#life isn’t pass/fail it’s more complicated

[eggs-can-draw]

You’re a Rose Quartz apologist because you don’t believe someone can do bad things and still be a good person, and therefore excuse her actions. I’m a rose quartz apologist because I think she’s fucking hot. We are not the same

[betweenstorms]

Part Two of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Time has a funny way of slipping through your fingers, doesn’t it?

The years passed as they do, quietly, relentlessly and somehow, unintentionally you followed Simon Riley’s advice, no matter how much it stung during that particular summer night.

You grew older, wiser, or at least you hoped you did. 

At the end of that warm, suburban summer, you left Manchester behind, moved to London for university, found yourself caught up in the complexity of adulthood, chasing dreams, making mistakes, falling in love, losing it. You lived your life, embraced its peaks and valleys, and let it sweep you along. Some days were golden, like those late summer days in your twenties when laughter was easy, love felt endless, and the world seemed filled with promise. You travelled with your new friends from university, gelato dripping down your wrist as you laughed under the bright Sicilian sun, the loud conversation with your girls echoing across the cobblestone streets. You invited your parents to London several times, playing tourist with them, showing them your new apartment, savouring moments of connection between the gaps of your new life and their old one. And then there was the day your boyfriend knelt before you, a ring glinting in the rose gold streetlights of Paris, asking you to be his fiancée.

Oh, it was the kind of moment you had always dreamed of, the fairy tale that every little girl secretly hopes will come true.

But life isn’t all dreams, is it?

You wept like a child, your heart shattered when you found out about the affair. Your fiancé, with your college roommate of all people. It felt like betrayal layered upon betrayal, and the sadness you carried then weighed more than all the joy of your past put together, manifested in the hollow echoes of your aching sobs in the shared flat you once called home. You moved out shortly after that incident.

Unfortunately, there were other disappointments, too. Failed job interviews, missed opportunities, the loneliness that seeped into your bones in those years after university, when friends began to drift away and the beauty of childhood transforms into a fading memory. But you picked yourself up. You always did. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you knew best. You kept moving, because the alternative, sinking, was unthinkable.

But through it all, you lived.

And you wouldn’t change a thing even if you had the chance.

You threw yourself into your work, into the messy and beautiful chaos of life. There were still some moments where you felt like you had the world at your feet, laughing with your high school mates over beers in dingy pubs, watching the sun set over London’s skyline, those spontaneous trips to the coast where you tasted freedom in every salty breeze. And you moved forward, not necessarily because you wanted to, but because time forced you to.

But that was fine by you.

And in the quiet corners of your mind, Simon Riley became a distant thought—like the chorus of a song you used to know like the back of your hand. You thought of him less and less as the years went by, as your life became more complicated, more full.

You took his words to heart, didn’t you?

You left him behind.

But still, he lingered.

There were those times, in the early years, when your parents would call, giving you updates on Manchester, on the neighbours, on the old street you grew up on. You’d ask about the Rileys, casually, as if it didn’t really matter. You weren’t prying, not really, just curious. What had become of Simon? Of Tommy? Your parents mentioned Simon had joined the military at some point, which didn’t surprise you. He always carried a soldier’s weight, even as a boy.

They told you about Tommy too, how his life had spiralled out of control with drugs and the wreckage of his past trauma. Your mother sighed when she mentioned Mrs. Riley and how she had hit rock bottom. But Simon, when he returned from deployment, finally helped them rid themselves of Mr. Riley for good, breaking the cycle of abuse that had poisoned their lives for years.

Your parents even got a bit more involved in the Riley’s lives after that—dropping in with food, attending Tommy’s wedding with a kind soul named Beth, helping with little Joseph, their gorgeous newborn, who your mum absolutely adored. She’d tell you about him during your weekend catch-ups.

However, as time went on, the Rileys faded from your thoughts, a chapter you had quietly closed.

Your own life was blooming in London, despite the mistakes you made along the way. You loved fiercely, lost greatly, and found your way back to yourself time and again. The more you lived, the less you thought about the boy who once lived next door.

Until that cold September afternoon.

The air was ice cold, but not just from the weather. It was the kind of chill that settled deep in your bones, the kind that gnawed at you long after the sun had set during winter.

The day had been unremarkable at first—work was its usual rhythm of meetings and emails, the sound of your co-workers chattering as a familiar background noise. But then your phone rang, your mother’s weak voice trembling on the other end like the fragile crackle of dry leaves in the wind during autumn.

You had heard your mother cry before.

The grief at a relative’s passing, the heartache of a goodbye too long drawn out—but this was different. Her sobs were frantic, her rushed words spilling over each other in terrified, broken fragments, so hurried you could hardly catch the meaning.

“The Rileys… oh God, love, the Rileys are gone…”

It took you a moment to grasp what she was saying.

Gone? How? You sat frozen, the world around you blurring as your mum’s words came in and out like waves crashing against the shore.

“Dear Lord, some maniac... a psychopath… some madman…” she choked. “He killed them. Killed them all. Tommy, Beth, even little Joseph, an innocent baby, Oh God…”

You could hear your mother’s quiet anguish, but it was as though you were outside yourself, hearing everything from a great distance.

The Rileys. Dead. It didn’t make sense. Mrs. Riley, Tommy, Beth, the child—how could they be gone? The thought was too large and too grotesque to fully comprehend. It was like a nightmare, one you couldn’t wake up from.

“And… Simon?”

A name you hadn’t uttered in years.

A name that had always lingered on the edges of your memory, like a shadow cast by fading light.

Your mother’s breath caught. “I don’t know. Oh, love. He wasn’t there… I think he’s still in the military, but… we don’t know, we were asleep, didn’t hear a thing.”

She was crying again, her sobs muffled by the phone. Her sobs broke through, and she confessed, through gasps of guilt, that she and your father had been sound asleep when it happened, oblivious to the horror just next door. The sanctuary of your childhood, the quiet safety of the neighbourhood, shattered in a mere second.

Your mind raced, your heart thundering in your chest.

Oh, all those years, all those moments where you hadn’t thought about Simon Riley, and now, now the past was clawing its way back, forcing you to confront something you had thought you’d left behind.

Your coworkers looked up, sensing something was wrong. One of them asked if you were okay, if you needed anything, but you barely heard them. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but all you could do was tremble. Your hands squeezed as you gripped your phone, trying to keep your voice steady as you told your mother you’d drive up to Manchester right away, that you’d be there soon. When the call ended, and you were out the door before you had time to gather your thoughts. The moments after that were a blur, your body on autopilot as you stumbled to your car. The urgency to get there, to understand what had happened, burned through you, like liquid fire in your veins.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Pain hit you suddenly, sharp and overwhelming, something you’ve never felt before. It started as a dull ache in your lower stomach, but it intensified rapidly until you were doubled over, gasping for breath. You couldn’t drive, you couldn’t think. By the time you finally made it to your flat, the pain had become unbearable. Something was wrong, you knew. Terribly wrong.

You had to call for an ambulance, your hands shaking as you dialled the number.

However, you weren’t thinking about yourself as they wheeled you into the hospital, weren’t listening to the doctor’s voice as he explained the situation—appendicitis, nothing lethal, a routine surgery, and you’d be fine but you had to stay still.

Throughout your surgery, all you could think about was Simon. The boy who had grown into a man who you barely knew anymore, the man who had lived through hell and had come back to face it once again. Was he back in Manchester? Was he grieving? Or had he been claimed by the same nightmare that had taken the rest of his family?

After the surgery, you lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face. It wasn’t the pain of your own body that made you cry—it was the helplessness, the not knowing, the fear that somewhere out there, Simon, your childhood friend, was lost, alone, and there was nothing you could do to help him.

You spent the first few hours after the surgery drifting between sleep and wakefulness, your mind clouded with both painkillers and the overwhelming ache of uncertainty. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of the past—memories of Manchester, the Rileys, Simon. The years blurred, and for a moment, you could almost feel the gentle summer sun on your skin again, hear the distant murmur of a time that seemed too far gone.

But the present was relentless.

Your parents arrived in London as quickly as they could, your mother staying by your side, fussing over you as she had when you were a child. Her hands were warm, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Fear for you, fear for what had happened back in Manchester. She stayed while your father left for the funeral—the collective service for the Rileys, held only a week after their brutal end.

You couldn’t go, of course. Fucking appendicitis.

The thought of missing that final goodbye gnawed at you. You couldn’t let it go. Therefore, you wrote. A letter. A really long letter. In the small hours of the night, with the hospital lights dimmed and the distant hum of machinery as your only company, you penned a letter.

The words didn’t come easily.

What could you possibly say to Simon Riley, after all these years? What could you write that would bring him any semblance of comfort, any understanding in the face of such senseless tragedy? How could you explain to him how sorry you were? Sorry for what had happened to his family, sorry that you weren’t there when he needed someone most, sorry for all the years you’d spent avoiding the memories of your childhood, of him. But you had to try.

You wrote with a trembling hand, pouring everything you couldn’t say aloud into that letter, every apology that had been lodged in your throat for years. You tied it to your father’s soul, knowing he would deliver it to Simon, wherever he might be. And your father, with his quiet strength, promised he would.

When the day of the funeral came, you lay in your bed, imagining the cold September air, the way the ground must have looked under the grey Manchester sky. You pictured the small crowd, neighbours, and friends from the community, all standing in sombre silence as the Rileys were laid to rest. But what haunted you most was the image of Simon—if he was even there at all. You wondered if he stood apart from the others, his broad shoulders hunched, his face unreadable as ever. Or maybe he hadn’t come at all, disappearing into the shadows once again, as he always had.

The week crawled by, each day dragging longer than the last. Your mother stayed by your side, but the quiet weight of what had happened in Manchester pressed down on both of you. Your father returned, but there was no news of Simon. Your dad told you that they didn’t talk much. No sight of him after the funeral. No trace of him in the days after. He had vanished, leaving behind an empty house and a tragedy too vast to comprehend. And when you finally recovered enough to leave the hospital, you made the trip back to Manchester with your mother.

The familiar streets felt like a ghost of themselves—places once filled with memories now overshadowed by the grim reality of what had happened. The Riley house stood empty, its windows dark, the air around it thick with loss. You stood at the gate for a long time, staring at the house that had once been so full of life, of pain, of everything in between. But now, it was nothing. Just a shell. Just another haunted corner of your past.

There were no answers. No signs of Simon.

And in the end, after a week of trying to help your parents, after a week of grieving and remembering, you left. You packed your things and drove back to London, promising yourself you’d never return. The city you had once called home felt cursed now, and the memories it held were too heavy to bear.

You couldn’t escape the past, though. Not really. 

The promise you made to yourself all those years ago, to never return to that godforsaken city, was one you kept for a long time. It wasn’t out of spite or bitterness, but rather out of a quiet resignation. You had moved on, created a life in London that was full of both the mundane and the extraordinary. And after your parents moved to Wimbledon, following your father’s cancer diagnosis, the ties to Manchester became even more frayed.

It wasn’t until your thirty-seventh birthday that you found yourself heading back to the place you swore you’d never return to.

Not for family, not for closure, but for something as trivial and absurd as a fucking high school reunion. It had started with a sudden phone call from one of your old mates, the same group you used to run around with in your youth.

You hadn’t heard from them in years. Well, apart from the occasional likes on Instagram posts or an awkwardly short birthday text.

“Eighteen bloody years,” your friend had said, her voice bright and insistent. “You’ve been stuck in London with your fancy life, and we’ve barely seen you. Time to get your arse back here and have a pint with the group, eh? It’s been too long, girl.”

You laughed it off at first, citing your tight work schedule and your responsibilities. But the more she talked, the more you realised how long it had been since you’d even thought about that part of your life. A simpler time, before the complexities of adulthood and all its responsibilities weighed on you.

So you agreed. You didn’t really know why, maybe out of a sense of pure nostalgia or maybe out of some lingering guilt.

The drive up to Manchester was long, and your nerves sat uneasily in your chest. What would it be like to see those familiar faces again, to walk the streets that had once been the backdrop of your childhood? Would it feel like home? Or would it feel like you didn’t belong anymore, a ghost walking through memories?

However, by the time you saw the familiar landmarks, something in you began to settle. The nervousness faded, replaced by a strange calmness, as if the city itself recognised you and offered some kind of unspoken truce. You arrived at the pub where your reunion was being held—the same one you used to frequent during your teenage years. It was a dive, the kind of place that hadn’t aged well, but that’s exactly what made it feel like time had stood still.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the smell of beer and the hum of conversation. And then there they were, your dear friends, sitting in a corner, laughing just like they always did. The moment you walked in, it was as if no time had passed at all. They greeted you with familiar smiles, pulling you into tight hugs and offering you a pint almost immediately.

The conversation flowed easily, old jokes resurfacing, stories being retold with exaggerated details and you found yourself chuckling. No, truly laughing, in a way you hadn’t done in what felt like ages. The weight of the years melted away, and for those brief hours, you felt like you were a teenager again, full of life and possibility, untouched by the heaviness that had since followed you. Oh, you hadn’t even realised how much you missed it, missed them. The simplicity of it all. The foolishness of youth.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drinking more than you should have. The beers went down easy, their familiar taste blending with the warm laughter and nostalgia. You hadn’t had a drink in a while, not properly, and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to loosen your limbs and soften the edges of reality. You felt light-headed, slightly detached from your surroundings but in that comfortable way that comes with the perfect level of drunkenness. Your words were slurring a bit, your laughter louder, but you didn’t mind.

Not tonight.

Eventually, the haze became a bit too much, and you excused yourself from the table. You needed fresh air, a moment for yourself to step away from the heat of the pub and the noise of the reunion. You fumbled with your jacket as you headed for the back of the building, where the designated smoking area was. It was behind the pub, near the dimly lit, empty parking lot, and as you made your way there, you nearly tripped over a discarded bottle on the ground.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered under your breath, the curse falling easily from your lips. Even small inconveniences seemed dramatic when you were tipsy. Some habits never died.

When you reached the smoking area, you were grateful to see it wasn’t crowded. Just one man, standing off to the side, leaning against the wall of the building, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he took a long drag. The tip of the cig glowed bright orange in the darkness. His silhouette seemed larger than life, almost unreal in the way he stood. He was massive, the kind of bloke you’d notice even in a crowded room, let alone in the quiet of the night.

Tall as a statue but built like a brick wall—shoulders broad and thick with muscle, his frame nearly filling the space between the wall and the edge of the lot.

At first, you stopped, startled by his size.

He was the sort of man you’d expect to see guarding the door, maybe a bouncer or a security guard. That made sense, considering how much physical strength he had. You nodded at him out of politeness, the way you do when you make eye contact with a stranger and want to acknowledge their presence without committing to a conversation. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and calculating.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You quickly turned away, feeling oddly self-conscious, and pulled out your cig, attempting to light it. But of course, as your luck would have it, your lighter chose that moment to give up on you. No matter how many times you flicked the damn thing, it refused to spark.

“Seriously?” you muttered, cursing your luck again. The bravado of the alcohol in your system pushed you to turn towards your only companion, flashing him an awkward smile. “Hi. Hello. Any chance you’ve got a lighter, mate?”

The man didn’t speak at first.

He just watched you, observed you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and reflective under the dim light of the parking lot. There was something oddly familiar about the way he held himself, something in the way he stared at you that sent a ripple of recognition through you, but you couldn’t quite place it.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a black, well-worn lighter, and flicked it open. The flame sparked to life, small but steady, and he leaned forward, offering it to you. You stepped closer, holding your cigarette to the flame.

As you did, you couldn’t help but take a better look at him.

His face was mostly obscured by the dim lighting, but his features were hard and chiselled. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken more than once, with a small scar running through his upper lip. His lips were thin, pressed into a line that gave nothing away, and the faint lines around his eyes hinted at a man who had lived through more than most. However, it was his gaze, those beautiful hazel eyes, that stopped you cold. They were sharp, almost piercing, and there was something else behind them—an intensity that made your stomach tighten.

For a moment, you thought it might just be the alcohol playing tricks on you, but the longer you looked, the more certain you became. There was no mistaking it.

Those eyes, guarded and haunted, belonged to Simon Riley.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a quick drag from your cig, stepping back, trying to act casual even though your heart was racing.

There was something about his presence, something that felt both familiar and distant at the same time. It had been years, after all. You’d moved on, or so you thought. But standing here now, the weight of the past pressed down on you, the memories flooding back like a tide you couldn’t hold back. This random bloke before you… yes, the resemblance was mad uncanny. You stole glances at the giant man, unsure, your mind buzzing with uncertainty and the effects of the alcohol. Was it really him? Could it be?

You hesitated, your hand trembling slightly as you took another drag from your cigarette. You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, too afraid to sound foolish. Too afraid that if you asked, you’d break whatever fragile moment this was. But before you could find the courage to speak, the man sighed.

That sigh.

It was unmistakable—quiet, irritated, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was tired of carrying it. It was the same sigh you’d heard all those years ago, on that warm summer night beneath the street lamps.

“Fuckin' hell,” he muttered under his breath, the deep, rough rumble of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “S’me. Stop gawkin'.”

[heliads]

I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose. 

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates. 

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but– 

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming. 

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run. 

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello. 

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you. 

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

[knowledge-from-the-abyss]

What is banishing?

Banishing and cleansing can sometimes go hand-in-hand. Banishing can help to get rid of negative energies caused by baneful magic, as well as getting rid of negative entities. In this post I will also go through some common types of negative entities. These will be my personal definitions, some people may use other terms, but these are the terms that I use and what they personally mean to me.

Types of Negative Entities

Negative Spirits- negative spirits are generally things i classify as passed away people who have left behind negative energy. This can result in negative energies or even negative manifestations. This term is a term I use to classify some shadow people; not all shadow people are negative spirits, but some can be. A lot of shadow people are more neutral, leftover energies.

Trickster Spirits- this term is different then trickster deities, like Loki. Trickster spirits are entities that exist on the astral plane, they may or may not benefit humans. From my personal experience with them, they do tend to be quite harmless, usually. My deities have told me that there are times where they will send a trickster spirit into someone's space to test their protections and wards, and sometimes to test how well that person can banish as well. They have personally done this to me as well. From my experience, trickster spirits can be passed away people, or other entities that reside on the astral plane. Not all of them are harmless, some of them can definitely be quite harmful and cause very negative chaos and havoc. These spirits are often known to impersonate deities.

Parasites- these negative entities are rarely passed away people from my experience. They feed off of people's energies and can make someone feel drained or even physically sick. Parasites can also be referred to as negative attachments. I make the distinction of ‘negative’ because everyone has attachments. By this I mean that everyone has spirit guides, who follow them around wherever they go. This is what an attachment is, an entity that follows you around everywhere. However, spirit guides are in no way negative, they are there to guide us and help us with our lives. These entities, on the other hand, feed off our energy and cause us to feel run down or even become ill.

Why should I banish?

Banishing is not only useful for getting rid of negative entities, but (similar to cleansing) it can help to get rid of negative energy as well. Banishing is useful because it can allow you to focus on negativity that you have around you and get rid of it. Banishing can be very helpful when doing something like shadow work as well, being able to banish the negative thoughts and negative energies surrounding those thoughts.

How do I know when I should use banishing?

This question can be a bit complicated, but I will try to break it down. I will start by explaining when to discern if banishing a spirit may be necessary. When you are working with spirits, deities, and other entities, banishing is something you may find yourself needing to do sometimes. If the entity isn’t acting like they normally do, you may want to consider trying to vet them; asking them questions you know the answers to either from their mythology or with past interactions with them to make sure they are who they say they are. I will be writing another post on vetting later. If the entity fails this vetting process, and it turns out they are not who they say they are, banishing may be necessary (there are some deities who will pretend to be other deities, so it's important to take this into account, and ensure that this is not the case).

Banishing can also be helpful in cases where you are trying to release negative, old, or stuck energy. You can banish these energies from your life, making it easier to move forward on your path. If you are feeling particularly stuck with certain emotions or with general negativity (this can also include things like intrusive thoughts) you can use banishing as an aid to help remove these energies from your life!

How do I banish?

As with some of my previous posts, I will outline some different ways to banish here; this will not be an exhaustive list. Since banishing and cleansing are very similar, some of these methods/tools may overlap with cleansing methods and tools.

Smoke cleansing

Banishment candles

Sigils

Crystals

Herbs

Cleansing/banishing bath/shower

Bells (sound cleansing)

Some of these methods have been covered before in my post on cleansing, so I will be skipping over these and focusing on the methods that have not been mentioned before.

How to use sigils in banishing?

There are many different ways to use and create sigils. Many of the sigils I use, I make all on my own. There are websites that can also assist in the creation of sigils. I recommend exploring and finding what works with you if you are feeling drawn to using sigils for banishment or in your practice in general.

Crystals used for banishing

Black tourmaline

Citrine

Aventurine

Amethyst

Turquoise

Herbs used in banishing

Sage (once again, please do not use white sage unless you are part of that culture or have been given white sage as a gift)

Dill

Cloves

Cayenne pepper

Salt

Pepper

Chili powder

Can banishing backfire/fail? How do I prevent it from backfiring?

As with all other spellwork, confidence and intentions are what is most important here. If a banishing fails, it will most likely not affect you in any negative ways unless you are also trying to do baneful magic. Otherwise, it failing will most likely just result in the negative energy/entity you are trying to banish staying in your space, and you having to try again. In order to ensure that a spell doesn’t fail, having confidence that it will work, having confidence in yourself, and ensuring that it is definitely something you WANT are all very important.

What if my banishment didn’t work? What if whatever I’m facing is too strong?

There can be a few different things you can do here, depending on the situation. You can, of course, ask your spirit team to help you with the banishment (as well as any other spellwork). If you are trying to banish negative thoughts/feelings, and it doesn’t work, it may be because you are still going through healing that needs to happen. This can involve both shadow work and therapy to work through most of the time. When it comes to magic in general, there are many times where you will need to do mundane work alongside magical workings in order to make it work. If there is a negative entity in your space that will not leave even with banishment, it may be time to call on your spirit team to help you get rid of it. You might also try to change the banishment method you are using as well.

[dc418writes]

|Hiding in Plain Sight|

✨Pairing: CEO!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

🪄Summary: Curtis has had enough

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, soft!dark Curtis maybe???, cheating (do not condone in real life, however for this plot…👀), mention of past adult happy fun times (everyone please be safe!), fingering (female receiving), verbal abuse, language

🎤: this is my submission for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza! Happy belated birthday @stargazingfangirl18 !! I hope you had an amazing bday with lots of cake, presents, love, and any and everything else you desire💐🎂!!

Prompts:

Scenario: Babe is doing this for your own good

Dialogue: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Kink Prompt: possessive!babe, squirting

Trope Prompt: scary,dangerous babe who is only soft with you (Curtis isn’t really dangerous tho, but you’ll see)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF PICTURES USED as they were found via Pinterest*

At the sudden ‘click’ of the door closing, you’re startled; quickly turning towards the sound to find one of the reasons you felt the need for space from the festivities downstairs. Dressed in all black - from the button up spanning his firm chest to his impeccable slacks and polished designer shoes - it’s as if he walked straight out of GQ how dashing and handsome he looked.

Then again, when did he not?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His deep voice never fails to send tingles shooting down your spine. Have you embarrassingly willing to move at his command if he gave it.

“It’s okay. I-I should probably get back anyway.”

“To get ignored by your husband some more?,” he asks just as you pass him. His words make you pause with your shoulders just mere inches apart.

“Curtis..”

“He’s so busy smiling in everybody’s face and trying to be buddy-buddy with my associates, he hasn’t even noticed his own wife is gone. Then again…maybe he doesn’t want to.”

You didn’t want to come tonight. Tired from work and not in the mood to fake laugh at middle aged men who thought they were funny, you practically begged your husband to leave you home.

“You’re so fucking selfish you know that? This is my chance to make necessary connections to very important people.”

“Then you go Wes! Me being there won’t change that.”

He only kissed his teeth, tossing one of your purses at you and not caring of the scattered contents he left. “Be ready by 6 or I’ll get you ready myself.”

It was foolish to hope things would be different this time. You should know Wes would never arrive at anything having to do with business without his self proclaimed ‘good luck charm’. His trophy wife he used to sell this illusion that he was the man that had it all, so rejecting him would only hurt you.

And that’s not to say your husband didn’t deserve success - he was brilliant in his own right. It’s why Curtis himself decided to invest in Wes’ company and was his highest investor to date. But he saw past the illusion, and quickly saw the man he really was.

Which is how your complicated pairing began.

As he steps closer you hate how your body responds: eagerly ready to cave at the closest feeling of home. The bourbon - his favorite - practically being tasted in your own mouth as the smell wafts from his pink lips so close to yours. It mixes well with the spice from his cologne only making your head begin to swim and want to suffocate yourself in his neck.

His thick finger reaches out to trace the delicate gold chain on the necklace perfectly sat just below your collarbones. The small diamonds not equally spaced apart, but set in such a way it reminded you of twinkling stars in the night sky. It’s simple, but fitting for you. You were never the type for lavish jewelry that could blind someone a mile away, and from your short time together Curtis knew that.

“Knew it’d look beautiful on you,” he whispers letting the pad of his finger carry further until he was skimming your collarbone and causing you to shudder.

“I’m still married,” you practically have to force from your soul trying to stop your body from pressing against his. Stop your brain from turning to mush so he could have his way with you. Again.

His jaw ticks. “Why, I don’t know.”

“Curtis please, okay? Besides, you’re supposed to be celebrating.” He gently nods letting the rest of the brown liquor drain down his throat - your eyes shamefully following the bob of his Adams apple and missing how it felt under your lips.

“Fine,” he breathes closing the remaining space so you have no choice but to clutch his shoulders to stop from losing your footing in your heels. Not that he’d let you fall from his muscular arm around your waist. His mouth lowering impossibly closer that depending on what either of you said, your lips would brush. “Celebrate with me.”

“I-I don’t think your date would like that.” Were you angry when you saw the onyx haired beauty on his arm? Far from it. Did you guiltily wish her butt length, model-esque hair would catch fire when she passed one of the candles on the various tables so she’d have to leave? Maybe.

“Here I was thinking I was the jealous one.” And there was that smirk that briefly showed the hidden mischief in this man carved by God himself. “Yes, she’s my plus one, but would be more interested in you than me. Not that I blame her.”

“I still can’t,” you whisper letting your nose tap against his. Slowly but surely you feel yourself becoming drunk off his presence and that will to stand strong diminishing.

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

At that you’re stuck. Now solely focused on his lips and so badly wanting - needing - to taste them again. Curtis grins realizing this himself. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.”

“Wha?” You should feel embarrassed, but as the air from his nostrils fan your face it only seems to make you needier. And when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek, there’s nothing that can stop you from leaning into his touch. Even between your legs you feel that pulse begin to grow in urgency.

“Look me in the eyes,” Curtis begins slowly, “and tell me you don’t want me. That you’re done. You’ll never hear from me again.”

You try, genuinely try to maintain eye contact but his stormy blues dilated with lust and longing only overwhelms you. Overwhelms you in that you should be good and say you don’t, leave, and act as if none of this has happened but you don’t want to. Curtis has easily become a part of you that you can’t let go and truthfully refuse to do so.

In a blink, your lips are frantically crushing against each others. His tongue smoothly, yet still eager, to reclaim your mouth after being away for so long. Your mind quickly enters that haze you only seemed to experience with him, unable to realize your body is being guided somewhere until you’re perched on the edge of a wooden desk. Your hands gripping the back of his neck while his push your pastel blue mini dress up past your hips leaving your lower half exposed to the cool air of the room.

Finally needing to breathe, his lips descend to your jaw then your neck causing you to whine his name wanting more of his mouth on yours. A quiet “shh” is the only warning you get before his hands are spreading your thighs to find a steady growing wet spot on your panties. His fingertips immediately reach to tease along your waiting slit watching as you squirm and moan.

“My needy girl. Probably been forever since he’s touched you like this huh? Made you feel good..”

The back of your head softly thuds against the wall as you lean back on your elbows. Letting yourself get lost in his touches and how his thumb circles your little button through your thoroughly soaked underwear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Know how much I’ve missed you and those little noises you make when you take anything I give you,” he huskily states nipping your earlobe. “My fingers. My tongue. Fuck, and when you take my cock..?”

“Curtis,” you gasp nearly ready to guide his fingers inside you yourself to get that relief you now crave. As always, he knows what you need bringing your delicates swiftly down your legs to circle his middle finger around your dripping hole before plunging deep. The extended moan from your lips directly hitting his cock and making his pants feel tighter.

His ring finger soon joins as they steadily pump in and out. Not having been intimate with your own husband for a while now, you feel pathetic already being so close. Curtis can feel it too, as you clutch and squeeze.

“Should be ashamed of himself not taking care of you like you need. You deserve to be filled all day, every day. Filled to the point you can barely walk without feeling me drip down your legs. That what you want? To be filled with me?”

Your hips buck and grind on their own nearly riding his hand as your skin heats and sweat pricks your forehead. “Y-Yes! Yes Curtis please!,” you moan. His words hitting some deep seated, feral part you didn’t recognize but welcomed while palming your breast.

His mouth catches your scream when he adds a third finger. The room filling with your little “ah ah’s”, squelches, and the knock of the desk against the wall how you bucked to keep up with his fingers.

“Shit, might not ever leave the house. Just keep you by my side always wet and ready. Take you in every room and have you screaming for me.” He palms at the front of his slacks picturing your nude body bent over the counter. Or spread on the table for him and him only. “Or let you ride me and take what you want. Like that night after dinner.”

The way your toes curl and back arches he knows you’re seconds away now. Just needing that extra push to have you a twitching, trembling mess.

“Curtis I-I…please Curtis…Curtis!” Twisting his wrist just slightly to the right, he easily finds your spot as he firmly rubs his palm against you swollen nub making you gush down his hand and onto the hardwood below - a splash or two even finds the top of his shoe. It’s almost like a steady stream as it keeps flowing with every push of his fingers and Curtis can’t help but curse before finding your mouth again.

When you whimper and try to back away he knows it’s too much, slowly halting his movements before removing his hand. Automatically, you’re reaching out for him - needing some grounding force after what felt like your body floating to space - and he gladly lets you wrap your arms around his middle. Your face diving to his chest trying to hide your overwhelmed tears while he rubs your back with his clean hand.

“Did so good for me sweetheart. You feel alright?” You nod, turning your head just enough to catch him suck your release from his fingers; moaning from the taste. “Still so sweet,” he mumbles to himself and you swear you feel a small trickle of release escape your hole from that alone.

Your little bubble of ecstasy is quickly popped when the door opens reminding you of the party downstairs. Curtis shields you the best he can, but your dangling legs can easily be seen.

This makes it easy for Wes to recognize you. His face turning from amused shock at finding the always stone faced Curtis Everett with a woman to anger now realizing you were the moans and screams the men whispered about downstairs.

“The fuck are you doing up here?!,” he shouts making you scramble to get off the desk. Curtis still shields you with his back as you right your dress. Not only for your modesty, but to silently warn Wes he wouldn’t dare stand down.

“W-Wes I can explain-,”

“This was your plan the whole time huh? Use me to get to someone better..”

“No, I..I just-,”

“Just what? Accidentally ended up here with him?! Accidentally let him do whatever?” Now you were gathering a bit of a crowd, only increasing your anxiety.

“Wes please..”

“Please what?! Move on from you being a whore who opens her legs to any man she can get ahead with?!”

“Hey! Watch it,” Curtis warns stepping closer to a slightly drunk Wes.

“And after everything I did for you? Gave to you?!”

“You act like I asked for those things.”

He simply shakes his head before focusing on Curtis. “You know what, good luck with that one. Just a lazy sack that only wants to lie on her back. Can barely do that either always complaining-,”

Curtis didn’t let him finish quickly gripping Wes by the back of his neck making him kneel before you and everyone peeking through the open door. He tried to wiggle free and thrash, but Curtis just tightens his grip controlling Wes as if he was an animal handler trained to do this. Like he’d done it plenty of times before.

“You say you’re the one who gave her everything? Way I see it, you wouldn’t have had everything to give without her. Without your lovely wife, I would’ve already cancelled our partnership leaving you high and dry probably on fry duty at some fast food place. So I suggest you humble yourself pretty fucking quick.”

He seemed to get the message, remaining mostly still besides his back rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. “Matter of fact, I say you thank her.”

Wes is quiet, until Curtis jabs him in the ribs causing him to howl in pain.

“She’s waiting!”

“Th-Thank you! Thank you!,” he shouts sighing in relief when Curtis lets him go.

“Cmon,” he mumbles grabbing your hand to lead you past your husband. Past the vast crowd of people who dared not get in his way.

“W-Where are we going?,” you ask trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Home.”

“But..but I-,”

Swiftly, he turns catching you against his chest with fingers gently gripping your chin so you’d be sure to hear him. “Home can be my place or yours and he gets put on the street, you choose. Either way from this point on, I’m not letting you stay away from me.” How could you argue with that? Especially now when he was using that commanding tone paired with that intense gaze making your core spasm. “Which one?”

“…Yours.”

He simply kisses your forehead leading you outside to retrieve his car from valet.

As for Wes, he was in for a rude awakening Monday morning when he’d be served an eviction notice saying his office space now belonged to Everett Co., minutes before he was served divorce papers already signed by you and your wedding ring.

-

Not gonna lie, I’m a little iffy about the ending but still I hope everyone enjoys! Also check out the other stories from this challenge as well💕!

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Hiii! Can I make a request for Charlie? I read your pregnant darling and im curious how it would play out when his s/o is giving birth. I love your fics btw and im a huge fan of your oc's!

Awe, thank you so much, I appreciate the support! And sure thing for the request, I hope you enjoy!

Yandere! Mafia Boss With An S/O Who’s Giving Birth

Technically GN! Reader because pronouns aren’t used but reader is pregnant so…presumed afab reader

Warnings: Reader is giving birth, pregnancy, medical stuff, needles, Charlie is Yandere but doesn’t really do a whole lot of insane stuff in this one, mentions of death and stuff going wrong but nothing bad happens don’t worry

(Also, I mentioned this in the pregnancy post but I’m gonna do it again here; In this scenario, reader is with Charlie willingly and he’s just Yandere for other reasons. I don’t fw the idea of a kidnapped darling being pregnant, that’s a hard limit for me even though I write darker content).

Divider credit goes to @konatasoup

Charlie’s spent the entirety of your pregnancy worrying about the day you’d finally give birth. He was excited of course, he can’t imagine not being overjoyed, but the prospect of anything going wrong absolutely terrifies him. What if there’s a complication with your pregnancy? What if the baby isn’t as healthy as his doctor says they are? What if you get severely hurt during the birthing process? What if you die? What if-

He tries to surpress his worries, he really does, but as the day draws closer, he can’t help but dwell on them. He does his best to distract himself with prepping everything you might need at the hospital and more importantly, sticking by you every second he possibly can, protecting you from any outward threats he can think of. If something’s gonna go wrong, it’s not gonna be because he failed to keep you safe. Whatever is in his control will be dealt with, you can bet on that.

When it comes time for you to give birth, he’s absolutely frantic, and doing a terrible job at hiding it. Sure, he’ll reassure you he’s fine, but his frantic scrambling to get everything in the car and his nearly erratic driving prove otherwise. You’ll have to spend as much time reassuring him as he does reassuring you, because that man is not calming down any time soon.

However… he does make a pitstop to get your favorite food before you enter the hospital. He’s been told that it might be a while before you can eat again and he’s not about to let you go hungry, so whatever you want, he’ll get (despite his nerves). As long as you aren’t in a ton of pain and ok with him getting you food, he’s happy to provide for you.

Once you get to the hospital, he’s borderline harassing any nurse he can find, demanding you be taken in as soon as possible. He only slightly relaxes once you get into the labor room where you’ll be taken care of, but even then, he’s still shaking wildly, asking every single nurse and doctor what they’re doing to you as they’re doing it. You can’t blame the guy though, he has no idea what’s going on, and he loves you too much to play around with you and your child’s health.

He’ll hold your hand throughout all your contractions, no matter how hard you squeeze. He would really prefer you get an epidural because it kills him to see you in any amount of pain, and you better believe that you’re gonna get it as quick as possible if that’s what you want, but if you want to have the baby naturally, he’ll respect the decision, letting you grip him for dear life throughout the pain. He knows contractions are part of the process, but it still freaks him out to see you go through them, even if you and the nurses tell him you’ll be fine.

Once the baby starts really coming out, he’s on the verge of passing out. There’s nurses everywhere, you’re clearly in pain as you push, people are talking, machines are beeping, there’s a chemical smell overpowering his senses, you’re squeezing his hand for dear life-

Aaaaandddd there he goes.

He passes out right next to you, but he comes back after a second or two, groggy but alert. He might pass out again later, but for now, he focuses all his attention on you, reassuring you that you’re doing so well, and that he can’t wait to meet your child. He’s extremely lightheaded the entire time you’re pushing your kid out, but he does his best to stay focused, too anxious to purposefully allow himself to slip away.

Then he hears your kid crying, and he’s sees a fleshy blob get carried away to be cleaned off, and the biggest rush of relief hits him so hard he starts letting out a couple tears of his own. His child’s here, they’re here and you’re both fine. Nothing went wrong, everything’s ok, and he’s a father now, a real father. He has a kid!

While the doctor’s are making sure your baby is all right, Charlie focuses all his attention on you. You’re exhausted, as expected, but you find enough energy to smile up at Charlie, and he can’t help but smile back. He squeezes your hand reassuringly and pours out soft praises, reminding you how much he loves and you and how excited he is to be a dad.

Charlie spends the rest of the hospital visit absolutely giddy, almost vibrating with his excitement and joy. He watches you hold your kid with the biggest grin on his face, holding out his finger for the baby to grab onto as the two of you coo over them. He can’t keep his eyes away from you two, his gaze landing between your happy face and his baby’s face, trying to soak in every detail, until it’s permanently burned into his memory.

And then you pass the baby to him, saying he should get a turn to hold your kid, and he just melts. He tries to be as gentle as possible as he cradles the tiny human he helped create, absolutely petrified at the prospect of dropping them but beyond jubilant that he finally gets to hold the kid he’s been waiting to meet for so long. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let them go, he’s only known them for a little bit, but he already loves them more than anything in the world (other than you).

Charlie doesn’t really know what the future holds, especially considering his job. But he makes a vow right then and there that no matter what happened, he’s gonna keep his kid as safe and happy as possible, even if that means shielding them from his career as much as possible.

He looks over to you, baby in arm, and smiles. He’ll keep his family safe. He swears it on his life.

I hope you enjoyed!

[masked-fools]

❝ your old buddy sampo is a model citizen these days. y'know the guards on sentry duty in the restricted zone? i deliver their breakfast every day! ❞

— Sampo Koski, ancient relic specialist

Tavern Notice Board

7th of August — 13th of August

(1) forsaken and yet not [blade, kafka] — @leonistic

even when the world is against them you stand by their side

(2) an apology [kafka] — @c0metes

reader is a stellaron hunter and got their shoulder hurt. some love acrobatics. guns and bullets and swords, average day for a stellaron hunter

(3) vacation on jarilo-vi — @xieni-logs

astral express crew with a child!reader

(4) with a vidyadhara reader [blade, dan heng, jing yuan] — @pyroxeene

them with a vidyadhara reader whose tail gives away their true feelings

(5) habits before bed [sampo, jing yuan, gepard, dan heng] — @cnnmairoll

their habits before going to bed with you

(6) under the lotus leaves [dan feng] — @milksnake-tea

you've known dan feng long before he became the high elder of the vidyadhara, before he donned the title of imbibitor lunae and became the legend he is known as now. long ago, back when the two of you were mere children, playing in the waters of the xianzhou luofu.

(7) hot and cold [dan heng] — @eggluverz

in which dan heng runs hot and blasts the air conditioner to keep cool, and you feel like you’re living in the arctic [college roommate au]

(8) how to take care of your lover when they're sick [jing yuan] — @generalsmemories

scenario in which jing yuan’s significant other (a short life species that isn’t a xianzhou native) has gotten sick

(9) showering them in affection [blade, sampo] — @pyroxeene

headcanons of them with a very affectionate s/o

(10) goodbye, halcyon days [jing yuan] — @bladesmuse

as time passes, its branches grow thorns, impaling themselves into your heart. it is most evident as you reflect upon your life, about the three men you loved most who came and went like the sun, moon, and stars. domestic fluff, potential high cloud quintet lore spoilers, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort

(11) i didn't know where else to go [blade] — @milksnake-tea

blade x gn!reader, angst

(12) catching smoke [sampo] — @bladesmuse

you are a silvermane guard who has been assigned to catch Sampo. However, every time you get remotely close to catching the shady merchant, he always disappears. cursing, violence, suggestive content

(13) dropped your hand while dancing [gepard] — @particular-one

angst. hurt/no comfort. failed relationships. fluff to angst. passing mention of alcohol. marriage proposals. set after the events of the jarilo-vi trailblaze mission.

(14) a beloved tradition [luka] — @starboyshoyo

a paper marriage in belobog isn’t the only way to show off the love between a couple.

(15) wildest dreams [poly; blade, dan heng] — @bladesmuse

love, lust, and revenge are often inextricably linked, unsurprisingly causing complications in your relationship implied sexual content, combined undertones of fluff and angst

(16) accidentally falling asleep on him [sampo] — @milksnake-tea

you accidentally fall asleep on sampo's shoulder mentions of alcohol

(17) interlocks [nanook, yaoshi, lan, xipe] — @milksnake-tea

braiding their hair

(18) weathering the storm [gepard] — @meaningofaeons

gn!reader, meet cute, reader is implied to be part of an affluent/noble family, soulmate au wherein you have a countdown on your wrist until you meet your soulmate

(19) back home [dan heng] — @meaningofaeons

gn!reader, fluff, reader is part of the nameless but did not join the belobog mission

(20) not quite so slick [sampo] — @meaningofaeons

gn!reader, fluff, silvermane guard!reader, belobog story spoilers, pining

(21) only in the limelight [dan heng] — @meaningofaeons

gn!reader, actor au, angst/no comfort, unrequited love

(22) could you be any more dense? [gepard] — @meaningofaeons

gn!reader, hurt/comfort

(23) starry night bakery [dan heng] — @eggluverz

in which the cute baker down the street catches your eye and you decide to become a regular to keep seeing him [modern au]

(24) everything i need [blade] — @eggluverz

in which you’re feeling down about not seeing your boyfriend in a few months and blade takes time out of his busy tour schedule to surprise you. idol!blade x barista!reader, modern au

(25) lucky day [luka] — @antimatterz

you found the cutest plushie in a claw machine, but can't get a hold of it. fortunately, a handsome stranger shows up to help you out [modern au]

[alwaysonthemend]

There'll Never Be (Another You) - Sneak Peek

I am beyond excited to FINALLY announce the fic that @jakeyt and I have been working on together! We've been talking about this for ages and we are so excited to share it with you all! We've poured a lot of passion into this story and we hope that you all love it as much as we do. Keep reading for a sneak peek and let us know if you would like to be tagged :)

We love you guys 💞

Content Warnings: angst, break-ups, fighting, cheating, smut, unprotected sex, angry sex, sadness, eventual fluff, eventual happy ending, 18+ only, Minors DNI

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Relationships, you’ve come to learn, are never like they are in the movies, musicals, or songs you love so much.

Relationships are messy and complicated and they certainly don’t always magically work out in the end. You’d learned that the hard way. Life happens… and sometimes even the strongest love just isn’t enough to withstand the chaos of growing up. The universe keeps on spinning, regardless of whether you can keep up or not. In that regard, you suppose you both had failed. 

Jake Kiszka had been the love of your life – the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. Being with him had been the easiest thing in the world and you’d mistakenly thought that it would always be like that. But you both grew up and one day you realized that the one person you thought you would always have was gone – slipped through your fingers without you noticing. 

So you tried to move on. 

You tried to pick up the pieces of your shattered life and carry on without him. And you’d succeeded, for the most part. You’ve got a steady job now. A relationship. You have work friends. You have a cat and a mortgage. Life is normal – if not a little boring, and you’re more than content to let it keep going on like that. 

But, the universe seems to thrive on chaos because suddenly he’s standing before you once again. 

You’ve both grown up so much, but the boy you fell in love with all those years ago is still there somewhere.  And somehow you know that your steady, normal life is about to spin on its axis yet again. No matter how many seasons have passed, no matter how many nights have gone by without him there… 

Still, there will never be another love like his. 

[kumabeom]

this love - kang taehyun

letter 6 ; i want your complications too, i want your dreary mondays. wrap your arms around me 🫂

synopsis: what happens when soccer player!kang taehyun, who isn’t focused on school but is smart enough to pass, sees yn walk in the hallways nearly everyday after homecoming. taehyun’s new hallway crush begins to grow into something bigger, but what happens when he has to make a choice between yn or continuing to fail school ? will taehyun be able to focus on sports, classes, and trying to win yn over ?

your took small little licks of the sweet, icy cold yet soft ice cream. a small smile applied onto your face as you practically beamed with happiness as the sugary treat entered your mouth. taehyun took bites of his ice cream cone, the waffle’s satisfying crunch as he bit into the cone. he witnessed your cute appreciation for the treat as you continued to eat the ice cream. his eyes beamed with joy, he put what was remaining of the ice cream cone into his mouth.

taehyun took a look at his phone, receiving notifications from twitter. even seeing a reply from you on the most recent tweet that he posted. he clicked on a notification from beomgyu, seeing his quote retweet.

“yn..” taehyun slowly spoke up, small hesitation in his voice. you turned your head, continuing to eat at the ice cream cone.

“yeah ?”

“how come… beomgyu looks after you so much ?” he straightforwardly asked, it wasn’t like it bothered him, of course not.. he knew that you and beomgyu were just friends, probably more than friends, and not in the romantic way. he truly felt like beomgyu was your older brother at times.

“beomgyu..? i don’t really know.. he’s never told me why exactly. y’know, there was a time in my life where not everyone really liked me, taehyun. not everyone was nearly as accepting as you have been… i think, one day.. he felt pity for me. i never told him that i believed that, he was my only friend, i didn’t want to scare him off..” you explained.

“well.. now you have more people to depend on.. you don’t have to go through things alone… but- why didn’t people like you..?” he felt odd asking, feeling as if maybe he was pushing his boundaries, but his mouth moved faster than his brain did.

“honestly… i have no idea. i think it has something to do with my family, our neighborhood isn’t that big taehyun, i’ve probably known your longer than you think i have.. when you live in a small town, a single mistake can ruin your entire family’s reputation. nearly all of my siblings left this place, so i wan the only one to face the repercussions of their mistakes.. they all came back once they felt like it was ‘safe’. i think that’s why- but I’m not 100% sure why people didn’t like me. it’s not like i used to socialize that much to make people upset a me.

what about you.. what was wrong with you and your friends today..?” you continued.

“they think i’m moving to fast..” he simply replied. trying to avoid the topic of nari and how she dumped him during his soccer game’s half time. he refused to talk to you about that, he was ashamed of the idea of bringing up his ex while the two of you were enjoying each other’s company.

“well.. do you think your moving too quick ?”

“with you.. no..? not at all, i think it seems that way.. but isn’t the whole point of relationships to listen your feelings and do what you believe is right ? as long as you feel comfortable with everything.. i think we’re moving at a really good pace.”

you stayed silent, not in a way to shun taehyun and his rant. but rather a comfortable silence, taehyun felt relaxed with you. he felt like he could spill any of his emotions and thoughts to you, and he was sure that you were bound to understand. you had proven yourself to be so much more understanding than his friends, and he loved that. he loved that he could tell you anything, he could get anything off of his chest, and he was sure that you would still be by his side.

taehyun tilted his head, you watched as he seemed to contemplate a few things. you finished your ice cream, wiping your hands on a brown napkin. he got up from the wooden bench where the two of you had sat to enjoy the ice cream cones, taehyun pulled out his hand. you looked at his hands and then your eyes led towards his face. a tiny smile on his face, as you took his hand, getting up from the bench.

“how long until you have to go home ?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“mmm- keep me out as long as you need, it’s better if i get home as late as possible.” you grinned, although your statement ended up making taehyun feel a bit sad for you. his heart ached at the thought of you purposely wanting to go home as late as you can because of your family.

taehyun kept a safe hold on your hand, he felt unnaturally warm. he felt like his heart was melting, at this rate he wasn’t sure if he’d make it throughout the day. his eyes stayed focused on the sidewalk, ensuring that the two of you were going exactly where he wanted the two of you to go. he was sure to keep you on the inside of the sidewalk.

he turned to take a few looks at you, his mind becoming corrupted in innocent little thoughts, his eyes becoming distracted by your reddish lips. he feels himself becoming a bit too distracted, bringing his focus back to the destination that he had in mind. he knew you would love the place that he was guiding you towards.

“tyun… where are we headed ?” you asked, knowing completely well that he wasn’t going to spill any of his secrets or surprises. but you still attempted to ask. in reality, the destination was only a few minutes away, like a block away.. but taehyun was having a bit too much fun walking with you while holding your hand. plus, it wasn’t like you really cared that taehyun was procrastinating on taking you home, in fact it just benefited the both of you.

“we’re going somewhere, promise that you’ll like it… don’t you trust me ?” and in all honesty, taehyun’s heart was still pounding like crazy after you gave him a nickname. and yeah, he had many people call him ‘tyun’ like soobin and yeonjun, but something was different when it fell off of your tongue.

“… i-.. i do. i trust you.” you hesitated, not fully believing your statement. you trusted him in this situation, but with the general question ‘do you trust me ?’ you couldn’t say that you did. but taehyun hadn’t done anything to prove otherwise, so far. there was also something in your gut that was telling you to trust the boy, something about him made you feel his sincerity, like he truly wanted to love you.

he turned the corner, as you followed behind. your eyes landed on a greenhouse. the amount of times that you had explored the town and you had never noticed the small greenhouse that was filled with a variety of flowers. taehyun led you inside the garden, it was rather spacious. taehyun closed the glass door behind him, watching as you admired the flowers that stayed safe from the cold breeze outside of the greenhouse.

you paused in front of the red roses, crouching in front of the flowers. plucking one from its stem, touching its soft rosy petals. eyes appreciating the form of life, a smile was brought to your face. eyes full of admiration and love for the flower.

“do y’know what a red rose means ?” you ask, turning your head towards taehyun, tilting your head to one side, bringing the rose close to your lips, smelling the scent that came off of the rose. petals slightly grazing your lips. taehyun came to crouch down across from you, the red rose filling the gap between the two of you. the sun creeping into the greenhouse, the sun shining on taehyun’s face, making his skin glow. the sunlight highlighting his lips, pink lips looking nearly kissable.

“of course i do.. love and passion.” he whispered, holding the rose with two fingers as you still kept your hold on it, but taehyun slowly let go. his hands still being held out. as you used your free hand to move his hands around the rose. he held it close to his chest, the two of you looked at each other. hearts pounding, taehyun kept one hand around the rose as he placed a hand on your chin. attempting to move you closer to him, his breath hitched, as so did yours. your eyes stayed on his lips, moving between his eyes and lips. you knew that maybe you should’ve stopped this from happening, but at the same time.. you wanted it so badly.

taehyun brought the rose up to your ear, as it stayed there, safely holding itself in place. your face moved closer to taehyun’s, beginning to feel a bit desperate for whatever he had in stock. your hands balanced yourself, holding onto taehyun’s button up as the two of you were still in your school uniform. you attempted to move him closer towards you. you felt his sweet lips graze against yours.

however,

you eventually felt a wet drop on your arm, followed by multiple drops. startling you, causing you to fall back. taehyun took your hand, preventing your fall from being worse than it could’ve been. he picked up the rose that fell out from its spot above your ear.

“you okay ?” taehyun asked, genuinely worried even though your fall wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. sitting still as the sprinklers continued to spray the water to hydrate the flowers.

“heh- i’m all good.” you giggled, smile displayed all over your face. a rosy blush on the both of your faces. still in disbelief that the two of you nearly kissed, and if it wasn’t for the damn sprinklers, then you would’ve been perfectly happy.

taehyun stood up, pulling out his hand for you. as you accepted his hand, reaching out for his hand. your hair progressively getting wetter as so did your clothing. the two of you ran out of the greenhouse, laughter and chuckles exiting your mouths. as soon as kang taehyun got the two of you out of the greenhouse, he took off his jacket.

he placed his jacket around you, as it hung from your shoulders. the rosy blush that had once left was now returning as you stood shyly in front of taehyun. he ruffled your wet strands a bit, getting out any leaves and dirt from your hair.

“you really do take great care of me, taehyun.”

“how can i not, you’re too pretty for me to just abandon you.. promise i’ll treat you better than they’ve treated you.” taehyun spoke, you knew exactly who ‘they’ is.. your family, past bullies and others who have treated you terribly. you couldn’t help but let out a toothy grin.

“first get me to the bus stop and then you can make me swoon.”

©️kumabeom

this love taglist : @run2seob @soobadooba @soobnuuy @pockychuwu @crazynyctophilia @rencarnationofangel @esther-kpopstan @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @michinri @hanstarrs @ariam-96 @pinkheadflowers @kittyhyuka @run4gyu

an: sorry for not posting, i had midterms and finals… i also got a bit distracted by my demon and sweet home season 2 !!! ahhh song kang is literally filling my mind up 24/7 !! it’s definitely his year for acting !! n e way.. how do we feel about this ??

[gem-femmes]

Some Thoughts For Your Own Main Character Era

You’re allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress. Stop acting like you need to be finished before you’re worthy. Nobody has it all figured out, and anyone who says they do is lying or boring. Growth isn’t linear and nobody is grading your timeline. You can be proud of yourself even while you’re still learning.

Nobody else has your view. Nobody else walks around in your head or heart, seeing what you see and feeling what you feel. So why do they get to dictate your decisions? You are the only person who has to live your life 24/7. Make it make sense to you.

If it doesn’t add, it subtracts. If it doesn’t feel light, it’s a weight. If it doesn’t bring you clarity, it’s chaos. And if it’s chaos, it’s not worth your time. Life is complicated enough without carrying around extra baggage that isn’t even yours. Drop the storyline that says you have to hold on just because you started.

Resting isn’t quitting. Pausing isn’t failing. Taking time to breathe, recalibrate, and ask yourself what you actually want isn’t laziness, it’s wisdom. Nobody said you have to be sprinting all the time. Rest is part of the process, and it’s allowed to be guilt-free.

Your self-worth isn’t up for negotiation. It’s not a group project. It’s not a mirror reflecting other people’s opinions. If someone doesn’t see your value, that’s on them. Stop looking to other people for something you already have — validation isn’t what makes you real. You’re already here. You already exist. That’s enough proof.

Be less available. Seriously. People don’t value what’s always around, and you don’t need to spread yourself thin trying to prove you’re good enough. Say no more often. Pull back your energy. Let people miss you. Let them meet you halfway — or not at all. You’re not a convenience store.

Time is not infinite. Energy is not infinite. You can’t get either one back once it’s spent. So, act accordingly. Not every battle is worth fighting, not every person is worth convincing, and not every opportunity is meant to be yours. It’s okay to let things pass you by if they don’t feel right.

And most importantly — if it’s not making you excited to wake up, what are you even doing? Life is long, sure, but it’s also happening right now. Make it yours.

[sillyromance]

Hello ma'am,

I have some questions about Vincent and Marcella. I was wondering how Marcella reacted as she finds herself alive after her first meeting with Vincent and how the both of them fell in love. I also wanted to ask how Marcella felt as Vincent came home for the first time with a prey alive/dead, I think she must have different feelings for both situations. I have to say the both of them are my favorites for now, I really love their relationship with each other. But for now I'll look further over your blog.

I really thank you if you answer it for me and a wonderful day for you ma'am.

Hello, dear anonymous!

Thank you very much for your ask! I will gladly explain all these moments to you!

Let’s start with the first question. As you remember, Marcella was quite stressed after her fiancé’s deception. But her motivation to be eaten by Vincent had deeper layers. Marcella's parents are people who kind of love, but don’t value her much. She could never hope for anything more than to be wed to a man of their choice and turn into an obedient wife for him. Her wishes never mattered. Plus, Marcella's parents had their own conflicts, mostly based on her father’s unfaithfulness which madam Lark had to condone. All that was driving the girl crazy; she dreamed about fleeing away from her family, and marriage was the only option for that. That’s why, when she was shown her groom for the first time, Marcella convinced herself that she liked him. The worse was her disappointment once everything fell apart. She wasn’t just betrayed as a person and a woman, but also – hopelessly stuck in the same damn nightmare she had been trying to escape for so long.

Therefore, when she meets Vincent, Marcella sees him as: 1) the only person who actually needs her; 2) a way out of her trap. Consequently, when she wakes up unharmed inside of him, it doesn’t excite her – the girl only feels disappointed with herself since even him, a predator, has denied her, and she has to submit to her fate as a silent part of her groom's house decoration. It doesn't really matter if it is the same cheater or someone else - if that boy rejects her publicly, Marcella's parents will soon find a replacement. Nor meets a lot of complications trying to talk his prey out of being his food. In fact, only when he suggests her to marry him Marcella considers a possibility of her further existence because, being his wife, she will stay away from her parents and her honor will be saved (if it was ruined, she wouldn’t have any reason to live at all because then, keeping historical realities in mind, her life would turn into the worst hell she had ever known).

Now, I will explain the third question first because of the plot specifics. Vincent, asking Marcella to be his wife, uses this option as an emergency solution because everything else has failed. So, once he lets the girl out, he has a lot of things to think over. But most importantly, he makes sure Marcella understands what she signs for. When Marcella and Vincent tie their destinies together, the girl doesn’t have any illusions about her husband’s habits and needs. She isn’t surprised when he comes home with a prey in his stomach for the first time. Yet, Marcella is definitely scared and hurt. She knows - that person within isn’t quite different from her, and still, their fate is pure horror for some twisted reason she can't apprehend. If the prey is actively struggling, the impression they give is quite strong; Marcella, sickened and terrified, definitely avoids her husband for a couple of days after such scene until bad memories fade a little. If a prey is dead (which is more likely to happen), she takes it easier (no avoidance, only pained looks and very awkward conversations), yet still stiffens once she notices a specific bulge on Nor's waist which was once a human. She could be there instead...

Some time passes before she discovers the truth about why her husband does what he does and how much he suffers from it. Much worse than his usual prey, frankly...

As for the second question… these two didn't hurry while developing their feelings. Although Vincent has an awful job, he is a very sympathetic and thoughtful person. He did everything to make Marcella feel cared for, especially after he learnt how badly she had been treated before marriage. She returned the favor, witnessing his kindness towards the staff (the servants were more than eager to tell her stories about what a nice and compassionate gentleman their master was), discovering his interests and little weaknesses... And, slowly, coming to a conclusion that, no matter his nature, he was still just a human - a human who was worthy of love. While trying to live under one roof, Vincent and Marcella found their ideals and priorities to lie at the same bay. They also gave each other a lot for Nor helped his wife overcome her shyness and learn how to stand up for herself even against his species, while she brought warmth, joy and new meaning into his brutal solitude, easing his never-ending pain. Before he only lived to serve and destroy, but now he can finally built something. It took around a year for Vincent and Marcella to melt the ice dividing them and become head-over-heells lovebirds you’ve already seen them to be.

I hope my answer was helpful! Have a great day and God bless you🌸!

[sweetlywriting]

Normal

Johan Liebert x reader

Synopsis-You’re a college student struggling to keep up with the work of your prestigious law school, luckily an intelligent man named Johan Liebert has volunteered to tutor you.

A/N-gn reader, sfw as always, surprisingly no violence for a Johan piece lol, I’ll write another part of people like this.

He seemed very normal, but deep inside he had always struck you as an enigma.

You went to the same college. It was a old and presitigous law school and you were barely passing, having hit the lows of college. That was when you first noticed him. He was first to arrive and last to leave the class. He knew all the answers and was practically invisible. But far more importantly, after school tutoring was required after failing so many classes. You held your head in shame walking to meet your new tutor, not happy to get lectured by one of your pretentious classmates who probably bought their way in.

“You’re Johan right?”

"Yes. I will be tutoring you until the next exams"

He had a smooth coyish voice and a measured smile. There was just something about him that felt affinitic and made you want these quick criminal law study sessions last so much longer. His help really was raising your grades, but that only meant that you’d see him less. So you painstakingly circled D when you knew it was A. And it worked. Your professor shook his head and assigned you another semester worth of tutoring. This time twice a week much to your excitement.

“It seems I’m not quite as effective teacher as I thought I was.” He said sighing.

“No-“ You started to rebuke him only to see that if he knew it was working and you just acting like a school kid over some silly crush, he’d likely stop tutoring you.

“Hm? Is there some other reason for your failure this semester?” He said with a small smile.

You swallowed. Was it that obvious? It was as if he could read your mind but instead of simply telling you, he wanted you to tell him yourself in the most complicated and equally uncomfortable way possible.

“I think it’s just the administrative law that I’m struggling on.” You said with a nervous laugh.

His face flickered through emotions you didn’t recognize but he eventually put his usual smile on and brought out a administrative law textbook. Phew. You had gotten away with it but wouldn’t likely be as lucky next time.

It felt a little silly, but you had started to wear the colors that matched what he had worn to the lectures, and showing up early so you could sit closer to him, and even looked for his name on the club sign up sheets, just to see if you could catch a glimpse of him and his ever mysterious personal life. He was addictive, the way he walked, the way he talked. You had never met someone quite like him.

There was a pop quiz on Friday and some nice senior had luckily tipped you off, so here you were studying with Johan.

While you had failed so you could spend more time with him, you worked hard to get here and certainly didn’t want to get kicked out.

“Administrative law, isn’t something that usually lawyers deal with because they directly challenge a law or order created. Cases like these take a while to get resolved and have a plethora of rules.”

“What type of lawyer do you want to be?” You blurted, interrupting his sentence and tearing his eyes from the textbooks and folders and notes littered on the table.

“Hm?”

“I was just curious I mean you’re proficient in almost all of the different types you could choose whatever you find the most interesting-“

“I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

You blinked dumbly back at him. But before you ask he already responded.

“Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure”

He leaned over the table, hands on both sides of your chair as he casually moved a strand of your hair back and whispered in your ear.

“Have you ever thought of becoming something bigger? Something more . . . unorthodox?”

He slid a folder from underneath the others closer to you and you peered at the hundreds of newspapers clippings, and the crime on each one.

"I hope one day, you can understand.”

His lips grazed your ear for only a second, leaving you in a confused daze.

Perhaps not normal.

[leoleolovesdc]

I would love to write a TTS essay explaining why Gothel isn’t Cassandra’s mother and Frederick and Arianna aren’t Rapunzel’s parents and the show’s insistence on pushing parent/child struggles into those characters is kind of really forced so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do:

(Disclaimer: this got really messy and is kind of a bunch of nonesense glued together, so read it with a bit of patiece lmao)

Rapunzel grew up for the first 18 years of her life with Gothel, when TTS starts she has been living with Fred and Ari for 6 months and it’s wild to me how Raps already calls them mom and dad, but I won’t judge this part, she wants to be their daughter and wants to be a family so it makes sense that she would call them that way regardless if it feels natural or not, but I think where the series really fails is when it starts (by the very first episode) to give Rapunzel and Frederick father-daughter struggles, which is complete bs if you ask me, those two don’t know each other. Rapunzel shouldn’t have a “oh, I can’t disobey my father” train of thought because she doesn’t even know him and therefore he isn’t her father, at least not yet. She shouldn’t be so trusting of his judgement of love for her because they don’t have intimacy and the fact that they are fighting and disagreeing so much after having just reconnected is wild. Arianna is not that important for the plot, but her relationship with Rapunzel being so unapologetically perfect also rubs me the wrong way. Rapunzel was ruined by her mother, she was abused her whole life and I don’t think she would just let anyone fulfill the role Gothel did without getting some therapy to unpack everything wrong that her mother, the one that actually raised her, did.

Rapunzel had a narcissistic mother, an awlful one who never loved her, but that doesn’t mean that she didn’t love Gothel. Raps lived her whole by that woman’s side, she loved her more than anything in the world and realizing the manipulation and abuse wouldn’t just immediately stop a person as kind and forgiving as Rapunzel to still love her like a mother, because like it or not Gothel raised her for 18 years. She wasn’t a good mother by any means but she was her mother nonetheless.

Another point is that at the end of season one Rapunzel goes away from Corona to explore, learn about the world and her own powers. I am not exactly sure how much time passes from the beginning to the end of s1 but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t more than 6 months, so Rapunzel lives with her bio parents for about a year and then goes straight into a one year long self discovery journey and you’re trying to tell me that she missed them? Not even just missed, but when she got hold of an artifact that showed what you waned the most what she saw were her biological parents and the people of Corona who in the first episode she claims to not remember the names of? That’s some real bs right there and I have no idea how the show runners thought this made any sort of sense. She doesn’t fucking know them, maybe she respects or care about her folks, but she couldn’t have possibly built this life long parent/child relationship that the show treats like she did.

Now, with Cassandra it’s a bit more complicated. She lived with Gothel for about four years of her life before being abandoned, but she very obviously didn’t remember any of this, either because she was too young or because she repressed those memories. Gothel didn’t seem to love Cass in the slightest, but because Cass grew up with only a emotionally distant father she longed for this reassurance that she was loved by a parent figure at some point in her life, she blames Rapunzel for everything that went wrong with her life, which can make sense but also is a bit awkward to sustain once you analyze the actual facts. Yes, Rapunzel and Eugene killed Gothel, but she didn’t mean to do that, it was Eugene’s plan and he only did it because Raps had literally agreed to be used and locked up from the real world for the rest of her life. Cass isn’t dumb, she would know better than lashing out at her friends for accidentally saving her from living with a narcissist who didn’t care about her. Gothel isn’t Cassandra’s mother, Cass doesn’t have a mother because she didn’t have anyone to actually raise her.

If I was to rewrite Tangled we’d have a very different approach to how bio parents are handled, especially Rapunzel’s. I don’t think she should be close to Arianna and Frederick at all, heck, I don’t even think she should call them mom and dad. Cause bear with me, if you randomly found ot you are adopted by the time you were 18 and actually went to live with your biological family for about a year do you think you’d even have this sort of intimacy and bond with them?

[moonlight0934]

Bruises

Dean smiles as Bobby closes the hood of their latest project.

“We done?”

“Yeah, just go start ’em up, and make sure it runs properly,” Bobby replies, tossing Dean the keys.

Dean races around the car to start it. The engine roars to life, and both of them grin again, exchanging a satisfied look.

“Well, now that this is done, and the owner isn’t coming until tomorrow, you wanna head inside? We have time to actually make some dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

The night is quiet, and Dean feels happy all the way through dinner. It’s longer than he’s been able to stay happy in a long time. Bobby immediately notices when his demeanor shifts.

He doesn’t get the chance to ask though, Dean beats him to the punch, “Do you think Sammy is as happy as we are?”

Knowing the system, probably not.

“I don’t know. If we’re being honest, he could be anywhere by now. I’m sorry, Dean. I haven’t given up on finding him though. Even if he is with a good family, I still think it’d be good for you two to reconnect. I have a few people trying to search him down, and we’ll find him some day.”

“Unless he’s dead. That would explain how we’ve spent thirteen years looking for him. People don’t really disappear for that long otherwise.”

“If he didn’t get a permanent home, that’s probably why we can’t find him. He’d be moving around. Also, a lot of people choose to change their kids names, so it’s possible that his name isn’t Samuel Winchester anymore. The system is complicated, and that would make it difficult too.”

“Yeah, I guess. If he is still alive, do you think we have a chance of finding him? I mean, he would be a teenager now. I’m an adult, and he’d be starting high school this year.”

“I know we’ve lost a lot, but we can find a way to merge our lives, if that’s what he wants. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to find out he has a brother, or maybe even another brother. He might have gotten a whole family through the system.”

“Maybe, I just hope he wasn’t alone this whole time. That would be terrifying. I can’t even imagine.”

Bobby shakes his head. “I don’t really know anyone that was in foster care, but it sounds horrible.”

Dean leans against Bobby, sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I know that I should just be grateful that you took me in, and I shouldn’t bother you with this. I just… he’s my brother. I miss him, and I want him back more than anything. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Bobby wraps an arm around Dean. “Don’t be sorry. Sammy was important to both of us, even if I didn’t know him all that well. I failed him, and I’m sorry for that, but we won’t give up. I promise we’ll find him.”

Dean closes his eyes. “I believe you.”

It’s almost two months after that when Bobby gets a call from one of his contacts saying that he knows where Sam is. Of course Bobby is overjoyed, but the feeling immediately drops when he starts explaining the situation Sam is in.

Sam pulls his coat tightly around himself. It’s only eleven degrees outside, and his thin hoodie isn’t doing much to keep the cold out. His bangs shield his eyes somewhat, but he still keeps his head down. The bus dropped him off ten minutes ago, but he’s still just standing at the bus stop.

Dad was in a bad mood when I left earlier, so he probably called off from work. I should stay away until he starts to cool off, at least a little bit. That does mean I’m going to be here for at least another hour… Maybe it would be safer to just risk it?

Sam scuffs his shoe against the concrete with a sigh. His breath spans out in a little white cloud in front of him. Another half hour passes like that before Sam gets cold enough that he has to head home. He quietly unlocks the door, and slips inside. His hands are shaking, and he almost misses his pocket while trying to tuck his keys back into it.

It’s quiet for all of twenty seconds before a loud voice calls Sam’s name. “Get in here, boy!”

Sam slips his shoes off, and creeps towards the living room. His dad is sitting in the recliner, his eyes glazed over, and a bottle of alcohol in his hand.

“Yes, sir?” Sam asks timidly.

“Why’re you late?”

“I had an extra credit assignment,” Sam lies.

His dad narrows his eyes, taking Sam in.

I should have waited the extra half hour. He would be too drunk to even realize I wasn’t here. Why am I so stupid? Though that might have killed me, or given me frostbite.

“Fine, get to cleaning the kitchen. Your useless mother made a mess again.”

Sam nods hurriedly before rushing into the kitchen. He’s still shaking, unable to still his hands. He clasps them together as he surveys the kitchen. Most of the counters have cheese or pasta sauce on them, with one clean counter on the far side of the room. There are dishes stacked up in the sink, and some sauce on the floor too.

I guess she tried to cook again. I don’t understand how she always makes such a mess. What is she throwing a rave with the pasta sauce?

Sam walks into the kitchen, and begins cleaning, starting with the floor. He keeps his jacket on for this part, trying to warm up as much as possible before he has to take it off so it doesn’t get too dirty. He almost starts to zone out as he scrubs the counters until they shine, and the whole room smells like cleaner. He’s somewhere between listening for his father, and disassociating. The front door opens as he finally pulls his jacket off to start dishes. Luckily, he’s significantly warmer now, so it’s not as much of a loss as it would have been ten minutes ago. Sam’s mother walks in, dressed up and in full makeup.

“You missed a spot,” she says, pointing out a clean spot on the counter.

Sam blinks a few times, then nods. “Did you have a good time while you were out?” he asks, trying to be polite.

“Yes, I went to meet with Daniel.”

Sam frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He just refocuses on the dishes, and his mother eventually leaves the kitchen after inspecting the rest of the counters. Sam is almost done with the dishes when his dad walks back in.

“Get started on dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam doesn’t make eye contact, and waits for him to leave to wash his hands. He starts on dinner, putting together soup from the odds and ends left in the pantry. He peeks into the living room once he’s put that on.

“Mom?”

“What?”

“Are you going to the grocery store tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

Sam slips back into the kitchen, happy for the positive answer. He waits until he’s already set the table to tell his parents that dinner is ready. They head to the dinner table, and Sam gets them both water before moving to the last open spot that he had set out. His dad’s hand shoots out, and grabs his wrist before he can sit down.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam whispers, feeling his hands start to shake again.

“You don’t get to eat with us. You can eat whatever we don’t want when you’re done.”

The hand leaves Sam’s wrist, and just a second later, he backhands Sam. Sam grabs the chair, and his dad grabs his wrist again. He pulls Sam closer, his grip tight and unyielding.

“Go to your room, and I better not see you again before I tell you that you can come out.”

He pushes Sam away, and Sam just walks back to his room. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest, and doesn’t cry. He sits down on his bed, and doesn’t move again for hours. Even as his wrist swells, and the distinct fingerprint bruises turn black. Finally, after he’s sure that they’ve either forgotten about him, or fell asleep, then he cries. He cries as quietly as he can until his face is red and puffy, his eyes itch, and he can’t breathe through his nose anymore. After that, he finally manages to fall asleep.

There’s a crash that ends up waking him up. It sounds like someone hitting something really hard. Sam flinches, his wrist throbbing worse, and his face stinging. He doesn’t even originally realize how hard he’s shaking.

Did he fall? Is he coming back in here? Dear God, please let him not be coming back in here.

There’s another crash, and Sam crawls out of bed. He tucks himself into the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. Then his doorknob is rattling.

He must have locked it sometime earlier, and forgotten.

The door shakes, and Sam flinches again. This time, it goes quiet. Sam dimly realizes that this must mean he’s going to retrieve the key, but the hopeful part of him hopes that he’s giving up. After only a few seconds, the door slides open. Sam’s eyes only widen further as a man he doesn’t recognize walks into the doorway.

He looks young, maybe not even a full grown adult at all. He flips the lights on, and they lock eyes. The man has green eyes, which are hardened with anger. He has short, dark hair, which feels oddly familiar, but Sam knows he hasn’t met the man before.

“Who are you?” Sam whispers, slowly standing.

The man takes a step forward, closing the space between them. “My name is Dean, Dean Winchester.”

Sam frowns. “Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s your name too, right?”

“Yeah, Sam.”

“I know.”

Sam frowns, pressing himself against the wall.

“I can understand how scary this is, but I swear I’m not lying to you. I’m your brother, and I know we haven’t seen each other in thirteen years, but I’ve been looking for you. I never stopped looking for you, Sammy. We called the police when we got here. He won’t be able to hurt you any more. I can stay over here until they get here if that makes you feel safer,” Dean offers, his hands up in a show of surrender.

Sam nods jerkily.

“Did he do that to you?” Dean asks, his eyes lingering on the bruise under Sam’s eye first, then on Sam’s swollen wrist.

Sam nods again, his breath hitching.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean whispers, his eyes filling with tears.

“Is this real? I never knew I had a brother.”

“I know, and I know you’ve had a lot of homes over the years. That’s why it was so hard for me to find you, but I’m here now. I know that you don’t know me, and I don’t really know you anymore, but I promise I can keep you safe. You never have to move again if you don’t want to. You can live with me and my dad, Bobby.”

“You have a dad?” Sam asks, feeling almost like he’s dreaming. He would think he was dreaming if his arm didn’t hurt so much.

“Yeah, I do. He’s great. In fact, he’s downstairs right now. He’s going to meet the police at the door, and explain what happened. He adopted me after our dad died.”

Sam swallows, a lump appearing in his throat. “This can’t be real. I don’t have any family.”

The tears fall then, and Dean sucks in a breath.

“I know, I know, but you can have one now. I’m not lying to you, Sammy. My name is Dean Winchester, and yours is Samuel Winchester. Our parents names were Mary and John Winchester. They both died before you were two, and we were separated. Bobby was one of Dad’s friends, and he managed to track me down. We’ve been looking for you, but it was hard.”

Sam stays pressed against the wall, his arms wrapping around himself tightly. There’s more noise downstairs that catches Sam’s attention.

“It’s ok, that’s probably just the police. Do you want to go meet them down there, or do you want to wait for them to come up to us?”

“Downstairs, but you go first.”

Dean nods, wiping his eyes. He walks out, and Sam follows at a safe distance. The police are downstairs, and Sam is immediately whisked away outside to the squad cars. He spends the rest of the morning getting his wrist checked out, being questioned, and giving a statement about his foster parents, which he originally refused to do. Dean’s heartbroken face stays in his mind though, and he ends up changing it.

He doesn’t see Dean again until he’s being discharged from the hospital. He’s in a cast now, because his wrist was fractured. Dean is standing with an older looking man, who definitely looks like a redneck. He gives Sam a hopeful smile while the older man is too engrossed in filling out paperwork to notice his approach.

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Hi.”

“This is Bobby. Bobby, this is Sam, my baby brother.”

Bobby looks up, a soft smile on his face. “Hi, Sam. It’s wonderful to meet you. Do you two wanna take a seat, and I’ll finish this up?”

Dean nods, and motions Sam forward without trying to grab him, or pull him along. Sam follows him, and sits down in the seat directly to Dean’s right. Dean grins, thrilled that Sam chose to sit so close to him.

“I got something printed out at the police station. Just in case you still weren’t sure.”

He pulls a piece of paper out of his bag, and offers it to Sam. Sam takes it, his eyes scanning the paper.

“This is your birth certificate.”

“It is. It was easier since you kept your birth name, and I didn’t have to find yours too.”

“You’re proving you’re actually my brother?”

“Yeah, that was the hope.”

Sam smiles, looking down at the paper clutched in his good hand. “I really can have a family now?”

“Yeah, I mean there are some legal measures we have to deal with before we can go home, but we’ll stay with you until you can come home with us.”

Sam’s eyes fill with tears. “Is Bobby a good dad?”

“Yeah, he’s the best.”

“Do you think he’ll want to be my dad too? I don’t remember ever having a dad.”

Dean holds his arms open as he says, “Of course he will. After all, you’re my little brother, and we both love you.”

Sam edges closer, letting Dean wrap him in a hug. He’s still tense, and uncomfortable, but the hug feels nice. It’s warm, and Dean’s hold on him is loose. So Sam lets himself enjoy it.

[knightfeared]

༝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧,  𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬,  𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐫𝐞…

[ … ]   …Was his difference in blood, or rather, what it implied. From what he's managed to gather, Gods weren’t known to bleed red   –   the same shade of Mortal-born man, but rather, ichor, something golden, luminous. A potential sign of a defect,  or failing in some unspoken way…  Since the moment he’d first discovered he bled a differing hue,  it’d sparked forth a complicated mix of emotions in its wake.  Something he still isn’t entirely sure he can unravel in its entirety or decipher   –   not that there was much need nor desire to in the present.

As the Godling pulls himself up from the scarlet flowing pool,  the lively tone of its contents cling to his frame,  darkened rivulets of crimson marking little stained paths down his skin as he sweeps his soaked mop of ink-dark hair from his eyes.

Step by step,  when he raises mismatched sights upon reaching the tiled flooring of the House,  besides the usual sight of new-joined Shades mingling about,  his Father’s chair remained empty,  looming,  along with Cerberus’ absence at its side.  He'd been so close this time too... The landing blow that'd struck him down was because he'd faltered, second guessed when trying to flit between reading the elder God's attacks &&. deciding to dodge or careen away to put more space.

In his resulting freeze, he'd made his decision far too late, losing any chance at accomplishing either option. Heaving out a sigh, bone deep, aching, he continues to step further along the Hall. Giving his hands a shake off to clear away the last of what remained,  there is a flare of some stinging pain at his shoulder,  but it’s nothing he isn’t used to carrying during his escape attempts.

After returning, while he'd always awoken in one piece healed right back up again, there were the occasional times he'd still bear the muscle-tension, the soreness of old bruises turned painful memory.

All in all,  it’s an easy enough pain to ignore,  at least for the moment.  Up until he moves to cross by Hypnos…  eyes too busy glancing about to realize the Sleep Incarnate was wide-awake,  flicking glinting sights along the list in hand before they dart back up to greet the wilted Prince.  His comment makes him pause,  jerking back in a fatigue-weighted sway,  brows knitting together as he cocks his head at a questioning angle.

Floating closer,  rather than stopping at the initial exclamation,  Hypnos cranes in  further to gesture.  As he tries to lean away in tandem,  it backfires,  a slight hiss torn from Zagreus as he makes a face,  fingers massaging at the sore junction before he finally glances @chaieos’s way.

Thankfully…  Not a big residual injury.  Small enough it could have been mistaken for dried blood in passing.  Twin pools of intrigued    &&.   curious star-spun gold greet him,  the incarnate still trying to study the colour of the life-blood that welled up at the small wound.  Giving a well-intentioned wave of his hand,  the Prince manages to muster a warm enough laugh as he crosses his arms over his chest.

` ❝ I suppose I am   –   there’s no need to stare though, Hypnos. It’s not all that exciting,  is it? ❞

` ⟢ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫 . ᨒ↟𐂂 ⟢ “ wooaahh, is that blood ? are you bleeding ? woaahh. ” hypnos to zag bc woahh, is that something new ! a godling bleeding after death ? weird ! but intriguing !

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 13: Budding Spring - Episode 16: My Allies

Izumi: That should be all the groceries.

Tsumugi: Ah, right… I ran out of fertilizer…

Izumi: Should we go to the florist?

Tsumugi: No, they’re kinda heavy. I’ll ask someone for help and go with them.

Izumi: Oh, speaking of florists, I often pass by a shop where a fan of ours lives—

Towa: …

Izumi: Hm? Towa-kun?

Towa: Ah…

Izumi: Are you okay? Do you feel bad?

[Towa’s stomach growls]

Towa: I wanna eat… rice…

[Towa collapses]

Izumi: Eh?

Tsumugi: … Did he just collapse?

-

Towa: Thank you for the meal!

Tsumugi: Looks like you were starving.

Izumi: But your aunt is that florist nearby, right? How did this happen…?

Towa: To be honest… I ran away from home.

Sakuya: You ran away!?

Sakyo: Reminds me of a certain someone.

Azami: There’s a bunch of guys like that here.

Kumon: Ahaha, that’s true~

Tenma: You’re one of them.

Izumi: Did something happen at home?

Towa: …

Masumi: If nothing happened, then go back home.

Sakuya: Now, now. The situation might be complicated.

Towa: … I’m sorry for all the fuss.

Towa: … I’ve always admired you all. I’ve always wanted to be someone who’s passionate about something.

Towa: I’ve done everything half-heartedly and without pushing myself all my life.

Sakuya: … Why?

Towa: … Because I didn’t want to disappoint myself.

Towa: I think I don’t want to try hard, fail and realize I’m useless.

Towa: I’ll feel embarrassed. It scares me. I think it'll kill me.

Towa: But when I saw the Spring Troupe’s, MANKAI Company’s performance, entirely by chance, I became obsessed with how bright everyone sparkles.

Towa: I thought to myself that I want to try hard like this, I want to sparkle and accomplish something.

Towa: But I just don’t know what that something is…

Towa: Anyway, I wanted to be close to where everyone is, so I changed schools and applied to Hanagaku last minute and came to Veludo Way.

Izumi: That’s why you’re here…!?

Banri: That’s pretty impressive. The standard deviation there’s pretty high.

Towa: I studied more than I had my entire life before that!

Sakuya: You’re really good at taking the initiative. 

Masumi: You’re reckless.

Towa: Although I really wanted to be close to everyone here, there’s one more reason…

Towa: Everyone in my family spoils me, and they’re always ready to help me with anything and everything.

Towa: They always listen to my selfish requests, and my friends get jealous when I tell them, so I wondered if it was okay for me to stay that way…

Towa: No one argued when I changed schools.

Towa: They just told me to do what I wanted to do, and even found me a private tutor and a cram school.

Towa: They also asked my aunt to let me live with her.

Towa: My family is kind, and I love them, but I hate how spoiled I become when I’m with them. So I decided to leave.

Yuki: You’ve got guts.

Tsumugi: So they support your choices. That’s a good family you have.

Towa: But… It seems they thought I’d immediately go back home.

Towa: “It’s not like he has anything he really wants to do.”, “It’s unlikely he can make it on his own.”

Towa: When I heard my aunt and my mom have a conversation like that over the phone, I got mad and ran out.

Towa: … Everything they said was right, though. All I’ve got is my fixation, and I don’t have anything I actually want to do.

Towa: I can’t do anything by myself…

Sakuya: I don’t think that’s true.

Citron: You have already made it this far.

Chikage: You’ve even gotten into your beloved company’s kitchen.

Towa: Ah…

Itaru: You studied hard, got into Hanagaku, and stepped into your sacred place. Isn’t that proof enough?

Sakuya: I think it’s amazing that you’ve stepped into a whole new world all by yourself.

Itaru: There’s no need to rush. Everyone eventually finds what they want to do.

Tsumugi: I think Banri-kun knows that better than anyone.

Banri: This kinda thing’s got to do with your timing and, well, your connections. No point in rushin’ it.

Juza: Though, you were just tryin’ shit out on a whim.

Banri: Ahh?

Izumi: It’s not like you can’t do anything.

Izumi: If we hadn’t met you, we would’ve never thought of the workshop.

Towa: … Thank you very much. I’m sorry for troubling you.

Izumi: Your aunt is probably worried too, so contact her. Can you do it yourself?

Towa: Yes.

Towa: — Ah, I’m getting notifications from my chat.

shiki: contact us

Kar: don’t die

Iv: wanna come @ my place?

shiki: stay calm and don’t rush things!

Izumi: Chat?

Towa: A group chat I have with friends I met from a game called “Bloom Game”.

Towa: We talk about all sorts of things in BlooCha– the in-game chat.

Towa: We’ve never met, and we don’t know what each other looks like, but because of that we can talk about anything, and I feel like we’re always connected.

Towa: To me, that’s my home away from home.

Izumi: I see. Make sure you contact them too.

Towa: Okay.

-

Sakuya: Should I take you back home?

Towa: It’s okay. It’s pretty close, and my aunt said she’ll pick me up on the way.

Sakuya: I see. Be careful on your way home.

Citron: If you run away from home again, come here again!

Masumi: You don’t have to do that.

Tsuzuru: We have got to be the only place that welcomes runaways like it’s nothing. But I guess a place like that is good too.

Izumi: See you.

Towa: Thank you for everything! Good luck on your next performance! I’m looking forward to it!

[Towa walks away]

Tsuzuru: Our next performance, huh…

Itaru: We gotta face our problems head-on too, eventually.

Chikage: … That we do.

-

[Phone blips]

Sakuya: Ah… I have to cut this out and reply…

Sakuya: *sigh* Something that’s like us, huh…

Tenma: Does the next Romeo say lines like that?

Sakuya: Eh? Ah, no, he doesn’t.

Tenma: Seems like rehearsals aren’t going so smoothly.

Sakuya: … Yuzo-san watched our practice today.

Sakuya: He told us to think again what kind of plays the Spring Troupe does, and what the debut performance means to us.

Sakuya: We’ve gained lots of experience, but there’s something we lack compared to back then…

Sakuya: Even though, even our feelings are stronger than they were back then.

Tenma: So something’s missing, huh? There were a lot of those things in the original RomiJuli

Tenma: The acting was rough at best, and lots of parts would make you cringe, but still… I wonder what it was that made it so sparkling.

Tenma: All of you seemed to be enjoying the new world of theater you had just discovered with all your heart.

Sakuya: The new world…

Tenma: When I saw that, I was also drawn to it– it made me think it was time for me to leap into the world of theater, too.

Sakuya: When you praised RomiJuli after you joined, I was really happy.

Tenma: Come to think of it, you had to overcome lots of hurdles during the rehearsals for your debut, right?

Tenma: I had asked you how you did that during the Summer Troupe’s rehearsals.

Sakuya: I remember…

Sakuya: Back then, Yuzo-san had told us we don’t understand the first thing about theater—...

Sakuya: That’s it! Thank you, Tenma-kun! I’m going to get to know the stage one more time!

Tenma: — Sure.

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