry at her. He could….he could lose his temper.

He could lose it on her.

And she couldn’t even blame him, couldn't be upset at him because she would deserve it.

She’d deserve whatever punishment he saw fit. 

“It won’t,” he says, tone promising and convincing. It briefly brings her back to the main conversation at hand vs the debate going on in her head. “I been doing this a long time, Solana. I know how to keep myself safe.”

She believes it. Knows he’s capable of unspeakable acts in the name of protection and execution. Still, it does little to abate her nerves.

She whispers, “Roman…my father…” She feels physically sick, the weight of it all making it difficult for her to properly express herself, explain to him the real reason behind her concern. “He….he’s dangerous.”

Roman’s expression is unreadable, but she can’t tell if that’s because she’s so in her head or he’s put back on that mask that the rest of the world sees. That obscured countenance that’s no doubt deeply aided in all of his success. “Solana, I told you before, I’m not a good man. I’ve hurt more, killed more, tortured more people than you can ever imagine.” He’s not trying to scare her. She knows this. Just trying to remind her of who the fuck he really is. “That son of a bitch has no idea what dangerous is.”

“I just—” She’s able to simplify it all to one basic word that carries so much more than what he probably realizes. “I’m scared.” 

Roman sighs, disposition softening a bit. “I figured you would be…” He matches her gaze, almost needing her to look at him directly as he speaks without an ounce of indecision. “Solana, I would never leave you if I thought danger was present. Nothing’s going to happen to me or you.” He brings his mouth to her shoulder, pressing a kiss. “Solo will guard you, and I asked Bayley to come stay here at the house with you until I get back.”

The last part is what gives her the most pause and a small slice of comfort. “R–really?”

He nods. “I’d have asked Naomi too, but that means Jimmy be over here, and the last time his ass was here while I was gone, I had to redo the whole damn fireplace.”

She smiles and laughs a little, a much needed respite from all of her big emotions. There’s a story there. She’d love to know, but timing is everything. Maybe another day.

His lips linger on her temple, vowing, “everything’s gonna be fine.”

Interestingly enough, even in all of the confidence of his delivery, Roman is secretly wondering the same thing as Solana.

Will it?

________

The house feels strange without Roman.

Yes, he’s typically gone the majority of the days and makes it back late in the evening, but there’s still his presence at some point or another.

The past few days, however, have not provided that.

And while Solana is deeply grateful for Bayley’s presence, it’s still not the same.

It’s not Roman. 

She sits across Bayley and Naomi in the living room, Dulce snuggled up next to her as the three women chit chat about any and everything. Solana does her best to be as deeply immersed as possible. It keeps her from checking her phone to see if Roman has replied to her text.

In the time he’s been gone, their communication has been sparse. He always replies, eventually, but she’s noticed that she’s the one who’s initiated most of it. It makes her feel like a bit of a nuisance, like she’s bothering him. 

But, it’s the only thing that keeps her anxiety grounded. To be able to maintain contact with him. To know he’s okay.

Naomi notices this, sees the way she keeps glancing at her phone as if that’ll make it light up with a certain five letter name. “Don’t take it personal, girl. Roman does this every so often.”

At that, her attention fully switches from the phone to Naomi’s statement. “What do you mean?”

“He disappears for a few days. No more than a week. Goes completely off the grid. No contact with anyone. Not even Paul. Does it every couple months, sometimes more frequently.” She says it like it’s normal, like it should make sense. “He’s done it for years.”

“Despite the Bloodline being pretty family oriented, he can be a bit of a loner.” Bayley chimes, throwing some popcorn in her mouth.

Solana frowns, confused and slightly troubled by this information. “Where—where does he go?”

Naomi shrugs. “I don't know. Only the twins do, but they’ve never said shit and never will. They all might annoy each other on a daily basis, but the loyalty among the three of them is unmatched.”

Solana’s mind is racing. She can see someone like her husband wanting and maybe even needing time to be by himself. But the fact that it’s a regular thing, not to mention such a secret thing, has her mind racing and wondering just where does he go? What does he do while he’s gone?

Something Naomi said makes Solana clarify. “We’ve been texting since he left. Not…not as much as we usually do when he’s here, but he’s communicated with me.”

Naomi’s eyes widen. “Seriously?” Solana nods, almost unsure. “Damn. That’s a first then. He never talks to anyone when he leaves like that.”

Solana is quiet. Unsure of what to make of that either. Confused as to why Roman would break ‘tradition’ for her. And then she’s embarrassed, frustrated with herself for not being respectful of him and his time.

He doesn’t have all the time in the world to deal with her and her neediness.

Grabbing her phone, she sends out two texts and puts it face down, determine to not check again until later in the evening.

Solana: I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you while you’re trying to work.

Solana: I’ll leave you alone. Just please be careful.

Bayley is looking over in Solana’s direction when her eyes land on something. “Holy shit, is that what I think it is?” Solana frowns, confused as Bayley’s mouth slips into a shit eating grin. “It is. Damn, how did I not notice that before?”

And before Solana can ask, Bayley hits Naomi on her arm, pointing to Solana’s neck. “They must be having a good ass time over here.”

That’s when Solana realizes what she’s referring to. Her cheeks start to burn a bit as she places her hand over the courtesy of a certain husband of hers hickey.

Naomi is also smiling cheekily. “A very good time.”

But, it’s this conversation that paves the way for something else. That reminds Solana that these two ladies are her friends, her confidants, and also a lot more experienced in a certain area where she most definitely is not.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Naomi and Bayley both turn to Solana at the same time with Bayley being the first to speak. 

“Come on, Solana. You already know you can ask us anything.”

“Yeah. That shouldn’t even be a question.”

That was the easy part, the harder part comes with unveiling the nature of her request. “It’s umm—it’s about sex.”

While she initially expects some type of discomfort, she only receives an increased level of intrigue. 

“You can most definitely ask then.” Bayley quips, pulling her legs up under her on the sofa. “What’s going on?”

Solana starts to ask them to keep it between the group, but it feels redundant. She’s learned to trust that their conversations remain private and confidential. “Roman and I—umm—” Yup. this is definitely the hard part. “I asked him if we could….if we could work up to eventually, umm, having….you know.”

Naomi makes an ‘o’ with her mouth and then nods, almost reassuringly. “Okay.” She seems to be thinking on how she wants to ask, “are you—would it be your first time?”

Solana shakes her head, gaze dropping to her lap. “No. I—umm—” She presses her lips together and briefly closes her eyes, sharing in a quiet tone, “I was raped when I was younger.”

There’s such a mixed, jumbled bag of emotions at saying it aloud. At acknowledging her trauma without allowing that fact to overwhelm her. It’s only the second time she’s said it to anyone other than herself, but there’s also this space that feels a sense of relief at not having to hold it all in anymore.

That part of it….it’s liberating.

Naomi, however, looks distraught. “Oh my god, Solana, I’m so sorry. I didn't know—”

“No, no, it’s okay. How could you have known?” Solana knows they mean no harm, that Naomi was asking out of genuine interest vs trying to get her to divulge her trauma. She also appreciates how neither woman looks at her with an overwhelming sense of sympathy. Like they feel bad for her. Solana doesn’t want that anymore. 

Doesn’t want to be seen as a victim anymore.

She takes a deep breath. “That’s why touch is hard for me, but I’ve been—I’ve been using this workbook for people who were assaulted, and it’s—it’s been helping a lot.” That feels like putting it lightly. Solana has felt life changing differences from working through that book. “But now, I—I want to try to have…that with him, but I don’t—there’s a lot I don’t know about….about pleasing a man.”

Bayley again exchanges looks with Naomi before taking over the conversation. “Does….does Roman know about—”

“He does.” She nods, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “He….he was the first person I told.”

And she doesn’t regret it. Maybe regrets that she doesn’t recall how exactly it came out, but she’s happy he was the one to be there with her in that moment of release. 

“Okay.” Bayley seems relieved at this knowledge. So does Naomi. “And I don’t mean to make you feel like you need to tell him. That’s your truth. You tell or don’t tell anyone you want, but I do think him knowing could help him be….I don’t know, patient?”

Solana nods, explaining with all the truth and sincerity, “he’s been really great with that.”

Because he has. Roman has met her every step of the way of this journey, ready and willing to give her whatever she needs. 

“Good.” Naomi also appears genuinely reassured by this piece of information. “But also, Solana, it shouldn’t be about you pleasing him. It should be about him pleasing you.”

Solana shifts in her seat, shrugging slightly as she admits, “I don’t—I don’t even know if it could be…could be pleasing for me.”

That’s the part she struggles with. Tries not to think too much about it for fear of it hindering her progress. If the trauma of what she endured permanently ruined that for her. 

Naomi, however, is quick with the rebuttal. She shakes her head. “Trust me. With the right partner who knows what he’s doing, it can definitely be pleasing.”

“I guess that’s what worries me too. He’s….he’s so experienced, and I’m—I’m not.” She frowns, sharing and unveiling a layer of vulnerability. “I don’t want it to be…..to be bad for him.” Solana has heard and learned enough by now to know that her husband is a person who likes sex, who’s tumbled in the sheets with more women than she’d probably care to know. And that part doesn’t bother her as much as the comparisons component does. It’s hard not to think about how he’s well versed and probably has high expectations that she’s almost certain she could never exceed, let alone meet.

It’s a bit discouraging, to say the least.

“Fuck him,” Bayley suddenly exclaims and then clarifies. “Not literally, but like, girl, this really is about you. This is….this has to be a big thing for you, and the fact that you’re even willing to try it makes me think Roman must be doing something to make you feel comfortable enough to try it with him.”

That’s an understatement. A small smile falls on her face, just thinking about the measures he’s taken to ensure her comfortability. “He is….he’s really good to me.”

Naomi jumps in. “And that just blows my mind because he’s never been with any woman the way he is with you. He’s never given a damn about them, but he clearly cares about you. And that also makes me think he’ll also be all about making you feel good versus you getting him off.”

That gives Solana a slice of comfort. The fact that he seems to be going against his preferred sexual nature to meet her exactly where she is. He hasn’t given off any indication this is something that bothers or frustrates him. At least none that she’s seen yet. 

Bayley suddenly shifts gears a bit, seeming a bit awkward as she struggles to get out her sentence. “I will say though, there are….rumors that….well—” She turns to Noami, advising. “Might want to cover your eyes.”

She instead rolls her eyes. “Girl, he’s family by marriage. Not blood. I’m listening.”

Bayley laughs as Solana continues to look on a bit confused. “There are a lot of rumors that Roman is….well, he’s big all over. Like….everywhere.” She gestures to her crotch area. “You get my drift?”

And though her cheeks are painted red to match the heat inside at this conversation, Solana nods. “We….we were kissing the other day. Well, maybe more making out, and he….well, he became…..he got hard, and it was….noticeable.”

Solana feels a bit mortified at sharing such intimate details of her interaction with Roman, but Bayley and Naomi seem almost vindicated. “Oh my god, so they are true. I knew it.” 

Naomi is fanning herself as she points out. “also, sis, if he’s getting hard just from kissing you, then he’s definitely gonna be all about you when you guys finally go there. His attraction to you is insane.”

Solana can’t find it in her to deny that.

Because her attraction to him is just as intense, if not more.

Bayley practically squeals but clears her throat, switching back to a more serious tone. “But back to the initial topic, because he’s well endowed, it may hurt a bit at first. It’s a matter of learning your partner, and your partner learning you. Communication is also key. If something isn’t right or doesn’t feel good, let him know.” Solana internally winces at the comment about it hurting. That’s a part that makes her nervous, that pain bringing on flashbacks of her assault. But, that’s also when she knows she has to remind herself that this isn’t that. That Roman isn’t them. 

He’s not trying to hurt her.

Naomi gives her gentle shove. “But, once you get past that pain, it really can be a wonderful thing.”

It makes Solana smile a bit. That’s what she’s hoping for.

“Especially with Roman, cause I mean this with all the respect in the world, Solana, but that man is fine as hell.” Bayley lifts her hands in a surrender motion. “Don’t worry, I don’t want him like that, but I’m not blind either.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference even if you did, cause baby, he is all about Solana.”

Solana’s blushing is on level 10 as she looks down, shrugging with one shoulder, “he’s….he’s really great. I—I’ve never had a man be so nice to me before.”

Naomi shakes her head. “That’s because you’ve never dated a real man before. Hell, you’ve never been around real men until now. Because real men don’t do what your shithole ass brother and father did to you. And probably your ex’s too. Cause I feel like you mentioned an ex.”

Solana nods, gently disclosing some details of her last relationship. “He used to…he used to talk about my weight.” One of many things, but that seemed to be his favorite talking point. “I think I tried to make it work because…well, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he never tried to make me do anything with him. He…he used to say that I—that I was too fat for him to want to fuck me.”

Four months ago, talking about this would maybe have Solana in tears. But now, it just somewhat upsets her that someone could be so cruel, that she ever believed that. That she ever believed she was so unappealing that no man would want to be with her in that way.

Meanwhile, Naomi looks like she’s contemplating murder. “Girl, please give Roman that man’s name so he can fuck his bitch ass up.”

“Fuck that. I’ll fuck him up myself because what in the actual hell?” Bayley seems legitimately pissed off too. “Like bro, if your dick is small, just say that.”

“Solana, on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive was your ex?”

She has to think about Naomi’s question. At the time, the score might have been higher, but now, it’s much lower due to well learned common sense. “Maybe a 4.”

“And on a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive would you rate Roman?”

That’s probably the easiest thing she’s been asked all day. “A 10.”

“Exactly, so if a fine ass man like Roman sees how equally fine you are, you do realize your ex was just an insecure prick, right?”

That’s also a surprisingly easy answer. Solana shakes her head. “I do now.” He was never good enough for her, and she never deserved to be spoken to so cruelly. These are facts she cannot and will not dispute.

“Good.” Naomi sighs with relief, leaning back into the sofa. “God, I hate the male species sometimes.” She takes a sip of her wine and is back on track, “but anyway, back to you and Roman, just make sure you stretch real good.”

“Oh my god, Naomi.”

“What? We can’t have her out here not prepared.” She defends and advises, “If you’re on top, and I don’t know, that may be better for you so you feel more in control, moving your hips as if you’re spelling your name will make any man come in under a minute. Guaranteed.”

Bayley adds on, “yeah, but you also gotta have strong legs if you’re riding. I be getting cramps and shit.”

Solana is trying to sit on this information, a strange yet pleasant feeling pooling in the small of her stomach at some of the things being said as well as a brief glimpse of those things coming to fruition.

She shifts in her seat. 

Naomi then unintentionally provides a nice detour of the conversation. “But wait, I have to ask just how well did your date go with Roman because ya’ll seem to have jumped hurdles in such a short time?”

Just thinking about their surprise date has her smiling all over again. “The date was really nice, but—but you guys didn’t have to go through all that.”

Bayley chuckles. “Not according to Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” Her frown is back. “What are you talking about?”

Naomi is the one to answer, explaining, “he said when we went to see Roman the other day at his office, ya’ll were arguing. It’s why he rushed to have us set up that dinner. Said it was a bad fight.”

“Arguing?” Solana shakes her head. “No. No. We—we were kissing when he walked in.” And the blush is back again at the memory of his soft lips on hers for the first time. A first she’s certain she’ll never forget. “Roman was irritated because we were interrupted. Not…not at me.”

“Lord Jesus, I swear my husband is lucky he’s fine because the way this boy really had us all thinking ya’ll were about to get divorced or something.” Naomi is rubbing her temples. “So, you’re both good?”

Solana nods. She’s not sure she’s ever been more happy in her life than she has been the past couple weeks.

Not since her mom was alive. 

The women continue to chat it up, switching gears and topics when Jimmy and Jey arrive, both heading straight for the fridge to grab the containers of food she had ready and waiting for them.

It’s when the group is trying to settle on a movie or something to watch when Solana finally checks her phone to see her lock screen littered with notifications.

All from Roman.

She immediately unlocks it, reading over the messages.

Roman: Solana, you never bother me. 

Roman: Where is this coming from?

Roman: Answer the phone.

It’s only then she sees she has a missed FaceTime call from him as well. 

Solana untangles her legs and gets up from the sofa, laying Dulce in her bed so she doesn't try to jump off the sofa. 

She attempts to let the group know of her brief absence. “I’ll be right back. Roman called me.” 

Bayley sort of nods in acknowledgement, but the other three seem stuck on trying to pick between a comedy and a thriller. 

Solana taps at her phone and hits the call button as she moves through the kitchen to go out the backdoor.

Roman answers almost immediately. 

She slides the door shut behind her, opening up with a textbook apology. “I’m sorry, I was talking to Bayley and Naomi, so I wasn’t checking my phone.”

He doesn’t waste a second in jumping right to the point. “Why do you think you’ve been bothering me?”

Solana takes a minute to get situated on the sun chaise, setting up the phone so it’s propped against the back of the chaise while enjoying the excuse to not have to give him an immediate answer. 

“I don’t know.” She finally answers, gaze on her crossed legs instead of him, an intentional deflection. “I was looking over our texts, and I didn’t realize just how much I’ve been texting you.”

“Solana…”

“I just didn’t mean to be messaging you so much when you’re trying to work.”

“Solana, you should know me by now to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to fucking do. If I didn't want to respond to you, I wouldn’t have.” He says it so confidently that she almost doesn’t feel like she has the right to not believe him. “I would have left you on delivered just like everybody else. But you’re not everybody else, so I responded.”

Solana looks up, noticing that he’s sitting outside as well, on a patio of some sort. Same as her.

“I know something else triggered that for you, and I’m gonna find out what it is, but I’ll let it go for now.” She’s thankful for that too. This doesn’t seem like a FaceTime type of conversation anyway. “How you feeling?”

“Good.” It’s an accurate answer. Him being home would make things even better. “Having Bayley here has helped a ton. Thank you again for asking her to stay with me.” According to Bayley, it was less him asking and more of him telling, but Bay stressed that she was more than okay with it, hence Solana not feeling like she was inconveniencing anyone.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to be alone.” And she’s appreciative of that. That he’s seemed to learn her well enough to know that even with Dulce, it would be an uncomfortable thing for her. “You said Naomi’s there?” She nods. “Fuck, Solana tell me you didn’t.”

And it’s interesting to her how she already knows where this is going. A small smile growing on her face. “They’re your cousins.”

He ignores that, straight up asking. “Did you let them back in the house?”

Feeling a bit emboldened, she throws it back at him, asking. “Did you ban them from the house?”

Solana was wondering why the twins hadn’t been over since Roman was away, only for Naomi to inform her that they’d been getting denied entrance at the gate to Roman’s property.

A directive from Roman himself prior to him leaving. 

And he doesn't even try to deny it. “I sure fucking did.” 

Solana shakes her head, but she can’t help the smile on her face. His relationship with his cousins is so comical to her. “Roman, that’s mean.”

“Solana, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a nice person.” She starts to push back on that, push back on his belief that he’s somehow not a good person when he’s one of the best people she’s ever met. “I like you, tolerate them, and hate everyone else. Matter of fact, they asses are about to be grouped into the hate category too.”

“They’re not that—” And before she can finish her line of defense, a loud sound, a shattering of sorts cuts through that attempt. She frowns and turns toward the house.

“Man, what the hell did you do!”

“Aye, it ain’t my fault! I told you the shit couldn’t hold your weight!”

“See, now ya’ll breaking shit in Big Dog house! This why he don’t be wanting ya’ll over here!” Jimmy’s voice becomes louder and clearer followed by the sliding door opening and Dulce running out, jumping at the chaise for Solana to pick her up. 

She does as such, noticing that Dulce is shaking, most likely in fear. “Jimmy, what—”

“What the fuck did ya’ll break now?” 

Roman’s voice catches everyone off guard, even Dulce whose ears perk up and tail starts to wag as she sees him on the phone screen.

Jimmy looks a shade of anxious asking in a harsh whispered voice. “Damn, SoSo, why you ain’t tell me ya’ll was still on?”

“Fuck! I stepped on glass!”

“I told your dumbass to put shoes on!”

“Ayo, Bay, watch ya’ fucking mouth, alright?”

Jimmy chuckles almost nervously, moving near Solana to be in frame of the camera. “Whasup, cuz. Nothing. We just, uh, was watching a movie.”

Roman looks even more irritated at the obvious lie. “Ya’ll got ten minutes to get the fuck out of my house—”

“Damn, Uce, I hear Naomi calling me. I’ll see you when you get back!” And Jimmy doesn’t even wait for Roman to reply, no doubt the continuation and issuance of a threat anyway.

But it’s as he runs back into the house, bickering continuing between him and Jey that Solana rethinks her initial stance. “Maybe….maybe you have a point.”

“Do you see what I’m saying?” Roman looks at Dulce who continues to look at him through the screen, barking occasionally. She’s so excited to see him. “Look, even the damn dog don’t like em’. Ain’t that supposed to be man’s best friend or something?”

Roman’s irritation is felt through the screen, but it doesn’t scare her, doesn’t bother her. Her smile grows again as she asks, “are—are you still coming back Sunday?”

His answer comes on the end of a long sigh, his anger naturally melting away. “yes.”

An instant wave of relief washes over as she asks a follow up question. “So you got everything figured out?”

He hesitates, looking at her for a bit before answering. “For now.”

Solana wants to ask more, because she knows there’s more. He’s saying just enough to answer her questions, and while she normally would leave that alone, there’s a part of her that worries. Something was clearly bothering him before he left, and he suddenly feels or at least seems better. She can’t help but wonder what was bothering him, what helped him to feel better.

Or who.

Because she can’t stop thinking about the information she received from Naomi. It’s not uncommon for Roman to disappear every couple months, sometimes more frequently, okay. But just where does he go and why is it some big secret?

“You’re overthinking something.” Even however many miles away he is, Roman is still exceptionally adept at reading her. “What is it?”

Lying to him isn’t an option, but the full truth isn’t either. “Just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m good, Solana. I promise.”

She wants to believe him, but it’s hard. She just does her best to not feed too much of the anxiety. 

Studying his face, she has to force herself to get past his attractiveness to recognize the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re probably tired.” Not to mention, she feels bad for pulling him away from whatever he was doing. “I should go help them clean up.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of talking to you.” Her stomach flutters with all the butterflies only he can seem to give her. “And no, they broke the shit. Let them clean it up.” He easily adds on, “besides, I need to run some things by you.”

This gives her pause, as she stammers a bit. “O–okay.”

“One. I need to know what you want and want to do for your birthday. Two, there’s a Gala next week I have to attend, and I want you to come with me.”

Two major things, the first of which she didn’t realize was coming, the second she doesn’t even know how to think about. 

And maybe it’s less she didn’t know her birthday was coming and more it’s been so long since she’s acknowledged her birthday. Since anyone around her acknowledged her birthday. It feels almost foreign just the idea of doing anything.

Finally, she answers more of his first question than the first. “Nothing. I don’t—I’m not big on birthdays.”

She hasn’t been since her mother’s murder. 

That was the last year anyone ever told her happy birthday.

Roman, however, doesn’t seem to find this as an acceptable answer. “No, your pussy father and brother probably barely acknowledged your birthday, but I’m not them. We’re doing something. Preferably something out of town, because if my fucking cousins interfere in any way, I’m killing them.”

Her smile returns, soft and slightly amused. “Roman, you don’t have to. I just—just come back home, and I’ll be fine.”

And it’s the truth. Just him being back will be more than enough.

Again though, enough for her, but clearly not him. “I’ll handle it then.”

She shakes her head. “Ro—”

“What about the gala?”

Something tells her his mind is made, and when that happens, there is no room for negotiation. So she redirects her focus on the next topic. A gala sounds fancy, uppity almost. It doesn’t seem like his setting, but something also tells her it’s more an appearance he has to attend as leader of the Bloodline vs a preferred outing. 

But, there’s only one main question at the front of her mind. “Will you be with me the whole night?”

“Of course.”

There’s an instant wave of relief as she agrees. “I’ll go.” As long as he’s with her, she’s okay. And if he has to be there, she’d like to at least support him in any way she can.

“Good.” He seems pleased by this, adding on coyly. “Selfishly, I just want to see your fine ass all dressed up.”

Solana giggles as Dulce barks. A comfortable silence settles over them as something flutters in her chest, a warm, almost fuzzy type of feeling. 

Happy. 

She feels happy.

But….but something else. Something both warm and cool, different but familiar, pleasing but scary. A perfect yet imperfect balance of feelings. 

Lips parting, she tries her best to ignore the thumping feeling in her chest. “Roman, I–”

“Ayo, Soso, ya’ll got a fire extinguisher?”

________

“Still nothing?”

It’s the first thing Xavier asks as soon as his son steps foot in his hospital room. It was only a few days prior that Wes was released, finally cleared and recovered enough from his injuries sustained from the Bloodline.

Xavier, however, has not been as lucky. Age and a body already riddled with health issues has prolonged his stay. However, this has only given him time to think, time to plan, time to really evaluate the actions that got him here.

His son answers with a cold, "no."

But while Xavier has schemed, Wes, however, has only stewed. Sat and become overcome with feelings of rage. All directed to one person.

Solana

Just thinking of her makes him snap as he punches his still healing fist into the closest wall. “That little bitch betrayed us!” 

Xavier is used to his son’s violent outbursts, so he has no reaction other than a knowing smirk. “Maybe not.”

Wes looks at his dad, wondering if he’s so high on morphine that he has no idea what he’s saying. “Have you spoken to her? Cause I sure fucking haven’t. She was supposed to keep in contact!”

“She was supposed to earn Reigns trust.” Xavier corrects calmly. “And it seems she has.”

Wes calms down a bit, interested in where his father is going. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it.” Xavier thinks highly of his son, recognizes his potential for greatness. But there’s still some room for growth. Wes can often be blinded by his own hubris. “That level of rage Reigns had….that wasn’t his usual. It was personal.”

Wes is still stumped, not following fully. “What do you mean? That smug bastard is always like that.”

“No. He came after us specifically for her. Because he was upset about whatever she’s told him we’ve done.” Xavier doesn’t waste the opportunity to bestow a lesson upon his son. He asks, challenging his critical thinking skills, “why do you think that is?”

Wes is quiet, thinking carefully on not only what occurred but what can be inferred between the lines of what occurred. And as realization sets in, so does his vile grin “He cares about her.”

Xavier smiles wickedly. “Exactly.” He rests against the pillow behind his back, ignoring the pain that just that slight movement causes to shoot through his still healing body. Damn morphine must be wearing off. “It seems our little beauty has enchanted the beast.”

Wes nods but then points out. “But how can we be sure? It could very well just be him being possessive. Feeling disrespected only because he sees her as an extension. What we see as personal could just be pride.” 

Another smile befalls Xavier’s still bruised, cut up face. “You’re learning.” He nods, grabbing his phone. “That’s exactly correct. We must know for certain before making any moves.” He flips his phone showing the exclusive invite to William Regal's annual gala. “But, I know exactly how we’re going to find out.”

[novantinuum]

mmmmmmm. messy ass ramble thoughts ahead. this is not coherent, it is 1am, you have been warned.

so i've been thinking about that "i can fix anything! i can just keep messing up and fixing things forever, and you'll never have to know or think about any of it!" line during steven's lil manic panic moment in the ep everything's fine in the context of like... og SU episodes

this whole lil manic slip is one that's like... it seems a little extreme for him as a character at first, when one looks at the situation on surface.

but i think it really does shed a LOT of light onto one of his deepest fear. the same fear he's harbored for a good damn deal of the show.

"i didn't wanna hurt anyone!"

this moment comes just a few eps after the S3 finale 'reveal' of rose shattering pink diamond. in that final scene of the season, steven gets 'confirmation' from garnet that this happened, and seems to accept it for what it was- a difficult decision made amidst a treacherous war.

but also, he Doesn't.

because he's the legacy rose left behind. because each and every day he's growing more into his power. because now, with this reveal of rose's decision to shatter on the table, he's putting each and every decision he makes under a microscope.

he had no choice, he claims. she wouldn't let him help her.

he had no choice. it was self defense.

but is that true?

isn't that the same thing his mom probably told herself before ending a gem's life forever?

even though she poofed bismuth and holed her away for suggesting the very same idea??

rose became a hypocrite... so what if HE becomes the hypocrite, too?

see, with steven... i think it's really easy in the main show to sorta... observe all his actions on the mere surface without considering the deeper tickings of his psyche. like... take lars being brought back to life. from audience POV, that's a good deed. steven just saved someone with his magic! positive moment.

but genuinely... i think this was one of the worst moments of his entire life. i think he's still haunted by it- by the fact that he can just "fix" people in that way. and i think fixing jasper's shattered gem only made the specter of that day worse.

steven believes his role is to be the Shield.

the protector.

the one who is willing to do whatever it takes- even up to turning himself in for a crime he didn't commit- to protect his family and his friends.

and like, we all know that it's not steven's FAULT that lars died. BUT- he still died while under steven's protection.

and so the same way steven blames himself for "hurting" bismuth, jasper, and eyeball, he blames himself for killing lars. mentally, he Takes Responsibility for his death. yet another tick mark in the box of horrible "mistakes" he's made, yet another tick mark landing him just a little closer to the rose he's desperately trying not to become.

and worst of all... it's a mistake he "covers up."

because his tears are able to bring him back from the dead entirely.

and years later he realizes this is true for gems as well ;-;;;

so yeah, i absolutely think lars' death was also at the back of his mind when he said that line at the beginning

what steven saw in the depths of his mind as he was panicking there was him slipping down a slippery slope of violence that he couldn't escape from

first, causing harm to other gems and calling it self defense...

then, letting your friend die protecting YOU when you're the one who should be protecting him and facing NO consequence for this misgiving because you bring him back to life

then, expressing anger so visceral it can shatter floors, destroy whole rooms, flip vans. out of control. inexcusable.

then... outright shattering a gem in a duel while training to hone that anger. once again, facing NO consequence because you bring her right back.

then, that sudden, terrifying thought of "what if i shattered white diamond"

like, steven has absolutely no framework by which to separate his actions from genuine desire or just plain abstract thought.

he has no framework by which to understand the beautiful tool of adding a "man would it be fucked up or what-" to the beginning of those sorts of intimidating, dark musings.

he has no framework by which to understand the complexities of his trauma, and the way in which genuinely fighting back against someone he once called an enemy might feel empowering- instead, it would seem he's disgusted in retrospect with how deep he pressed into that fight, how much a part of him ENJOYED it, all because of the horrid destination it led to.

anyways at this point steven thinks he has now become the Hypocrite like his mom, and that he's just destined to hurt everyone around him forever but never be punished for it and Ouch

this post has no end, these were just ramble thoughts, the end. goodnight. i am sleepy and need to prepare to make Wig tomorrow bc OH boy i am con crunch.

yeehaw .

[taki118]

Yakuza Fiance ep 12 Manga Comparison

It's the season finale overall it was good but there were definitely some good character bits they cute. I hope this convinces some of you to read the manga, its really good and the anime can't really compare, theres also extras and somethings I haven't touched on cause they weren't relevant in my eyes. Anyway everything different under the cut. As always I'm using scans cause I'm lazy.

First up we lost this cute bit with Inamori

The anime looses out on a lot of cute moments with the side characters.

Ok so I do like the little visual gag they added of the high speed recap of the things Yoshino could be mad about in the anime

Its kinda like getting a glimpse into Kirishimas head, its a good gag.

In his call to Tsubaki we miss this little flashback on the return trip

Which adds more context to why he thought she wasn't upset.

Ok so we loose another cute domestic moment with the two

As he explains why he though the food might work to make her happy.

And we get some side character content

the guys are trying to make him feel better

The manga gives a little more of Yoshino rationale

It helps to follow more naturally into her telling him to not get other involved.

We also loose out on a pretty funny gag

Seeing things from Yoshino's POV really hits home how over the top he was being.

We also loose out on the explanation of Yoshinos wardrobe

(the fan translation means her grandpas friends)

Did you ever think her outfits were inconsistent? this is why

So the anime actually kinda softens Yoshino's childhood, she says people said things behind her back but she had some friends until middle school

But the manga makes no mention of friends at all. I suppose you could infer that "Lived normally" implies she had some but I think that fact she doesn't mention having any until Shoma is an important aspect to Yoshino. It's something she and Kirishima share in that they were lonely kids who didn't really realize how lonely they were.

I also need ya'll to know Kirishima blushes WAY more in the manga

Like I haven't really been noting it but its very consistent (Like the lose of goofy Shoma faces) but I wanted to point it out here cause I think it takes some of the edge away from the scene making it softer in the manga

also Yoshino blushes here

again I think it adds to tension in the scene and its a loss we dont get that in the anime. But this is what I mean when I say the anime can't compare to the manga in ways I can't really show. Cause shadows, framing and expressions are often very different and give a different feeling.

Anyway there are a few small details taken from the call with Shoma but I think this one is the greatest loss

It really adds to their dynamic to have Shoma scold her for once and for Yoshino to bite back.

So this is actually the introduction of Azuma he shows up in the anime much earlier in a frankly unneeded added scene in the anime. I can't for sure say which is better but I do think his scene here is more threatening, and better paced in the manga.

But also this is a rare moment where the anime is actually being more subtle than the manga

so good on you anime for adding suspense.

So the post credits scene is actually an extra but is very well done in animation except for two things

For one the scene isn't interrupted by Shoma on his bike which fyi makes the third added scene of Shoma with his bike literally the only time you see him on the bike in the manga is when shit goes down in Osaka. I swear someone on the team is a motorcycle fan or the studio made a deal with Suzuki for a certain amount of screen time.

Anyway we loose the cute ending of the bit rather than just fading to white we get

Yoshino happily eating the cake despite it being ruined.

I'll probably post more meta's and think pieces on the series from here out.

[queenvhagar]

so, now that the season is over, can i just vent about how useless and borderline tasteless those aemond/sylvi scenes were? maybe not tasteless, as ewan wasn't filmed naked against his will or coerced like the og GOT actresses were, but i certainly didn't feel whatever it was they were trying to get me to feel by watching those brothel scenes. while i can empathize with the plight of the smallfolk and will always stand up for sex workers, it just didn't work for me in this context. yes, as a big fan of aemond, there was a part of me that wanted to see him express some degree of vulnerability this season, but with his own fucking family and not at the expense of seeing the brothel madame from s1 again! anyone who is in or even on the fringes of the HOTD fandom knows what an issue the conversation surrounding sylvi was back in 1x09, and i feel like this was a move to capitalize on aemond's popularity, set the stage for his preference of older women once he meets alys, or maybe even just filling the nudity quota as per hbo's standards. i mean, damn, if they're going to put aemond in a position of romantic or sexual intimacy, can they just save that shit for his semi-canonical love interest? hell, i would rather he be demanded to bring floris baratheon to court, which would do that job of opening up conversation about whatever is going on in the stormlands and how borros is choosing the handle the war effort on his end! sylvi is not a character we know or care about on the same level of the main cast and i doubt she's going to leave a significant impact on who aemond is going forward, so why shove this glorified extra in our faces and attach them to a character who was/is kinda the dark horse breakout fave of s1? she adds nothing to him or the story beyond another smallfolk pov - which we already have with mysaria and the dragonseeds! what a waste of time. 😒

I agree. The purpose of these scenes was to humiliate the character or make him laughable for having "mommy issues" and literally drinking milk and laying in an older woman's arms. And all that so they could also include Aegon bullying him for it because otherwise he had no motivation to want to kill him all of a sudden. It is extra icky with the implication that this is the first woman Aemond was ever with as a literal child when he was brought to her to "get it wet." I don't think the show handles discussion and portrayal of sex in this show at all. Despite its "sex positive" attitude toward Rhaenyra it seems it shames every other character when it comes to sex: Aegon having his penis exploded, Aemond having mommy issues cuddling his abuser and drinking milk, the voyeuristic sex of Alicole included only for shock value and shaming the characters for being hypocrites, the lack of recognition of Alicent's inability to refuse Viserys and that marital rape scene seemingly just used to contrast with Rhaenyra's sexual liberation... To say this show is weird about sex and mixed with its messaging is saying the least.

[littleroaes]

Boys In Cat’s Clothing, l.jy

pt.2

Y/n yearns for a place outside her secluded routines. So when college comes around, she gets the opportunity to go to Seoul. She becomes a stranger in this vast city and behind the job, she meets a creature without capability of her own language. Without realizing it, Y/n stands in the living room, saving magic from impending on itself.(or; Y/n finds a cute cat and takes him home, suddenly there’s a handsome man on her couch)

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) lee juyeon x fem!reader

GENRES ⏵ FLUFF, light angst, a sprinkle of fantasy(cat shapeshifter!juyeon), strangers to lovers au, pining, (light)suggestive

WARNINGS ⏵ swearing(one time), clumsy scene where Juyeon accidentally cuts himself, one argument between Y/n and another character, slightly suggestive(one mature scene)

WORD COUNT ⏵ 11.9 k 

AUTHOR’S NOTE FINALLY!!! I just proofread it one time, so i probably missed something. This is also my first fic on tumblr so hopefully the layout and all turned out fine. I’ve been a kpop fanfic writer for a couple of years, but this is the start of my tbz writer journey. Please, enjoy a wholesome, fun, easy read!

AT SOME POINT Y/N UNDERSTOOD HER LIFE WAS QUITE SECLUDED.

That her routine of going five minutes to school with eighteen kids and staying up until the moon covered for the sun. Because she knew everyone in town wasn't the usual. Of course she felt lucky to have that life. There’s a sort of feeling in daily life that sets you free when you don’t need to be afraid to go out. And even if she would’ve been afraid to go out, either her mother or father go with her. Heck, even her grandparents live just down some streets. 

But beyond her tightly knitted space of freedom, she wonders what exists outside. Every summer when she goes down to swim, she meets the same lifeguard that saw her take her first steps into the water. And apparently y/n isn’t the only one he has followed through their childhood. He was born at the nearest hospital and has then lived his entire life here. The lifeguard is a sweet guy, but last summer y/n confessed to her friend; “What if I also end up living here forever?” She knitted her eyebrows and turned so her chin met the warm stone. “What do you mean, you don’t like this place?” Y/n turned to her and the setting sun covered their humid skin. “No, I don’t mean that, I just…” 

Their conversation didn’t go much further than that. She understood y/n was feeling rather blue so she took her to her house for home cooked food. Y/n didn’t bring it up again, she hasn’t asked but clearly she could spend her entire life and more in this place. So she faced the sea for herself, and dreamt of a place far away, and now she’s here. Despite her very worried parents and not outstanding academic experience, she got into a university in Seoul and with her parents help bought a tight studio apartment. Her room was far from empty when she left for the train, so it’s definitely not the last time she has her feet on this land. Even now, she thinks about their melancholic expressions as they wave her off. Realization that their little girl is about to take on the world on her own. 

The first step out of the train was rather overwhelming. Seoul was overcrowded and she could feel the skins of people brushing up against her own as she struggled her way out of the train station. But even when experiencing suffocation at every corner, she somehow falls in love with it. Her new life opens up in all directions and even though her apartment is smaller than her room back home, she has never felt a freedom like it. 

She got herself a part time job at a restaurant to spend her time on the weekends. As much as she would have loved to tour Seoul with a girl friend by her side, she doesn’t expect much social interactions on her part. That’s a problem she faced before deciding to go to Seoul and still haunts her when she comes home from the restaurant. When balancing five plates and talking with at least one person every second, your thoughts kind of goes silent. But between her four walls in her bed and the only sound coming from the open window in the heating season, the loneliness eats her up from the inside. 

It’s Saturday night and the place is about to close. Y/n cleans the last table and her colleague comes up to her. 

“Finally done, I might fall asleep before I get home.” He says and stretches. Y/n continues sweeping the table while nodding. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Hey, Y/n!” A voice comes from the kitchen and she looks back. “Can you take this out for me?” She holds a big plastic bag in her right hand and Y/n goes to her and takes it. 

“Thanks!”

“No worries.” 

There’s no light as she steps out of the backroom and opens the door to the outside. A slight breeze hits her when the moonlight shines over the depressing garbage area. As if the moon watches her every move, Y/n stops at the staircase and lets the door close shut behind her. As weird as it was, she has this strange feeling in her stomach. A yearning for her past life. The place she died to escape from seems so much easier than her current one out on the staircase. Back home, she knew everyone and everyone knew her, it has always been that way. But in the overcrowded city, she stands skin to skin with strangers and a simple greeting will not take you far. 

A rattle from the garbage container snaps her out of thought and she looks down to her right. The plastic texture moves around and Y/n tilts herself closer. The last thing she needs is some sort of parasite-sickness, so she grabs the plastic tighter to get ready to crush whatever creature jumps out. With a last loud struggle something actually does come out between the black plastic. A yellow cat. Y/n instantly notices the collar on its neck and lets the bag fall to the ground. While inspecting it, she notices hairless spots under the necklace and the extremely thin silhouette coming up from the bin. Without much thought, Y/n reaches out her hand to it. She jumps back as the cat the same second shows its teeth and jumps off the container and hides behind the fence further away.  Sorry, Y/n thinks for herself and finally throws the bag. Before walking in again, she looks behind her shoulder. The frail figure of the soft creature caused her to stay a bit longer. The shining plate on his neck indicates that he has a home, but the hairless spots and irritated skin says otherwise. Y/n bites her lip before turning back to the door and closing it. 

Her colleagues are done with the closing. 

“Do you lock, Y/n?” He asks her at the door. Y/n nods while pursuing her lips and he gives her a thumbs up. When the bell goes off with the door, Y/n takes two deep plates and fills one of them with water. Rummaging through the cupboards, she finds a depressing pack of white bread. She stares with big eyes at the plastic packaging. Will she somehow kill the cat if he eats this? She thinks for herself. With her left hand she scratches her scalp and then takes the bread. With a light grip she separates the slice in small pieces and walks back out to the garbage area. 

On her next shift, the plate out on the concrete was certainly empty, but she couldn’t be sure if it actually was the yellow haired cat or the seagull family on the rooftop. Either way, Y/n couldn’t help but feel sympathy for it. So she has built a new routine to hide away a small portion of the customers leftovers. So on a green paper plate before night comes and Y/n gets the task of throwing the garbage, she puts the plate about a meter away from the container. 

Her new routine seems to bring comfort in her young adult life. She finds herself looking out the kitchen opening to see if the cat comes along. But Y/n always end up needing to close the restaurant before the cat visits the plate. Two weeks pass from their meeting, but life seems to move on without any new cross in paths. For each shift, her excitement over him vanishes, the only thing left is the fact that the plate is empty every time she comes back. 

On a Friday, some hours after lunch, Y/n throws on her waitress outfit and stands quietly in the kitchen to listen to the group meeting. Her colleagues spew words that barely form meaning to her and she notices how they laugh and she quietly does the same. Her nail on her long finger is cracked and ready to fall off from how much she bends and flips it. Eventually the meeting is over and they get ready for opening. 

Y/n quickly runs out to the garbage area. She opens the door and bends down to pick up the plate. As she looks up to stand again, two eyes meet hers some meter away. Beside the fence slightly covered by the ventilation box sits a small yellow cat. Y/n freezes as it may get scared and run away, but to her surprise it's still there. With big brown eyes the cat watches her standing up slowly. They never break the contact as she takes a step back. What does the creature before her think right now? Somehow she reads those eyes as curious and innocent. To be completely honest, Y/n doesn’t want to go running back between tables at the moment(she never does), but duty calls and she eventually closes the door behind her. 

About once every hour she looks out the kitchen opening to see if it’s still there. During the first hours, the cat actually sat in the same place looking at the door where she had left. But as evening came around, the cat seemed to have lost interest and walked its way. She’s definitely disappointed and a bit surprised over how happy she was during those few hours. Fishing up the best leftovers and eagerly watches seconds move closer to the end of her shift. 

The summer night has set and Y/n walks out to leave the trash and plate. When her right hand hovers above ground, she hears a clean, light chime. And once again, the yellow silhouette stands before her. It must have jumped over the fence. The creature stands closer this time and watches her and the plate intensely. The pupils are even bigger at night time and the yellow fur seems to reflect the moonlight. With it so close, she can actually read the silver plate on his collar. 

Juyeon, just Juyeon. 

“Hi, Juyeon.” She quietly whispers and the ears move up with her voice. Her expression radiates fondness as her eyes soften and lips curve into a crescent. “I guess you're a ‘him’.” 

As it’s still one and a half meter between them two, Y/n place it down in front of her before pushing it to him. She wonders if he’ll feel comfortable eating when she’s watching or if it’s better to leave him alone. But without standing up, Juyeon starts eating off the leftovers. Her arms hug her legs in the kneeling position and her head tilts on her knees. Somehow, this scene before her feels incredibly comforting. It’s with the realization that this is her first interaction without pressure of fitting in since she left home. It feels stupid, but the loneliness she's been piling up like bricks, falls just in this instant. Maybe it’s full of sadness or she’s about to have her period soon, but a single tear breaks free from her eyes. The fond smile is now gone and tears roll down in silence as she watches Juyeon eating comfortably. 

The world looks rather blurry now, but she catches how Juyeon looks up from his plate. His small head tilts to its side. A cat can’t understand feelings like a human does, but something tells her by the way his eyes stare into her figure and how he slowly walks forward to brush his body against her legs, that he feels her sadness. Even though she understands he can’t gripe why there’s tears running, she appreciates the fact that he does notice. 

“I’m okay…” She sniffles quietly. 

The single fact that a heart is beating so closely to hers, though not human, makes her feel just a bit less miserable. Y/n sniffles quietly and wipes away the tears with her wrists. With clear vision, the distance has shortened and they’re now body against body. Having him so close, she notices the red bruises between his light furr. Y/n frowns a bit as he takes another sway around her legs. It could be her imagining things, but feels as if there’s more bruises than the first time she saw him. To be fair, he’s very small, very skinny, and very fragile. It probably doesn’t take much to accidentally make ugly marks. 

“Are you okay?” Y/n asks and looks deeply into the eyes of her new found friend. Not expecting an answer, she does get a ‘meow’ back. Which, she can’t help but smile at. One hand that comforted her legs is now placed on Juyeons head. The second her skin touches his forehead he nuzzles back in and lets out something that sounds like satisfaction. 

“It’s okay…” She whispers, “We’ll be okay.”

Y/n expected Juyeon to move on with time. That sooner or later the color of his fur would be a vague picture she would keep for herself. On nights at 23:45, she would look between her ceiling and windows, wondering where he was, or if he even was real. But the world never fails to show her the most unexpected sides of life. 

Every time she opens the door to the garbage area, he would sit there, looking up at her with big eyes. While looking into them, she wonders how much time he has spent there waiting. All those moments of picking up and putting down the same plate, she stays a second or two. Quietly wonders if she means to him what he means to her. 

Clearly you’re a different kind than me, but I do find myself feeling comfort around you. In this city, I’m quite lonely. When my past life seems so far, you’re the only one that brings even a smallest bit of joy. 

Does he feel that way too? She thinks. Or is the creature with tall ears even capable of emotions like hers? When sitting on the small elevated steps to the door, she quietly watches juyeon eat. At those moments, she truly hopes their relationship is based on something stronger than food. 

But on a Saturday evening under the moonlight, her yellow haired friend seems to have vanished from earth. For every shift since that first day, juyeon has been waiting for her beside the fence. Sneaking out upon hearing her specific way of walking. But right now, she stands alone with the green plate. Y/n in silence looks behind every box and bin, trapping air in corners, but there’s nothing alive beside herself on this porch. 

She stands still and tries to deny the saddened fact. The green plate now stands on the same spot it usually does. Y/n doesn’t turn her back just yet, instead she takes a seat on the elevated concrete and holds her hands in her lap. The scene is motionless, but for some reason she keeps looking. As she sits there, she wonders where he has gone.  Breaking such a consistent pattern could be a warning sign, but at the same time, he could’ve just been bored. After all, the food was the golden lining between them, though she felt as if it was more than just food that connected them in this city. 

When she takes power to walk off and close for the day, she hears a cry from the other side of the fence. It’s pitched like a child, but the last part makes it certain what made it. Thereafter, continuous struggles and rapid sounds of air getting cut follows. A voice from a person loudly complaining and screaming at someone. Y/n stands in the same position as when she was about to walk away. She looks between the gap of where the fence ends and sky starts, wishing for it to tell what goes on behind. The cold summer breeze seems to go right through her and takes her breath away with it. The countless scenarios that go through her head and they all end up with Juyeon blood stained and broken. Y/n makes no hesitation and runs to the door to get out of the restaurant. 

On the sidewalk outside her job, she runs around the complex to find an opening. Doing about two turns around the cluster, she stands before the driveway up to one of the buildings. Y/n watches a woman with an empty bottle, swinging and kicking against Juyeon. Her door is open and she has nothing more than socks on. Her voice is filled with rage and cracks that only a broken heart can do. It’s impossible to make out sentences as she spits and trips by each word. Juyeon is tightly cramped between the wall, and for every step she takes closer to him. His figure seems to be getting smaller. Not moving any closer, she shouts. 

“Please, stop!” 

The lady hesitates from kicking again and looks over to Y/ns side. The woman starts with unstable steps, comes closer to Y/n and she backs away.  

“What do you think you’re doing, lady!” 

Y/n brings her hands closer to her chest and stares into the woman's eyes, “Please, don’t hurt him.” She repeats. 

“It’s my fucking cat, mind your own business!” 

“No.” 

The bottle in the woman's right hand could come crashing down on her at any moment. And Y/n stares into her red filled eyes but nothing beside misery looks back at her. The person in front of her is not a person, just a shell of who she once was. 

Y/n clutches her fists and pushes her body forward, “I said, don’t hurt him!” 

Their faces are centimeters apart. She basically tastes the lingering alcohol from her. After a few moments of silence the woman lets out a frustrated sound and throws the bottle right onto the concrete. A loud shatter echoes on the driveway and green flakes splatter against the corners. A few hit her bare legs. But right after, the woman goes her way, ignoring the cat and shuts the door. The area around basically shakes with it and she hears a twist of the lock on the other side. 

Y/n still looks at the same spot, left in the same position. Warm liquid paints streaks from her upper calf to her heel and her rigid breath can’t seem to slow down. But a smooth feeling across her lower legs takes her out of it. Y/n looks down to see Juyeon lovingly pushing his face against her bruised legs. 

Y/n breathes out and bends down slowly, “I’m sorry.” She strokes his fur and pulls him tightly to her. Now she falls onto the concrete and sits with a glass splitter around her, but he’s safely placed between her arms. As her hand feels spots without fur on his body, she realizes where they came from. 

“You’re safe now, Juyeon. No one can hurt you.” 

The evening ended long before she sat up from the concrete floor outside the woman's door. Decisions have never come easily to her, so she waited for a sign. But Earth continued spinning and she looked down in her lap. Her arms caged him tightly to her body, but for a moment she let them loose. He was free to go. The streetlights showed him the path away from this place, but he sat relaxed between her legs. 

Getting under fire for theft was the last thing she needed. But Y/n left the driveway with Juyeon in her arms, hugging him to her chest. And now, she quietly walks up the stairs to her apartment, whispering to god not to let Juyeon utter a sound. And for her fortune, she closes the door and the four walls surround them both. When usually coming home from work, the room looked rather gray with dark spots on her furniture. The single chair in the corner told her that no one else was expected. But tonight, this space seems warmer and the moonlight illuminates the hidden corners and soft fabrics. 

Y/n looks down towards Juyeon. She sees his head observing the dimensions of her room. Does he like it, Y/n thinks for herself as she lets him down onto the carpet. He taps on the carpet a few times before taking a few steps on it and goes to her plant under the window. He sits down to pull the leaf down with his paw, just for it to jump back up. After he lost interest in that he jumped up on her bed, staring and sniffing at her stuffed animals. The fake seal beams towards Juyeon and he confusingly pats its face. Y/n still stands at the entrance and watches with a small curve on her lips his curiosity. It’s something very healing about watching him like this. 

Y/n got ready for bed as Juyeon went on an exploration around the room. She felt a bit bad having him in a closed off area, but for the time being, Juyeon seems to find a lot of new things. As she walks out of the bathroom, she finds him curled up in the two person sofa. His yellow fur blends together with the beige fabric of the furniture and the light from her lamp paints him lovingly. Watching him like this, she realizes it’s a lot of things to fix if he will live here. She sighs and walks over to him. Despite being very attached to Juyeon, her current life will not handle another living being in her house. So she’ll eventually find a new home for him. 

Y/n turns back around, walking away from the sofa and to her drawer. Juyeon seems to notice the sudden change in behavior and looks up. Y/n digs deep in between her clothes and lets out her breath with the stop of movements. She comes back to the sofa and Juyeon curiously watches the thin fabric in her hands. Y/n takes off his orange collar and lays it on the coffee table. 

“You’re mine now, right?” She whispers and ties a yellow ribbon in the spot the collar sat. By adjusting it, the bow sits now at his front. Y/n looks down at him with fond eyes and laughs quietly. 

“Why are you so pretty?” She pats his head before taking out a hair tie with a matching ribbon attached to it. She puts her hair up in a half up-do before turning her head slightly for Juyeon to see. 

“Now, we’re matching. Cute, right?” 

It’s hard to say if he understands her implications, but either way he does meow. Even sits up and brushes his head against her stomach. Again, for her own sake, she imagines him being very excited over their matching accessories. With light hands she cups his face and reaches down to his forehead. With a simple kiss she says goodbye for the night and walks to her bed. 

While the sun covers the walls and showers her plant, Y/n rubs her eyes before sitting up. Outside the glass, the Seoul horizon folds out in full view. There’s small circles of water on the surface and she feels an urge to go out and smell the city after rain. It’s Saturday, no one tells you what to do on Saturdays so she finds it is an amazing opportunity to go and buy some stuff for Juyeon. As per automatic, she turns to the sofa where she left him last night. Her smile drops nearly instantly and she pulls her covers closer. Where it should be a fluffy, yellow figure stuffed between her pillows. It instead lays a full person with their back facing her. 

Y/n sits there for some time, just staring at the stranger thinking they’ll disappear. Time moves and they haven’t faded from view. Are they dead, she thinks worryingly. Y/n finally takes off the covers and cautiously takes a step closer to the stranger. On her way she takes the lamp from the coffee table and takes out her phone, ready to just press one button for an emergency to come running. 

Being just a few centimeters away, she pulls her face closer to the silhouette. Finally revealing their identity, she meets a calm face with their eyes closed. It’s a guy that she would guess grew up with the same TV shows as her and an appearance that looks too good to be a thief. She has a hard time imagining the man on her couch breaking up her window and taking a place on her couch. Is he crashing Juyeon while sleeping? Y/n thinks and tries to catch a piece of fur under his body. 

A single detail pulls her out of it though. The guy has a yellow, silk ribbon tied loosely around his neck. The bow is perfectly placed under his chin and he looks very peaceful and innocent. With no trace of Juyeon anywhere, Y/n feels her mind wandering to places only in tv shows and she needs to look away from the couch. 

She stares at him again. Y/n puts the lamp back on the table and clicks her way out from the 911 number. The stranger doesn’t seem like an intruder, but she’s still suspicious of waking him up. It doesn’t take much more than though, since he opens his eyes slowly. Y/n backs away and reaches out for the lamp again as the stranger lifts his arms up and yawns slightly. Y/n points the lamp right at him and he simply looks at her. His big brown eyes clearly remind her of Juyeon and the way he sits so timidly and looks up at her, like he’s asking what he should do. 

“Who are you?” Y/n asks confused. The man tilts his head and stays like that for a few seconds. He inspects every movement of her face as if waiting for her to change. He then finally smiles. 

“You’ve already forgotten me?” 

Y/n squints at him. While he sits with crossed legs on her couch, she looks down at his ribbon. She closes her eyes tightly, feeling the urge to physically swift her arms around the room. Her eyelids stay closed as her mind once again spirals in what the hell happened this night. Somehow this is worse than waking up from a drunk night, wondering what scene you caused. 

“Are you more comfortable with me in my cat form?” Y/n opens her eyes and lets the lamp fall beside her hip. His smile is now gone, but head is still tilted. He pouts a bit and twiddles with his fingers while looking down at them. 

“You seemed more comfortable…” 

Y/n now stands straight up and scratches the back of her neck. Her eyes move between the floor and the man in front of her. The apartment feels rather claustrophobic at the moment. There’s too much thought for this space and she looks out the window in hope for some of them to go. Y/n sighs and slowly walks over to the sofa. He feels the weight of the sofa shift a bit and he peeks up between his fringe. As their eyes meet once again, Y/n looks away and pokes at the lamp in her lap. 

“So…” She nods with pursed lips, “...you’re Juyeon.” It comes out rather strained and hard. He simply nods while still peeking up and Y/n gives one back. Juyeon still pouts. There’s a bothering point that itches on his recent happiness. It makes him want to run away and hide under the table. 

“I’m sorry, I can switch back to my cat form. I didn’t know it would happen.” He says quietly and Y/n side eyes him and at this point, he’s not looking at her anymore. Juyeon fiddles with the ribbon and she jumps a bit closer. 

“Don’t say sorry, you can stay…” Y/n awkwardly uses her arms to point on his human figure, “...like that. It’s just-” She sighs and scratches her neck again. Juyeon looks up again. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” 

Juyeon inspects his own skin. He spreads his hands in front of him and leans back, “I didn’t know I could do it either…” He puts his right hand just a centimeter away from his face. Y/n inspect quietly as he continues putting every feature of his body up close. The way he keeps his eyes from closing just to watch each piece of his skin. When he actually blinks, it nearly looks like he’s afraid he’d missed something, as if his body would pull something unexpected when he wasn’t watching. 

“...I never thought I could change again.” 

Y/n tilts her head, “You could change before?” 

Juyeon nods. 

Having a fantastical creature on her sofa would rather intimidate her. Thinking of herself from an outsider perspective, why isn’t she driving Juyeon out of her apartment? Who knows what other mystical tricks he is capable of. But instead she tries to lean her mind somehow closer to his. What does this creature think? What more has he experienced? Is there a glitch in evolution? Worse, did his ancestors fuck cats? At this point her mind starts spirling, so much that Y/n hasn’t noticed herself physically coming closer to him. 

Juyeon tenses up and leans towards the armrest. He feels quite naked, a bit vulnerable by her very obvious intrigue by him. Juyeons cheeks are stained pink and he scratches his leg and looks around the apartment. 

As he moves in his seat, Y/n realizes their closeness and she immediately backs off and sits up. While standing she tries to remember her usual routines. In the mess she has woken up to, maybe she can find some comfort in her normal life. 

“I’ll make u-us?” She hesitates, “..some food?” Sounds like a question, but she wants nothing less than an answer from whaterver’s behind her. So Y/n starts walking to the small kitchen area. While reaching for the yogurt she feels a sudden warmth behind her. Y/n peeks behind her shoulder and Juyeon inspects the inside of her fridge. She makes up such a detailed and intricate plan for  breakfast it might get a place in an art museum, and she still feels his very presence move intact to hers. 

At first it feels like Juyeon just follows her because there’s nothing better to do, but when she starts cutting up the vegetables, he leans in closer. At this point he has his head on her shoulder and Y/n nearly focuses more on keeping her shoulders still than actually cutting correctly.

By the left side of her view, a single finger moves closer to the tomato and silver knife. Y/n stops cutting and holds the knife away from his finger. The tomato leaks seeds and transparent juice, the knife is decorated with a spectrum of color after the cutting. A slight excitement and sudden spark within Juyeon takes him to poke the stuff on the counter. Y/n somehow takes an interest in his natural curiosity and lets him explore the cutting board, but soon he takes his finger on the knife blade. 

“No!” Her hands form a grip on his wrists and bring it to herself, but on closer inspection and the whimper from Juyeon, there’s already forming a thin red streak. 

“Juyeon.” Y/n sighs slightly and takes him to the bathroom. Still holding his arm, Juyeon drags his feet in her direction. The variation of boxes and bottles over the sink, he tries to remember them all before she shuts it. In her hand, she has a bandaid, but the man before her won't make it easy for her to put it on.  As Y/n peels away the plastic Juyeon quietly pokes the sticky side of the bandaid with his finger and picks it up. 

“I-give it back Juyeon, you need it.” Y/n reaches for it and Juyeon obediently listens to her by shaking his finger to get it off. 

Y/n catches it before it lands on the carpet. She reaches out for his hand again and wraps it neatly around his finger. Juyeon’s quiet, but she realizes you don’t have to spend that long of a time with him to predict what he’ll do next. 

“Don’t touch it.” As his eyes meet her stern ones, Juyeon slowly lets his hand fall back to his sides. 

Y/n looks over his arms for more bruises and catches a glimpse of the razor beside the shower head, will he hurt himself with that too? As her thoughts race, she looks up and sees Juyeon looking down at her with pure eyes. He has a surprisingly warm effect on her like this. A cat or a man, Y/n has this comfort gently knitted against her heart and by that, she is about to reach her hand out to brush his hair to its sides. Though, her hand only gets about two centimeters up from her hip before she sneaks under him to get out of the bathroom. 

The rest of the morning kind of goes like that. Like in his cat form, he never leaves her side. For every short turn in the kitchen, Juyeon is closely after. Y/n tries to get him away from the small fireworks of oil, but Juyeon insists on having the first row. Though it doesn’t last long, when the oil splatter and lands on his hand he quickly hides behind Y/n and peaks out from her shoulder. 

Though he’s very much a 6ft tall man, college age, she finds him endearing. His presence in her home makes her rigid and square, but for each minute that passes, Y/n realizes he’s still very much a cat. In reality, he doesn’t pay much attention to her, it seems. While eating they sit at the coffee table while Y/n takes up her fork and knife to separate her egg into pieces, Juyeon looks back and forth between her and his plate. He grips the plate gently and shakes it to catch the yellow circle wiggle. Y/n smiles as he does it again and this time it breaks and paints the rest of his plate. 

She plans on taking him out for a stroll around Seoul. Though he doesn’t need cat food or a box, he’ll probably need some clothes. Juyeon continues standing against her back as she picks out today's outfit and Y/n turns around so they stand face to face. She scratches her neck and coughs. Juyeon continues standing like a tree and as if waiting for an order. 

“I…could you maybe go away?” Y/n asks gently. Pointing with her clothes to the kitchen area. Juyeon doesn’t move just pouts. But obedient as he is, he walks slowly over. Though, Y/n bites her lip, feeling like a bad person as his figure walks away. 

“Or Juyeon…you can be here but just turn around…okay?”With that Juyeon smiles brightly and nods his head. His fringe follows those movements. 

Even when Y/n says she’s done Juyeon stands with his back against her. She awkwardly watches him like this before saying he can turn around. Those eyes he has given her the entire morning, it’s a look of fondness as if she’s the one who brought him to life. Until his smile fades. His dough eye glistens as he tilts his head and a dissatisfied pout forms. Y/n tries to understand his change in expression as he walks closer and takes her hand. 

“Why did you take it off?” He says softly. 

He brings Y/n's hand up and her yellow ribbon divides the space between them. 

“I usually have my hair down when being outside.” Though, it isn’t a lie, she has caught onto the fact that juyeon doesn’t see the world like she does. The thought of going side by side with a cute guy and matching items has her heart turning. 

“But I like it.” He fiddles with his own ribbon against his neck. 

She bites her lip before taking the fabric up to her hair again, “Okay, I’ll have it on.” 

The leaves fade from green to shades of brown before plummet down onto the earth. Some months have passed since that day, that day he turned into a human. Y/n seems to have settled her mind on waking up to someone else and cooking two eggs every morning instead of one. Despite now being a human like the rest of the eight billion population, his life is very much like a home cat. While going to college, Juyeon spends those same hours in her apartment. In the beginning it was fairly easy to entertain him while she was gone. His mind is similar to someone who just got dropped off by earth, therefore she gives him small tasks like doing dishes, cleaning windows and after some good amount of time washing their clothes. 

But her way of making him spend his time is a bit one-dimensional, she thinks. He is after all as much of a living being as herself.  From time to time when studying she looks behind her back to see him diligently wiping the floor. The world must look incredibly dull after still doing that after three months. 

And it is. Juyeon doesn’t say it out loud, but he insists on participating in everything she does. Even when she studies, she feels his presence from behind and he leans over to look at her screen. “Do you need help?” he asks. Y/n simply answers, “I would be thankful, but I think it’s a bit hard to help.” 

But his incredibly dull routine isn’t the only obstacle facing them at the moment. Despite now taking on a human form, he's clearly not one. His physique tells others that they’re the same, but people quickly turn an eye when he gets focused on birds outside or runs behind her when someone talks a bit loud. And last, in his cat form he was clingy. Nuzzled his head between her hands every time she came out with food. But now, he’s never closer to her than standing behind her back. Y/n can’t help but think it’s her fault for his change in behavior. That night when he transformed, she was incredibly bothered by this. Juyeon has seemed to pick it up too. But when reading wikipedia articles on Thursday nights, she learns that cats can be understimulated.  Some owners who work regular 9 to 5 have trouble not giving them enough company. 

Y/n looks up from her computer screen to the small kitchen area. When shopping, she kind of let Juyeon look around for himself. Despite his very height, she noticed he gravitated towards oversized clothing. Sweaters that drape over his arms and let him curl inside them. So from her angle, he looks incredibly pocket sized in his new sweater. 

“Juyeon?” 

When the first sound of her gentle voice reaches his ears, Juyeon turns. It’s a certain melody that comes out when she’s speaking and he’s enamored by it. The yellow ribbon follows the sudden turn of his head and she can basically see his imaginary ears poke up. 

“Do you want to sit with me?” She makes room to the left on the couch. 

Her initiative makes him waddle over to her. He sits incredibly vertical, bending his head down to see what she’ll say. 

“Do you like living with me?” Honestly she doesn’t know what to tell him. What do you even talk with a cat about, she remembers thinking about their first days. Their usual topics are what Y/n has been up to. She feels just a bit egoistic for surrounding their conversations about her, but Juyeon seems genuinely intrigued by her life and silly anecdotes. When her days have been boring, she tries to teach him an idea or activity that isn’t familiar to him. Though it’s incredibly simple, it feels very comforting to come home to someone and talk about your day. 

Juyeon nods without hesitation, “I really like it.” 

"Why? What do you like about it?”  Y/n falls back into the couch and angels her head to see his face. 

“Well…” Juyeon starts, “You take good care of me” he says while staring up at the lamp. “You make good food. I like it when we do it together. Then it’s also nice when you introduce me to new things and take me outside.” Juyeon's smile is gentle and sincere, a warm spot forms at the surface of her skin and spreads out like a blanket over her heart. 

“What’s your favorite thing we’ve done?” She asks curiously. 

His lips form into a pout and his head tilts up just a centimeter, “When we went to the big house with many things and people, it was fun.” His answer takes her aback. Y/n made the assumption back then that their shopping trip to the mall was kind of a stressful moment. Juyeon kept clinging onto her jacket and couldn’t hold his head in one direction for more than two seconds. 

“The TV is nice too.” To be fair, their adventures aren’t longer than going to the grocery store, but Juyeons appreciation for mundane things is affecting her a lot. 

“What do you like to watch?” 

“Those where the woman and the man follow each other and in the end they’re happy.” 

“You like romcoms?” Y/n smiles brightly with a small chuckle. Juyeon smiles too, “Yes.” 

He doesn’t quite know what exactly a romcom is, but the way her face lights up makes him want to tell her that he absolutely adores romcoms. 

“I’m glad you like living here.” She finally says and looks up, “But you don’t feel, I don’t know…” Y/n keeps waving her hands and articulating nothing in hope that the one in front of her would finish her sentence. But Juyeon stares as usual with his doe eyes as she lags. 

“...alone?” Badly articulated. 

“Less?” He tilts his head. 

“Like, not enough attention?” She waits for him to answer, but the left side eye closes a bit and his lip purses inwards. “I pet you a lot as a cat, but I haven’t done that since then. I don’t want you to feel bad.” 

Juyeon, in contrast to the last weeks, doesn't answer her. Instead he tries to find a comfortable position and focuses his eyes on the table and pillows. 

She sighs quietly, “Just tell me if something’s wrong, okay.” 

Truth is, Juyeon is desperate for affectionate touch. Going from children out on the street finding interest in his soft fur and chasing him for a few seconds or even just Y/n letting him drown in the heat of her palms. To now, Y/n being the person who moves closest to him, but even then is just sitting side by side. On good days while watching the TV, their shoulders may touch and Y/n doesn’t move away. 

On nights on the couch he thinks back on how she would brush his hair between her fingers or pet his head. Many times Juyeon has thought about transforming back to his cat form, just so he could get some sort of touch. But life in this form is so much more exciting. He’s become closer to the world and feels almost vivid when walking down the boulevard. At the end of the day, he also sees himself closer to Y/n. She’s a bit different than from the first time they met behind the restaurant and it worried him back then. Now though, he doesn’t completely understand it, but he isn’t just a pet to her, which excites him. 

At dawn, Y/n has gone to bed and stares up at her ceiling. She focuses on the passing voices outside, sirens and cars. She’s not looking but the whole city waves in union over the sun down. Though Juyeon didn’t turn out to be the companion she thought he was, evenings like this have become less lonesome. At nights in the beginning of the summer, it would feel as if she was in another season than the rest of the city. Her room would strangle her in cold winter, but at the same time leave so much room for nothing. Juyeon’s simple presence in her life makes it melt. 

A sudden noise takes her out of thought and she looks to the side. Y/n makes out his tall figure through the dark room. He brings his hand up to the eye and rubs it slowly while speaking softly, as if the room would crumble if he went up a decibel higher. 

“Can I sleep with you?” 

Good thing she looks like a vague figure of her full self, she thinks. Cause when he tied an end to his sentence, Y/n worried if she opened her mouth to utter a word, nothing but butterflies would come out. 

“Of course!” She moves so the wall is in her face and shoves the blanket away from the now empty spot. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” He whispers and the bed shifts as his warm presence fills up the small space. 

The morning sun comes in through the window and reflects on the four walls. When the first leaf of the new day falls, her eyes open. In this silence every move from the blanket and her pillow seem deafening and Y/n pushes herself up. After looking out the sun draped city she turns her gaze down towards Juyeon. By instinct she forces herself closer to the wall, as if the fact that they’re this close can interrupt his dream. 

In the distance, she feels safe to observe his body while he himself is in another existence. The constant rise and fall of his chest creates a new sense of time in this space. The shirt it exists thousands of copies of, becomes his own signature. Despite the true colors of reality, his expression is as if the world is truly peaceful.

He looks really beautiful like this, she thinks. She sees herself hiding behind a pair of bushes in a closeted forest and in complete silence, watching a deer. The deer with no-knowledge of being watched and reacts to the world without expectations on itself, the most beautiful. Y/n reaches out her hand towards his sleep drunken state. With pure adoration she gently takes her palm and smooth out his hair. The curve of his head and silkness of of it. She has his existence gently put against her hand, it feels enchanting. 

And when a minute passes, a sudden change in his expression takes her out of it. His self returns from dreams, when his eyes slowly open. Without thinking, Y/n jerks her hand back and hopes that his morning state will confuse this moment for him. But just as her hand comes back to her body, Juyeon wraps his own around hers. 

“Please, don’t stop.” He whispers and puts her hand back onto the spot on his head. The two of them, locked by the bed like this sent her questioning herself in third person. Juyeons eyes weigh a ton and he fights to get a clear image of her like this. She has fallen into her own thoughts and he quietly sighs before using his own hand to move hers on top of his head. 

As if she’s sitting against the shoreline, and each thought is a wave. But somehow she doesn’t move away.  Y/n can’t make out if those eyes are glistening because of tiredness or pure longing. But either way, she keeps her hand for him to take. He guides it off his head and those last strands tickle the side. Until it reaches his face and Juyeon gently pulls it so he’ll feel her warmth and smell the scent of their shared handwash. 

“Please, touch me Y/n” 

She lets out a strangled laugh with a stressed smile. Frustration swells inside him when she looks as if he’s joking. 

“It doesn’t have to be much, like how you touched me back then.” 

Y/n wants to think he’s the weird one in this situation, but she realizes his far more angel-like than she is. While saying words that anyone would pull a bad dirty joke too. Juyeon lays down with pure eyes and a sincere grip around her hand. 

“Ok.” Y/n purses her lips in before slowly brushing his fringe out the way and continues up beside his ear. He looks very idyllic like this, she thinks. Somehow this scene makes her want to say he’s beautiful and pluck a single flower to put behind his ear. 

They stay like that as the sun climbs a bit higher over the horizon. At some point, Juyeon’s eyes close fully and y/n move over his figure to get off the bed. She makes some extra food and leaves it with a lid on. Even when standing with one hand on the door handle and the other holding her bag, she longs for the spot next to his sleeping figure. Despite finding the situation weird, it felt so special having him like that. 

Ever since that morning, like autumn converting to winter, something changed in their dynamic. Of course he kept following her around as usual, but when watching TV that evening Juyeon sat extremely close. They watched 500 Days of Summer and after an hour passed by, Juyeon let his head fall to her shoulder. His hair tickled her neck, but she didn’t want to move away. 

Now, the ending credits climb up the screen. Y/n’s eyelids feel ten times heavier than two hours ago, he moves his head down to her lap. The vague light from the screen lights up them both in a blue-ish shade. Juyeons lips form a smile so contagious that it reflects in her two. This moment, she looks just like a picture. He could easily replace her with one of the actresses in the movies they watch together, he thought. By burning this moment into his head with the others, he can replay them when she’s gone. 

Quietly Juyeon plays with the strands of her hair that have fallen onto his face. Like a true kitten, she keeps him entertained like that in her lap. Soon enough though, sleep takes the best of her and Y/n drifts away from the couch in the apartment, with her head hanging over Juyeon. But honestly, Juyeon didn’t quite notice it until her head moved to the side and he saw that her eyes were closed. 

With that he sits up from her lap to stand up beside her. He watches her like that for some time before gently bringing his hand under her leg and back. The second she comes up to his chest, a feeling so strong to turn frozen ground to blooming flowers swells within him. At the same time, he’s walking as if he will drop her at any moment. Similar to how he holds a plate with food, he stares at it and takes a step not bigger than five centimeters. But when he finally makes it to her bed, Juyeon lays her down gently and tucks her beneath their shared blanket. 

Juyeon tucks a single strand from her face and feels himself getting tired when seeing her soft breathing. Finally Juyeon lays beside her and moves his pillow a step closer to hers. He falls asleep with his face shifted closer and his right hand gently intertwined with hers under all the fabrics. 

At this point, Y/n’s not fully awake. But when skin touches her own, signals break out through her body, like falling water, something keeps moving up and down her waist, pushing her shirt up in the process. After a few seconds of speaking incorrect sentences, a single spot gets damped on her neck. Y/n's head gets slightly pushed up when someone tries to fit their head between that spot. 

Without much thought, y/n takes her hands up to whatever’s on her neck. She hears juyeon whisper quietly and realizes her hands are now on his shoulders and his head is placed over her chest and her chin gently embraces his head. 

“Juyeon?” His name is strangled to her cords, as if he’s the only one who can help her. 

Y/n swears she hears him breaking under her before the hands on her waist tightens and her body comes pressing up against his own. And soon after he switches position. Instead of resting their sides against the pillow, juyeon lifts her up so she lays over him. 

“Say my name again?” He pleas softly and kisses her. At the same time, the weight of her back gets heavier when juyeon puts his arm around her to play with the yellow ribbon tightly concealing her hair. 

“Juyeon?” 

“Huh?” 

With one hand pushing against the pillow she forces herself up as if someone stands over her, forcing her up. Long strands cover her view as she pats the blanket, feeling the fabric to know if it’s the real world. She realizes juyeon sits up too. Hands rubbing the sleepiness away. Y/n continues searching her surroundings when juyeon faces her with wide eyes and stutters over his own sentence. 

“I-what-did I do something?” 

She awkwardly sits at her own corner of the bed and tilts her head. She didn’t quite realize the way she said his name must have been pretty dramatic as Juyeons extremely distressed. 

“I-no.” She scratches her head before standing up, “I just had a nightmare.” 

“Was I the nightmare?” He asks as she continues up to the kitchen area. Y/n looks back at him. He looks at her with big eyes and a small pout. Y/n starts throwing her hands around. 

“No, you were just in the dream too.” He still looks sad. Dammit, she thinks. 

“I needed to build an Ikea furniture, you were the only one I could get help from, terrifying.” 

Night comes early in this present. But today Y/n doesn’t really mind since it's the weekend. Juyeon too enjoys free days, not because his schedule changes, but because he'll get to spend more time with Y/n. He also notices how she stretches her arms with a bright smile and takes time to stare out the window. On other days she kind of looks like the city view just punched her. Juyeon feels the spot next to him shift and as he turns Y/n stares down at him brightly. Somehow he feels jealous over the smile over her lips, what does Saturday morning have that Juyeon doesn’t? 

“Good morning, Juyeon.” She yawns, “Slept well.” 

He nods with big eyes. Without much thought to it, Y/n brings one hand down to his hair and gently brushes it aside. 

“Something you want to do?” She brings her legs to a criss cross position. While looking at him, his eyes don't show much deep thought. Every time she asks him a question, she prepares herself to wait for a solid two or three minutes. Each and every small decision seems to make a lot of impact for him so she lets him take time. But today he just continues staring up and moving his head closer to her hand. 

“I’ll do whatever you want to do.” 

A small laugh leaves her lips and her back arches so her head faces the ceiling. Her hand has fallen from his fringe and is now over his chest. Juyeons much larger fingers gently fiddle with hers. They spend a lot of time at home. Sometimes she does feel like Rapunzel's mother trapping her daughter in that tower, but instead it’s a hybrid cat in a studio apartment. She feels the urge to make a memorable life for him and just watch him adore this world she herself takes for  granted. 

Y/n opens her mouth, “I want to go to the aquarium.” 

Juyeon tilts his head and strains his eyes, just like he always does when he doesn’t fully get the idea. 

“You know the aquarium?” He shakes his head. 

“You know, fish and water in big tanks and it’s all pretty.”  Y/n moves her hand to visually illustrate the aquarium but Juyeon squints his eyes. 

“You’ll love it.” 

At this stage she has accepted the fact that Juyeon looks a lot like her five year old son(but clearly much bigger) when outside the safety of her apartment. When they needed to cramp together with strangers in the small cart, she felt his hand tighten around her own. If she was the bigger person, Y/n would have taken him to her chest and protected him from the uncertainty, but rather Juyeon pushed his chest up against her face. Y/n tried her best to get his attention and tell him that he’s crushing her nose, but it was to no use. 

But with one nose left and the rest of their body parts intact the two of them stand at the register. Y/n while talking with the lady behind the desk turns over every now and then. Juyeon bends his head in every possible angle to catch each detail of the lobby. Y/n pays quickly before either Juyeon runs away or more likely, gets kidnapped. 

“Here.” She hands him a small sticker, not bigger than two centimeters. It's formed as a simple fish. 

“You put it on like this.” Y/n peels off the plastic on the back and brings it closer to his shirt. But she stops midway and looks up at him. He gives her those curious eyes and she brings the sticker up to his cheek. On the left side of his face, a centimeter or two under his eye sits the small blue fish. When she touches him like this, he jerks away so that his fringe gets over his eyes. Y/n simply smiles and attaches hers to the fabric of her shirt. 

“Let’s go!” Y/n says and takes his hand in hers. She walks with quick steps to the entrance and soon enough, the blue light from the meter high tanks illuminates their features in the darkness. Despite being day time, it feels like the clock may have shifted. At first Juyeon endearingly smiles when watching from behind, her figure running towards those gates. But when this world absorbs them, he was just as amazed as her. 

Standing in the middle of the room, confined between windows to another world, it’s like the world stops for a moment. Groups of people chatter and Y/n, for a short second, turn to a girl pointing at an orange fish. She smiles when (she assumes) her dad eagerly nods. A bit to the left a couple stands side by side. The light from the tank contrasts their dark silhouettes. When standing like that, Y/n blinks a couple of times and feels her arms glue to her sides. She carefully looks at Juyeon after seeing the couple. He’s still mesmerized. She realizes for the other people in here, they may just look like another couple. Y/n gets butterflies by just the thought alone. 

She takes a few steps away from Juyeon and looks behind. He looks at her with those wide eyes that seem more complex in this room, soon he tilts his head too. Y/n smiles and takes his hand again and runs over to the largest window of them all. The glass reaches stunning heights before bending out in a rectangular screen. It’s width meters on end. There’s a stair of five or seven steps before standing in touch with the massive wall. Y/n releases his hand upon coming closer and touches the glass. Juyeon simply looks at her dark contrasting figure to the blue luminance. He sees how her figure eagerly walks up and down the width of the tank. Bending down to take a closer look at the sandfish before reaching onto her tiptoes to reach the sharks. 

Juyeon stands incredibly still. His limbs awkwardly pushing against each other. His posture is basically screaming for someone to show him what to do. But at the same time, there’s a genuine smile on his lips. That scene in front of him, he wants it to last forever. Y/n in the middle of that blue screen, his own movie star. Let him watch her forever. Suddenly her face turns to him and she reaches out her hand and signals for him to come up. Juyeon walks up and takes a spot beside her. They stand so close, he thinks. His hand touches the glass as if it could touch the other side. Just a second after he puts his hand there, a mantaray comes right up to that spot. The glass and his hand lose contact when he flinches back. 

“Oh.” Y/n puts an arm behind him so he doesn’t fall off the stairs. Her smile shines in even stronger brilliance than the tank and he continues looking perplexed by the creature up on the glass wall. Soon, more fish come up to them. 

“He looks a bit like you.” Y/n points at a fish with a face you would’ve thought ran up against a wall. Juyeon pouts before pointing higher up. 

“Oh Y/n! What are you doing there?” She hits his elbow while laughing. 

After pointing at every ugly fish they could find in that tank, Y/n puts her right ear against the glass. She describes to him how the sound becomes tight knitted and if you concentrate enough, it might feel like you’re actually in that water filled side. Juyeon inspects how Y/n leans against the wall and does the same. 

When they lay like this, they make eye contact. Their faces are just a few centimeters apart. Y/n still smiles from before and arch her head slightly back to keep looking at his face. The right side is illuminated by the tank light. The strands of his hair scrunches up a bit by the glass, a couple fall before his eyes so that a single reflection makes it back to her between them. And that blue little sticker moves up when his eyes turn to crescents. It’s packed in the aquarium, but with each second that world closes off from behind and only them and the compact sound of water is in existence. 

When looking at him like this, she thinks he’s truly beautiful. Each feature is carefully wrapped in that blue light. It makes her heart do that again, that thing where she feels like taking his hand and looking into his eyes. Telling him each complimentary word the english vocabulary has to offer while gently tugging those black strands back behind his ear. 

“I want to hold your hand.” As the world is only for them now, his voice is barely over a whisper. 

Y/n’s smile seems to always be on display when he’s like this. She simply nods and Juyeon gently touches her hand. While standing like this, Y/n realizes their connected silhouettes are visible to each passing visitor. It is just a bit embarrassing.

“Is something wrong?” He watches her as if he’s trying to understand her and Y/n drags him closer. She shakes her head and looks down onto the matt black floor. 

“No, let’s go.” 

The day has flown by and at sunset both of them stand at the edge to Banpo bridge as neither of them felt like going back to the apartment. Beneath them sits a few couples and probably a parent and their child. Since it’s winter, it’s not many. The lights have just turned on, guiding the way to the other side of the city. It’s quite steep on this side so Y/n looks over to the stair a bit further away. 

“Do we go down?” Juyeon asks and Y/n nods thinking he will just follow her as usual. But in no more than a second, Juyeon takes a leap of faith down the grass and sprints down. 

“Wait, Juyeon!” Y/n panics a bit. Throwing her hands around before catching herself, before nearly jumping down with him. At the time she regains her balance, Juyeon stands at the end of the steep. He tilts his head and she can picture his big eyes. 

“Aren’t you coming down too?” 

“I am-I just.” 

Y/n flees to the stairs and together they then walk to the grass beside the bridge. She sits down and Juyeon follows. Small talking from the people behind serves as background noise for the cityscape. A breeze comes right at them and Y/n hugs her knees to her chest. Juyeon sees her hugging herself tightly and he brings his long legs up to his own chest. Before getting to hug them, his knees hit his chin and he brings them down instead. 

Usually when Y/n spends time with someone and it gets quiet, she gets this intense guilt over not being able to entertain them with a conversation. But right now, sitting on Juyeon’s left side with nothing but general city noise feels strangely natural, like it’s all her life prepared her for. Y/n looks to her right and sees Juyeon’s side profile. His fringe follows the wind when it hits him and a single point in his eyes shines from the constant city lights. She just smiles. 

During this passing season, she’s been thinking all less about her hometown. That empty feeling between two walls seems to have patched up. She recalls how it was a dread to walk that route home. How she stared at the apartment complex hoping she would remember a task left to do. When she stood there in her room, it was nothing but Y/n and her thoughts. When alone without distractions, worries would come and shake her from sleep and keep her up at night. When out on the rooftop, she would stare at the moon and its millions of stars, knowing they stared back at her with nothing but empty spaces beside her. 

But at the same time, she wonders what Juyeon feels. Courage isn’t on her side and because of that she hasn’t truly asked him where he plans to go. If this place and this moment is just a () in his life. Y/n wants to see him free but a selfish side of her wants to keep him here beside her, like this, forever. 

“Y/n.” Juyeon says suddenly. 

Her name brings her back. The top of her body is turned to him and her eyes waits for him to continue talking as he keeps looking out the horizon. 

“What?” 

“Thank you for saving me.” 

“I did?” Y/n's eyebrows knit together as she tries to read his calm demeanor. Understand what that mind of his thinks about when looking into the endless sea of lights. He suddenly turns to her, with that innocent smile. 

“Yes.” 

Silence fills the space between them. 

“That day I met you behind the restaurant, I thought you would hit me when you took out your hand.” He confesses. Y/n feels her heart wrenching at the thought of Juyeon looking at her in that light, but confusingly enough, he still smiles. 

“But you didn’t.” He gets quiet again before turning back to look at a couple walking hand in hand down the river. 

“You’re a really good person, Y/n. When you talked back to my owner and took me home, I felt really good.” He smiles when talking, but it slowly fades. Y/n watches him, waiting if he wants to continue. 

Truth is, he’s in deep thought. He stares at the city as if it will be able to answer his question. That day, when Y/n took him home. A sensation he couldn’t pinpoint blossomed in him. It was like magic, something completely out of his own reality. And in some ways it may have been magic, he did turn to his human form after all. 

He bites his lip and fiddles with his fingers to somehow form a sentence of his emotions. How do you describe the feeling of someone who brought life back to your existence? 

Y/n scoots closer to him so they now can feel each other's warmth. He sheepishly looks at her as she makes him feel brilliance. A wind blows past them right when she breathes in. Juyeon scratches his neck and shoves his face in between his hands. 

“I don’t know what I feel.” He whines. 

“Is it a good feeling?” She asks. 

He nods and peeks up from his hands to meet her gentle expression. 

“It’s just when I’m with you. There’s no one or nothing that makes me feel like that but you.” 

The sun is at the edge of the horizon, in just a minute or two there will be no trace of it in the sky. And on a morning in a far far future, between April and June, she will fade from this world too. Despite her life, no sign of her existence will be left beside the people who remember her and her handwriting in blue ink. But even those people will fade and the blue ink will dissolve with time. It’s a sad thought, that everything will be gone, but maybe that gives us the freedom to be whatever we want. 

“Then, stay with me.” She says and takes his hand.

© littleroaes, written and all

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

I've given this spiel on Discord already but I'm thinking about it again today so here goes

The reason Las Nevadas worked as pre-recorded, highly polished lore whereas other arcs were better served by improvisation (or, especially later, fell flat in the attempt to be more "cinematic") is because that style of presentation reflected and enhanced the themes of c!Quackity's story.

c!Quackity is a very image-conscious guy. He's performing strength, coldness, and viciousness. He's performing power, wealth, and masculinity. He wants to look respectable and frightening in the ways he's seen respectability and fearsomeness modeled by others.

But in the process, he eclipsed his emotions, his better self, and his very humanity.

Las Nevadas itself is a testament to that desire. It's grand, impressive, and entirely artificial. It's a harsh contrast to the organic awkwardness of El Rapids and the ramshackle simplicity of early L'manberg and the White House. c!Quackity intended it to be unlike any country before it - an improvement, an escalation, his unique legacy.

Even the style of the streams reflects that! They become more and more elaborate as time goes on, and yes, you could say more artificial. There's no improvisation. There's no room for silly mistakes. There's no breaking character. It's flashier, grander, more impressive. It's a bunch of bright, sterile lights, all alone in a cold desert.

...okay, now I have to talk about the face cam.

On the DSMP, there are only a few characters who never streamed from their own perspective. Of these, c!Schlatt and c!Dream are best known, and this lack of first-person perspective is often cited as a reflection of their villainy. However, I would also describe this as symbolic of emotional masking. It's vulnerability, and whether the narratives and the characters allow themselves such vulnerability.

c!Schlatt may very well be the embodiment of stereotypical toxic masculinity. He is obsessed with appearances. He lifts weights, takes steroids, drinks protein shakes, and harshly belittles anyone who doesn't live up to his standards. At the same time, he is a deeply paranoid ruler, who increasingly suspects (not without reason) even those closest to him of treason. His commitment to his "tough guy" persona in spite of his faltering health ultimately kills him, as his heart gives out - alone in a crowd.

c!Dream is also a deeply paranoid man (again, not without reason) who is so afraid of coming to terms with a changing world and his own changing relationships that he cuts himself off from all but a few other people and schemes for a near-impossible reunification. He becomes a caricature of a villain and locks himself in both a literal and metaphorical black box, in which he suffers and, yet again, ultimately dies. As with c!Schlatt, what began as a means of self-protection becomes an avenue for demonization.

(As an aside: c!Techno also never uses a facecam, although he did stream his POV. His arc proceeds in a much different way from other "antagonistic" characters; c!Techno manages to overcome his mistrust of others, refine his anarchist ideals, form a community of friends who help one another, and end his story happy. He's a wonderful foil to c!Quackity, though for slightly different reasons than the other two figures mentioned.)

These two (three with c!Techno) figures, alongside c!Wilbur (their polar opposite, insofar as his penchant for Hamlet-esque soliloquies goes), form c!Quackity's idea of what it means to be powerful.

In the first Las Nevadas episode, Quackity uses the facecam in the same way he did previously. We see every flinch, hear every doubtful thought, feel every change of expression. Where this changes, though, is the final scene: Quackity tears apart El Rapids, the last remnant of his early life and connection to his loved ones, and returns home covered in a prisoner's blood.

Las Nevadas 3 has a much different ratio of facecam to non-facecam scenes. During the confrontations with c!Foolish and c!Purpled, those in which he is at his most expressive and physically vulnerable (as both of these characters could easily defeat him in a fight, forcing him to rely on personal appeal), we see him acting through the facecam. But during his discussion with c!Sam about potential recruits, he's all business and all masked up. In c!Fundy's nightmare, in which he is more a manifestation of insecurity than a character, we only see his smiling skin and a frosty voice.

As for the prison scene... hoooooly moly I gotta talk about the details in that scene a different time. But I think it's fair to say that while c!Quackity is undoubtedly in a position of power here, he also breaks down in a way we haven't seen in this context yet. And by the end… well, he's confident. What reason is there to hide? The only person he might hide from already knows what he's capable of. This is the most honest he's ever been about his motivations for torturing c!Dream, and his straightforwardness and undisguised hatred amplifies the horror of the scene.

Las Nevadas 4, however? This is where the pattern gets really interesting.

The first segment of the stream is made without a facecam. c!Quackity walks c!Slime through lessons on how to be successful and powerful, each of which is challenged and peeled back. c!Quackity never fully removes his mask, even around this person he trusts, because he is trying to be an example for that person to emulate.

But there are two scenes in which the facecam returns. One, during the reunion with his fiances in Kinoko Kingdom, in which c!Quackity lets himself be relaxed and affectionate for the first time in months before pivoting to an outburst of all his resentment, sorrow, and anger. Two, when c!Purpled traps him and c!Slime and he is forced to fight for his life before screaming in grief at his friend's death.

And the final scene of the episode? We see not just the facecam, but full live action. The actor showing his full image, and c!Quackity being completely open and sincere. There's hope! There's a real human person still in there! Perhaps he can trust again and change before it's too late!

And guess what happens in the End of Las Nevadas?

THAT'S RIGHT, NOT A SINGLE SECOND OF FACECAM. NOT EVEN A CRUMB. HE'S GOING MAD (SCIENTIST) WITH POWER AND TERRIBLE COPING MECHANISMS FOR GRIEF. OUR MAN IS FULLY LOST IN THE MOTHERFUCKING SAUCE.

And that persona - no, not just the persona, the very person he tried to squeeze into his own image! - is the one who kills him!

And this is why I never liked the notion that Quackity's lore being so polished set the bar too high for other storylines. Because first off, imagine trying to insult someone by literally saying they're too good. Second, c!Quackity's whole arc in Las Nevadas was about how the pursuit of power and acclaim at the expense of your ability to be sincere will fucking destroy you. This way of telling a story is neither superior nor inferior to the more naturalistic style of other arcs. It all comes down to personal taste and how the medium can enhance the creator's intention.

And if Las Nevadas rings false to you?

Good. You understood.

Learn something from its fall.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Contraband (Blackout) Dir. Michael Powell 1940

This one has been on my rewatch list since I first saw it last year. It was one of the few films in the epic Connie watch-a-thon that felt like it had some kind of curative powers, in the surprising way some movies do. I never expected it to lift my spirits and lighten my heart the way it did.

10/10 no notes. I absolutely love everything about this movie. Except the randomly shoehorned "White Negro" scene. It's so out of place in an otherwise pretty progressive film. That cabaret act literally could have been anything, why choose that?? (I couldn't find a lot of info about the choreographer, but it sounds like he was into romanticizing and exoticizing African and Caribbean people in his work… which is not great, but pretty typical of that time I guess. Ugh.)

But otherwise delightful, a romp from start to finish. Apparently someone on IMDB slammed Contraband for being "camp expressionism", but honestly? Hell yeah. I'm 100% here for it. In fact, "camp expressionism" my new favorite genre if it means cute, quirky, risqué, well-directed, well-shot, romantic spy comedy with a tight script and excellent performances.

I've also seen people comparing it to American screwball comedies of the era, but that doesn't seem quite right or even fair. Contraband, thanks to Powell, Pressburger, the editor, and the cast, has a very light touch compared to the comedies coming out of Hollywood in the '30s and '40s. It's not as heavy-handed, it doesn't beat its message to death with over-done gags or affected performances. Michael Powell even said the movie was "all pure corn, but corn served up by professionals." And that's the Powell and Pressburger difference, baby.

The comedy in the script is executed with relative subtlety. The movie isn't telling you HERE’S THE FUNNY BIT, LAUGH NOW the way screwball, slapstick Hollywood would. You almost have to be looking for the humor here to catch it, and it pays off. It's a cheekier type of comedy, not really driven by jokes and punchlines. And as someone who never really liked American comedies of that era, I really appreciate this kind of film. It's silly, even outright stupid in some scenes, but it's not playing down to it's audience. I mean, the whole brawl in the night club is almost like the big fight at the end of Blazing Saddles where more and more people keep joining in, but the action stops for half a second while someone delivers a line. It's stupid. And I love it.

The espionage stuff in is a little convoluted and kind of treated as a throw-away. But really, if you're not paying super close attention to that part of the story, you're not missing much. The spy plot between the British and the Nazis is really just there to give the lead characters something fun to do, and you know what… that's ok with me.

The cinematography also helps elevate Contraband above just being a regular old comedy. Featuring the London blackout is actually really clever. It forces a number of scenes into almost total darkness, which was a risky move and could have been a huge mistake, but it adds yet another interesting layer to the film, visually and in terms of story. There's an unusual POV (possibly handheld?) tracking shot, when Andersen and Mrs. Sorensen are walking up to her house in town, that's just lit by their flashlight. We don't see either of them, except for her hand briefly putting the key in the lock, until after they enter and the camera pans around the hall. And there's a moment a while later when they're in the basement after being tied up where Connie's face is entirely in shadow -- we know he's looking at her, but his expression is completely hidden in darkness. On paper, it sounds like a bad shot, a mistake, but this "expressionistic" lighting and camera work adds a little extra special sauce that I for one greatly appreciate.

The supporting cast is all generally pretty good. Hay Petrie is fun in a double roll. There's the scene in the rowboat where he looks like he's going to get sea sick… despite being the first mate who practically lives on a ship. Little character touches like that throughout the movie make it delightful: The girl in short shorts doing exercises in her room when Connie bursts in on her, the line delivery of the woman who works in the kitchen with Uncle Erik, the guy outside lighting his pipe during the blackout letting those two cops HAVE it. I love a character actor driven movie, all these people in bit parts adding so much color to the story. Brilliant.

Valerie Hobson is so good in this. First of all, she's a boss bitch with an incredible wardrobe. Every look she's serving is iconic. The tweed jacket and headscarf that matches her blouse? The dress with the crazy angular shoulder pads? The big, wide-brimmed hat? Slay. She's authoritative without being shrill, she's got a confident swagger you don't see a lot of actresses getting to showcase at that time. Still, she's not really a femme fatale either. Mrs. Sorensen is independent, intelligent, stunning, and into dangerous spy shit because she enjoys it. She's someone I'd want to hang out with, but would be too scared to talk to because she's so cool. I mean, she almost missed the train at the end because she went back to get Andersen's watch! I have two words for you: Wife Goals.

Sadly, it sounds like Val didn't really get to do a lot of other fun roles outside of the two films she made with Connie. Which is a real shame. Someone on Letterboxd said they're better together than Tracy and Hepburn, and I fully agree. Val and Connie have a natural chemistry that neither feels feel too personal or too studied. Their on screen work together feels easy, without all the baggage and volatility of IRL romance.

The first time I saw Contraband, I think I was simply charmed by Connie as Andersen. Getting to see him as a fun, heroic, romantic lead is incredibly satisfying. But this time around I realized how funny he actually is. He's is so cranky, he starts the movie already at like an 8.5, he's so fucking over it. It's one thing after another -- Mrs. Sorensen won't wear her life jacket, British contraband control wants to hold up them up, someone stole the landing papers, and of course it was Mrs. Sorensen AND Mr. Pigeon. He's so grumpy from the get. (My theory is that he's hangry. He's temperamental and irritable up until he gets a decent meal at The Three Vikings. So relatable.)

It was fun to rewatch this one to catch all the comedic beats Connie is doing with his gestures and facial expressions. They're choreographed, but not affected or over done. His timing and delivery is subtle and finely tuned, which is always funnier than an actor who deliberately plays up the laughs. For example, the long pause after Mrs. Sorensen corrects his pronunciation of the name of the restaurant, he furrows his brow and looks around and finally mutters, "…VI-kings." His comedy is so understated, which keeps the rapid-fire pacing of the bits from being obnoxious.

Andersen is an interesting guy, too. I feel like his macho vibe is just a mask he wears as captain of his ship. He's so used to being That Guy, but, based on Connie's performance, I get the impression that deep down Andersen doesn’t really subscribe to all that traditional masculinity. Later in the film it's easy-ish for him to eventually drop the façade, adjust his expectations, becoming more flexible, malleable in his ideas about sex and gender. This of course is because Conrad Veidt was in reality a proto-feminist wife guy. Andersen isn't played like your standard manly man movie heroes of the time, because that's not who Connie was, that's not an image he wanted to project or support (and I feel one reason why Hollywood couldn't figure out what to do with him in the '40s, but that rant is for another post).

Andersen and Mrs. Sorensen are pretty evenly matched. In fact she has the upper hand and more progressive, dominant role especially once they arrive in London. On his ship, he's the boss, but on shore he's met with one disadvantage after another. Mrs. Sorensen has to be the one to pay for his bus and cab fare, confidently navigating her way through the blackout like a pro. Meanwhile, Andersen is pretty much a bumbling fool, a sidekick to Sorensen's spy adventure. But he's not totally incompetent either (I MEAN IT LOOKS LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING WITH THOSE ROPES, HE IS A SAILOR AFTER ALL *eyes emoji* *sweating emoji*), he's the one who comes up with the plan to rescue Sorensen from her Nazi captors (although I get the impression she probably would have found her own way out without his help). But what's great is that he doesn't do it alone, he goes back to The Three Vikings to round up a small army of Danish essential workers to back him up. And I love how Connie plays the whole last act of the film like he's actually on an adventure; you can see Connie the actor having the most fun ever getting to be the big movie star hero, tussling with cops and Nazis, solving puzzles with glee, getting the girl -- who is just as much of a badass as he is -- in the end. It's so good. And it's so much fun to watch.

There are so, so many wonderful little touches in this movie, many of which I only caught during this second watch. I have a page of scribbled notes I wrote while I was watching that ends with, "The cutest shit I have ever seen!" From the performances to the writing to the technical details, it's hard not to fall in love with this one. Contraband is easily one of those films I could rewatch over and over again and never get sick of it.

OH I can't believe forgot about The Boys:

The goodest boys.

[starburstfloat]

The Inescapable (and Comforting!) Queer Lens of Moonlight Chicken and The Eighth Sense

I've watched quite a few BL series over the last few years, but something that's struck me (and others I've noticed from tumblr discourse!) is how two recent series Moonlight Chicken (Thai BL) and The Eighth Sense (Korean BL) both embody not only characters and a plot that centralize on real queer experiences, but also a distinctive lens that makes them so achingly and relatably queer that it would be a disservice to not dissect and analyze!

(Please bear with me as we tackle some foundational background info *cracks knuckles* so--) The lens is a really cool means to understand a piece of media because it's an artistic approach from the filmmakers to show us the world through a controlled perspective. The lens has a certain focus (also dubbed focalization). In Looking in: the art of viewing, narrative theorist Mieke Bal describes focalization as the relationship between point of view in a story alongside the vision/meaning that the observer consumes of said pov. So not only does the lens convey certain emotions, but it's the observers (aka audience watching the show) who add additional meaning to it.

This relationship gets really interesting to look at when you consider that traditionally a lot of BL has been created for straight women as a sort of fetishization of gay men (I'm generalizing here, but consider a lot of BL that feels like a straight couple dynamic).

But with these two recent series, the lens feels different. It feels like it's been filmed not only in a way that conveys queerness, but for a queer audience. This focalization creates a really special dynamic between the media and its relatability. It's one of those things where I feel like you just have to be gay to understand it, and that's probably why so many of us have found solace in these two series!

For these two works in particular, there's an undeniable focused aesthetic examination of how queer people see the world and interact with it. There's an artistic emphasis on how one's queerness is inescapable and omnipresent, and how it paints our character's world.

Let me stop rambling and try to show what I mean.

In Moonlight Chicken, this omnipresence is observable in the way the characters Wen and Jim meet in episode one. Wen gets drunk at Jim's restaurant, trying to stall on going home to his ex. The way the camera work plays out during this scene perfectly captures how queer people find and recognize one another without having to overtly express their queerness. Consider the first conversation they have after closing hours of the restaurant: the lens is focused on how subtly they are drawn to each other. There's the wide shot of both of them sitting and talking, something that may be dismissed as nothing more than a two-person shot, yet the way their bodies take up so much of the frame welcomes us to notice their body language and how open they are to one another. This, coupled with the alleyway shots later that cut to individual close ups of their faces, sometimes briefly scanning the other's, a mixture of hesitancy and recognition shaping their reactions, is so queer coded!!! Like!!!!! Hello??? I love how it all culminates to Jim saying "I don't have a wife yet...I'm sure you know my preference" like LMAOOO my dude.....it's been more than obvious but I'm glad you're saying it out loud.

I guess what I'm getting at here is that the way this has been filmed is so beautiful and comforting because it depicts how queerness is inextricably tied to how we process our world. It's in the way we instinctively tag others as being in or out of the community and find solace in that recognition, all while teetering the boundaries of our attractions and carefully assessing a situation to see whether the feelings are mutual, misinterpreted, or if it's safe to express who we are.

Moonlight Chicken manages to embody all of that in the most mind blowingly subtle ways across ALL OF ITS CHARACTERS!!!! I've never encountered any other show like it - it's simply stunning, and it's set the bar way too high now.

We also witness this comforting queer lens in The Eighth Sense. So far only two episodes are out, but the way this show has been filmed is already so much more mature, graceful, and emotionally relatable than most other BL shows I've seen. And again, I think this is because the filmmakers have utilized a lens that conveys how queer people see and interact with their world in a way that other BLs have failed to accomplish. The narrative focus is so strongly centered on our protagonists living in a straight world while they navigate and (in Jae Won's case) want to hide their queerness.

Here, the queer lens resides in the way the camerawork establishes a sense of evaluation and hesitancy. It's the way the camera lingers on how Ji Hyun shrinks a bit when the surf instructor lady jokes "you came here cause of the pretty girl on the poster didn't you?" or the way we get close up shots of Jae Won's annoyed face as he demands his friends stop asking why he broke up with his ex girlfriend. As a queer audience, these subtle clues are just so relatable. It's a reflection of our own lived experiences, of bottling up our inner selves and constantly having to monitor our reactions and behaviors in a straight landscape.

These shows aren't just giving us gay characters who Meet Cute and fall in Love and deal with some turmoil and live happily ever after - they are filmed in a way that forces us to see and be seen.

And I can't get enough.

[g-oblincat]

The other manga I've been keeping up with that recently just ended! And I'm going to talk about it!

Ayaka-chan wa Hiroko-senpai ni Koishiteru (Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko!) by Sal Jiang

A lesbian office drama written by a Twitter artist I really like! Ayaka has a crush on her senior at work, Hiroko, and constantly tries to make Hiroko notice her. Hiroko is a lesbian who’s closeted at work and trying her hardest not to fall for Ayaka, who she thinks is an oblivious straight girl. The appeal is the comedy of watching two women made stupid by love freak out over each other, underlined by queer angst.

Things I like about it:

Charming characters! The main couple is SO easy to fall in love with and root for- they are so earnest and funny and have great chemistry. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re drawn REALLY well with fun, expressive faces and cute designs.

Themes of queerness as identity and community! More in the spoiler section, but my favorite scenes in this story take place in in a gay bar with a character’s WLW friendgroup as they talk about being gay. The community is my favorite part of being queer and I never see it reflected in manga, and I love how much fun and love is put into the scenes with the friendgroup.

You can read the official English comic online here! I think this is the most affordable I’ve ever seen a manga actually, so it’s definitely worth a buy! I will admit I am using the Dynasty Scans pages in the spoiler section of this post, since that’s the version I read before finding out about the official English version.

Expanding on my two points above in the spoilers section!

Time for the section where I play show and tell

That’s the premise!

Great characters and chemistry

Ayaka is SO cute. I love pretty femme girls who are kind of bratty, and she’s portrayed in a way where you know the author’s having so much fun with her.

Some random out of order/context Ayaka faces from the earlier chapters! I forgot how cute and sweet she comes off in the earlier chapters, she’s a total goblin later lol

Hiroko is also such a fun character! I love the contrast between a really serious, straight laced, determined-to-not-fall-in-love person at work to uhhhhh womanizer at night lol.

Speaking of fun, a character interaction trope I’ll never get tired of are “characters who comedically overreact when they’re in love with someone” and that fits this couple to a T!

What a cute sequence….

Both characters’ POVs from the same chapter. Hiroko focusing on how hot Ayaka is, and Ayaka imagining wedding bells when Hiroko looks at her LOL.

I could keep showing screenshots of these two until I basically go through the entire comic lol.

But even outside the main two, I really like the side characters as well! A standout is Risa - Ayaka’s colleague who’s also a baby gay and has a crush on her. I’m unusual in that I usually like love triangles, but I do think this one is written really well! She’s sympathetic, her doomed longing for Ayaka is delicious and relatable. (Spoilers) I love how her selfishness and selflessness is balanced- her crush and competition with Hiroko makes her sabotage Ayaka’s crush in small ways in the beginning, but she fundamentally cares for her friend and roots for them in the end. Also, (BIG SPOILERS) she and Ayaka end up dating and breaking up but still remain friends, which is another favorite trope of mine. (HUGE SPOILERS) I love this page, any manga that includes a scene like this is top tier for me…. She feels realistic and her story is really sweet!

(Left) Baby gays smashing braincells against each other and (Right) Risa’s eyes wander….

Queer community and identity

This section has more spoilers than the last one!! If you haven’t read this comic but plan on it, I recommend you not read this part!!

In my last post, I said that Yuri as a genre doesn’t need to have anything about queerness as an identity to be good, but then I realized that most of my favorites did have a focus on identity…. Yeah IDK what to say LOL. But the identity aspect is a big plot point/theme of this story, and it’s written SUPER well.

First of all- Hiroko’s backstory centers on homophobia and her being super closeted at her workplace. I’m iffy on homophobia stories (just cause I’ve read a lot of them and they tend to hit on the same points), but the homophobia theme leads to one of my fav scenes:

Context: Risa knows Hiroko is closeted and rants about it to the bartender at a lesbian bar who knows Hiroko.

I love this focus on how queer people interact with the straight world, and the generational divide between older and younger queers. I can only speak from a US perspective, but progress around LGBTQ acceptance has come so far and so fast the past few years that if I was born a few years earlier or a few years later, I’d have a radically different life experience. It’s something I think about a lot when reading memoirs and articles by older queer people, and contrasting that with my life and the observed lives of people younger than me online. This theme is explored well in this story- the cultural tensions between Hiroko and Ayaka and Risa, how straight people may react more positively to queer people now but it’s still not perfect, and how Hiroko has changed her workplace for the better.

Also speaking of the lesbian bar- I love the girls at the bar lol. Right after the scene with Risa, a gaggle of lesbians come in and comfort her and it’s SOOOO heartwarming and cute. I love how this friendgroup is written- supportive, but also will call you out.

It’s so fun to read these guys gossip, give each other relationship advice, bicker with each other, and be horny at women together.

Hiroko’s relationship with the girls is more bickering, but Risa and Ayaka end up going to them for advice a lot which is so sweet and the elder/baby queer relationship I need (not portrayed because I can’t find a screenshot that doesn’t reveal a big plot twist)

Anyway…that’s it…. If you’ve read this comic please talk to me about it…if you haven’t please read it. Thank you.

[ferronickel]

Looking Glasses Development Art 1

Next ==>

This was the first bit of concept art I did for Looking Glasses. The scene where Ralsei is first confronted by the titan was incredibly clear in my head from the beginning, so when I sat down to start working on the comic, it was the first scene I started messing with. This drawing was mostly about experimenting with fonts and effects, so the art itself is pretty rough. My development process tends to start with visual design stuff, so I often spend hours looking at fonts before I get into sketching actual art. I'm really glad that I went in a different direction with this page in the final product, this is pretty visually cluttered.

Going over my old artwork has me thinking about the craft behind that sequence a bit, so I'm going to throw some more thoughts under the cut. It's a two for one.

Let's start with the final pages for this sequence, just to remind you how it turned out

You can see how that initial sketch got divided up into the second and third pages here. This served some practical purposes. To start, I realized I wanted you to be able to see Ralsei's face on the second page, to show how the loud titan voice is hurting him. But I wanted to keep Ralsei silhouetted in front of the titan eye for scale, so I pushed that into the next page.

Let's look at my initial sketches for this sequence.

You might notice some pretty major differences between these sketches and the finished product. Most notably, panel 3 on page 1 and all of page 2 are flipped. That's because I realized I had broken the 180 rule on page one, and it made a scene without any visual landmarks kind of confusing. Of course, I didn't realize this until super late in the process on that page. You can see this in the difference between my flats and the final base colors.

(I also fixed some weirdness at this stage, like Ralsei's head in the first panel was kinda wonky). But flipping this one panel also meant I had to flip the entire next page to keep continuity.

A few more details I think are kinda fun.

On the left, I had added a bunch of eyes to the smoke, a design detail I later dropped because I couldn't quite get it to look good in the colors, and I figured the titan eye showing up on his top worked well enough. He's also crying in this panel, which I also must of dropped.

On the right I really had to work through a bunch of expressions for him before settling on squeezing his eyes closed. At one point he was really angry!

But that didn't fit the vibe. Ralsei isn't exactly angry here, even if he is shouting on this page. I really liked him closing his eyes tightly though, it let me do this across the page-turn:

Which I thought was a cool way to transition out of one scene (and visual style) and into another. Now, is he waking up here because he wills himself to wake up, or because Susie healed him? I'll leave that one up to interpretation.

I'm also kind of referencing Issue 17 of The Wicked and The Divine here, where the POV character closes her eyes at the end of every scene to mark scene transitions (and when she's dissociating).

Anyway, that's the really long winded development of this sequence, from initial concept art to final product.

[carica-ficus]

"Harrow the Ninth"

13/02/2024

Reading progress: 100/507 (20%) Read through since last update: 100

*in the singing voice of Mariah Carey* It's tiiiimeeeee~!!!! I've got my hands on Harrow a few weeks ago and now I finally have the time to start reading it! I've been looking forward to this book ever since I read through Gideon and all my friends are already anxious for me to continue with the series! :D For those of you who stumble upon this little reading journal and have not seen me do it before, I just want to highlight that this is a public expression of my own thoughts while I read through the book. I like to speculate over the text. Since Muir loves to hide bits and pieces of information throughout her books, I like to try piecing them together on my own. It's fun and I feel like I'm conversing with her work in a way, like I'm a participant in the story. I know some people might find that annoying, but just let me do my thing. ^u^' (Just skip this post if you don't like it.)

----------------------------Spoiler warning!!!----------------------------

And now, without further ado, my thoughts and notes:

Who else needed an embarrassing amount of time to realize Ianthe was referring to Harrow when she said Harry? (Hate hate hate that nickname)

Yer a bone wizard, Harry.

The Noniad? Really? Really?

Well Harrow just took body dismorphia to another level. Painting a skull on her face with her own blood to feel some comfort? To regain just a little bit of control? Love her. Love love love her! She's such a mess. 🖤

Hold on. The Emperor says he hasn't resurrected anyone in 10 000 years. Didn't he... Become Emperor 10 000 years ago? Hm hm hm.

I'm managing to follow up on the time changes and the POV changes. As best as I can, of course. Obviously, I'm still a little confused at some times, but I'm glad some questions are slowly getting answered. Well... There's even more questions being asked, but I'm glad we get further insight to the lore.

I really missed Muir's writing. There's such a profound poetry in her style. I love it so much. 🖤

UGHHH!!! THE WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!!

The way Muir writes about Harrow and her life, especially about her childhood, feels so gritty, so powerful, and so incredibly raw. There's no possible way to connect to Harrow's experience. She went through so much. But the grief, the responsibility, the connection she has to her culture, to her planet, to her family and to her duty is just so masterfully written, I can't help but feel so drawn to her character. And her story. Man, I missed this series and it's only been 3 months since I've read Gideon.

It's way to early on to know who's the person narrating behind Harrow in "the future", but after the scene with Ianthe and the letters, I wouldn't be surprised if it was Harrow herself. Just from the past. I can't remember whether or not Harrow wrote letters to herself and I just forgot about them... Maybe she did. I don't know. In any case, I'm just speculating, but the way the narrator talks and offers up part of their own personality and parts of their own knowledge, I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out it's Harrow. (Well, she did write letters to herself as is revealed in some later chapter, but I think she did the same in Gt9.)

There's so much that is not said yet, but my go to reaction is to just accept it, not fight it. I am wondering where Gideon is, but at the same time I don't currently care about her whereabouts because it's obviously none of my concern. I am also a bit confused over why Ortus is being mentioned so much when he wasn't even involved at the whole Lyctor thing. Again, just speculating and throwing my 2 cents out there. I have full trust in Muir. Everything she writes is with a good reason. I'm presented with all of this information and tangled up timelines and conversations because I need to be. They'll add up to something more. I know it.

Speaking of weird timelines, I wonder where we're at this point in time. I feel like we're actually somewhere unspecified, that these chapters I went through were just a collection of memories, from the past and the future. So I'm wondering what is actually happening right now, but then again, as I already said, this doesn't matter yet and will be revealed later.

Excuse my philosophy. I might be entirely wrong. Don't take it personally, I just like to ramble in these little reading journals of mine, mostly because I like to look back at them and see how much I was wrong/right about my speculations. 😊 What I'll say is that I find Muir very clever as a writer. I like how she plays around with the narrative and makes the reader keep guessing. And I love to guess. I love to participate in her writing. It's very fun! It makes me feel like I'm a part of the story, not just an observer. If that makes any sense. 😅

OKAY! SCRAP EVERYTHING I SAID!!! The part about traveling through the River, the part where Mercy says that something can get inside the Lyctors body when their soul is separated from their physical form, that's the one!! I'm not saying anything more about my speculation, but I hope I have the right hunch about this.

(It will be SO fucking funny if I'm wrong about this, but I don't care.)

(Oh, on another note. That's such a super cool concept!!!! Love the idea. Love how much there's at stake!!!!!)

They're already in the River??? Nah, I'd die instantly. From stress alone.

Also, a little detail I liked is how The Emperor's eyes are described in detail. They're mostly black, but then there's a line where Harrow notices a little silver circle around them. I'm wouldn't outright say he's probably a Lyctor, but I'd say he might have also sacrificed/killed someone he cares about or his cavalier. I don't know, I just found it really interesting that his eyes are often mentioned as something strange.

BTW I love the heterochromia part. Such a beautiful way to portray the cavaliers have become a part of the Lyctors.

[starry-eyed-steve]

Stumbled across you and really enjoyed your takes on the show and the characters. There were multiple things that bugged me about S4 but by far my biggest peeve is that no one felt the need to apologize to Lucas or acknowledge the fact that he was putting his life in danger trying to keep tabs on his teammates. The show + Hellfire treats his decision to play basketball like some big betrayal when really, it's a kid expressing interest in two things equally. Just wish we got a scene for that.

I absolutely agree, Lucas never did anything wrong in this show, and I stand by that. He deserves better!!!

When Lucas looked around and saw those empty seats, knowing his friends didn't have his back. Or worse when they replaced him with his own sister, who was at every game and missed the one where he scored. My heart broke for him in that moment. To think that people who watched the show were pissed at Lucas for hanging out with his teammates when his friends let him down. I would have avoided them as well. And when he realized that something went wrong, he used his position to help his friends. Like, what do people want from him?

In general, it's weird how the show vilianises people who are popular, jocks and athletes. It's not like Lucas ditched his friends. He was still part of hellfire, but the show treats him like a villain for doing sports now. How are those people worse than Eddie, who shamed everyone in that cafeteria with his speech? He's also a judgmental asshole but because the show frames him as the underdog, his actions are not seen as bad. It seems like the Duffers have some unresolved high school trauma where a popular guy wronged them, and now everyone who isn't a loser nerd is essentially the devil.

Back to Lucas, like my boy deserves better plot than what he is given. Don't get me wrong I loved his storyline with Max, Lumax is my favorite ship in the show. But like I mentioned in another post, his struggles as a black kid often gets overshadowed for the romance plotline.

A huge factor as to why he played basketball was the fact that on top of the bullying his friends face, he also had to deal with racism. We deserved to see a Patrick and Lucas friendship where they discuss it or bond about it. If you think about it, the party never really gave a shit about this reason, and the show underplayed it as well. Instead, Lucas sports plot was framed as him turning his back to his friends, automatically painting him in a negative light, even though it wasn't true. He just wanted support from his friends, and they never delivered. If Will was there, I think he would have supported Lucas, knowing how it feels when your friends ridicule your hobbies. An apology from Dustin would have been the minimum. (Mike wasn't there for the plot) At least Erica apologized to him later, but still. Eddie should have spent a bit more time with Lucas and apologized as well. But that's never going to happen because the Duffers refuse to acknowledge they have this agenda towards jocks.

Another point that I wanted to see was Lucas struggling with Billy's death. I know this season was mostly about Max, and I loved how it was dealt with, but I wish we could have gotten Lucas POV as well. Of course, he wanted to be there for Max. He loves her, but it would have been difficult to emphasize after s2 when Billy attacked him for racial reasons. Billy never made it up to Lucas. He could have gotten the chance in s3, but the show killed him first episode and turned him into a monster. That's why I don't believe in a Billy redemption in s3 because the people he hurt (Lucas and Steve) never got an apology. So I really wanted to see Lucas's complicated feelings towards it. (I think it's the main reason Max kept her distance she knows Billy hurt her friends, so they might not understand her.)

In general, the show has a huge problem with how they portray their black characters. Lucas's experiences with racism are not taken seriously. Most of his arc is about a white girl (nothing against Max, seriously, I love them together). Erica is a stereotypical sassy black girl with a big mouth, and when she got tackled by this grown ass man in vol2, nobody really bat an eye. Patrick was the least developed Vecna victim, Fred and Chrissy got so much more screen time. So you can clearly see the pattern through the show.

Lastly, because of the limited amount of time, the show can't address anything. Especially in s4, the plot was super tight. They had to cut out so much. I blame the useless Russian plot because that was so unnecessarily. Anyway, with more time and with more episodes, the plot could have spread out more. The characters would get time to breathe and interact with others more. Traumas could be dealt with in a better, more genuine way as well. But we are stuck with 9 episodes per season. Something has to be cut, and we can't forget the show is created by two white men. Of course, they are not sensible when tackling racist matters. (Btw Caleb also deserves so much better. The fact that he wasn't invited to talk shows and is always kinda left out is absolutely horrible. Plus, the hate he got in s1 just because his character wasn't a big fan of El is unacceptable)

[supermacaquecool]

Odd pair commentary now

Okay, I'm not sure when I started writing this, I have the vague inkling of wanting to finish it for the first Survive week? Or is it just because I wrote a lot of Ryo fic for it? Beats me.

...

So yeah, I went to check my twt and I posted the first excerpt (the one above) I wrote for it on Jan 26th of last year lol It was around those times.

I remember a mutual had brought the topic of ships and how Ryo is likely the second most shippable Survive chara lol At any rate, it got me thinking I wanted to explore their dynamic. This funny interaction was the seed from which the whole thing sprouted lol Before I started the game myself (I knew plenty of spoilers already, though) , I knew from a certain drawing on twt that they cook together in Truthful, so I had been looking forward to seeing that a lot. I think the fact they're the same age and Ryo helps her out brings a sense of equality to their relationship that Aoi doesn't really have with her juniors, much less Shuuji. So I thought it could be fun. Incidentally, the way the affinity dialogue plays out where Ryo shows up to help her crackled me up really hard lol The way she ends up bossing him around much to his chagrin and the way he swallows his pride are pretty priceless lol

Another scene I really like with them (the other one I know of???) is that one that takes place when they're about to head to the northern shrine, and Takuma and Aoi show up late bc they got sidetracked with repairs LOL I loved the way Ryo chewed her out for not prioritizing lol So this is kinda inspired by that, tho he gets frustrated at her here for not asking for help (or expressing herself, period LOL). Now that I've written more, I have noticed that I like writing other characters finding my fav annoying, which is just unbelievably funny.

So, it was fun writing those points of friction between them, Aoi disliking Ryo's rude attitude and Ryo finding grating that she clams up lol It was not the cause for huge conflict, but it gave way to some fun smaller instances of awkwardness. I'm very fond of Ryo getting admonished for speaking rudely to her only to nearly call her a dumbass five seconds later lol

Aoi's reticence to rely on others takes the bulk of the scenario:

Ryo cranes his neck over her shoulder to take a peek at whatever she was doing on the counter.

This was a fun, physical way to get accross the way he's basically having to force brute his way through understanding her, since she isn't really communicating. She's clamming up so much to the point it makes Ryo nearly lose his patience near the end. Aoi doesn't really budge much in this fic, it's all Ryo and Labramon having to do the heavy lifting to bridge the interaction which is also funny. All the things she goes out of her way to cover their bases and not trouble others causing her to be cumbersome to be dealt with lol I'd like to write them scolding each other more, plus the mutual annoyance they learn to tolerate as they grow to trust each other more lol The way they're nearly opposites in the way they choose to deal with social interaction makes them very funny in my head lol Rude boy and proper girl, get on each others' nerves, now! Despite that, I think they're likely to feel real kinship with each other as the only competent caretakers and cooks of the group lol It's just a matter of growing comfortable with each other, so that's what I'm aiming for portraying.

As per usual, Ryo's pov is very fun to write. His brusqueness marred to his keeness are a blast, so I mostly think of this one as a fun little snapshot at how their dynamic could play out.

Ryo sighs, catching her drift. Despite all their talk about how charging to the factory will mean facing the Last Boss, some part of her doesn’t believe it’ll be over yet. Not like he can blame her. He doesn’t buy it either, that they will be done with all of this that easily. Really, given how things turned out in the waterways, preparing for the worst isn’t wrong but…

Highlighting this paragraph bc I didn't explore this aspect much, but that's another common ground for them: their catastrophizing LOL They could either make each other's anxiety worse or really bond over it. If I were to write them together again, I'd probably want to explore that territory.

[sohoscribblers]

A Deeper Dive into First Person POV

by @adeptdragonfruit54

What is First person POV more specifically?

First-person perspective is a storytelling technique that narrates the story from the POV of a single character, usually the protagonist but sometimes it can be a side character linked to the protagonist. If it’s the protagonist telling the story, you’ll see the pronoun “I.”  In this form of storytelling, the story unfolds through the eyes, internal thoughts, and emotions of the “I” narrator. It’s a very intimate form of storytelling that lets the character speak directly to the reader or even lets the reader feel that they are the narrator. In the “I” form of storytelling, the reader is looking through the eyes of the protagonist directly and experiencing everything without the filter of the author as narrator.

For example:

Consider the last scene in Season 2 of Good Omens on Amazon Prime when Aziraphale turns his head away from Crowley to hide his emotions/tears. Let’s write that in first person and then third person.

First person POV Aziraphale:  “You idiot, we could have been us,” Crowley said to me. Words jammed in my throat and creased my brow as I looked my companion of many long years. A half motion toward him and a half motion away repeated several times indecisively made my body rock back and forth. Hot tears welled in my eyes. Finally, the waves of emotion became too unbearable. I turned my face away quickly to stifle the cry of pain that threaten to break from my throat as a single tear rolled from the corner of my eye. But as quickly as the tear could slip from my eye, I heard Crowley’s light footsteps cross the space between us and felt him grab the lapels of my jacket.  And then his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding an answer; demanding that I understand what he was trying to say.

Third Person POV:  “You idiot, we could have been us,” said Crowley. He paused a moment, hoping for some affirmative response, or any response from the angel.  Aziraphale looked at him with a creased brow, his shoulders rocking first toward the demon and then away as if undecided which way to move. Crowley watched this indecisive little movement, hoping against hope that his angel would decide to move to him in the end, but his hopes were dashed when Aziraphale simply turned his head away and refused to look at him further or to speak. Then, in one final, desperate act, Crowley closed the space between them.  He latched onto Aziraphale’s collar and kissed him, trying to communicate all his love and need and desperation into that one single human act. He demanded with his lips that Aziraphale understand everything that words had failed to convey. He hoped for a Vavoom.

Advantages of first person

The most obvious advantage of using first person POV is that it establishes an immediate rapport between the reader and the narrator and lets the reader form a deep connection with the character.  You can really explore a character’s growth and viewpoints throughout a story using this perspective.  Second, it can lend the story credibility which if you’re going for the angle of an unreliable narrator can be useful for misdirection. The trust between a first-person narrator and reader can be built by using a narrator who lies and then later broken when the truth is revealed.  Another big advantage of narrating in the first person is that you can express an opinion.  A great example of this is To Kill a Mockingbird.  The narrator is six-year-old Scout and the opinions being explored are bias and racial prejudice in the American south. Finally, as a writer, you can also use multiple first person POVs to express different character views and opinions and tell the story from many viewpoints. This can be an interesting tool for building intrigue in the story if each person telling it only knows part of the story at any given moment.

Continue on AO3

[forkaround]

BL Awards: Catch Me Sobbing Category

Sad things are just as important as the not-sad things and thus...

Scene that has me sobbing for whatever reason.

(BL Awards: At the end of an amazing year of absolute chaos in the world of BL. I come to you with my favorite moments of the year divided into categories that would not make it into any respectable Award show. But this is Tumblr. You know what you signed up for.)

Parpai reading from Sky's journal (Love in the Air)

I don't want to discuss the ethics of this and mileage varies for every other person. But this had me sobbing to the point my mother yelled at me for crying over fictional characters. It's how both of them are hurting. It's about Sky not wanting to open up. It's about Pai being confused and hanging over Sky's words. Pai doesn't know what happened, to Sky in the past and to Sky now and he can't accept that Sky would say all those things. Fort and Peat were acting. Truly in their Oscars bag. I remember holding my breath as if I was underwater throughout this scene. Uff.

Sky not crying and Pai crying in his stead (Love in the Air)

(I can't find a gif for the specific line.)

Who knew that not crying was worse than crying? This scene knocked me off the face of the earth. They are both reeling and the emotional intelligence Prapai shows here, god, another writer, another actor could have made this so much worse than it was. But in Mame and FortPeat's hands this was beautiful. It's gentle, it's mature, it's taking care of Sky before Pai can go around smacking people/taking revenge. But that was not the goal of this story. Revenge tel lene gaya. (revenge goes to buy oil. kinda like revenge go to hell.) This is about grace, this is about healing. I have never seen a narrative like this dealt with such gentleness and keeping the characters 'not-broken'. idk how to explain this. Gun gets everything that is coming to him but in this moment it's not about him. It's about SKY.

GAP: Mon being confused by Sam and crying

Something less intense. I feel for both our girlies. Sam is constantly going hot and cold and that is so taxing for everyone around her especially Mon, who has loved her since she was a kid. tbf Sam doesn't know this. And Sam is herself so tragic. Never expressing who she is and what she wants leaving for those around her to interpret her intentions. As much as I feel for her though, I can't see her as a decent boss.

Triage: Tin goes into a coma and Tol is reading to him

I did not expect this to hurt me as much as it did. I can't quantify even now why I love this show so much. But after the POV switch something about this show just fit. I was going to be so mad if they ended up unhappy. I was barely starting to get comfortable with BLs and their happy endings. And then this hit. It didn't end unhappy but I sure thought it would. (Also the clock tower kiss is just something else)

The Eclipse: Every AkkAyan scene towards the end

There are so many gifs/scenes where this boy is crying. First must have had quite the month crying over and over each episode. He is so stuck in his circumstances, in his own head about what's right and wrong. Brittle things. And you see that with how he is caught in between Chadok and Ayan.

ChadokDika story

Dika didn't deserve it. That's it. (tbf Chadok didn't deserve it either.)

(There's many different ways to kill the one you love / slowest way is never loving them enough)

180 Degrees Longitude Passes Between Us

Literally everyone is hurting on this show and hurting everyone else. And it all just HURTS. I can't fully put a bad guy/good guy label on any of them. It's so complexly human. So simply human. So beautifully human and so pathetically human. Seeing my own family in this show didn't help. Mol can't move on from her past. Inn can't see the future. Waan can't live in the present. Them always being on a different wavelength keeps hurting and I think some part of them recognizes this. The ending doesn't help. It's realistic. It's hard. And it hurts. This show is just:

The surety that no matter how much it hurts it would end happy help enjoy the angst so much better. I didn't have to worry someone might end up dead or they might not end up together. (there are exceptions to this, as you can see)