#i know i will belittle his efforts to be healthy

[nobodymitskigabriel]

Remembered the way Dean acted during the hallucifer arc are we angy yet

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + ten

authors note: i think ya'll will be pleased with majority of this chapter. as far as the ending scene, let me know what ya'll think roman should do. i have it already planned, but i'm always so curious reading other perspectives. btw, they've been married almost four months, for context.

also, to those who want to know about the subplot of solana's bitch ass daddy plotting to kill roman....it's still a subplot. stay tuned.

passages from 'the courage to heal' do not belong to me.

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

cw/tw: violence against women, references to csa, character briefly discussing csa, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 10k (no comment)

Learning to be intimate is rewarding, but it is not always comfortable. As one woman said, “I kept myself safe, but I also kept myself alone.” Becoming intimate means peeling back the layers of protection to let someone in. It means going to the place where you’re comfortable and then taking one step more. One step, not twenty.

Solana must read the passage at least half a dozen times, sitting with the words, meditating with them and doing her best to cope with the discomfort she’s experienced at various points while working her way through the book that’s brought an equal amount of questions as it has answers.

She knew right away going into this section, Healthy Intimacy, that it would most likely be the hardest chapter for her. But not even for the reasons that she initially thought, reasons that would have been the case before a certain Roman Reigns entered her life.

Every day that passes with him seems to bring about a new level of comfort, a new slice of happiness, a new type of contentment. 

She enjoys talking with him and being around him. She looks forward to his meeting her at the end of work and struggles with endless worry when he doesn’t make it back home until the wee hours of the night.

His touch, whether that’s his hand on her back or both hands on her waist as he holds her against him, no longer triggers an automatic tense, uncomfortable feeling. Somewhere along the way, the need to identify his touch as ‘safe’ waned and was replaced with an automatic knowing. Like she knows that it’s okay for him to touch her, because she’s safe. Because she’s safe with him. 

That, along with her continued and also growing attraction, has caused her to think more and more what it could be like to be with someone in that way. The thoughts have been fleeting, far and few over the years, typically followed up with abject horror. But lately….lately she’s been less and less scared and more and more hopeful.

Optimistic that maybe….just maybe, she could one day know what that’s like. To have that experience in a healthy and non-traumatic way with a safe person. With someone who truly desires her in said healthy way.

Someone….someone like Roman.

It’s scary and terrifying and exciting and nerve racking and moving and every other emotion to exist, but on top of all that, for the first time in her life, it’s a possibility for Solana. 

And she wants to take that chance, even if doesn’t work out, even if it’s not what she thought it would be. To be able to say she at least tried, to say that she overcame her fears…it would be monumental.

It would feel like the breaking of mental and emotional chains. 

And it starts today.

Closing up the book, Solana untangles her legs and marks her spot in her book. She gives Dulce a light pat on the head and walks into the bathroom. Opening up the drawer, her eyes land on the pair of scissors. Nothing fancy. Just a pair of regular scissors.

Solana takes a deep breath and grabs them. 

Using one hand to let down her hair from the messy, half-effort bun, she gives her head a good shake. Once, twice, and then a third time. For a brief second, she hesitates, her father’s constant belittling returning to the surface.

“You don’t need short hair. You’ll look even fatter with it.”

Solana shuts her eyes as she thinks of all the times Roman has called her beautiful, has made her feel beautiful. The endless support from Bayley and Naomi. The borderline inappropriate comments form the twins almost every time she sees them.

It all brings an emotional smile to her face as she takes another deep breath.

One step, not twenty.

And she cuts.

________

Samantha can count on one hand in all of the years that she’s known Roman Reigns the times that he’s surprised her with a visit. 

Zero.

He’s always always given her a heads up for his arrival or plans to visit, solely for the mere fact that Roman is a man who doesn’t like to wait. When he wants pussy, he wants it then and now. And she’s never been one to deny the Head of the Table anything he’s ever asked for. 

So when she finds him sitting at her desk, feet propped up with an unreadable expression, it takes her off guard. 

Only for a minute. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time.” Samantha is quick to kick the door shut behind her, locking it right as she tosses her purse on the nearby chair. “You can’t go too long without me.” This fact alone is enough to make her cum right then and there. The fact that even with his roster of women he rotates through, she remains number one. 

Roman knows where it’s at. 

And him coming to her, at her job of all places, just proves it.

Eye dropping to his crotch, she licks her lips at the thought of that thick, beautiful dick in her mouth. Fuck, she’s salivating at just the thought. “You want me on my knees, daddy?”

Samantha starts to kick her shoes off when he finally breaks the silence.

“I want to know what you said to my wife.”

Samantha’s smile drops in under a millisecond. Instantly, she’s scowling. “What?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to repeat himself, every word perfectly enunciated with his heavy, baritone voice. “What did you say to my wife, Samantha?” 

This….this isn’t how she was expecting this to play out, and it shows in the sudden stuttering, “I—I don’t—”

“She came back from that bathroom upset, and I don’t like seeing her upset, so I’m only gonna ask you one more time—” Samantha nearly jumps back into the door when he suddenly bangs his fist on her wooden desk and growls, “what did you say to her!”

Stammering, she answers with a combination of fear and desperation, “I just—I told her the truth.”

It seems to be the wrong answer, as Roman looks 5x angrier. “And what the fuck is that?”

Samantha gathers herself a little better, voice more even as she answers with misplaced confidence. “That she could never please you. Not how I can.” And with foolish bravery, Samantha steps toward him. “That you’ll always come back to me.”

“You fucking bitch.”

That makes her still with her movements. He’s called her all kinds of names when they’ve fucked, and she’s loved it, loves being fucked hard and rough, his preference. But there’s something about this that she doesn’t love. 

It’s because he sounds legitimately upset with her.

And that, in turn, upsets her, because he cannot seriously be upset that she said some shit to that little girl.

“Why does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to you.” Samantha has to actually laugh. In no universe can she see someone as strong and powerful as Roman caring about a girl like that. But, it’s when he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t voice some type of agreement that her confidence dwindles a bit. “R–right?” Still, nothing. And it’s with that nothing she realizes with all of the anger and shock in the world why he’s so upset.

“Oh my god. Are you serious right now? Her? You really have feelings for her?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “What the fuck, Roman? What the hell is so great about her?”

There is absolutely nothing that girl brings to the table for her to have someone like Roman Reigns interested in her. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. What the hell is attractive about a scarred, sliced up, fat bitch?

He finally speaks, warning her in an almost menacing tone. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“That girl is weak, Roman. You can’t be the head of the Bloodline and have someone like her at your side. She doesn’t deserve it.” By now, Samantha has moved over to him, her hands planted on his chest, his eyes closed. “You need….someone strong at your side. Look at what you’ve done just by yourself. Imagine…imagine having a queen to rule with you.” She licks her lips, going in for the kill. “I can be that for you. I can give you an heir. Look at how long it’s been and still nothing, no baby. She’s broken, Roman. That bitch—”

Samantha is silenced by him jumping up from his chair as he shoves her against the wall, hand on her neck. It’s not the first time they’ve been in a similar position. She loves to be choked during sex, and he’s adept at doing just enough to get her off without her passing out. 

But this time, there’s no pressure, no sexual aspect, no foreplay.

This….this is different.

Because this is the first time she’s ever actually been afraid of him.

“If you ever in your fucking life speak on her again, I’ll kill you.” Samantha’s eyes are wide, hand grasping at his. He’s still not actually applying any sort of pressure, probably more so placement  to evoke a level of fear. A reminder that he could end her life in a matter of seconds if that’s what he wanted. “If you ever speak to her again, I’ll kill you. Fucking look at her, and you’re a dead bitch.”

Samantha barely has time to process his threats when he says something in Samoan and steps back, releasing her as she dubs over and gasps loudly from the shock of it all. 

Seconds later, she’s on the floor, laying on her side after fucking Nia has landed her big ass foot in Samantha’s head. 

Nia is looking down with a wicked smile that promises a level of pain. “You talk too fucking much.” She can’t tell if it’s directed to herself or Roman, regardless, he looks unbothered, outside of staring down at her with disgust.

Samantha has no idea where the hell that bitch came from, but her unexpected blow nearly has her seeing stars. She’s writhing on the floor, on her side, cradling her head when Nia yanks her up by her extensions.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Nia kicks her a second time, in her side, and Samantha is almost certain she heard the subsequent cracking of her rib from the impact. Tears fill her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kick your ass since we were kids.”

Helpless and feeling so confused as to how he could do this to her, Samantha sets her teary gaze onto him. She does her best to generate as many tears as she can. “Roman, please—”

“You’re fucking delusional if you really thought I would ever make you anything more than what you were to me.” Samantha sniffles, vision blurred and stomach aching from both the physical and emotional impact of his words. “Nothing.”

A sudden anger fills her, meshing with the growing physical pain. She did this. That fucking bitch has taken Roman from her, her Roman.

“You wanna know what she is to me?” He crouches down and reaches for a lock of her hair, answering just as icily as the disgusted look in his light brown eyes. “Everything you’re not.”

Samantha snarls almost, not even angry at his words as much as her mind is trying to navigate any and all ways to make that little troll pay for this. Pay for stealing her man.

But it’s as Roman is walking out, that he barks his last order to Nia. Not necessarily a necessity given the fact that he’s certain she’s dreamed exactly of how this very moment could and should go down. Granted, this is the one symbolic thing he needs to ensure takes place. 

“Break her fucking jaw.”

________

Handling the Samantha situation is just one of many things to be checked off of Roman’s to-do list for today. He’s got meetings, contracts to review, spreadsheets to update, shipments to see sent off, and a million and one other things. Most of which he’s far from thrilled about but also know needs to be done, regardless if he’d rather say fuck it all just for today. For just a couple hours, even.

Delegate, perhaps. But these are things that can’t be delegated. He, as the Head of the Table, needs to put his signature on to make it official.  

And he’s got his Wise Man fresh on his heel to remind him of such responsibilities.

“And if my Tribal Chief can find it in him, we should also review Nick Aldis' proposal.” Roman’s instantly scowling. He fucking hates Aldis. The bastard is smug and thinks himself more important than he is. That Roman won’t end his fucking life with one snap of his finger. 

Roman is halfway listening to Paul when he walks past Alicia who stands up from her desk. “Sir—”

His dismissal is swift and brusque. “Leave me alone.”

“But—”

One murderous look, and Alicia is back in her seat. Roman briefly overhears Paul chastising his secretary for her insubordination when he opens his door and immediately realizes why Alicia was most likely trying to speak to him.

Roman sees Solo standing almost awkwardly in the corner out of his peripheral vision, but his attention is solely on the other unexpected guest.

Focused on the way her almost flesh toned dress hugs every curve that drives him fucking insane sometimes, the way she bites down on her bottom lip in that way he’s learned she does when she’s unsure of something. And he’s especially focused on her hair that’s chopped down to where it lightly grazes her shoulder.

“I tell you, good help is so hard to find—” Paul is silenced as he finally walks in and sees Solana. “Oh, it’s you.” Roman shoots him a look that would absolutely kill if it had any sort of physical impact. “I mean, Solana, what a surprise—”

Roman easily moves back to focusing on his wife who looks absolutely fucking stunning. He directs his command though to Solo and Paul. “You two, out.”

Solo doesn’t need to be told twice, but Paul seems to meander, even as Roman walks over to Solana. And it’s when Roman has his hands on Solana’s hips and the room is still not cleared, he repeats in a calm voice that’s solely because of Solana’s presence.

If not for her, he’d be screaming at his Wise Man.

“I said get out.”

Roman can practically hear the nervous gulp. “But, sir, we have work—”

Solana frowning pisses Roman off in a way he has to keep from showing. But it’s when she finally speaks and it’s an offer to leave that he really has to reel in his rage. “I can go—”

“No.” That’s the fucking last thing he wants. “Paul is leaving.”

It’s not a suggestion, not a request, not a preferred action.

It’s a fucking demand.

And his Wise Man must realize this, because he’s quickly following in line with Solo and finally leaving Roman alone with Solana who seems still unsure about her presence.

“You have work to do—”

“You really expect me to get anything done when you come in my office looking like this?” He motions to her outfit and sees the way her cheeks tinge reddish as she bites back a smile. “Not happening, sweetheart.”

“I thought it looked nice.” The bashful way she says as such, as if she’s unsure it was an accurate assessment blows his mind. She looks down at the dress as if it’s not the woman wearing said dress that has him pushing back unholy thoughts.

“It doesn’t look nice. You look nice, Solana.” Another one over of her curvy body, and he mutters, “more than nice.” He brings his hand to her hair, brushing his fingers against the ends. “You cut your hair.”

She nods, an almost look of determination in her soft expression. “It was time,” is all she says, and Roman doesn’t need to ask for clarification. This meant something to her. Cutting her hair has a deeper meaning than just wanting something new, and whatever the reason, he’s proud she found it in her to follow through. 

He hates when she asks him, still unsure, “does it…does it look bad?”

He’s not sure he could ever use Solana and ‘bad’ in the same sentence. Ever. “You could never look bad.” 

She smiles, clearly pleased by his compliment. Good. He likes seeing her smile.

“Come here.” Roman takes her hand and leads her over to his desk where he sits down in his chair and doesn’t think twice about guiding her onto his lap. Roman feels her tense for only a couple seconds before she relaxes against him.

“As pleasant a surprise it is to find your fine ass in my office, I know you came for a reason.”

Roman is extremely perceptive. Always has been. He’s noticed the increased comfort Solana has developed and continued to develop with him. The way her discomfort at being looked at too long or even touched in any sort of capacity has shifted into bashful smiles and an almost light in her eyes at being complimented. At someone finding her to be anything but every lie she’s ever been fed.

Her confidence is growing, slowly but surely. And he likes that shit.

So he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep it growing. 

“It’s nothing serious.” It doesn’t have to be. She could come to his office every day if that’s what she wanted. He’d have zero complaints. “I just…I was baking Sopaipillas, and I know you like them and I felt bad because I’m bringing Jimmy and Jey some—”

It’s not until that moment he sees the Tupperware container on his desk. Her thoughtfulness is so unfamiliar but very much appreciated. He chuckles as his fingers carefully tap against her hip. “Thank you, but you know if you keep feeding they asses, they gon’ keep coming over.”

She’s smiling almost, defending them to a certain extent. “They’re really not that bad.” And she’s not entirely wrong. His cousins can be entertaining at times, but beyond that, he likes seeing her comfort level with them increasing as well. 

For her to be as comfortable around them as she’s become, especially with them being men, is extremely significant given her trauma.

He’s proud of her for that just as well.

Still,Roman shrugs and calmly points out. “I spend most of my day with them.” Her other hand lays on his chest as he admits, “I don’t want to come home and see them. I just want to see you.”

Solana gives an expected almost shocked expression followed up with a slight confession of her own. Her voice is soft, like she’s unsure about what she’s about to say but is going with it regardless. “That’s why I wait up for you to get home…because I want to see you too.”

He believes this to be true, but he also knows there’s something else to it. “You worry about me.”

She nods, nervously licking her lips. “I’m trying to work on it though.” She’s been working on a lot of things, a lot of difficult, most likely mentally taxing things. And as proud of her as he is, Roman also recognizes the importance of pacing oneself.

He gently grazes the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Just focus on you, alright?”

The corner of her lips lift into an almost playful grin as she asks innocently, “what if I can do both?” Roman studies her, sees and hears the playfulness. It’s unlike her, but he fucking loves it. She squeals and almost giggles against him as he brings her closer to his chest, her hand squeezing his shoulder as he remains mindful of the placement of his hand on her hip.

Growing comfort or not, he still wants to be respectful of her boundaries.

Still wants to maintain her trust.

“I got me. Always.” Her gaze is on him, softening by the second as he adds on almost quietly. “Just need you to be okay too.”

Okay is such a big word, so layered. She’s not sure she’ll ever be fully okay. Too much trauma. Never enough healing. But there may be some level of okayness she can achieve, and it does feel like that’s something that’s in progress. “I’m getting there.”

And a large part of her healing journey is largely due to the man underneath her, staring at her with almost a sense of fascination, like he’s so enraptured by her. Like he’s smitten with her. The person she once believed no one could ever want has a handsome, powerful man like Roman Reigns holding her, looking at her, wanting her.

A line from the book resurfaces to the front of her mind.

One step, not twenty.

With that as a motivating and supportive mantra, she slowly moves her hand from his shoulder to his face, his beard prickling against her skin.

“Solana…..” She’s not sure she’s ever heard him sound so pained. “Baby, you can’t touch me like this and expect me to not want to kiss you.”

The butterflies in her stomach grow exponentially. Baby. She’s not entirely certain, but she feels like he’s called her this before, that he’s referred to her as such on a different occasion. So, it’s not a mistake, not a one time thing. It’s yet another sign that there wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body when he said he wanted her.

That he wants her.

Her heart is beating a mile a minute as she pools together all of the courage in her body and again chips away another tiny section of her wall of protection. “So kiss me.”

It’s not until this moment that Solana sees Roman actually appear genuinely surprised at something. He asks, maybe as if he needs to make sure he heard correctly, but Solana would bet it’s less that and more him ensuring consent. “Are you sure?”

He’s been so good at that. Consent. And it’s meant the world to her. His patience with all of her baggage.

Nodding, she quickly remembers his preference for verbal acknowledgements. “Yes.”

Solana doesn’t really remember her kiss with Roman at their wedding. She doesn’t really remember much from the actual wedding at all, to be honest. It was….it was more traumatic than anything, which is why she does her best to keep it stored away with the other too difficult to sit on memories.

But this….this she is certain she will never forget.

There’s an almost hesitancy when his lips touch hers, a space he’s leaving open in the event that she changes her mind. She’s grateful for that, but it’s not necessary. Her ‘yes’ was as genuine as his apparent interest in her. 

And when he picks this up, picks up the fact that she truly wants this, he deepens the kiss, his hand moving up to her lower back as he pulls her closer to him. Roman’s full lips are soft and warm, and the way he moves his mouth against hers is both reserved and hungry, a strange but well balanced thing only he can manage. Like only he can achieve. He kisses her with a passion  that she feels is only a fraction of everything he feels toward and for her. 

Solana’s hand slides to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing up and across the skin, teasing the strings of hair that refused to mold down. She’s not sure if this was the right move because he makes a sound against her mouth, an almost mixture of a moan and groan, and pulls away. The separation and her subsequent light panting makes her suddenly aware that they’d been kissing longer than she realized. That she’d gotten so plunged in the experience that time seemed a nonfactor.

Her eyes flutter close when Roman brings his lips back onto her, this time peppering kisses along her jawline. Her head tilts back, an unconscious thing that grants him full access to the nape of her neck, which he easily makes his way down to. It’s a different, pleasant sensation that has her nails scraping against him.

“Roman….”

“So fuckin’ beautiful….” He says something else, something she can’t understand because it’s said in Samoan, but it unintentionally triggers something for her. A new level of bravery, an ability to ask something that makes her insides light afire and heart rate exceed what’s probably safe and healthy. But, it’s a hill she wants to eventually be able to get up and over.

And he’s made her feel safe enough to be the one to do it with.

“Roman.” Her voice must give away her need to say something because he pulls away from her and is focused directly on her. She licks her slightly swollen lips. “I want….I want to try—”

“Whatchu mean he busy? Man, you trippin. Uce always got time for family.” Jimmy’s loud unexpected voice is enough of a disruption and mood killer that Solana quickly jumps off Roman’s lap and moves away just enough to adjust her hair and dress. “Soso!”

Solana brings herself to look at her husband’s cousin as he finally walks in the office after dismissing Alicia’s warning. The first thing she notices is the tupperware bowl in his hand and white substance on his fingers. “I hope you don’t mind. When I saw your driver, I figured you had these little sugar things in the back so I just grabbed em’ all.”

If not for the fact that Solana is still trying to settle herself, she’d point out how the other bowl was supposed to be for Jey. But that seems irrelevant at the moment. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Jimmy seems completely unbothered by Roman’s threat as he plops down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the glass coffee table and asks with all the obliviousness in the world. “So what ya’ll doing?”

When Roman shoots up from his desk and starts toward his cousin, Solana places herself in front of him, hands on his chest. His attention is immediately down, focused once again on her.

“It’s okay. I—I’ve got training with Bay and Naomi anyway.” Swallowing her nerves and pushing back thoughts of how….how nice it felt kissing him, she quietly offers a hopefully acceptable alternative. “We can talk tonight.”

This doesn’t seem like Roman’s preference but something he can live with. “Fine.”

She knows he’s obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she is too, to a certain extent. But, Jimmy meant no harm, and she hopes Roman can at least recognize as much. Solana says bye to Jimmy and is near the door where she sees Solo waiting for her when an idea, more an urge, becomes too prominent to push away.

She turns back around and leans up, pulling Roman down by his shoulders and kisses his cheek. He gives her a look that tells her he’d be pulling her back for more if not for her cousin, and it makes her stomach somersault all over again.

But, she doesn’t give him the opportunity, just a small smile as she walks out for good this time. 

And it’s after she’s gone, the Wise Man back in the room to help minimize the chances of his Tribal Chief killing one of his cousins that Jimmy uses the distraction to pull out his phone and send a text in the group chat. 

Group Chat: Operation RoSo

Jimmy: Ya’ll! Code red! Code fucking red!

Jey:?????????

Bayley: Is Solana okay?!

Naomi: ^^^^^^

Jimmy: Man, I just got to Uce office, and good thing I walked in when I did. They acting all weird and shit. Soso just ran out of here but not after telling him they’ll ‘talk’ tonight!!!!

Jey: I’m too high for this shit right now.

Naomi: Babe, how exactly is that a code red???

Jimmy: They was obviously arguing before I got here! And ‘talking’ tonight??? That ain’t nothing but part two!

Bayley: Jimmy, that seems like a bit of a stretch.

Jey: A big ass stretch. Man, leave them two alone.

Jimmy: Naw. We gotta expedite this plan. I can see the writing on the wall. If we don’t move fast, they never gon fall in love. They might even be starting to hate each other now!

Bayley: Now you’re just being dramatic.

Jey: Agreed. How I get out this chat?

Jimmy: I don’t wanna hear it! I’m the master strategist so let me do my thing! 

Jimmy: Babe. You and Bayley have SoSo all done up and nice this evening. Make her think ya’ll are going out or something.

Naomi: Why?

Jimmy: Damnit woman, because I said so!

Naomi: 🫤

Naomi: I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you think you talking to. Don’t get your ass beat.

Jey: I’m muting this shit. Ya’ll not gon get me killed. Roman don’t like people in his business.

Jimmy: Just have her ready, and I’ll text you the location and the time she needs to be there.

Jimmy: We gotta save RoSo from themselves!

________

Solana misses the blow from Naomi by only a fraction of a second, but before she has time to think about it, another one is coming, forcing Solana to quickly jump to the side.

“Nice,” Naomi compliments. “Try more offensive positions though. Try to hit me.”

Solana knew that was coming, knew that Naomi would be pushing her today, as she has the last couple times. It only makes sense. Solana recognizes that she’s improving, that she has improved a lot since she started. It seems only natural that Naomi would continue to push her to further the progression of her skills.

“Don’t be afraid, Solana! Naomi can take it,” Bayley encourages from the sidelines, drinking some of her Gatorade.

Solana does her best to not get too distracted, knowing that can be quite literally fatal if this was a real situation. 

Naomi lunges at her again, and Solana manages to block it with her forearm but also lifts her foot, managing to kick Naomi away.

“Nice!” It’s such a weird thing to be applauded for. “But remember to retract your foot faster next time. I could have twisted it and grounded you.”

Solana commits that to memory just as Naomi steps back and Bayley walks back over. She then compliments, “I know I said it already, but the haircut looks amazing on you.” She quickly adds in a manner that’s more telling than asking. “Just have to even some areas off.”

Solana half smiles. She expected Bayley to need to go in with actual shears to shape up some areas given the fact that Solana’s impromptu haircut was literally just her taking some regular scissors and chopping at least five inches off. 

But before Solana can say anything else, she sees why Bayley ended her break to get back into the training. 

It’s evident by the knife in her outstretched hand.

“This is a Benchmade Bailout. It’s a folding knife. A little bigger than what we’d like you to carry on you, but a good place to start.”

Carrying….Solana hadn’t even allowed herself to think about that part. Of course they’d want her to start keeping a knife on her once teaching her how to use one.

Naomi then advises, “we’re not gonna do any fight training with it today, but we do want you to get used to the feel and weight of it.”

Solana can feel her heartbeat increasing. She can’t remember the last time, if ever, she’s held a knife of this nature. Her left hand is against her shorts, tapping against the spandex, a continued nervous habit.

Bayley sees this and offers assurance. “It’s okay. We just want to go over the basics.”

Solana does her best to focus not on the past, but the present. The here and now. Another recommendation from her book. She also strangely remembers the countless times Roman has asserted he won’t let anything happen to her. 

“I’ve got you.”

The safe feeling she has when he’s around. He’s not physically present, but the recollection of his words anchor her.

Taking a deep breath, Solana takes the knife from Bayley, its coolness taking her by surprise. She never takes her eyes off the blade. 

Meanwhile, Naomi goes into basic tips and information. “Right off the bat, if you ever need to use it to defend yourself, go for the major arteries.” She then begins pointing to the various body parts as she lists them off. “The neck, stomach, chest area namely. It’s your best bet at getting someone almost entirely immobilized.”

“And this might be graphic, but don’t be afraid to go for it twice. Sometimes people can still be standing with just one hit.” Solana is grateful for the fact that Bayley is trying to be careful with her words, vague to a certain extent but clear enough so she can understand.

“If you just wanna get them away and not potentially kill them, maybe go for the hand or foot, depending on how they’ve got you pinned.”

“But by the time we finish your training, no one will get the chance to pin you.” Naomi gives a comforting smile and squeeze of her shoulder. “Not to mention Roman would never let you be in that position in the first place.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Bayley suddenly clears her throat, almost awkwardly. 

Solana frowns, looking lost by the otherwise random in interjection. “What?”

“We’re not supposed to tell you, but Roman is taking you out to dinner tonight.” Naomi’s answer is appreciated, but it doesn’t make sense. 

“He what?” Solana is confused because she literally just saw Roman this morning and came straight from his office to the Warehouse to train without him mentioning a word of this. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Bayley adds, but there’s something almost unsure about her answer. “So, I’ll take you to my salon afterwards to touch up your hair now, and then we can also figure out glam while you’re there.”

“Yes.” Naomi claps and carefully removes the knife from Solana. The knife she completely forgot she was holding. Naomi comments on that. “See? You forgot about it for a minute, didn’t you?” Solana nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” 

The encouragement means the world to Solana as she offers a quiet but meaningful, “thank you.” They’ll never know how much their support means to her. 

Ever.

Bayley comes and stands beside Solana, sliding her arm around her with that infamous sly smile.”You never have to thank us for being your friends, Solana.” Words have never hit so deeply, Solana having to hold back tears. Friends.  “Now let’s figure out what the slay is gonna be for tonight.”

________

The minute Solana walks into the restaurant, she realizes that something is off. 

And not even in a dangerous sort of way, more so, there’s something she’s not being told sort of way.

It’s a beautiful upscale restaurant that has decor that probably costs more than some people’s mortgage payment. 

But it’s barren. Not a customer in sight. 

Walking up the three steps that lead to a higher level, she looks around, confused as to the fact that a restaurant that probably requires reservations six months in advance is vacant. 

Digging in her small purse, she pulls out her phone to text Roman. Bayley and Naomi encouraged her to continue to play dumb, but this isn’t right. 

She needs to talk to him.

“Solana?”

Her head snaps up to see Roman who also just walked up the same steps she did minutes prior.

“Roman?”

He seems surprised to see her, an unexpected expression for someone who allegedly planned this dinner. “I—I don’t know what’s going on.” He walks over to her as she explains. “I was told—”

“Probably the same thing I was told,” he finishes for her and takes in her appearance, Solana’s hands smoothing over her dress. Looking just as captivated as he’d looked at her this morning in his office, Roman ghosts the back of his hand against her cheek. “Sei uno splendore….”

She hasn’t a clue what he’s said, but something tells her it’s a compliment of some sort. Still, Solana asks with that same bashful smile that seems to always fall on her face when she’s around him, “are you gonna tell me what you just said?”

Roman winks and answers, plain and simple, “naw.”

Smiling even harder, before she can say anything else, another voice enters the conversation.

“Soso, girl, what you doing here?”

Both Solana and Roman turn to a smiling Jimmy who's wearing a poorly feigned look of surprise. 

“Jimmy?” Solana is genuinely confused while Roman looks like he’s genuinely considering murdering his cousin for the second time today. “What—what are you doing here?”

Roman is completely uninterested in the why and more so on the how he’s going to end the other man. “I’m going to fucking kill him, Solana. I don’t care anymore.”

Jimmy completely ignores Roman and answers her question with an answer that makes no sense. “Ahh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”

He gives Solana a side hug as she answers his question as well, hoping to avoid witnessing a familial crime. “Bayley and Naomi told me—”

“You know what, it don’t even matter. You here. Big Dog here.” He gestures around them. “Looks like this nice ass restaurant has been rented out by some coincidence. Might as well enjoy a nice dinner.”

Roman closes his eyes, seemingly trying to count off. “I’m literally going to snap your fucking neck if you don’t get lost. Now.”

Solana moves over to Roman just enough for him to reach and gently tug her into him. He doesn’t need to be getting this upset. She naturally lays her head against his chest, fingers grasping the sides of his shirt.

Jimmy lifts his hands in a surrender manner. “Hey. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Solana smiles at the look she can imagine on Roman’s face at that. “Ya’ll be safe now. Soso, I’ll be at the crib in the morning for breakfast.”

“Why the fuc—” 

Solana reaches up and redirects his focus onto her. “It’s okay.” Solana looks over at the table that’s beautifully decorated with a stunning centerpiece. “It’s….it’s sweet.” Her diversion also, thankfully, a long enough distraction for Jimmy to depart, leaving the two of them alone.

Her preference.

Roman’s as well, clearly.

Solana then takes in the situation, a little relieved to finally know what’s going on. It’s obvious she was set up. Roman too. But regardless of the deception, it’s deeply appreciated. Her friends going to such lengths to set up something nice like this. 

Roman, calming down a bit, doesn’t necessarily disagree with her, but instead asserts, “they’re interfering, and I don’t like that shit.” 

Her smile dims a bit as she offers, “we can leave—”

“No.” He shoots it down immediately, hands on her hips. “Just hate that I finally get time alone with you, and it’s because of fucking Jimmy.” Her eyes shut when he kisses her forehead and murmurs, “been thinking’ bout you all day…”

And the smile is back as she takes his hand and leads him toward the table, Roman pulling her chair out for her. 

Having the restaurant entirely rented out is a luxury she’s not used to but appreciates, especially with how catered the service is as well as the fact that they don’t have to wait long for the food. Conversation flows easy between them, more Roman asking questions about how she’s doing, if she needs anything.

He’s always so attentive, and she’s so grateful for that. 

Grateful for him.

It’s the same type of attentiveness that causes her to comment after the waiter comes and takes their plates, clearing the table. “You seem stressed.”

And not just because of the date setup.

He shrugs, partially dismissing but not outright denying. “Just a long day.”

It seems to be a recurring theme with him. Solana has noticed for a while now how his early days always bleed into late evenings that sometimes spill over to the next day. It doesn’t seem sustainable to her. “You have a lot of those.”

“I’m the Tribal Chief.” He says it with pride, as he should, but there’s something else there. Something she can’t outright identify. “Comes with the territory.”

And Solana recognizes as such, but as large of a man Roman is—in many different ways—he’s still just a man. “Is it ever too much?” She crosses her arms across the table, leaning forward almost. There may be no other attendees present, but there are still workers, so she’s mindful of her volume. “I mean….”

“Do I ever get exhausted?” She nods. “Sure.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Roman does such an excellent job always wearing that mask of calm, cool, and collected. Outside of his obvious temper, he’s always so well put together. It’s something she envies, to a certain extent. “But someone’s gotta do it, and as it’s my birthright, the responsibility falls on me.”

She sits on his words, understanding where he’s coming from but also wondering just how he manages such a weight. She knows he’d headed the Bloodline for some time now, since he was 18 years old. That’s a large burden to carry at such a young age and for him to do it so long and as well as he has, it’s impressive.

He certainly lives up to his reputation.

Solana nods and does her best to ease into what she’d really like to tell him, to have him know even if he never in life takes her up on it. “You always say that I can talk to you…”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to reaffirm it too. “You can.”

She knows this. He’s….he’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to speak with her, to know what’s on her mind. “That goes both ways.” Something speedily flashes in his eyes, briefly affecting his otherwise neutral expression. “You can talk to me too.”

For a second, she regrets saying anything, regrets second guessing his abilities to handle things. The last thing she wants is to insinuate he’s somehow incapable of taking care of business. But, if he’s insulted by her offer, he doesn’t show it, just says a simple, “thank you.” She offers a small nod when he seemingly changes the subject. “How’s training?”

There’s a bit of a sting at what feels like a slight form of rejection, but she understands better than anyone that opening up can be hard, so she respects his wishes.

“Good. I….I think I like it.” It’s the truth. While initially terrified of being put into such a foreign situation, Solana has found herself growing increasingly content with this new part of her weekly routine. Training has assisted, to a great extent, in her growing confidence and surety with herself. There’s something comforting about learning how to defend herself, how to keep herself safe. “Today was a little hard though. They’re teaching me how to fight with knives. It’s…..uncomfortable, but that’s how I know I need to do it.”

If there’s anything she’s learned in the past couple months, it’s that nothing about working to overcome trauma is easy. That doesn’t, however, make it any less important.

Or beneficial. 

“Not if you absolutely don’t want to.” To be fair, Roman wasn’t even informed that this was something the girls were starting with Solana. He makes a mental note to remind them that while they handle her training, the specifics of what she’s taught needs to be run by him at all times. He probably would have shot down the knife training.

Solana was literally present and witnessed her mother be stabbed to death. Solana herself was also stabbed. 

That seems almost cruel to make her learn how to wield the very weapon that took so much from her.

“Wes used to use knives to hurt me.” It comes out more quiet than she intended, a natural effect of sharing something so painful. She points to a small scar on her neck, the exact date and nature of how it happened, something she’ll never forget but has little desire to elaborate on.

“And I know….I know you won’t let him hurt me anymore, but….I don’t want him to have that power over me anymore either. He knows I’m scared of them, and he’s always taken advantage of that fact. I don’t….I don’t want him to have that anymore.”

“Then he won’t,” Roman agrees. He can understand her logic, and he respects the hell out of her wanting to take back that power. He supports the hell out of it too. “Not if you don’t let him.”

She gives a sad smile, shaking her head. “As strange as it is, I think….Wes and I are both victims.” Before Roman can press her for clarification, she explains, “my father always kept his contact limited with my mom. He said she would make him weak like she made me.” Just saying it takes Solana back to countless times and occasions where her father would talk down on her mother, talk down on Solana. It’s a weighty memory. “Having my mom…having her love for the time that I did made a big difference for me. Wes never got that, so I always wonder how things could have been different if he did.”

Solana has a big heart. Pure. A mind-boggling phenomena to Roman considering everything she’s been through. “It still doesn’t make what he’s done to you right.” Kind heart or not, it’s imperative she knows there’s never a good enough reason or excuse for anyone to do what he’s done to her.

She nods, “I know.” It’s still a work in progress, Solana learning to unlearn the victim blaming she’s placed on herself for so many years. But, that much, she’s come to accept.

She never deserved any of Wes or her father's abuse.

Roman can see the way memories might be coming back to the front of her mind and moves to redirect again. “You wanted to talk to me about something earlier.”

Oh.

For a second, she wants to lie. To make up something. To come up with a story that’s hopefully believable enough for him to not poke holes through. And then another line from her book resurfaces.

Calculated risks are different—you weigh your chances and step out onto the ice only when you’re relatively sure it’s solid.

Solana is certain she’s never met a more solid person than Roman.

Scooting back in her chair, she feels his watchful gaze around her as she moves around the table and is only inches away from him when he realizes what she's doing and beats her to it, gently pulling her onto his lap. He’s always so careful around her.

Solana moves her arms around his neck as he rests one hand on her hip.

She takes a deep breath. “I was...I was working out of my book this morning, and it was the chapter on…on intimacy and—” She has to pace herself, knowing that if she doesn’t, she won’t get through the conversation. And she has to do this. She almost feels like she needs to do this. “I think I always thought I couldn’t have that because of what happened to me, but…..but I think I can.” 

And this has been such a powerful and moving revelation to walk into. For so long, Solana has lived in fear and trauma, haunted by the horrific memories of her sexual assault. It’s inaccurately painted her views of what should and could be something beautiful and special with the right person. She never thought that could be possible for her though, believed that her chance had been destroyed by two sick individuals.

But if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s that there are decent people in the world. Decent men in the world. Jimmy. Jey. Solo.

Roman

She’s still very much nervous, and even talking about it has her pushing back a level of anxiety, but the desire to overcome that trauma, to be able to experience that as a woman, to not be held down by the shackles of her past, is stronger than it’s ever been before.

“And I want to try.” She licks her lips, nervously adding on and explaining as best she can, “but, I can’t do it right away. I need….I need to build up to it, and I know—that has to be frustrating for you—”

“Solana.” His interruption is quiet but firm. “We’ll go as slow as you want.” His finger is moving in slow circles on her hip, an action that provides her a strange sense of comfort. “Whatever you need is what we’ll do.”

Solana releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. Him agreeing isn’t something she necessarily didn’t see coming, she just didn’t realize it’d come so easy. 

She almost feels it’s too good to be true.

Suddenly unsure, Solana double checks. “You’re….you’re okay with that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat with his answer. “Only if you’re sure this is what you want.”

It’s a profound statement. There’s a lot of things she’s not sure of that she’s been making herself do, regardless. 

But this……

This is something she wants.

Something she maybe even needs.

Solana is careful with her answer. “I’m gonna be 29 this year, and the only sexual experience I’ve had is being raped as a child.” There’s an equal combination of emotion and conviction as she affirms, “I don’t want that to be my story anymore.”

And it won’t.

Because she won’t let it.

Not anymore. 

“Then we’ll do this.” She nods, still nervous but also comforted by his support. “You know I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for, but I also need you to be good about communicating with me.” His eyes move up and down over her, resting slightly longer on her chest, which is understandable given the revealing nature of her dress. “And you also know how attracted I am to you, to all of you, so I need you to stay clear with me on what you are and aren’t comfortable with, okay?”

It’s fair and completely understandable. Roman is still a man. A man with needs, and he strikes her as being an otherwise handsy man, so him wanting and needing to know where her red zones are is important.

“I understand.” And she’ll make an active, concerted effort to be on top of that. To practice saying no and cutting things off when she needs to. “What—what about you?” He gives her a look. “Is there….is there anything you’re not comfortable with?”

Again, he takes her in, head to toe. His tongue leaves his mouth to slowly gloss over his bottom lip. “Baby, you can do whatever you want with me.”

Her smile is bashful as she looks away. Him being so….outspoken about his attraction and desire for her is still a new thing she’s trying to navigate, but it’s not unwanted. Nor does it feel bad to have a man like him want her so badly.

Not at all. 

Deciding to continue to stay on the ledge she’s already started to trail, Solana brings her hand to his chest. “So….so if I asked you to kiss me again….”

He chuckles, Solana’s eyes shutting as he brings his mouth to her jawline, “whenever,” her nails claw against his chest as he moves his lips to her nose, “however,” finally he’s teasing the corner of her mouth. “Wherever you want.” 

And it’s at the exact moment their lips connect again that a phone ringing once again steals away another groundbreaking moment. 

Solana can feel the irritation in his muscular body and smiles against his lips. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” She doesn’t necessarily doubt it as he kisses her cheek before pulling his phone out and answering as she lays her head in his neck. He barks out an unkind, “what?”

It doesn’t deter her as he keeps his grip on her hip, Solana enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. She’s starting to realize being this close to him makes her feel safe. His presence alone gives her that feeling, but this is something different, something almost…deeper.

She doesn’t try to listen in on his phone call, but it’s made virtually impossible not to, given the fact that she’s literally on his lap. However, that’s ended when he switches to speaking in Samoan. Still, it’s not hard to pick up on the fact that he’s growing more annoyed with every second that passes. 

He then gives a heavy sigh, switching to English, “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Her stomach drops, a frown appearing that she does her best to quickly push away. She had a feeling the call would end that way. 

Before he can explain to her the obvious, she lifts her head and assures, “it’s okay. I should probably get back to Dulce anyway.”

“Damn dog is so needy.” Solana smiles at the scowl on his handsome face. For someone who doesn’t care for dogs, she’s noticed he seems to interact with her puppy more and more as the days pass. He brings his hand to her chin, ensuring she keeps her gaze on him. “Don’t wait up, alright?”

It’s an expected request, one he should already know she’ll do her best to, but most likely won’t, abide by. 

“I make no promises...” 

________

Having such a small dog means that he or she can be in the most random of places and blend in seamlessly because of said smallness. It’s why in looking for Dulce after getting out the shower, Solana damn near searches every corner and crevice of the first and second floors of the mansion. Outside of a room that’s been locked and closed off the past two weeks, Roman not really giving her a reason why nor has she pushed.

She’d never been in it anyway.

It is, however, out of the norm though for Dulce to not be nearby. She typically likes to stay close to Solana.

Or even Roman.

So for a moment, Solana starts to get concerned. But after searching her room, the kitchen, the dining room, and even the backyard a second time, Solana is finally able to locate Dulce in the least expected place.

Roman’s room. 

She didn’t even realize Dulce’s bed was still in there, still in the original spot on the side of his bed.

The side she had slept on that one night.

“Dulce, you can’t stay in here.” Solana knows Roman isn’t a huge dog person, and Dulce being in his room is probably the last thing he’ll want to see when he gets back. But it’s in reaching over to pick up her puppy that something unexpected happens. 

Dulce nips at her.

Solana gasps, momentarily taken off guard. That’s the first time Dulce has done that. “Dulce, no.” Again, Solana goes for the grab only for the puppy to plant her bottom and back legs into the bed. Now Solana is just straight up confused. “What is wrong with you?”

Thinking maybe she can lure the puppy with a toy, Solana turns to leave, almost to the door when Dulce’s whimpering and the patter of her little feet stops her. Solana turns around and moves to grab her when Dulce scampers right back over to her bed, plopping her little body down.

It’s when she does that, Solana starts to catch on.

“You want to stay in here?” Dulce’s reply is a bark followed by the wag of her tail. Solana frowns. “We can’t…..this is Roman’s room.”

And yet even as the words leave her mouth, she thinks about that. Thinks about the fact that a part of working up to being intimate with Roman includes being close to him, touching him, in his bed perhaps. And though she still doesn’t remember everything from the night she got drunk, she remembers waking up in his bed and falling asleep again in the same bed with zero issues.

She felt….she felt comfortable. 

She felt safe.

“We can stay for a little while.” Deep down, Solana knows Roman won’t be upset with her. If anything, he’ll be more annoyed that she didn’t listen and decided to wait up, but her laying in his bed for a few minutes won’t generate anger.

Solana puts her phone on the nightstand, making sure the ringer is still on. The likelihood of him texting or even calling her is slim to none, but still….she doesn’t want to miss it if he does.

Laying on his bed is the initial plan, but there’s a chill in his room that has her moving under the covers just to provide her that slight warmth. It’s not intended to increase her comfort and definitely not intended to lead to her falling asleep.

But that’s exactly what happens. 

It’s also the last thing Roman expects to find when he makes it back home a couple hours later. 

Solana asleep in his bed. 

He knew she would try to stay up, knew she would end up falling asleep in trying to stay up, but he didn’t know she would end up doing all of that in his room, in his bed.

It’s unexpected but far from unwanted, a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing her sleeping so comfortably, so peacefully in his space of all places. 

He’s careful in his movements around the room, gathering clothes to change into post shower. Roman doesn’t want to disturb her, to wake her up, especially since he has a good guess that she didn’t intend to end up in his bed and would be unnecessarily apologetic. 

Apologetic for something he’s halfway considering asking her to make a permanent thing.

Roman manages to finish his shower without Solana so much as moving an inch. If only her damn dog was the same, because he’s barely able to open the bathroom door when Dulce is at his feet, whimpering.

Small ass dog with an even smaller ass bladder. 

Before she can progress to barking, he’s got her up in his arms, guiding her out the room, down the stairs and into the backyard where she thankfully wastes zero time in doing her business. Roman is grateful, not wanting a second to pass where Solana could wake up, freak the fuck out, and leave.

He wants her to stay right where she is.

And it’s in sliding into the bed with her, moving his arm over her body and gently pulling her into him, he realizes another reason why he doesn’t want her to leave. There’s an unfamiliar almost instant peace he has at the feel of her next to him, like this is how it should be, like she should be with him.

Like she’s supposed to be with him.

But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight when he moved her, because she’s suddenly stirring in her sleep, eyes slowly blinking open.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to wake her up. 

Roman’s half expecting her to freak out, to panic at being this close to him, at being in bed this close to him. But she again surprises him with a quiet murmur that’s more an acknowledgment than anything. “You’re back….” He watches as she frowns almost, an indication of worry, asking in a voice full of sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He brings his hand to her cheek, recognizing that even though she’s talking, she’s very much still half-sleep. “Go back to sleep.”

Solana gives a little nod and the moment he pulls his hand away, she inches closer to him. He shifts their positions, so he’s on his back, and she’s tucked safely into his side. In what feels like seconds, she’s fast asleep. 

Yeah….

A discussion about her moving into his room is definitely on the table, preferably sooner rather than later. It makes sense to him for a lot of reasons, namely the fact that she’s clearly comfortable sleeping with him in this way but also the fact that she’s expressed a desire to work up to being intimate.

Roman’s had sex in a lot of different places, but there’s no way in fucking hell he could ever have his first time with Solana be anywhere but a bed. 

His bed.

He plays around with a few different ideas on how to broach the subject before sleep prevails over him too.

It’s the fastest he’s fallen asleep in years.

And he’s certain it has nothing to do with the long ass day he had but everything to do with the woman besides him.

But his sleep is short lived by the vibrating of his phone on the nightstand. Irritated at the interruption of his sleep, he’s not surprised. Roman’s always been a light sleeper.

He peers down to make sure Solana remains undisturbed in her slumber, and seeing that she’s still sleeping as peacefully as before with her body somehow more over his than he remembered, he grabs his phone.

Paul: Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but I got the files you requested for Miller. Emailed. As we already know, he’s almost a million in the hole. Has been in debt over the past twenty years. Never in the green. The bulk of it was accumulated in 2005. 500K. Summer 2005. Strangely, in that same month, it was cut in half to 250K. Then mysteriously zeroed out in late 07.

Roman sits on the brief summary provided by his Wise Man. It doesn’t add up. He already knew Miller was in the hole. The man is a fucking idiot when it comes to finances, so him being that deeply in debt isn’t surprising, but him somehow getting rid of a quarter million debt is. The fucker isn’t smart enough to pull that off.

Roman: Who was the creditor?

Paul: Still looking into that. 

Roman: Anything significant about 07’?

Paul: Not that I can see. Still digging though.

Roman doesn’t like mysteries. Can’t stand unanswered questions. They’ve always driven him fucking insane. It’s why he finds himself unable to fall back asleep, an inconvenient thing given the fact that he’ll need to be up and out of bed in a little under three hours. Still, he can’t get the dates and information out of his head. 

How the fuck did a dumbass like Miller clear his ledger to that extent? It’s not unheard of. Roman could have done it. Easily. But, he’s also significantly smarter than his wife’s dumbass father. 

Even more, what the hell did Miller need or have done for fucking half a million dollars? 

Was he moving product? Weapons, maybe? Human trafficking? Just the thought of that last one makes Roman want to place his fist through the nearest wall. 

But it’s Solana stirring on top of him that serves as the unintended trigger that helps him fill in the rest of the gaps.

He’s quick with the text to the Wise Man.

Roman: When was Solana’s mother killed?

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Answer the fucking question.

There’s a brief delay followed by those three dots and an answer.

Paul: 2005. August. 

Wheels start turning as Roman begins putting the harrowing pieces together. Miller went into half a million dollar debt in August of 2005 that somehow got slashed in half at the end of the same month. The same month that Solana and her mother were attacked, and only one of them made it out alive.

Half…..

2007….

Roman does some mental math. Solana was born in 95. She’ll be 29 this year. That puts her at age 12 back in 07’.

12.

The same age she was when she was raped.

The same year the largest chunk of her father’s debt suddenly zeroed out and disappeared like it never happened in the first place.

And just like the night he found out Solana was a survivor of childhood sexual assault, the unbridled horror and disgust that filled him in knowing the truth, Roman is starting to wish he wasn’t so good at connecting the dots. That he wasn’t able to put two and two together.

Because the picture is more fucking horrifying than anything he’s encountered in some time. If ever.

Because he’s now faced with the dilemma of just how in the hell he’s supposed to tell Solana that her father is responsible for her mother’s murder but also her being raped.

Because now he’s faced with the dilemma of if he should tell her at all.

Roman closes his eyes.

Shit just got infinitely more complicated.

[tired1mmortal]

Out of all the motifs @jelloapocalypse could have given people, I did not expect FOOD to be important symbolism in Prison of Plastic.

The candy, cake, and such that Lorelei makes takes no effort at all to make. She just waves her hand and boom instant dessert platter. This is also usually the only kind of food she makes with her epithet. What strikes me is how this is easily comparable to how Lorelei tries to connect with Molly. She makes cool worlds for fun playtime that would make any kid green with envy, but it’s little more than a low effort bribe to win over a child, like a divorced parent spoiling their kid to win custody despite being incredibly unfit to raise a child.

Then there’s the fact that it never lasts, because she never concentrates on it long enough for a person to digest it. This was mentioned a few times and after Giovanni’s conversation with Martin it’s clear why. She never develops her ideas. She never puts in the effort to reuse them. She never works hard towards anything. She just expects to be able to augment her way out of anything. And that’s exactly why she’s no good for Molly.

Because Lorelei always has to have her way, and always takes the easy way out at the slightest inconvenience, she could never be the dependable parental figure Molly needs.

Enter Soup Best Boy

Unlike the candy which is just empty calories soup is a meal. Even if it may not be a person’s first choice for a meal, soup is healthy. Soup is warm, comforting, nurturing, and even Charlie’s entire family got by with cabbage soup before he got the Golden Ticket. We see a lot of these soup like qualities in the book, and even back in season one.

Gio loves his boys. He gets defensive when people belittle them like when Mera belittles them after easily taking Gio and his boys down. Or when Molly implies that his minions are kinda weak. He is always very swift to defend his minions even when he was about to get beat up back in redwood run. Like any good cook he take pride in those who assist him and knows they all have their strengths.

Another major thing about Giovanni is that he’s always encouraging to his minions, especially those who need him in the moment. Admittedly Soup can burn but it’s good for people in the long run. Giovanni berates Car Crash for living up to his name but in the same sentence expresses concern that he may have astigmatism (which believe me is annoying). He was a little bit tough on Molly but that’s just to nudge her to be a little bit more assertive, and all of her friends notice the positive effect it’s had on her.

Giovanni spends almost all of the museum arc talking with or protecting Molly. After tricking indus into freeing them, Gio immediately shifts into fun older cousin mode. They make a fort, she talks to him about her problems and he listens. Unlike Mollys family he listens and he even give her advice and encouragement. Then when Sylvie come in Giovanni is quick to jump to Mollys defense and to get her out of the fire. He is very willing to put in the effort and risk himself for Molly even though they just met.

This is made even more apparent with how he is with Lorelei. He respects Molly’s input and doesn’t give Lorelei an easy in with his group, and yet, he still gives her a fair shot to join. He sets up a challenge that is designed to be impossible, not to test he capability at the task, but to test her character. He bans the use of magic because her abilities aren’t what he wants to know about. When Lorelei messes up the first batch, the first thing he does is tell her that she failed, but that it’s ok. That he doesn’t think less of her for failing. He encourages her to be better.

The second time, that’s when Lorelei gets a little burned. Giovanni tries to soften the blow but it doesn’t change the fact that Lorelei couldn’t cope with not succeeding and cuts several corners using a lot of magic to seem like she did better. She didn’t care who she had to step on for Giovanni’s approval. And that was the problem.

Lorelei tried to cover her every mistake with a layer of frosting in more ways than one. But Giovanni doesn’t see value in someone willing to step on others. That’s why he left the Bonzai blasters in the first place. He wants someone willing to put in the hard work, willing to accept defeat, willing to take the bumpy road despite the difficulties as long as they come out better for their failures. Just because you mess up the broth a little bit doesn’t mean it’s gone to waste, but Giovanni recognizes that Lorelei needs to cool of before giving her another try.

Giovanni himself let his taste suffer to improve his Epithet, and he doesn’t regret it at all. He would do it all again because all the improvement he’s made was built on his trial and error, valuable experience, and determination to make himself a great villain with the card he was dealt. While Lorelei may be able to make wonders rivaling Willy wonka like nothing, Giovanni has made a great soup from a stone.

Lorelei has the power to maybe not fix everything but at least make things better for her family, but she won’t even bother to try.

Giovanni isn’t some big shot rich guy, and he doesn’t even have a job, but he always wants what’s best for his minions and is willing to fight for them. Honestly that’s what matters. Giovanni isn’t the sweet candy most kids would want, but he’s the good soup that Molly needs.

Lorelei makes things with a wave of her hand, Giovanni puts all his heart and soul into it.

is just something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Let me know if any of you have your own interpretations of this. Or at least better words for it.

[fairsexynasty]

—DIFFICULT THINGS

jamie tartt x lasso!reader

ONE. TOWNIE

summary: lucy moves to richmond with a memory that doesn’t quite forget what her dad did to her. however, ted is as happy as a goldfish.

warnings: cursing, unlikeable female protagonist, father issues, abandonment issues, resentment

a/n: welcome to this very new series i WILL finish. my love for this show has overtaken my time and i am very excited to be writing this. this chapter is set during “two aces.”

——————

Leonard Cohen once said, “There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” But my world has been infused with the darkest of shadows. Everywhere I search is covered by a dark spot. It seeps into my life from my dreams, nightmares, and memories. I don’t think I was delivered by the hand of God, nor will I be expecting any blessing in the near future. It’s the hope that kills you.

I had that epiphany when I turned seven. No one had ever seen a child so jaded, so self-aware. When I learned that the father I wished for wasn’t that interested in fully being in my life, I accepted it entirely, for what it was worth. He’s popped in and out, coming in as quickly as he leaves, only sticking around for moments he deemed essential to me.

And the worse part is that he’s a good man—a good man with a daughter who felt evil.

I used to wish something terrible would happen to me. A broken collarbone. A car accident. Cancer. If something like that happened to me, I thought he’d return and stay for good.

But those things never happened. I’ve never broken any bones. I’ve never crashed my car into a tree. I’m perfectly healthy. And after all this time, Dad has moved on.

I have a half-brother. Thirteen or fourteen years my junior, it’s disgusting how I’m not too sure about the gap. I’ve never met him, nor do I want to meet him. I envy a child who cannot understand the weight of the word ‘father’ because he’ll always take it for granted.

When I crawl through my memories, I can see Dad crystal clear. He showed up to every one of my birthdays until age sixteen. That’s probably because my brother was old enough to ask and understand why Dad was leaving him. Dad came to my first dance, a father-daughter dance. It was one of the nights I honestly felt pretty. He and I danced the night away, stuffing our faces with candy and desserts and drinking our weight’s worth of soda pop. Dad taught me how to ride a bike. Although it ended with scraping my knees, he helped me up, cleaned my knees, and kissed each one. Dad drove me to my first day of high school. The morning went by quickly, but I can still remember the smile on his face as I waved goodbye to him and walked through the school doors.

I want to be thankful for what I’ve gotten from my dad. But he could have done so much more. Am I not worth the effort?

And it hurts to hate my mother as much as I do.

She could clean up her act for Dad, but once he was on his way home, she’d finally ease into consciousness. We would fight. She’d accuse me of not appreciating her. She’d belittle me and never congratulated me on my accomplishments. She’s manipulative. Controlling. Narcissistic. Evil. I know I’m no good, either. But women like that love confrontation. And she got the best of me every single time.

But I’m a grown woman now. I’m twenty. I have a life. A freedom I’ve never known. I’m trying to be honest, to prove I am everything Mom never thought I’d be. I’m trying to make Dad proud of me. Because everyone else is sure as hell proud of him, he’s Ted Lasso: a simple man with a simple plan who was pulled to spread his kindness in Richmond, England, by coaching their god-awful team. I watched the news with a frown as soon as they announced his new endeavor. If he got a new beginning, why can’t I?

And that’s why I decided to pack up my things and move to England.

I’ve been here before. My mother and I moved around due to her line of work. Whether it was Shanghai, Princeton, Kuala Lumpur, or Rome, I could never call those places home. I feel like Richmond is going to be different. I’m not hopeful. Just curious.

——

The park seems comforting. There appears to be a rhythm that compliments the people. Kids playing soccer, and shops opening for the day.

I sit and watch the world awaken. People pass me by as I sit on the bench, not one of them stopping their routine for me, except one.

lHis greetings were met with responses of “Wanker,” a word I found oddly endearing. He continued down the park trail, saying ‘good morning’ to me mindlessly.

I replied with a deadpan “Wanker,” which surprised him, given my American accent. He turned back, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Oh, my lordy-lord,” he muttered, smiling as he said my name, “Lucy.” He looks at me as if I’m a fucking unicorn. His eyes soften, and the smile that always reaches his eyes is suddenly on his face. “ Lucy !” he breathes out as if he’s too scared to say it louder like I’ll run away and leave.

“Hi, Dad.” He pulls me from my seat on the bench and envelops me into the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten from him. And those hugs are grizzly and unrelenting.

He lifts me off my feet and holds my head to his shoulder. “Oh, how I love you, Lucy girl. I can’t believe it!”

I groan, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Dad, please put me down. I'm not as tiny as Henry is," I say with a laugh. He puts me down with a smile, but there’s a flash of a solemn look on his face. I guess my mention of Henry has filled him with some semblance of guilt. I can’t tell if that satisfies me or not. "I think you're wondering why I'm here," I say, the false smile still on my face. "And the only reason is because I wanted to see you, Dad. I missed you," I add, trying to perfect the role of the doting daughter, even though it doesn't come naturally.

“Oh, I missed you too, Pumpkin. I’m glad you’re here.” He spots my luggage standing against the bench. “Looks like you’re gonna be visiting for a while, huh?”

I nod slowly, my gaze briefly shifting away. "Yeah, I am. Needed a change of scenery for a while," I admit, hoping he won't probe further into my true reasons for being here.

Dad nods, but I spot him scanning my face for any information I won’t outwardly tell him. Perhaps it’s a parently instinct, or maybe it’s just a Ted Lasso thing. The smile on my face doesn’t falter.

“So, how’s your mom?”

The question hangs in the air, and I can sense the curiosity in his eyes. I clench my jaw and roll my eyes in annoyance. "I really don't want to talk about her right now," I say firmly, hoping to steer the conversation away from a topic I'd rather avoid.

Dad gives me one of those fatherly smiles, understanding my need for privacy but also indicating he'll inquire about it later. "Alright then. How about we get you settled into my place? Don't care if you've found one already. I got you here with me, and you're not going anywhere, missy. I hope that's alright with you," he adds, his face hopeful as he waits for my response.

I acquiesce to his requests. It’s the least I can do. “Sure, Dad. I’d love to.”

He cheers with a fist pump, then wrangles me into yet another bear hug before I tell him he’s crushing my ribs, and he dramatically lets me go with a pout on his face.

I follow him down the streets to his apartment door. We enter, and it’s pretty lovely, yet it feels so hollow. There’s an opened jar of peanut butter on the island. I can tell he radiates joy as we unpack my things into an extra bedroom. I wonder how lonely he’s been without his son and wife.

Yeah. This is the least I can do.

——

After unpacking and settling in, Dad practically begs me to come to Nelson Road with him, and since I’m already feeling a bit guilty, I come along with him.

Upon entering, some guy with a full beard and eyebrows that make him look perpetually constipated looks at me. Well, it’s more of a glare. He walks up to Dad and me, not once taking his eyes off me. I narrow my eyes in response, shooting him a cold glare of my own. “Who the fuck is this? Don’t tell me Rebecca hired another fucking American.” His voice is deep and rumbling and full of snark.

"Seriously, do all British guys walk around with a stick up their ass?" I quip, but my remark falls on deaf ears. I catch the man clenching his jaw at my question. Ah, it seems he doesn't take kindly to being disrespected. One jab at his masculinity, and he's ready to go to war without a second thought.

"Roy Kent, meet my daughter, Lucille," Dad introduces, but I quickly interject, "Lucy to you." I emphasize my preference, not one to stand on formality. "Who the fuck are you, Roy Kent?" I ask, gauging his reaction as he looks between me and my dad, clearly trying to figure something out. I decide to clear the air, "Yeah, my mom isn't Michelle," I clarify, hoping to put any confusion to rest.

Roy's response is a simple "Oh," followed by a grunt as he exits the scene. My dad remains unfazed and carries on, guiding me towards the locker room with his arm casually draped around my shoulder.

"Coach Beard! We've got a new cast member!" Dad announces to the room as we walk out together, seemingly excited to introduce me to his colleagues.

A man with a book and a golf hat turns his chair around and observes us. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fussbudget,” he says. “Hello, Lucy. I’m Coach Beard. I’ve heard all about you.”

I can't help but snort at the situation. "That's impossible," I retort with a snarky tone. Coach Beard finds my reaction amusing, letting out a chuckle, while my dad gives a slight frown, but I know a few jabs won't easily rattle him.

Suddenly, a strong voice breaks the chatter, announcing, "Ayo, the gaffer's got another kid!" The rest of the men turn their attention to me, their eyes filled with wonder and intrigue. They excitedly chat, asking if they saw what they think they did.

Exiting the office, we step into the open room where my dad proudly introduces me to the team. "Fellas, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter. This is Lucy, everyone."

The players greet me with waves and hellos, except for one guy sitting on the bench, engrossed in his phone, occasionally laughing. I point him out, asking, "Who's that?"

"Jamie Tartt. Hey, Beard, what's the deal with Jamie?" my dad inquires, and seemingly out of nowhere, Jamie appears beside us without making a sound.

Beard responds, "Says he can't practice today. Says he's hurt."

I observe my dad's face dropping with disappointment as he turns to walk out the door and over to Jamie, concern etched across his features.

The whole situation was intense, and I couldn't recall ever seeing my father this angry before. It seemed like there had never been an opportunity for him to get this worked up until now. Watching him unleash his frustration on Jamie reminded me of my mom, who had her share of heated moments. While my dad appeared to be justified in his outburst, Jamie's disrespectful behavior only reinforced my 'British men suck shit' theory.

Feeling overwhelmed, a tingling sensation crept into my head, and my heart raced with the familiar signs of an impending panic attack. I needed to escape, so I swiftly turned on my heel and walked out of the office, trying to distract myself by fiddling with the rings on my fingers.

Wandering aimlessly down the halls, I searched for a private space to catch my breath and calm down. Passing a laughing man, a short guy carrying a laundry bag, and a stunning blonde woman who seemed out of place here, I stopped in my tracks when I heard my dad's name mentioned in a hushed conversation.

"Rebecca, I don't think Coach Lasso will be too thrilled about you trading Jamie away.”

“Higgins, listen to me. I don't care if Lasso is trying to get through to Jamie or if he begs him to come back. Jamie is not returning, and that's precisely what I need," she asserts before abruptly changing the subject, "Now, let me go hunt down my biscuits. They're late."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Dad is being sabotaged. All this time, I believed he was here to make a positive impact on the team, but it turns out they see him as nothing more than a joke. Stepping away from the door, I attempt to make a quick exit, only to collide with a statuesque woman who towers over me.

She glances down at me, exuding power through her stature and fashion, but I'm not intimidated. "Why, hello there, whoever you are. Are you lost?" she inquires.

Ah, this must be Rebecca. The woman who plans to screw my father over. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. "No. Just looking for the bathroom," I retort.

Rebecca gestures towards the sign, displaying her passive-aggressiveness. "Well, it's just around the corner. Right where the 'bathroom' sign is," she points out.

"Cool," I respond nonchalantly, not letting her faze me. "Oh, and by the way, my name's Lucy. Thanks for hiring my dad to coach!"

I catch a flicker of terror in Rebecca's eyes before I walk away, grinning to myself. Drama seems to follow me wherever I go, even in Richmond. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

——

After my quick trip to the loo, I wander over to the dog track, where Dad and Beard stand, closely observing the team's training session. I can't help but chuckle at Jamie's predicament as he wears a penny and sets up cones.

Dad notices my arrival and playfully calls out, "Oh, there you are, Waldo! What were you doing?"

His attempts at humor fail to catch me off guard. While I understand his references, I refuse to engage in the corniness. "Nothing, just using the bathroom," I reply with a mischievous grin, not willing to spill the beans about Rebecca's scheming ways. "Oh, and I met Rebecca. She seems nice," I lie sarcastically, well aware of her conniving nature.

Before Dad can respond, a rather handsome player approaches us gracefully. "Hello there. Sorry, Coach Lasso, but I couldn't continue practice without introducing myself to our guest," he says with a charming smile. "My name is Sam Obisanya. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. The other players and I were wondering if you'd care to join us on the field for a few minutes. We'd like to have some fun at Jamie's expense. Is that alright?"

I return Sam's smile and reply, "Uh, sure. But I haven't played in years, dude. Not sure I'll be any good among you professionals.”

Sam brushes off my concerns, reassuring me, "Oh, that's alright, Lucy. I'm sure Thierry will let you score a couple of goals. Come on!" With that, he guides me towards the field, announcing to the team, "She said yes, you guys!" Their enthusiastic cheers fill the air.

As we assemble for a quick game, a guy with a buzzed fade named Isaac addresses me, confirming my name, "Alright, Lucy, is it?" I nod, and he explains the teams, "We're gonna split into five and five, and you're gonna play with the lads who ain't got a kit on."

"Sounds good," I respond with enthusiasm. I turn to the guys without kits, and each extends a hand for a handshake. I go down the line, shaking hands with each one. There's a short man with curly hair, Bumbercatch, followed by a tall fellow with a broad smile, Jan Maas. Then, a highly energetic man named Dani Rojas greets me, not wasting any time to exclaim, "Football is life!" right in front of me. The last guy, a mousey brunette named Colin, completes the line-up.

Quickly getting into formation with my newfound teammates, they place me front and center for the play. I'm facing off with Sam, who gives me a friendly smile. At the sound of the whistle, we both dash for the ball, but I swiftly take control and dribble it down the field. Roy Kent charges towards me, determined to tackle the ball away, but I outmaneuver him with a quick juke, causing him to land on his ass. The guys react with astonishment, and suddenly, the game shifts from Sam's gentle start to full intensity.

Isaac rushes towards me, sporting a determined expression, but I pass the ball to Dani Rojas, who's open and ready. Dani drives it down the field, but as soon as he spots an opportunity, he passes it back to me. With precision, I shoot the ball into the goal, leaving the goalkeeper stunned as it whizzes past him.

The entire team stands in complete silence, including my dad and Coach Beard, who are both staring at me with their mouths agape. The momentary hush is broken by Jamie Tartt, who teasingly remarks, "Ay, wanker's kid just got you real good, lads." He winks at me, provoking a gag from me followed by a flip-off.

Isaac can't contain his excitement, exclaiming, "Shit, bruv! You just broke Roy Kent's ankles!"

Roy growls behind me, clearly not pleased with being outplayed. "You got fucking lucky, kid," he grumbles.

I don't back down, confidently replying, "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Either you're cursed or you just ate shit, Kent."

I have to admit, Richmond has exceeded my expectations thus far, but I won't let it get the best of me just yet.

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

It sort of irritates me when people act like Doof is such a great dad. When canon explicitly tells us the opposite.

I don't mean to say Doof doesn't care, he does. Very much so. But just caring doesn't make him a good dad. It just makes him a decent person. Vanessa loves him very much. But love isn't the only thing needed to be a good parent.

I see people cite the Mary McGuffin doll, and him spending years tracking it down as proof of him being a good dad. And it does tell us (and Vanessa) he cares, but it also tells us how out of touch he is with Vanessa's actual wants and needs. Vanessa is 16. She doesn't really want the doll anymore. The doll only has meaning to her because of the effort he put into it. Proof he has actually listened to something she was saying even if it was nearly 10 years ago. Doof has set the bar that low that Vanessa feels so attached to this one gift. In Vanessa's own words he is a substandard dad. She is biased, due to the way he embarasses her, but she's not wrong as often he can't even be bothered to actually listen to her.

He took her to Tokyo instead of Paris for his own interests. He tried to erase Vanessa's memory in order to make himself look better to her. He compared her (or rather Candace's) fashion sense to a clown. He set up a little girl's party when she was 16 and didn't even know she considered herself to be punk.

He tries, oh does he try. But without listening to Vanessa he can't actually do anything for her. His few successes are often facillitated by Perry who does. This lack of listening is at the center of the finale, where it almost causes him to lose her completely. When he finally listens he can finally start connecting with her, and not only that he realizes other things about the way he's been living. And this is something Vanessa, his 16 yr old daughter is telling him. Vanessa is being her dad's therapist and that's not necessarily fair to her.

And in Milo Murphy's Law when he moves in with the Murphys he continues to cross boundaries and not listen to people (particularly the household's teenage girl), acting in many ways more like an overgrown child than a parent himself. And in Vanessa's appearance she's still cleaning up after him and playing couple's therapist with him and Perry.

And don't even get me started on how Doof treats Norm, who recognizes Doof as his father only for Doof to constantly belittle him and refuse to treat him like a son. (Not unlike his own parents). Doof does seem to care for Norm, but that doesn't mean the other stuff he does doesn't exist.

This is especially egregious since PnF and MML have lots of great parents. Lawrence knows about and sometimes goes along with his boys shenanigans and often inspires them. He and Candace may not always be on the same page, but he makes and effort to include her, to try and spend time with her. In regards to Mary McGuffin, Lawrence may have not known Candace still cared about her doll, but he gave her more money than he made off of it to try and make it up to her when he realized that she did.

Martin is someone Milo admires, taught him how to deal with Murphy's Law, who left to give Milo his moment in Athledecamathalon and has otherwise offered his full support to Milo and dedicated time to spend with him. We see less of his interactions with Sara, but he's aparently the one who got her into Dr. Zone, and he understands Murphy's Law can be hard on her too and makes efforts to stay away from her when she needs space. He knows when to cheer his kids on and when to step back.

Dave Grant, Beppo Brown, Richard Chase and Roman Carter are all among the many father characters who seem to have a more healthy relationship with their kids than Doof. Not to mention the grandfathers. None of these parents are necessarily perfect but they are good parents.

I love Doof. He's a great character and a loving father. But he's not a great parent and that's part of what makes him a good character. Makes his interactions with his family fun. The functional dysfunction of it all. He's not simply a good or bad parent. But he's certainly not great.

[marshmallowprotection]

hi!!

i've been thinking about this for the past few days & decided to ask you to weigh in on it: what do you think would be the biggest dealbreaker(s) for each mysme character?

~embroidery anon

(sending my love as always <3, hope you're well)

This is a tough question because this is a game where the focus is on learning, growing, and adapting with your partner to be the best person you can be.

Ideally, there wouldn't be a need for dealbreakers but I assume many characters would have hardlines for a healthy relationship that we can discuss. I think the hardlines would be the easiest thing to cover for you all.

Yoosung can't be with someone who babies him.

He might be going into his first relationship and maybe you have more experience than he does, but don't assume that he is a child or act like he doesn't understand how relationships work. It's the same way he doesn't like to be treated like a child when his friends walk all over him and say he’ll get it when he’s older.

As I'm sure many people are aware, he is an adult and he knows how to handle himself just as much as anybody else does. He doesn't need somebody to coddle him and tell him what to do. If you are the kind of person that likes to take charge in a relationship and handle everything from the get-go, you're not going to be able to be with him. 

It's not that he wants to be in charge because he's a man, it's more so that he wants to have a relationship where everything is on equal footing. You protect him and he protects you, you talk to him and he talks to you, you grow with him and he grows with you. 

His hard line is when somebody acts like they know more than he does even if they're the same age. He doesn't want to be disrespected. It's okay to pinch his cheeks and call him cute, but don't make a point of infantilizing him.

Zen can't be with someone who disrespects people, even jokingly.

Do you know how angry he gets whenever there is a conversation about class? He has gone through some of the most traumatic things a person can go through once you realize you don't have a place to put your head at night. He has seen people be disrespected and treated lesser than his entire teenage and adult life.

He does not stand for bigotry. He will be the first one to throw the punch if somebody disrespects another person. He doesn't like it when people make jokes about other people in a way that can be read as condescending. 

It's one thing to make a light-hearted gesture and another person who's okay with whatever joke you're saying, but if you do something to take down another person just because you're trying to beat them in an argument, oh no. You do not punch low in an argument.

You do not do that especially when it's something that another person cannot control. A good example of this is somebody punching down another person by telling them to “take a shower” in an argument while knowing that person doesn’t have access to one. That's the kind of thing he can’t stand. A hard line for him is somebody who shows their true colors in an argument and those colors are not golden. 

Jaehee can't be with someone who belittles her hobbies.

This should be a given for anybody who has something special to them that has been poked fun at by other people. Your partner is supposed to be somebody who understands and respects that you might have a hobby that they may not share.

If you're the kind of person that talks over another person when they start to talk about something that they like, this is not a healthy dynamic whatsoever. You can't make everything about yourself. You should make a point to be interested in the things that your partner cares about even if it's not something you understand. 

It means a lot to another person to have an outlet to discuss the things that matter to them and if they go to that effort for you, you should be meeting them halfway every time. Otherwise, what is your relationship even for at the end of the day?

Her line is going to be if you decide that you don't like how she likes to spend her free time. If you can't respect how she enjoys herself, then she can't respect herself when she's with you. The relationship can't continue. 

Jumin can't be with someone who values superficial desires.

This is something that is already explained in the game multiple times as he communicates what he doesn't want in a partner. He already doesn't care to have a relationship as it stands where he is in his life until he's able to encounter his MC, but he makes it clear what he doesn’t like.

He doesn't like people who only care about the money and they are only in it to make a deal to get something they want for their own selfish greed. He can at least appreciate when somebody is honest that that is what they want because as long as somebody is honest, he can respect them. But if somebody is going to be sneaky and underhanded and lie their way through everything around them to get that, he could not respect that person ever. 

He doesn't want a partner who only cares about the value of items. He needs a partner that cares about communication and being able to share everything in their heart with another person. It is disrespectful to the vulnerable state that he shared with you for you to decide somewhere in the middle of a relationship that you don't give a damn about what he's feeling, you only care about what he can pay for. 

What he doesn't need is somebody who gets more and more excited about being able to have everything in the world at their fingertips just for the sake of saying they had it. His hard line is somebody who tries to get with him for the wrong reasons and somehow manages to slip past his radar before he can nip it in the bud. 

Saeyoung can't be with someone who disrespects his boundaries.

What I mean by this is that he can't be with somebody who doesn't understand just how heavy the weight of his trauma is. He already has a hard enough time accepting that he went through something horrible, and it's going to take him even longer to be able to admit to himself that he's allowed to say that he was a victim.

If you are going to make it even harder on him to find peace over those things, he can’t be with you. It's good to give him a healthy kick in the right direction because that's how your relationship started with him in the first place but if you are going to push him when he is not ready, this is not going to work. 

There is a difference between wanting to support somebody and wanting to push them to get better just for you and not for their sake. He is a self-sacrificial person and he would hurt himself trying to make another person happy, he's done it a hundred times, and it's not healthy to keep doing that. It would be hard for him to make this boundary because he is the kind of person who would want to work on you with these things even if it's not healthy, but it's going to have to be a hard line if you keep doing it over and over again. 

Especially if you push him on his brother in any way. If there are any specific problems with his brother that you talk about with him in such a manner that belittles his hard work to make things right with him, or you bite at Saeran for anything that shouldn't require a bark, it's over. it's done. He will choose his brother. Sorry.

V can't be with someone who walks all over him.

I believe this is also a given if you understand him as a character. He has the tendency to be a pushover at worst before he's able to take time for himself and work on everything in therapy. If you are the kind of person who says what you mean without checking with your partner first to see if it's okay, this isn't going to work out.

If you say something and don't even give the floor to him, he won’t speak up. It can quickly become a toxic dynamic not only for him but for you as well because the control in a relationship should never be balanced in this way. 

He doesn't need a repeat of his last relationship. 

The boundary he has to set is one that he needs to make when he learns how to assert himself. If you're going to act like you know what's best for him and he doesn't have a clue what he should do for himself, then this isn't going to work out and for the sake of everybody in the relationship, it needs to be ended sooner rather than later. That is a line that cannot be crossed. If he has any self-respect for himself, he won't let anybody walk over him ever again. 

Saeran can't be with someone who ignores his boundaries.

The circumstance is similar to the one that I wrote about for his brother, but there is a minor difference when it comes to the details. He is a very traumatized individual and if you are going to be in a relationship with him, you are going to constantly need to affirm boundary lines and comfort levels not only for yourself but for him as well. It's going to take a lot of work but if you are committed to doing everything right for each other, it can work out. Where this is going to be a problem is if you ignore boundaries consistently and constantly. 

If you blatantly ignore something that he's told you isn't okay, he might let it slide for a little while but it's going to get to a point where it's not okay. A great example of this is if you're the kind of person that likes to consume alcohol recreationally now and again.

It can't be in the house whatsoever because of his trauma and former substance abuse issues.

It will never be okay with him because he never wants to touch the stuff and he doesn't want to smell it or see it. This is a hard line for literally every Saeran. I do not care for people who write him engaging with the stuff because he would never do that and it is disrespectful to him to assume he would. 

If you walk all over him and ignore things that you decide don't matter to you because you care more about your comfort than his, it's over. He might not be able to express these things to you at first, but he will grow the confidence to say what needs to be said sooner or later, and if that doesn't happen, God help you. The minute Saeyoung finds out, it’s over. 

[threadsun]

🙌 Am big proud of you for drinking the wooder(As we Philly natives say instead of water lol)! If I was more mentally tough and didn’t live back with my parents again, I probably would’ve worked in sex industry to empower others to not feel scared of their sexual sides through healthy means so I think you’re an incredible for being strong enough to do what you love while navigating through the rougher parts of the job. It’s really if ignorant of others to belittle people who create content through sex work and general content when they have no idea the amount of time, effort, dedication, and mental fortitude it takes someone. I do want to say though that I appreciate what you do. The quality and care that comes from a few is worth more than the opinion of millions of those who idolize and dehumanize others because they feel superior to people based on their beliefs. So I hope you never have to fee l like your art and content aren’t good enough. Also, I do love sweet himbo Joesph too (your headcanons of him are adorable!), but he seems so nervous in his interview to me. As a professional people pleaser, my brain always went to him being so scared to screw everything up that he developed similar habits just to keep the role of Sunny Day Jack. I mean, the company knows of his past and he appears intimidating to others so it wouldn’t be surprising if Lambworks already placed labels on him. Acting more cautious around him or maybe he even he was afraid anything going wrong could be put on him. (Stereotypes were a lot bigger in the 80’s so if you looked like a bad boy, then people assume you act like one too.) I know some people who’ve went through similar situations that Joesph may have as well as a child. It may have started more class clown like before becoming more rebellious. But as he got older, the brain changes and we try to separate ourselves from the choices we make through different stages of our lives. Joesph probably went through a similar transition, still craving the basic need for love and affection from others (the base wants we develop as children never truly disappear, but they can be shoved into the back of our minds). By trying to cut ties with his rebellious attitude, he did a complete 180 and tried to do EVERYTHING in his power to make people like him. Besides, he probably felt lucky enough to land a role on a tv show that didn’t deal with anything that caused him physical, mental, sexual, or emotional harm (This is of course when the interview was taped which seems like before the show started filming so he wasn’t aware that it would still be draining) and he didn’t want to do anything that could let this chance slip away. He’s being like how is with Jack; going the extra mile to do and say the right things to have people love him. He still has all of his positive traits as Joesph (he probably was like a sour patch kid when he was alot younger so I could definitely see his sweetness still being there)and he’s not as extreme as Jack, but I can see him letting others who can influence if he keeps his job or not walk all over him if it means that they like him. I can see him still being slightly manipulative in order to make sure he’s not seen negatively by others (The director doesn’t like heavy metal music? Yeah, Joesph doesn’t like it either he’ll tell them, but on his way home, you can hear him blasting Iron Maiden on his portable cassette player. Small things like that), but he’s trying his best not only for himself, but for the kids he’s performing for. These are my hot takes on Joesph, but I know I could be completely wrong and that’s okay! But when it comes to Jack, it really is a shame people are pushing away facts about the character because it doesn’t fit with what they envisioned. Also, that’s some yummy food you provided at the end there with him edging his sunshine and his test of devotion. He IS a teacher in Cloudy Town (In the AU of course), so it’s not out of character for him to test his sunshine every so often!

-🎃

I appreciate that a lot!! Sex work is something I find very meaningful and fulfilling. Being able to help people feel pleasure and express their desires in a healthy way makes me feel like I'm putting some good into the world, if that makes sense? So it really hurts when people don't see it as real work, or see it as meaningless.

Also yes!!!! You perfectly captured how I feel about Joseph!!! Like yes he can get manipulative and yandere and will lie and do whatever it takes to get by in life, but like not cause he's a bad person. Just because he was given a shit lot in life so he's always had to kind of find his own way. And for a long time that involved being a rebel who got into fights and did things he wasn't proud of, and once he lands the role if Jack it involves softening himself and making himself seem smaller for the comfort of others. And all he wants is to fit in and find a place where he can feel safe and loved. Which is why if he finds that in another person, he'll do anything to keep them around.

>:3c I'm glad you liked it!! Oh Jack absolutely uses his teacher voice when he's brat taming/disciplining his Sunshine too. He'll be spanking them for rolling their eyes at him, and spend the whole time lecturing them about how "respect is a two way street, and if you don't respect me then how do you expect me to treat you any way but disrespectfully, Sunshine?" And oh god will he treat you disrespectfully~

[sk-lumen]

Hey girl, really love your blog and really going through it atm so would appreciate your advise/input on this .... So I've been talking to this guy for a little a year now long distance. It's been so hard, and rocky as we have had many arguments, through it all and it hasn't been easy. He has been great from the start with his words, always very complimentary of me, expresses to me how he loves me, wants to marry me, have kids with me and for me to move there but his actions tell me differently and it honestly hurts me how he won't spend any money on me telling me early on how he is "broke", we haven't gone out on a date just been hanging out and hooking up. This is obviously not been what I want no matter the nice things he says it still hurts how he doesn't put in effort I want and have expressed to him many times and it's almost like he isn't listening which is so frustrating because I keep trying. Anyway, he is also very concerned about me talking to other men telling me "you're mine and only mine" but he makes me want to talk to other men with how he treats me. Just recently he found out I have been in communication with other men and went off on me, left me when I was visiting him telling me how I am "dirty and a hoe" it really hurts me that he would say these kinds of things to me when he knows how I feel about him, and our relationship and we aren't exclusive. It's also crazy he would say these kinds of things when he would call me "pure" at the beginning of just meeting and now calling me that.... It doesn't make any sense to me....Any advise?

Dear anon,

So many red flags in just one paragraph. Ladies, please start being honest with yourselves and realize how supbar these men treat you.

With men, actions > words. He can say anything under the sky, but his actions will show the truth.

He promised you marriage and the moon, but his actions show the opposite: he puts in the bare minimum, refuses to invest in you $$, belittles you and insults you. Conclusion? He considers you a fun option for the moment and he's keeping you around until he "finds better".

My advice? End it, read some quality self-help books, establish some healthy boundaries and higher standards, and stop settling.

-L.

[tetrisfinished]

yesterday, yasir confirmed for me his perception of me

he compared my life and my effort to his eldest sister. according to him, she does everything. leaves for her job first thing in the morning, takes full responsibility and care for her 3 children, takes full responsibility and care of her house, and still manages to cook full and big meals every single week to feed her family.

he also managed to confirm for me how truly little his view is on the effort it takes to have a child. i believe his exact words were "bacha paida karna kaun sa koi anokha kaam hai, aurat ke liye".

and he also added to the list of accolades that women accomplish by giving me the example of his middle sister living in pakistan who is a fully certified and practicing surgeon and does all of the stuff that the previously mentioned eldest sister does IN ADDITION to her own "saas ki khidmat".

and he said both of these women and many many others that he knows do these things happily, without complaint, and without any concerns or issues.

i said "bacha to main bhi paal rahi hoon", and he responded with "haan but sirf itna hi kar rahi ho" because i get a weekly food service and a bi-weekly cleaning lady.

and i also said how these work-horse women are not a healthy view of women. it's not okay to have this much expectation put upon one woman.

but i guess him and i sincerely disagree on this.

i won't lie. i was....am extremely hurt by his words. i tried t othink about why i was - or am. i think it's because i feel he's pointed out that i only do less than half of other women and complain about it. i can't be upset by this because it's a falsehod - because in honesty, it's not.

i do have other priorities in my life which make it difficult for me to cook but i guess you could pit 10 other examples of women who have the same sort of schedule (or worse) than mine and still manage to accomplish more.

so i guess the true reason i'm hurt is because perhaps he's pointed out an insecurity i have of myself. that i am not enough. and that i do not do enough.

i know and i believe that it is not good to compare yourself to others. but yasir does not - he consistently, at every opportunity compares himself to his peers, non peers, families, friends.

and what's wild is - he takes everything he sees at total and complete face value. to him, if he's seen his sisters work so hard and struggle the way they are and he's seen them do it happily - then that's what they feel. they are happy about it, they are happy with their lives, there is nothing underneath.

all of this to say that while my rational brain does believe that it's unacceptable to minimize the struggle of these women to maintain their lives the way that they do - the way that yasir makes these comparisons makes me feel so severely inadequate. what a fucking shitty way to feel.

my worth is directly tied to how much i can work myself like a machine. how many kids i can birth, how much i can cook for them, how much i slave away at my job to get promoted.

and the language that i'm using to describe all of this in my brain is coming out very self-pitying and strong because if i'm being honest that's how i feel right now. i'm stuck in the throes of a very big pity party at the moment.

so why am i letting yasir define me? and my worth? and my struggle?

why am i not fighting back against this voice in my head that's agreeing with all of the things i'm hearing from yasir.

why do i constantly belittle myself for not being enough.

why am i not worth my own self approval.

[xspookypookyx]

I don't really know what to say or how to say it.

All i know is that I feel absolutely crushed.

My husband and I have been separated since February, even though I had moved out of his house last November after we had a huge fight. After 12 years of a lack of effort from him, I had had enough.

I still loved him deeply when I left.. but I knew I couldn't continue life with him like have longed for all these years. He was an avoidant who never had time to fix our issues and for a good while, I numbed myself out in order to function but also because I always blamed myself for our issues. He was never content..satisfied with me.. I was always an issue in some way, even though I gave my body and soul to him. I kissed the ground he walked on and praised him like no other. If he told me to jump, I would ask him how high. I was that kind of wife. Whether it was healthy or not, I will leave you to decide. All I knew is that I was absolutely in love and it was almost hypnotic.

He had the most deviant, yet beautiful smile. His eyes were dark but I kept my gaze on him.. he was mean but I fell in love anyway.

years went by.. there were some good times within the 12 years of being together but we had a lot of really ugly moments as well. He would laugh as I cried and called me a baby.. belittle me.. manipulate and gaslight me, tell me to shut the fuck up if I was crying in bed.. forced me to open up to 3sums and other things that were out of my element because I was much too "vanilla" and he did not want to be held back from living his life. He found ways to convince me into whatever he wanted, even if it was against my wishes.

All I ever wanted was to love him deeply. I wanted it to be just he and I. fuck everyone else. I wanted to be that tall glass of water.. enough to quench his needs. Keep him lively. I wished so bad to be enough.. but that day never came.

Leaving "home" was such a devastating time in my life. He was my home.. he was my everything.. even though home felt battered and dark.. I still found a way to curl up inside and embrace the darkness.. until I just couldn't anymore.

I found myself having to find my own identity.. because all I ever did was live for him. I put my own needs on the back burner without even realizing this., yet, he was still not content with who I was. He always needed more.

After moving out in November, He begged me for another chance. I hesitated but agreed to try and work on things. For the first time, I felt hopeless. I felt too angry. All the resentment within had radiated ten fold and my intuition told me that I could never be with him again.

We tried a few months after but on Valentines day of this year, I called it quits and told him that I was not sure if I actually love him anymore because of how hurt I felt. I was able to forgive him and get passed my resentments but as for love... he really squeezed the love right out of me.

well, It is now July. within a 2 month time frame... He managed to make a friend of mine his girlfriend. He introduced her to the family, took her on a trip with our nephews.. he has welcomed and introduced his shiny new toy to the family.

I would have been accepting if he had started dating a stranger.. someone who was not a friend. . but it is almost as though he wanted to have one more go at fucking destroying me.. and it worked. he really fucking killed yet another piece of me that used to be soft and sweet. . she helped him this time.

I know that this is yet another lesson I must live through but i am so fucking tired of learning.

Right now, All I know is this. If you truly respect someone, I would say it is safe to say that you have love for them. and vise versa..

he says he loved me.. but him and that stupid bitch are now in a relationship. I feel extremely disrespected and angry.

heartbreak is intense. It feels as though i am having trouble breathing.. my chest feels tight.. my heart rate is fluctuating throughout the day..there's a constant lump in my throat, eyes are blood shot from the river of tears I cry from the betrayal.

I gave him the world.

I was a good wife.

I was a good friend.

I fucking loved him.

and he does this?

I feel absolutely hopeless.

The pain is unbearable.. and as I sit here.. deep in despair, he is fucking her. she is sleeping on what was my side of the bed.. enjoying her new life.. being the biggest fucking bitch she can be.

and him.. What a fucking joke he is.

12. fucking. years.

[dfroza]

Integrity

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the letter of Titus:

As to you, Titus: talk to them; give them a good, healthy diet of solid teaching so they will know the right way to live.

Here’s what I want you to teach the older men: enjoy everything in moderation, respect yourselves and others, be sensible, and dedicate yourselves to living an unbroken faith demonstrated by your love and perseverance.

And here’s what I want you to teach the older women: Be respectful. Steer clear of gossip or drinking too much so that you can teach what is good to young women. Be a positive example, showing them what it is to love their husbands and children, and teaching them to control themselves in every way and to be pure. Train them to manage the household, to be kind, and to be submissive to their husbands, all of which honor the word of God.

Encourage the young men in the same way: in every situation, they should learn to control themselves.

Titus, you have to set a good example for everyone. Go out of your way to do what is right, speak the truth with the weight and authority that come from an honest and pure life. No one can argue with that. Then your enemies will cower in shame because they have nothing bad to say against us.

Advise all the servants: Work hard for your masters, and be loyal to them. Strive to please. Don’t be rude or sarcastic. Don’t steal or embezzle your masters’ property. Show them you are trustworthy, and all the credit will go to the teaching of God our Savior.

We have cause to celebrate because the grace of God has appeared, offering the gift of salvation to all people. Grace arrives with its own instruction: run away from anything that leads us away from God; abandon the lusts and passions of this world; live life now in this age with awareness and self-control, doing the right thing and keeping yourselves holy. Watch for His return; expect the blessed hope we all will share when our great God and Savior, Jesus the Anointed, appears again. He gave His body for our sakes and will not only break us free from the chains of wickedness, but He will also prepare a community uncorrupted by the world that He would call His own—people who are passionate about doing the right thing.

So, Titus, tell them all these things. Encourage and teach them with all authority—and rebuke them with the same. You are a man called to serve, so don’t let anyone belittle you.

The Letter of Titus, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

At times Paul can be unrelenting. As he challenged Timothy in the two letters he addressed to him, Paul also challenges Titus to live the truth he teaches. People are drawn toward God, not through bold arguments, but by passionate godliness. We must be passionate about doing the right thing. Our actions tell the story. Our lives are living parables, shouting the mystery of godliness. Paul tells Titus to be bold, to teach with authority, and not to let anyone belittle him. We get a clear picture of a strong, courageous giant of a man. Titus is sent to the people of Crete—a people short on virtue and long on vice—to fashion a church of loving disciples.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 13th chapter of the book of Ezekiel:

The word of the Eternal came to me with two more messages about Jerusalem.

Eternal One: Son of man, preach against the false prophets of Israel—the ones making up predictions and visions out of their own imaginations. Tell them to listen to the real word of the Eternal One! The Eternal Lord says woe to those foolish prophets whose message is based on their own spirits and have not had a vision! Your prophets, Israel, are like jackals foraging through the ruins. You have put forth no effort to repair the broken-down defenses or to reinforce the wall around the city so that it will stand strong in battle on the day the Eternal sends His judgment. Their warnings and predictions are all false. They utter only lies. They speak in the name of the Lord, claiming, “the Eternal declares,” but I have not sent them. The funny thing is, they actually expect their predictions to come true. Did you not perceive a false vision and speak an untrue divination when you proclaimed, “The Eternal declares,” although I hadn’t said anything at all?

So I say because you have spoken falsely and have seen empty visions, I am against you who prophesy out of your own imaginations. I will set My hand against those who see false visions and lying divinations. These self-proclaimed soothsayers will not be a part of the council of My people or be listed among the people of Israel. They will be forbidden from entering the sacred land of Israel. Then you will know I am the Eternal Lord. It is because these false prophets have lied to My people and led them off course, saying, “Everything is peaceful and fine,” when nothing is peaceful or fine. When the people build a weak and wobbly wall, the false prophets are right behind them, coating it with plaster. Tell these plasterers that your wall is going to fall. Torrential rains will pour down upon your lies, hail will pound your flimsy creation, and mighty winds will knock down your fabricated dreams. And guess what? When your nicely plastered wall collapses, the people will ask you, “Where is your plaster? Didn’t it strengthen the wall?” So I say that in My fury I will release a mighty wind to knock it down. In My anger I will produce hailstorms and torrential rains to destroy it. I will demolish the wall you covered with plaster and level it to the ground so that nothing is left but its foundation. When your wall falls, you will be destroyed. Then you will know I am the Eternal. This is how My wrath will be satisfied against the wall and those who covered it with plaster. Then I will say to you that there is nothing left of the wall or those who plastered it— those fraudulent seers of Israel who prophesied concerning Jerusalem, claiming everything was peaceful and fine when everything was not peaceful or fine.

Now, son of man, you must also preach against the women of your people who prophesy out of their own imaginations. Preach against these false prophetesses, and tell them the Eternal Lord says, “Woe to the women who sew magic charms on wrists and make veils of various sizes for heads in order to hunt down souls with their magic. Do you actually think you can entrap the souls of My people for your own purposes without endangering your own lives? You have profaned Me among My people, trading precious souls for a few scraps of barley and bread. Your lies have caused many to die who should not have and many to live who should not have, all because they listened to your lies.”

I, the Eternal Lord, have this to say regarding your enchantments: I oppose your magic charms you use to hunt precious souls like birds! I will strip them from your wrists and set the people free. I will tear off your veils and rescue My people from your power; they will no longer fall prey to your hunt. Then you will know I am the Eternal One. Because you have discouraged the innocent and unsuspecting with your lies and deceptions when I left them in peace, and because you have encouraged the wicked instead of showing them the error of their ways so they could live, you will no longer conjure up lying visions or practice divination. For I will save My people from your seductive powers. Then you will know I am the Eternal One.

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, november 9 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about “clinging” to faith:

Faith perseveres in the way of life... “You who have clung to the LORD your God are all alive today” (Deut. 4:4). The Hebrew word devakut (דְּבָקוּת) means "cleaving" and refers to communion with God. This word comes from davak (דָּבַק), meaning to "cling" or "stick" (the Modern Hebrew word for “glue” is devek (דֶבֶק) which also comes from the same root, as does the Yiddish word “davka”). Devakut, then, implies being intimately connected with God in an earnest and passionate relationship: "My soul cleaves to you; your right hand upholds me" (Psalm 63:8).

The sages comment that we can cleave to God only one day at a time, since our future is conditioned upon this present day and its challenges. As Yeshua said: “Take therefore no thought for tomorrow: for tomorrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient for the day its own trouble” (Matt. 6:34). One day at a time...

The LORD gives us daily bread (לֶחֶם חֻקֵּנוּ) so that we may persevere for this day; he “feeds us with hunger” to teach us to rely on alone him for true life (Deut. 8:3). “For he is our God, and the sheep of his hand today -- if you hear his voice” (Psalm 95:7). Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your heart (Heb. 3:15). “Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away from the living God, but encourage one another every day, as long as it is called "today," so that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (Heb. 3:12-13).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 63:8 Hebrew reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm63-8-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page pdf:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm63-8-lesson.pdf

11.8.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

We are living in prophetic times. For close to 2,000 years, prophecies predicting the return of the Jewish people to the land of Israel were but a dream. But in 1948, the Jewish homeland in the land of Israel was re-established. Israel has a thriving economy, and Jews from all four corners of the earth have returned to the land, fulfilling biblical prophecies of the return of the exiles.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

November 9, 2023

Exalting the Anointed One

“The adversaries of the LORD shall be broken to pieces; out of heaven shall he thunder upon them: the LORD shall judge the ends of the earth; and he shall give strength unto his king, and exalt the horn of his anointed.” (1 Samuel 2:10)

This is a remarkable prayer, uttered under divine inspiration by Hannah, thanking God for the miraculous birth of Samuel. It contains the first explicit reference in the Bible to the Messiah (“anointed,” in the Hebrew, is Messiah, equivalent to the Greek “Christ”). Hannah's prophetic prayer predicts the ultimate exaltation of Messiah over all the adversaries of the Lord to the very ends of the earth. Hannah also prophesied the coming of the Lord’s great King. Yet this was during the time of the judges, long before the people of Israel even began to request a king.

In fact, the entire prophecy is the first of many similar prophecies throughout the Bible that look forward to the return of the Lord “out of heaven” to judge all nations, to destroy His enemies, and to establish His anointed one as King of the earth.

There is nothing comparable to this prophecy in the earlier books of the Bible, but it is a theme often emphasized in the Psalms and in the books of prophecy, as well as in the New Testament. For example, note David’s great prophecy: “The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the LORD, and against his anointed....Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath....Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion....and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession” (Psalm 2:2, 5-6, 8).

There are many similar later prophecies, but it is significant that the first one also contains the first mention of Messiah, and that was from the lips of a humble, but devout, mother. HMM

[fictionplumis]

To preface, I definitely think this is a matter of different people needing different messeges and seeing different things reflected in a character. As someone who has never felt trapped in an unhealthy relationship and had only experienced people around me going through that, this isn't the kind of message I need to take away from a character or would be looking for in them, but what you see, OP, is still just as valid for you.

The times I've played and romanced Astarion, I don't consider him abusive or that Tav's love fixes him.

He's an asshole, for sure. Distrusting due to his past, manipulative due to his past and what he's had to do for survival, yeah, but that's before they actually get together. The timing of when Tav hooks up with him depends on what quests you do before the main one, but for the most part, he's beginning to trust Tav and be less of an asshole when they hook up.

And that first time hooking up isn't the beginning of the relationship. That doesn't start until Act 2, I believe?

Someone can be an asshole without being abusive, and to me, Astarion seems like the kind of person where he's an asshole to anyone he doesn't know and trust.

Him manipulating Tav into the relationship in the first place is a really dick move and a betrayal of trust, but doing an abusive thing isn't the same as being an abuser. It wasn't TAV'S love that "fixed" him, it was his own love for Tav that made him not want to do such a shitty thing. An abuser doesn't genuinely strive to be better, and Astarion does.

My playthroughs where I romanced him were all Durge playthroughs where he was resisting the Urges, but Astarion is nothing but supportive and caring.

That only lapses where Cazador is involved, who is the main part of his trauma and the thing that's always taken everything Astarion cares about from him. He once again pulls out the manipulation tactics to try to get Tav on board with him Ascending if you voice any displeasure with it. He's scared. He believes it will protect what he has. And I'm not sure he fully sees the shittiness of what he's doing.

And that also happens in healthy relationships sometimes. No one is perfect, and people sometimes do shitty things without realizing it, especially if they're trying to work through a lot of complicated feelings.

Aside from matters involving Cazador, Astarion doesn't belittle Tav, doesn't try to control them, doesn't try to isolate them, doesn't so much as get jealous if Tav wants to hook up with someone else. To me that shows it is just this one thing, just Cazador, that makes him falter in trying to be a good partner.

When the Ascension comes, he is blinded by that power, rather than wanting it to protect Tav and himself. I wouldn't see that as a red flag in itself. Everyone had their vices and temptations. Now failing the persuasion check and him throwing a hissy fit, THAT'S the red flag. That's an abusive Astarion. That's someone who will toss you aside the second you don't do what they want.

I see that Astarion as completely separate to the Astarion who has all this promised power in front of him, everything he's ever wanted while under Cazador's thumb, and instead hears Tav, listens, and decides that the promise of a new life with Tav is more important.

I see it as two seperate Astarion's because that's the check that makes our breaks the moment. You can do everything right, and he leaves you over that. Or you can some things right, some things wrong, and he still listens. It's like a branching timeline, one timeline where Astarion is a piece of shit, one where he's not, and nothing you can do will change which universe you're in, it's all a matter of luck. Or rather, a roll of the dice.

I can see why someone might think that it's Tav's love that "fixes" him because you're playing Tav, and if you want this "good ending" then you have to pick the choices that would make Astarion better. Mechanically, yes, the player really likes Astarion and therfore making an effort to "fix" him by caring for him.

But I can't help but get immersed in these games. My character doesn't do things in an attempt to fix Astarion. My character would dump Astarion on his prissy little vampire bum if he continued carrying on like a jerk and wasn't visibly making an effort to be better. And in my mind, it's Astarion falling in love that makes him want to be better, at least to this specific person.

Now, as to whether Astarion is a good person...

LOL

But not being a good person doesn't mean you can't be a kind and caring partner to the person you love, and it's up to the person you love to decide whether they're okay with you being an asshole to other people.

The problem with the Spawn ending in regards to the relationship message it sends.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to understand my main issue and gripe with the Spawn ending. Aside from how OOC this ending is and how it makes no sense character, motivation or psychology-wise: Spawn encourages the idea that you can fix a jerk and he can become so much better with the power of your love and guidance while in reality, it's a horrible message to send.

“I can fix him” is exactly how people end up in and stay in an abusive relationship - they live with the hope that “my love can make him a better person” and - surprise - it never works and leads to a broken relationship at best, being trapped in this relationship at worst.

Sending a message that your “fixing” can truly work is horrible and, honestly, a cruel reality would have been a far better ending: your ‘anti-ritual persuasion’ doesn’t work, Astarion lashes out at you and leaves, leaving you to realize that it is always important to wake up and leave your toxic partner, instead of wasting your life trying to be their life coach and saviour.

Real victims of abuse need to realize this: that it's important to leave an abusive, toxic partner, to recognize their manipulation and how unhealthy it is, not witnessing what Spawn ending showed: another instance of a problematic relationship which was magically fixed “if you try hard enough”.

Cinema Therapy - while discussing Twilight - tackled this topic, and their input is really the best way I can ever explain why Spawn is such a horrible ending with a terrible message for everyone - abuse victims or not. “Fixer-upper” is a terrible mentality, the concept of fixing is horrible for both parties and toxic partners need to be avoided: not stayed with in hopes that “my love can make them better”.

Spawn romance ending is not just a myth - it’s a very toxic myth. Same thing with Ascendant.

Hate Ascendant all you want, you can absolutely have your preferences, but please don’t think that Spawn is in any way better just because it's less on-the-nose.

Ascendant Astarion is obvious in his toxicity, and people pick up on that and don’t want this “bad ending” - but Spawn is the same toxic relationship but better disguised - something that abusers are good at - disguising their worst sides, showing you the good side so you would remain trapped in this unhealthy relationship.

And frankly, I prefer Ascendant far more in that regard: it's horrible, creepy, dark, but it shows you how problematic his love is, and raises your alarm bells that you need to leave this sort of relationship; Meanwhile, Spawn romanticises this problematic relationship and that is the worst part.

I would rather see an over-the-top Ascendant who teaches people to be alarmed and leave toxic partners, than Spawn who teaches them to stay with unhealthy partners because “you can bring out the best in them”. 

No. You can’t.

[leejeongz]

please do a jihoon fluffy a-z… for the cb?? 🥺 (treasure)

fluffy a-z PARK JIHOON (treasure)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

in terms of physical affection… lowkey annoying 😵‍💫 and he knows it lmfao. wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek every opportunity he gets, even if you’re around your friends. he loves being close to you physically and whenever he can be, he will be. he’s a tickler too, so if he catches you in a grumpy mood, it’s his go to technique to cheer you up.

he’s really good at reassurance, with the right amount of honesty. you know that if jihoon tells you that you can do something, or that he’s proud of you, he means it. i don’t think jihoon ever really knows the power of his words but they really do make you feel confident in yourself and extremely loved.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

best friend jihoon is the friend everyone needs. he’s honest, his advice is clear cut and well thought through, he’s fun and loves to laugh, he’s always got your back in ANY situation, and he always has your best interests at heart.

you don’t have to see each other everyday, nor do you have to talk to each other every day, you know that you could go a year of not talking and still be best friends. in the same way, you could talk for hours on end and never run out of things to say. your friendship is special like that.

jihoon is the type of guy to randomly talk to / message someone he thinks he’d get along with. you could have just by chance sat next to him on a plane journey and all of a sudden your best friends for life.

C = Comfort (How do they comfort their partner?)

blunt. he’s brutally honest and, although you might not want to hear it, he’s gonna tell you the truth anyway. he knows this is the best way to help you with your problems in the long run, even if at the time it makes you quite upset and frustrated with him.

he’s not going to baby you either. you’re old enough to understand the situation and to help yourself, especially when it’s something that is your fault. of course, he’s going to stand up for you and he’s going to be on your side, but he’s going to be clear when he’s telling you how he really feels about the situation behind closed doors.

jihoon is definitely someone you could go to about anything. he’s not the type to judge you for anything you’ve done (it’s in the past so what’s the point), he’s not the type to laugh at your problems or to try and belittle them. he’s going to approach the situation with a healthy mindset, he doesn’t like to react in toxic ways even if that’s what you want from him, because he knows that’s not gonna be best in the long run.

sometimes, you just need a hug, or a cry, or just to scream, and he understands that. he welcomes you with open arms and lets you ramble to him about anything you want. he hates to see you cry, he really does, so he makes an effort to cheer you up in any way he can.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How about kids? Marriage? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

i do think jihoon wants to settle down, but he’s in no rush to do so. jihoon doesn’t date for marriage, he’s there to have fun and whatever comes of it he’s happy with, he’s not trying to force something to happen if it’s not naturally going in that direction. settling down is something that he wants but not necessarily something that he needs. i don’t think he’d be desperate to have children and is quite happy being a family, just you and him. if you wanted children, he’d compromise, maybe just one :).

around the house, jihoon does anything that needs to be done. you don’t have to assign roles, it’s just whoever realises something has to be done first. he keeps the place pretty tidy anyway and always cleans up after himself, and i think he’d get pretty annoyed if you didn’t do the same. when it comes to cooking, he loves to show off his cooking skills where possible. if you’re with him, he’s gonna cook for you, but he’s not gonna be disheartened if you don’t like that meal.

E = Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

jihoon is dominant. always. all the time. he’s never not going to be dominant. if you ever wanna wear the trousers, he’ll let you, but just know he finds your attempt very cute and that he is most definitely still in charge of the relationship despite your efforts to convince him otherwise.

i think this is something that just comes naturally to him. he’s not trying to force himself to be something he’s not, so you just have to allow it to happen.

F = Feelings (How did the confession go down?)

jihoon is pretty flirty. i don’t think he’d need to make a huge confession for you to know that he likes you. things just naturally move forward for you two and you silently, but mutually, agree that you are more than friends. you do all the things that a couple do and everyone assumes that you’re a couple anyway. he waits until you introduce him as your boyfriend to actually bring it up, but that’s mainly just to tease you hehe.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’s not gonna go out of his way to protect your feelings too much. the truth is valued more so in his eyes, especially where it could hurt you more in the long run to not hear it from him. he doesn’t like to see you hurt or upset, but he knows it’s best for you that way.

physically, jihoon is a tough one. he likes play fighting and some pretty interesting stuff in the bed room, but other than that i see him as a huge softie. i mean, sometimes his back hugs squeeze you a little too hard, or his chin digs into your shoulder more than you’d like it too, but it’s (of course) never done with bad intention. he didn't mean to hurt you by doing those things, he knows it’s because you find it funny, else he wouldn’t do it !

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

BACK HUGS when you least expect it! when you're standing, looking in the fridge, his arms immediately wrap around you and his chin lands on top of your head/shoulder as he begins to chat absolute nonsense, just whatever comes to his mind lol.

he loves any type of hug and is usually the one to initiate them. no matter the time of day, a hug is always appreciated and so he makes an effort to hug you whenever he can.

I = Instant (Do they believe in love at first sight?)

no. he can find people attractive and inviting, sure, but nothing more than that. since jihoon would literally talk to a brick wall, he finds it difficult to distinguish between romantic attraction and platonic, so no, love at first sight is not something that he believes in. everyone starts at the same level, getting to know the person is a better indication for him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he’s a very jealous man 😵‍💫 in any situation that jihoon can get jealous, he will. and he thinks it’s pretty cute when you do the same. his jealousy isn’t fuelled by thoughts of other men making moves (not all the time anyway) it’s mostly that you’re spending time with them over him. he tries not to show it when he’s jealous for this reason, and he definitely wouldn’t want to start an argument over it because he’s not a toxic boyfriend by any means, he just wants to make you aware that he’s a little jealous and hurt that you chose to spend time with them and not with him.

his jealousy reaches its maximum when he catches other guys getting too close to you, especially when they’re his friends since they know how protective he is. he’s not going to back down from a fight in this instance, he wants to make it very clear that you are his and no one else can have you. he’d also be pretty upset with you in these circumstances since you allowed it to happen, he gets quite frustrated if you act oblivious and most definitely confronts you on it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

small pecks are for behind closed doors for the most part (sometimes in front of friends but that’s usually just to embarrass you). before he leaves, he always has to place at least one on your cheek! he asks for them a lot too, pointing at his cheek when you’re sitting beside him and pouting when you don’t give him one in 0.2 seconds.

(warning: slightly suggestive) something tells me that jihoon loves passionate and burning kisses that are filled with heat. he doesn’t rush them, even though he knows you both really want to, because he likes to make you wait. he likes it when he can sense your heavy breathing, when he can feel your hands wandering. he has you right where he wants you, he knows the power of his kisses and he’s not afraid to use them against you (and you don’t mind either hehe).

L = Love Confession (How fast do they say the L-word?)

of course, he has to do it in the most cheesy way, but in private. he wants to say it first, so it happens quite early on in your relationship, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

you two were calling late at night, it was the only time you two could talk without getting interrupted. you were telling him about the new fluffy socks you’d bought that day when he cut you off “you’re so cute, i love you”.

M = Memory (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

jihoon once booked a spontaneous trip for you both and told you about it only a few days before you departed. unbeknownst to you, he’d booked a weekend getaway to venice, where you spent your time cosying up to each other on romantic boat trips and sharing gelato in st. mark’s square. he will never forget how happy you were on that trip, how much you enjoyed your time there, and as soon as you arrive back home he’s just thinking about the next trip you can go on together.

N = No (What's their pet peeve?)

a serious pet peeve of his would be someone who doesn’t share the same morals and the same idea of fun as him. he wants to be pushed out of his comfort zone and introduced to new ideas, but some things are just too extreme for him to accept.

a silly pet peeve would be dragging him around shops or for a walk when he said he didn’t want to go. it’s not a deal breaker ofc, he still loves you, but in that moment he couldn’t think of a worse place to be and the only thing making it bearable is being with you.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their significant other?)

white - he sees you as a very innocent person, who benefits from having someone to lead them and guide them. it’s giving yin and yang in that sense. he learns from everything you do and everything you say (as much as he hates to admit that he doesn’t know it all lmao) sees you as someone who is full of wisdom.

P = Petnams (What pet names do they call their other half?)

this flirty mfer would call you all the pet names under the sun (well, the ones you're comfortable with of course.) his personal favs to call you are fairly standard: baby and honey. he also likes to tease you with girlfie/boyfie if you don’t mind that. sometimes he rhymes your name with a made up word when he’s in a particularly whiney mood which is rather cute.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he’s making a conscious effort to remember as much as he can. usually jihoon is quite passive when it comes to remembering things about people, he meets a lot of new people everyday and he doesn’t always trust them, so why should he remember every bit of info about them?! but with you, it’s a very different story. he’ll often bring up embarrassing stories you told him from your childhood to tease you, and will remember your daily schedule.

of course, he can forget little things that you said in passing, he really does try not to but it happens sometimes and you can’t hold that against him hehe. he remembers all the stuff he needs to !

R = Rainy day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

let’s get one thing straight, if there’s a day off he’s spending it with you no matter what.

he definitely loves to cuddle in bed, but he’d try to stick to some kind of routine, so he wouldn’t stay in bed for tooooo long. then he’d make some breakfast and if you're lucky he’ll bring it to you in bed where you can both enjoy it.

you’d spend the day doing a few chores that needed to be done or watching some films/series that you’re both pretty invested in. he’s not usually the type of guy who wants to waste a day doing nothing but if you convince him he’ll consider it just for you.

that evening you’d probably go out for a nice meal somewhere or, if that’s not possible, you’d order food to your house. either way neither of you are cooking on your days off which was the main thing hehe.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

he boils over in anger at the thought of you being with someone else. he’s very much a “you belong to me” boyfriend and wouldn’t let anyone touch you. he respects your independence, but he wants to make sure you know that all you have to do is call his name and he’ll be running to your rescue. he’d quite literally fight for you (and he’d always win cos,,, he’s park jihoon).

he’d like the idea of being yours too, but he believes that he doesn’t need protecting. the thought of you protecting him and possibly putting yourself in danger for him in some circumstances is worse than him being in that situation himself. jihoon would never let anyone cross the line when it came to flirting. he’d be pretty hot on and would tell them bluntly that he’s taken if he even sensed a tiny bit of romantic interest from someone else, you don’t need to protect him, he’s good at protecting himself and you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he’s a try hard at everything, being your boyfriend is no exception to that. jihoon searches and aims for only the best for his honey :(.

he appeared to be chill and relax, a go with the flow kind of boyfriend at first, but he’s actually been internally panicking on his way to the date over whether his shoelaces are tied in a way that would give you the ick or something silly like that. it’s not exactly putting in an effort i know, but he’s always looking to impress you!!

gifts (including anniversary days) are full of surprises… sometimes they’re silly, yet useful things (that one time he got someone a bin…). other times they’re more meaningful and sentimental. it even becomes hard for him to predict which category the next gift will fall under lmao.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he’s not willing to change himself too drastically. it’s not easy for him to change how he is right now, and he believes he shouldn’t have to (so true king), but when things start bothering you and you bring it up, he almost brushes it off as if it’s your problem. for the most part, it does make you realise what you thought was an issue with the relationship was actually you just overthinking, but when it comes to a real problem, this can get a little tricky to navigate and find a solution for.

to counter that, he’s very good at reassuring you when you are overthinking because he’s so honest and blunt. by simply saying “that’s not what’s happening” without trying to sugar coat it, he allows you to feel more secure in the relationship, and you can see that your doubts were unwarranted.

V = Vulnerability (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

i think it would take a while for jihoon to start sharing very personal and private things with you. he’s not always sure of someone’s intentions, even though he believes he can read people pretty well he still wants to be sure before he reveals things about himself. with the right person, they come out naturally, he starts sharing things based on what you share with him because that’s a great indication of good intentions to him. he doesn’t want to overburden you with his problems, too, so trivial issues only really get shared when you ask, he’s so grateful if you do but still feels guilty.

W = Why (Why do they love their partner?)

you’re open and you’re honest with him, it’s refreshing and it draws him into you even after years of being together. your loyalty and trueness really inspires him to be a better boyfriend and a better person overall. you learn a lot from each other, you’re polar opposites in some ways and that’s great because it means he gets to see things from another point of view. you teach him things he’d never usually have the opportunity to learn. (also, someone that loves him more than he loves himself? oh he just has to have you!)

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

jihoon loves being annoying, and has even mastered the art of being annoying when you’re not around. he’ll text you when he knows that your busy, and it will be something stupid like “how many pigeons would have to surround you before you became suspicious?” he expects a quick, numerical reply, one that doesn’t question his absurd text and actually answers what he’s dying to know. if you didn’t respond, he’d spam you with “babyyy” or “y/n, your boyfriend asked you a question!” until you replied.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, but other people love in a relationship?)

don’t get me wrong, jihoon is the king of cringe, but he hates doing things like that in public. he’s not the type to dance on tables with you, or to stick his tongue down your throat while you're walking around a museum lol. he’ll gladly do those things with you in private, but he’s not about to embarrass himself, he does not support such antics.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

his lips rest so gently against your skin when he falls asleep on you :(. you can feel them and his soft breathing slightly blowing on you, he doesn’t even realise he does it but it’s so cute awe.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Here is the thing about Cassian and Azriel. How is their influence in Illyria? I know Cassian is actively trying to change his people even when the progress is slow. And Azriel, he hated his people right? It is understandable. But i kept thinking, how will you change your people if you spend most of your time in Velaris? I know Cassian have his room in House Of Wind and practically lives there with mor, az. Then think of his people feel about this. Their general lives in velaris, safe warm clean no clipping wing. As if their own general is running from illyria and they know of it.

If it was me, I feel rather sad and offended. Sjm keep using this "bastard" excuses for cassian to be outcast from his people. But that somehow dont make sense. There must be a few male willing to be his friends if effort is make. Not all illyria is horrid as depicted. And jf he had no friends in illyria, how is he going to change his homeland?

"A man with no friends, is a man with no power". I stayed true to this and I believe Cassian is accepted as general merely because of Rhys. If Rhys is discarded in this dynamic, where would Cassian stand? I feel as Cassian whole life is too dependent on Rhys influence. Make friends with your people, Cassian. Learn them, show them, win them. You need friends outside your inner circle. Apart from feyre having no friends outside the IC, same goes to all of them. They need friends outside their IC, outside velaris. It so weird you know being so tied to your circle. It is not healthy.

Bit by bit, Cassian can change Illyria, he can do it without Rhys if he plays his role as friends well. To influence a person, surely you need to be likeable, at least relatable, then you became friends. As for Cass, he is already Illyria, stay true to his people, this can be a start. Convo about the celebration, food, song. How can he not have a single friend outside IC?

It is not surprising Illyria wanted to rebel. I would too. Their only voice to the HL is their general. And EVEN their general has little voice in it. They are not heard you know. Despite all the power Rhys have, his influence stand behind this 'fear' he created, not from the respect of his people. Same thing goes his people in hewn city. Who is Mor to them? What influence Mor have on them? Did she have friends in hewn city? No, she practically ditch them to be this 'dreamer' while the rest left in their nightmare.

Then we have this whole Feyre and her wing. Goodness, what does Azriel see and feel when he taught her to fly? Then goes back to his mother and see the wing clipped while his High Lady flaunt it? Goodness, it riled me up thinking about this.

Cassian could be pivotal to change in Illyria. If the society is as bad as they say then there would be many more little boys - just like Cassian - who are abandoned and have to fend for themselves. He could be their role model. Someone like them who now stands alongside the high lord. He could be the one they look up to and respect. Cassian could give them hope that they aren't just bastard born, lowest members of society. Instead, they have to start from the bottom rung of the ladder, fighting for any scrap of respect - and never receiving it because "that's how Illyria is".

I absolutely agree with you that it's crazy that they don't have any of the IC residing in Illyria or the Hewn City. How can they spearhead change if they hate to be in the place? They don't have the respect of the people because they don't deserve it. They have utter disdain for Illyria and the Hewn City. Their only appearances are to belittle them or to recruit them for a war.

It's the same attitude of Mor; well I got out so too bad to the others! In ACOMAF, when they arrive at Windhaven, Mor says the place should be burnt to the ground - literally as they arrived there. They all have such disgust for the place, but none of them will put in the work to change it. It is your job!! You are the leaders!!

Feyre could literally shift to any sort of wings. Fairy wings. Butterfly wings. Bird wings. But she chooses Illyrian. It's such a slap in the face to all the Illyrian woman who have to bow down to her as high lady. I think if Rhys' mother had her wings clipped - if his father arrived a minute too late - then maybe they'd have started to change things. I never actually considered what it must be like for Azriel to see it as we believe is still alive (and presumably clipped). Also as he didn't learn how to fly until he was 11 then surely he should be even more motivated to stop females losing their flight?

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

[c-aureus]

My opinions on the relationship between Link and Zelda in BotW, and why I personally detest romantic BotW Zelink:

A strong title, I am aware. I'm aware of the risk this runs of causing a right shitstorm lol.

I'd like to preface this essay with the disclaimer that all of the following are merely my interpretations. It is completely fine if you disagree with me.

My views are not any more or less valid than anyone else's, and do not invalidate conflicting opinions.

Nevertheless, if you are an avid BotW Zelink shipper who does not wish to hear a great deal of criticism about this pairing, then I suggest you do not read this post.

If, however, you are curious to hear my opinions, then I merely request that you keep an open mind, and be respectful of everyone else's interpretation. I will admit that these interpretations are integral to my characterisations within my fanfic series.

OK, so. Firstly. I do not think that anyone can reasonably argue with the fact that Zelda treats Link AWFULLY in the earlier memories. Indeed, BotW makes a rather large point of showing just some of the ways Zelda mistreats Link.

For context, Link is appointed as Zelda's Royal Guard by her father, the King. It is, therefore, his sworn duty to protect her, and he doesn't really have any say in the matter. But I believe that he would be proud to serve his kingdom in this capacity.

Zelda, however, takes great offence to his presence. She takes out her frustration by constantly belittling and berating Link, (knowing that she will not face repercussions for her mistreatment due to their respective positions) and repeatedly trying to escape his escort, despite the fact that he is there for her safety, and despite his best efforts to be as unobtrusive as possible to her.

And then, when Link finds her, because he is devoted to his duty of protecting her, she berates him again.

For merely doing his job.

What Zelda is showing here is that she holds utter contempt for Link and his duty, and actively tries to make his job, and his life, miserable. I cannot imagine the stress Zelda's constant absconding would have on Link, given that if he fails his duty to keep her safe, it's his arse on the line. Plus the entirety of Hyrule's arse too, given Zelda's destiny that she needs to perform.

We know from Zelda's diary that Link, despite his blank facade, IS hurt by her blatantly hurtful actions, as is completely natural and normal in his circumstances.

Now, to be completely fair, I believe that Link is highly sympathetic to Zelda. He understands why she mistreats him, especially since Urbosa spells it out in her cutscene. He understands that Zelda is in an unenviable position, and that she is taking out her frustration and anger for not being able to live up to her destiny on him.

However, despite this understanding and sympathy, that does not mean that the hurt Zelda has caused him vanishes.

He has an explanation for her behaviour. But it is NOT an excuse.

So anyway. Zelda's behaviour continues until the Gerudo desert. Remember that Zelda fled from Link's protection (again) to go to the Gerudo Town, where Link is not allowed to set foot as a male. After he tracks her down to Vah Naboris (in the dead of night - dude must have been walking all day across a desert to reach her), Zelda's first reaction when she sees him is scorn. I can't imagine how hurtful that must be.

Anyway, the next morning, Zelda ditches him YET AGAIN, making her way across the desert alone.

When she is jumped by Yiga Assassins. Who come within moments of killing (or worse, capturing) her, until Link comes flying out of nowhere to save her.

(On a little side note, some people think this is where Zelda fell in love with him. And really, at this point, Zelda knows nothing about him, since she'd never before given him the time of day. She, at best, has a crush on the concept of a Saviour)

Now, fair play to Zelda in that after this pivotal moment, she changes her attitude and behaviour towards Link, even admitting to her previous faults in her diary. This shows a surprising maturity that contrasts her previous childishness.

However, again, this does not make all of the hurt she caused him just vanish.

Now, over the next months, I believe that Zelda and Link became very close friends. Especially given that Zelda was so starved for relationships. And they come to know each other very well, especially with Zelda sympathising with Link's lack of choice in his own destiny, similar to herself.

However, well... even after this point, Zelda still mistreats Link.

I'm referring primarily to the Frog Cutscene.

Now, to preface this, in this instance, I do not believe that Zelda is behaving maliciously to Link intentionally. I believe that she is trying to tease him.

However, her behaviour is not ideal.

In this cutscene, Link shows extreme discomfort with Zelda's insistence that he eat the live frog. This is especially significant, given his usual stoicness. The fact that Zelda causes this reaction means that he feels extremely strongly about this issue.

However, Zelda keeps insisting and pushing him, effectively taking her teasing too far, and causing Link more discomfort. Because who would want to eat a frog? (No offence to French people).

Now, coming from my own experience of having friends take teasing too far with me, and having unfortunately done the same with other people, I can say with absolute certainty that Zelda's behaviour here is not ok. Especially given Link's very apparent discomfort here.

However, there is also another aspect here that I've never seen anyone else mention.

Namely that, despite Zelda's wishes of friendship, she holds authority over Link, as Princess of the Kingdom.

As a Knight, he is duty bound to follow Zelda's orders and instructions. And one could argue that Zelda's insistence could be viewed in the context of her 'ordering' Link to eat the frog. Of course, I do not believe that this is her intention, but, from Link's perspective, there is definitely cause for reasonable doubt.

Which forces Link into the exceedingly awkward decision of having to refuse what MIGHT be an order from the Princess.

And, especially framed in the context of Zelda's previous immature, unfair behaviour towards him, he doesn't know if his refusal might cause Zelda to get all stroppy with him. Let alone other, more significant consequences that might arise from disobeying his superior.

And I feel sorry for Zelda here, seeing that she wants to view Link as a friend (or potentially more), however she must know that they are both bound by their respective positions at this point. Her behaviour is... inappropriate, and as sorry as I feel for her, that does not change the fact that she's dumping Link in an extraordinarily awkward position, and being very unfair to him.

Because, if Link does take issue with her behaviour, what can he do to stop it? Zelda is the princess, and he has no right to tell her what she can and cannot do.

Now, that is effectively the crux of my argument, however I will also note that I interpret Link to be extremely depressed in BotW, due to how much he has lost, and how he is grieving the deaths of well... everyone he's ever known, many of whom he cannot even remember. He's grieving the death of an entire civilisation, as well as people extremely close to him.

In such circumstances, it would be natural for him to resent the fact that Zelda did not awaken her power sooner, and resent Zelda's decision to have him resurrected, even in spite of him understanding the necessity of it.

Basically, whilst I interpret Link and Zelda to be very close, I am very strongly against the idea that Link would form romantic feelings for her, due to his formative impressions of her being filled with mistreatment and abuse. Whilst I do not doubt that he forgives her, the fact remains that first impressions are important. And Link's first, second, third... (and so on) impressions of Zelda are... unfavourable.

If this happened to me, then, perhaps with a healthy dose of sympathy and understanding, I could come to forgive the one who has mistreated me so extensively, as I believe Link does for Zelda.

However, I do not think that I could ever fall in love with them.

And, whilst this was not meant to involve my interpretations about Miphlink, I will say that during the whole time Zelda was abusing and disrespecting Link, Mipha was nothing but kind, accepting, caring and devoted towards him.

As such, if the sequel explicitly puts Link and Zelda into a romantic relationship, or even just strongly implies it, I will be...

Honestly, I'll be furious. Because this would run so completely contradictory to all of my interpretations about BotW and the characters.

I pray that they write with subtlety and leave reasonable room for interpretation.

Once again, these are only my interpretations. If you wish to add your own, then feel free. I'm all for having a reasonable, respectful and informed debate on the matter. However, please remain respectful of other opinions, whatever your interpretation is.