#monument to wisdom

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 183: Somewhere Near Cipal; The Sacred Peaks, Part 1

[seatoss]

Finally. Some good news

[aureentuluva70]

The painting of Alvin the Terrible and his son but instead it's Thingol-with the same horrified, haunting eyes-holding Lùthien after she dies of grief in Doriath.

[espighty]

Why does he sleep like a Mormon. What is wrong with him.

(stills)

[aqueerpolysocialist]

Per aspera ad astra

As the Secretary General of the United Nations, an organization of the 147 member states who represent almost all of the human inhabitants of the planet earth. I send greetings on behalf of the people of our planet. We step out of our solar system into the universe seeking only peace and friendship, to teach if we are called upon, to be taught if we are fortunate. We know full well that our planet and all its inhabitants are but a small part of the immense universe that surrounds us and it is with humility and hope that we take this step.

- Kurt Waldheim, Secretary General of the United Nations 1972 - 1981. This spoken greeting is recorded in English as part of the audio contents of the record.

This is a present from a small, distant world, a token of our sounds, our science, our images, our music, our thoughts and our feelings. We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours.

- President Jimmy Carter, 39th President of the United States of America, 1977-1981. This message was included in printed form on the record.

"The spacecraft will be encountered and the record played only if there are advanced space-faring civilizations in interstellar space, but the launching of this 'bottle' into the cosmic 'ocean' says something very hopeful about life on this planet."

- Carl Sagan, chair of the NASA committee that assembled the contents of the Voyager records

[conjcosby]

Stardate: 2024.5.15 ▫ In peace may we live. Not in victory, not in defeat but in acceptance. 😊🙏 #Buddha #BuddhaQuote #BuddhaWisdom #BuddhistProverb #Proverb #BuddhistQuote #BuddhistWisdom #Wisdom #Quote #Wednesdays #WisdomQuote #WisdomWednesdays #WisdomQuoteWednesdays #QuoteOfTheDay #QOTD #ProverbOfTheDay #PostOfTheDay #POTD #Text #Sculpture #Statue #HumanRepresentation #Representation #Monument

[miirshroom]

Hunt for Rebirth Monuments - Intro

I have been working on locating the rebirth monuments at each location where spirit summoning is available. At first I assumed that the monument would be found after walking and marking the radius where summoning was available, as in the above example for the Bridge of Sacrifice. This quickly turned out not to be the case, as some of the first places I tried this were the Demi-Human Forest Ruins (could not and still have not found a monument) and the region to the southeast of Caria Manor (highly irregular shape, see below right, where crosshairs are located on the monument location). From what I can see of the other areas at Caria Manor, these are also oddly shaped (see below left for sketch of possible boundaries, where the rebirth monument is located on the edge of inner ring).

In general, there is a lot of variation in where the monument is placed relative to the edges of the boundary. I have run out of markers to place on the map, so before deleting and starting fresh I reviewed the areas that I have marked.

Dragon Burnt Ruins

Large area, and very straightforwardly I walked the perimeter and found the rebirth monument exactly at the centre. This is similar to the location at the Bridge of Sacrifice in the post header. Notably, aligning the stone monument with the nearest Divine Tower approximately in scale obscures a number of surrounding landscape elements behind stone, including the Divine Tower Bridge, Giant's Forge, and Caelid Minor Erdtree. Radahn's Divine Tower in Caelid is approximately behind the dead tree stump.

Altus Plateau - Dead Minor Erdtree

Rebirth monument is slightly off-centre with the centre of the circle. Standing in front of the Erdtree with the monument lined up with Morgott/Mohg's Divine Tower is looking directly at the entrance to the Erdtree. Interesting, considering that this is the location with an Omen who casts deathblight surrounded by 6 Commoners.

Laskyar Ruins

Rebirth monument is noticeably off-centre with the circle. Interesting feature that the Liurnia Divine Tower is centred on the Erdtree from this perspective, and the edge of the dark side of the moon is especially defined. Faintly visible, Godrick's Divine Tower on the right lines up with a dead tree and Rykard's Divine Tower lines up with the broken gap in the lefthand columnade, when the monument itself is aligned with the column under the Liurnia Divine Tower. Standing on the other side of the monument (not pictured) gives a good view of Mt. Gelmir.

Gatefront Ruins

Rebirth monument is slightly off centre. From this vantage point it is not possible to see the trunk of the Erdtree or Divine towers, but there is a window on the other side of an obstructing small tree with 4 trunks. So, I approximated.

Street of Sages Ruins

Rebirth monument is noticeably off centre. Had to work fast since any observations in this area require standing in the rot. Standing to the left of the rebirth monument aligned with Radahn's Divine Tower, there is a Scarlet Aeonia bud straight ahead and a dead rotted tree standing on the cliff in front of the Erdtree. Standing to the right of the aligned rebirth monument, straight ahead there is the Dragonbarrow Minor Erdtree and Giant Skull.

I also looked into Waypoint Ruins and Forsaken Ruins, but similar to Caria Manor the boundaries of summoning are not straightforward in these areas.

So, that's general progress. I also picked up a few other areas in Weeping Peninsula and Limgrave on a separate character profile. But I am avoiding map pieces on that profile for now, so I do not have good map screenshots.

[brunchable]

You told Bucky that, 'He's right' 《Drabble》

Words: ≈600

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

A/N: omg i actually wrote a short story. Dunno if you'd call it a drabble if its >100words but eh. Divider is mine :)

Bucky stared down at his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing at the door you had just walked through after the argument. Everything about the situation felt... wrong.

"Did I hear that right?" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You had said the words no married man expects to hear, especially after an argument: "You're right."

A cold sweat broke out on Bucky's forehead. He picked up his phone and hurriedly typed a message to Sam, his thumbs flying over the keys like it was a mission.

Bucky: Hey, I just had an argument with Y/N, and she just told me I was right. What do I do next?

Sam's response came almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the exact moment Bucky's world flipped upside down.

Sam: Oh no. What did you do?

Bucky: That's the thing! I didn’t do anything!

Sam: Doubt it. Check again. You definitely did something.

Bucky got up and peeked out the bedroom door. You were calmly sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone as if nothing monumental had just occurred. No fuming. No angry glares. You even had a tiny smile on your face. That, more than anything, terrified Bucky.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, typing with even more urgency.

Bucky: I swear! She just said, “You’re right.”

Sam: She said WHAT?

Bucky: “You’re right,” Sam. I’m not messing with you. What do I do? Is this a trap?

A long pause followed. Sam was probably trying to process what Bucky was saying, and that made Bucky even more nervous. His phone buzzed with another message.

Sam: Listen, man, if she said you're right, there's no going back. You’re in uncharted territory now. Just apologize.

Bucky: But she said I’m right!

Sam: And you’re still wrong. Did your Dad not tell you that women are always right?!

Bucky's mind raced. What if this was some sort of test? What if this was a new form of argument he had never encountered before?

Bucky: Okay, but what do I apologize for?

Sam: For breathing. For existing. Pick one, man. Just go with it.

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples. None of this made sense. He felt like a soldier in a war zone, except the enemy was invisible, and the battle lines were non-existent. He looked at his phone one last time, hoping for some final piece of wisdom from Sam.

Sam: If she said you're right, just apologize and bring her chocolate. And flowers. Actually, maybe throw in a puppy just to be safe.

Bucky: A puppy? Where am I supposed to get a puppy at this hour?

Sam: Figure it out. Good luck, man. It was nice knowing you.

Bucky groaned, shoving the phone in his pocket. He paced for a few minutes, trying to figure out the best approach. Finally, with a deep breath, he walked into the living room, feeling like he was marching to his doom.

You looked up at him with a raised brow. "Something on your mind?"

Bucky cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat slide down his back. "Listen, doll, about earlier... I just wanted to say I’m... sorry."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"

"For... being right?"

Your lips twitched, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, hiding a smile. "Oh, really?"

Bucky shifted nervously. "Yeah, and for... everything else. Just... all of it."

You finally burst into laughter, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. "Oh, Bucky, you’re ridiculous."

Bucky blinked, completely thrown off. "Wait, what? So I’m not in trouble?"

You shook her head, wiping away tears of laughter. "No, you goof, why would you be? I just didn’t feel like arguing anymore. I knew you'd spiral the moment I said you were right."

Bucky blinked. “So, you were messing with me.”

You grinned mischievously, shrugging a shoulder. "Just a little. But I like the apology."

Bucky shook his head with a grin. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, doll.”

As you laughed, Bucky’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen to see another message from Sam.

Sam: You still alive?

Bucky: Barely. You owe me a puppy.

[harmonysanreads]

Sooo about the yan! alhaitham having a librarian girlfriend..... I wanna hear your thoughts....

Of The Silence Betwixt Words

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Yandere!Alhaitham x Reader

Cw(s) : Yandere Themes, Intrusive Thoughts, Alhaitham being Alhaitham

「 Words : 1.4k 」 「 Inspired By This Post 」

The relationship between a librarian and a reader is simple, silent and sufficiently detached ; as such, it does not require an extensive amount of cognition to treat it as anything but that.

At least, that's how it is in the beginning — it always is like this in the beginning. The burgeon of something from seemingly nothing, catapulted to such a monumental deal that one is left questioning : when did it begin? What or who sneaked in the seed and how did it nurture itself to bloom into such an unsightly, fascinating thing?

At one stage, fixation tricks the mind into stuffing that void of inquiries with what it parades as the truth — it has always been there, you simply did not notice.

It is natural for Alhaitham to respect the place that houses such a valuable item, he extends it to the person behind the desk as well. Communication is always easy with them, restricted to a few phrases and maintained due-dates to return borrowed tomes. His own house has an impressive collection as well, but the ambiance of a library is just too intricate to replicate within the four walls of his abode.

In Sumeru, physical books are unfairly ignored, one of the many ironies connoted to its claim to ‘wisdom’. The Scribe has never understood nor agreed to the other scholars' faster and apparently more efficient means of requesting the Akasha to answer their dilemmas.

The Akasha is a useful tool in many instances, that, he won't deny. But there is nothing in that machine that begets more machines that can equate to the intellectual stimulation a physical book, the extra minutes consumed by the search of that book and the librarian that never seems to let him win can provide.

The expanse of the House of Daena directly connects to the load of responsibilities its assigned keeper has to shoulder. Making sure students return the books on time, keeping an eye out for anyone who may want to get silly while annotating the tomes and the periodical shushing of rowdy study groups.

There's the occasional scholar too airy with pride to bend that seeks to challenge your knowledge as well. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for the House of Daena's reputation, you're just the correct person to put them in their places.

It's difficult to decide which one the Scribe wants to commend first : your seemingly monstrous memory or the way you can cite it all without stuttering. Alhaitham was pleased with the fact that most people thought twice before interacting with him, but the way you challenged him and emerged victorious revealed to be quite a hassle on his mind.

“Incorrect. Truly ancient petrified trees usually grow to around one or two miles in height. Check page 19, paragraph 3 of the ninth edition of ‘A Comprehensive Guide to Dragonspine Ruins’ (Kreideprinz et al., XXXX)”

That is not an interaction one can just forget. Intrigued and encouraged with a competitiveness that does not usually make itself apparent, Alhaitham decides to test the extent of your... ‘talent’. The Scribe prefers being frank — he was impressed. So much so, that it overpowered whatever bruise was inflicted on his ego.

More and more of these debates ensued, much to his bewilderment. The man who would never stay for an extra minute in his office after work hours, willingly spends time debating with the librarian of the House of Daena. Most of the time you end up winning in them. The Scribe doesn't even process the reason that he has let you win deliberately a few times was because he found the smile that followed it... pleasant.

Then, bringing a rude end to his little guilty pleasure, the news of your expertise spreads. Scholars from all Darshans come to you to check the accuracy of the rumors during the precious free-time he's been the sole occupant of until that moment. Because of your exposure to many new personalities, it appears as though his had dulled in your eyes.

He gets it, one would naturally be more drawn towards a splatter of color than the monochrome wall it decorates. The same wall also has to make sure the bricks don't fall off from their places. So, he decides to leave you to your devices.

...Except, that plan screeches to a halt when he sits down to sift through applications, his treacherous mind conjures phantoms of your smile directed to people not him, which grips onto his heart and squeezes.

Rejected, rejected, rejected — he tosses every file and application to the trash without blinking once that day. Only when he's done that, does the haze recede and he's staring at the floors in profound confusion. The abruptness of that reaction stuns him so much that he rushes to the Bimarstan for a thorough check-up, the doctor's repeated reassurance that he's fine and healthy does nothing to quell the waves of thoughts spiraling in his head.

Thanks to that, he knows now there is nothing wrong with him physically, but something has definitely happened to his mental wiring and the impact of that change leaves the wellbeing of his physical state to question as well.

Break down, look for the cause, reorganize and form a branch of conclusions — that is the pattern Alhaitham has always followed when presented with a problem. A tiny part of him entices him to jump to more reckless means ; no need to think, just drag them away from the commotion and grovel at their feet so that they'll spare attention to your pathetic existence ! But the greater part of his conscious mind, fueled by rationale, is, understandably appalled by these thoughts. In the end, he circles back to his traditional methods.

Alhaitham has always been cautious, so he quickly crosses out the prospect of confiding with someone else about these urges he's been having. He'd usually consult a book for help, but Sumeru housed no records even alluding to his condition. It's only during a stroll through the Grand Bazaar, a passing glance to the act played upon the center stage, does he finally gain a clue.

“Scrambled thoughts, erratic heartbeats and restless state of being? These could be the prelude to a greater illness! Or, a far, far gigantic sickness may have grasped your soul — love.”

Those were the words that managed to sneak in through the confines of his earpieces, rooting him to his place in the midst of the crowd. At that point, he had been exasperated. Of all things, that is what describes his predicament best? A lead is still a lead though, so he conducts further research on the matter and to no one's surprise, the more he digs, the more it makes sense.

The Sages always advise against vain pursuits involving emotions, it's clear more than ever to Alhaitham exactly why. He doesn't outright reject the notion though, research on this field is scarce in the Nation of Scholars. The available ones only scratch the surface ; there is an ocean beneath the thin ice and the itch of unraveling those depths appears to be too insistent to ignore.

But the centerpiece of his experiment was still missing, prancing around carelessly. If only he could somehow, in some way, at an auspicious moment manage to steal you away from the barrier of that desk — he halts his thoughts with a deep inhale. Surely there are more efficient approaches, he only needs to think.

He's heard that gifts and flowers can soften hearts, perhaps that should be his next course of action. His paycheck is more than enough to cover the expenses for a few continuous months and while he's at it, why not buy that incense capable of dulling people's senses which just so happens to work best with flowers? When you're off-guard he could easily — no, no, no, this isn't working.

In fact, regardless of how many other ways he comes up with, it always circles back to his initial thought. It would be so easy for him as well, certainly less time-consuming than whatever gift-giving and compliment showering the Inazuman light novels are preaching. He's stealthy enough to evade the Matra and his status could tie lose ends. Yes, the advantages of this route outweigh the set-backs in comparison to everything else.

So he refreshes his mind, there is a connection between everything ; it's common knowledge that the librarian of House of Daena will personally rescue overdue books. That record hasn't yet been broken, regardless of whether they had to traverse to the deepest part of the rainforest or some abstruse corner of the desert — the weakest link identified.

He will run countless simulations in his mind, calculating the time and possible day you'll come knocking at his door ; by then, the causal factors will be dealt with.

And everything else will resolve itself.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 182: Cipal; the Barren Plains, Part 2

[johnbrand]

Zamzam's Blessing

With @next-pharaoh

Thomas could not believe he had made it. After toiling through what seemed to be all of Saudi Arabia, he had finally found himself in front of the Zamzam Well. According to the Islamic narratives, the well was a miraculously generated source of water which had opened up thousands of years ago for the son of Ibrahim, Ismaʿil. The legends and lore went on and on, and Thomas could see why. What stood before him was incredible.

Stepping a bit closer to the fount, Thomas could only imagine how silly he must have looked. Some scrawny white tourist, already sunburned after two days barely spent in the desert. Atheist nonetheless; he was certainly not the well’s typical affair. But he had had a passion for worldly monuments ever since he was little, including religiously-affiliated ones. When he had decided to take this journey, he had known it would be difficult, but now Thomas could finally find it worth it.

Smiling, Thomas peered a little farther forward, not noticing his foot catch on the edge of the gate protecting the holy well. With a small yelp, he felt himself lose his footing and tumble directly into the hole. Thomas immediately descended into the hole, each second flying by before splashing into the water. 

Thomas took a quick gulp of air as his panic began to rise. Questions began flying around as if they were bouncing off the well’s walls. How could he have been so careless? Was he going to be able to survive this? Did someone see him fall? Would he be deported? And last but not least: why was he not drowning?

With an awkward blink, Thomas considered that last question again. Timidly, he just barely opened his mouth to relieve some pressure. He was not prepared for his breath to be restored. Hesitantly accepting this realization, Thomas tested a bit more, until eventually he realized he could breathe while underneath the well’s water. It was strange, unsettling, and frankly exhilarating to the non-believer. It was as if he was trapped in a womb.

And like a womb, the water was getting warmer. The panic began to resettle as Thomas realized just how quickly the pool was heating up. The hot water was cooking him, streaming through every hole and crevice it could into his body. Thanks to the smallest amount of light from above, Thomas was able to witness his miraculous transformation.

It started first with Thomas’s skin. The low boil of the water burned him, but instead of leaving reddish scars, it darkened his exterior. Thomas’s skin crisped into a warmer brown, his hair darkened to a rich black, and his facial features subtly shifted to reflect a new masculine, Middle Eastern heritage. As his nose grew wider and eyes inhabited a deep, rich brown, Thomas could not help but emit heartfelt moan underneath the water’s surface.

The masculinization came next, for the well gifted Thomas with the prime body to carry out its will. Broadened shoulders now led to massive arms meant to carry the Qur'an's wisdom. A sturdy chest then traveled down to impenetrable legs to carry the new man across the world to aid in reversion. Larger feet to stomp out the dissension, a virile pouch to spread the Arabian seed. Thomas’s body was built to be an unstoppable Islamic machine.

And finally, his mind would become one with his new mission. In ecstasy, Thomas cried out as his past was rewritten for a new destiny. His old beliefs and ideals dissolved, replaced by a new understanding and acceptance. The atheist wonder that had once fueled his rhetoric was rewritten by Islamic empathy and peace. The passion Thomas once derived from multiculturalism was extinguished, replaced with an appreciation for full reversion.

As his transformation settled in, the well’s water level began to rise. Thomas’s metaphorical womb was ready to give birth to its newest disciple. The warm embrace rushed around him as he was pushed up and up, his magnificent body adapting to the masterful current. As his final change was instituted, the water exalted its creation to the top, leaving the Arab man dry beside the well.

“Ah, I thought I heard the well’s waters again,” a gravelly voice chuckled. “It had been a while since anyone was blessed.”

From the other side of the well stood an old janitor. The rest of the exhibit was empty, suggesting that the historic site had been closed for a while now. The janitor came around the fount and helped the sturdy Arab man up, leading him to a small room off to the side of the exhibit.

“What’s your name, brother?” the janitor asked.

“Tariq,” the Islamic disciple answered with the utmost clarity. “What just happened?"

“The well blessed you” the janitor replied, now searching through a drawer. "I thought it was fairly obvious."

Looking upon himself, Tariq was surprised to have not noticed earlier that he was bare besides a pair of underwear. By its branding, he knew the janitor's words were true.

“You can have these.” The janitor tossed a pearly white thobe to Tariq. “Now go out, you know your mission.”

[calif0rnia-lovers]

safe place.

an: ngl, I wanted to hug jude & bukayo through the screen when England lost😔

requested: I remember seeing that Jude said his mom helps him when he gets "too low with the lows or too high with the highs." Can you do a fic where his gf is that way?

pairing: jude bellingham x black!reader

series: lyrically inspired tales.

if my heart aches, you breathe with me at my pace.

song: safe place by ruthanne

warnings: this is most definitely not edited lol.

The stadium lights had dimmed, and the roar of the crowd had faded into a distant memory, replaced by a haunting silence. Jude Bellingham sat in the quiet of his hotel room, the weight of the Euro final's loss pressing heavily on his shoulders. Exhaustion seeped into his bones—physically, mentally, and emotionally he was tapped. The missed shot that could have changed everything replayed in his mind, a tormenting loop of what-ifs and if-onlys.

He felt utterly drained, each breath a reminder of the effort he had poured into the match. The worst part about losing was feeling like he was at his lowest, despite all the hard work and dedication he had poured in for his country. The memory of the silver medal being draped over his shoulder, the relentless flashes of cameras, and the disappointed faces of fans loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had tried to keep his head up, stopping to hug each of his teammates, whispering words of encouragement, but it still hurt like hell. He had forced a brave face, stifling the sting in his eyes, reassuring his family and friends that he was alright. Keeping up the front until he reached his room had been a monumental task, and now, alone in the dim light, the facade crumbled.

He stared blankly at the wall, the ache of disappointment settling deep within his chest. Hours seemed to drag by, each minute stretching into an eternity. His phone was on Do Not Disturb. Although he knew the messages were meant with the best intentions, Jude wasn’t ready to read the encouraging texts sent to him. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the bus doors closed, needing space to process the defeat alone. The team’s efforts, the dreams of a nation, all seemed to hang on that one moment when his shot had veered just slightly off course.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jude ignored it at first, unwilling to face anyone. If he didn’t call out, whoever it was would go away. But then it came again. 

A single knock, followed by three softer knocks, a distinct rhythm that was all too familiar. It was a special knock. Your special knock, a signal that meant more than words ever could. It prompted him to rise from the bed and cross the room.

Your interaction at the stadium was still a blur. A rushed kiss against his lips, nose, and forehead, a whispered “I love you so much,” was all he could receive before he was moving through the line of friends and family. In the few short hours that had passed, you had showered and changed.

When he opened the door, Jude found you standing there with your travel backpack pressed against your chest.

Jude paused to take you in, grounding himself by focusing on your familiar features. It was a routine he had built over the last six months of your relationship, a way to find solace in the midst of chaos. His eyes passed over your smooth, deep brown skin, which seemed to glow softly in the dim light. He traced the contours of your face, from your cheekbones to your lips that carried a gentle, reassuring smile. The sight of it relaxed the furrow of his brow.

Your eyes, warm and filled with understanding, were his favorite feature. They held a depth of emotion and wisdom that made him feel seen and understood. Your lashes framed them perfectly, long and curled, adding to the natural beauty that always took his breath away. His gaze traveled up to the soft curls, pineappled at the top of your head, his hand instinctively reaching forward.

As he studied you, taking in every detail—his touch tracing the curve of your jaw before settling against your cheek—he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

"Hi," you greeted softly, your voice a balm to his battered spirit.

Jude managed a weak smile, the corners of his lips lifting. "Hey," he replied, his voice rough.

You stepped inside, Jude’s hand instinctively settling on your hips as the door closed.

The scent of lavender and chamomile wafted from the bag you carried, filling the room with a calming aroma. It was a scent that lingered on the sheets of each hotel room Jude stayed in, his bedroom at home, and even in his shirts and jerseys. He associated it with you, and only you—a fragrance that instantly brought relaxation and comfort. Whenever you couldn't make it to his games, Jude would find the aromatherapy tucked away in his bag, a thoughtful gesture that made him feel close to you even when apart.

“My flight leaves at 9:30 tomorrow,” you began as you unzipped the bag. Gathering what you needed, you started towards the bathroom. “So, I’ll probably leave here at 7. I’m sure traffic is going to be insane.”

Jude listened to your voice, the calm cadence soothing his frayed nerves. You didn’t expect a response; you knew him well enough to understand that after a loss, he needed time to recover. So, you verbally went through your travel plans. The turnaround was quick, but you needed to report to work. While slightly annoying, the plan was simple: report home, get back to work, and into your routine. Jude would soon follow.

As you focused on starting the bath, Jude began to look through the items you bought. His hand paused on something small and familiar, tucked beneath his favorite snacks—a stuffed lion. He picked it up, a wave of bittersweet memories washing over him. The lion had a soft, golden mane and big, friendly eyes. Stitched into the pad of its right paw was a heart. Jude remembered the day he won it for you at the Ice Palace, the way your face had lit up with joy, your smile so wide and genuine it had made his heart swell.

"My lion," you’d giggled, hugging the plush toy tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, your laughter ringing in his ears. “I can keep him with me when you’re away.”

You paused in the bathroom doorway, watching him hold the stuffed lion. "That always makes me feel better when we're apart," you said softly, a smile finding your lips as the shared memory hung between the two of you.

You began to take out and explain the things you had brought to cheer him up—a selection of his favorite snacks, your iPad full of movies, and some comforting toiletries. "I brought these because I thought they might help you relax. And I know how much you love Shawshank Redemption. So...being the gracious, loving girlfriend I am, I will sit through it for the hundredth time. But, only if you promise to share your sour st-"

You were mid-sentence when he moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind. For a moment, you stayed that way, the warmth of his embrace speaking louder than words. Jude buried his face in your shoulder, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.

You could feel the tremors in his body, his grip tightening as if you were his anchor in the storm of his emotions.

"It's okay," you whispered, turning to face him, the warmth of your palms against his cheeks lifting his eyes to yours. "You gave it everything you had, and that's all anyone can ask for. I'm so proud of you, Jude. You’ve come so far, and this is just a moment in your journey. It's okay to feel hurt and disappointed, but remember that you are stronger than this. Everything happens exactly when it's meant to."

Finally, the dam broke, and Jude rested against you, the tears he’d managed to keep at bay all night came pouring out. He remained pressed against you until the stress of the past few months drained his eyes dry. He allowed you to lead him to the bathroom, welcoming the warm, fragrant steam filled the room, creating a cocoon of comfort. 

He allowed you to help him undress, your movements tender and deliberate, as if you were peeling away not just his clothes but also the layers of his hurt.

"Let's get you in," you murmured softly, as his lips brushed against yours, guiding him into the tub. Jude eased himself into the warm water, letting out a deep sigh as the heat began to soothe his aching muscles and weary mind.

You stepped back to gather the other things you had brought, but Jude's hand gently traced soothing circles into your thigh as you stood by the tub. The simple touch spoke volumes, a silent plea for your presence, for you to stay close.

Jude leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of the bath wash over him. The exhaustion and frustration that had gripped him began to loosen, replaced by a growing sense of peace. He listened as you moved around the room, lighting a few candles and setting out the items you had brought—a fluffy towel, his favorite shampoo, and a soft robe for when he got out. 

You joined Jude in the tub, settling behind him. He welcomed the loofah against his skin, the gentle, rhythmic motion of your hands soothing his frayed nerves. You massaged his shoulders, careful with the one that had been previously injured, as he rested back against you. His hand found its place on his leg, grounding him as he watched the movie playing on the tablet propped nearby.

Your touch worked magic, and you could feel his body gradually relaxing. The tension that had coiled within him slowly unwound, and he seemed to be coming back to himself. The voice in his head, the one that echoed with doubt and personal criticism, grew quieter with each passing moment. Each gentle kiss you pressed against his skin, each laugh you shared from the film, chipped away at the walls of his frustration.

By the time most of the bubbles had dissipated, Jude was completely relaxed. His gratefulness showed in the way he gently squeezed your thigh and the soft kisses he brushed against your knuckles. The warmth of the water, combined with your presence, created a cocoon of comfort and safety. 

He tilted his head back slightly, letting it rest against your shoulder, eyes half-closed in contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, fingers tracing small circles on his chest. "You don’t have to," you replied softly. "I’m here, always."

Jude sighed, a deep, contented breath that seemed to release the last of his lingering tension. He turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for being his anchor in the storm. The doubts that had plagued him earlier were now a distant memory.

The kiss he left against your lips was soft, almost sloppy. The physical and mental strain he's been under from Real Madrid and the Euros suddenly registering. His body begging for sleep.

"Let's get you outta here," you giggled. "I don't think I can carry you to bed if you fall asleep."

You press against the corner of his mouth, the action stopping the closing of his heavy eyelids. "Come on, Jude."

"Mmm...hold up..." Jude mumbled, eyes drifting shut as your lips brushed against his. Brow arching, his smirk prompting your eyes to roll. "...I'm not even tired."

"Uh-huh," stifling your giggle, you watch as Jude nods. His heavy eyes blinking before dropping down to your smile.

"'m not," he mumbled, his kiss missing your lips and settling on your chin.

A series of soft and light kiss lingered against your jaw, drifting to your shoulder. As much as he tried to fight off the comfortable sleeping tugging at him, Jude couldn't resist. By the time he reached your lips, a tired and goofy smile stretched across Jude's lips.

"Alright," he relented. "Let's go, but we gonna finish this in the morning."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled.

You place a final kiss against his lips. The brushing of your nose against his pulling out the smile that left you the victim of constant butterflies and euphoria. Before Jude knew it, the words slipped out.

"I love you," he murmured, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate promise. "Thanks for this."

The words halted your movement of slipping from beneath him, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. It was the first time he had said it aloud. You had never pressured him for those words, knowing that he showed his love in countless other ways. Just as you did for him.

"I love you too, Jude," you replied as his lips found your forehead.

Letting his lips pass over your nose, Jude pushed himself.

[foone]

So here's how the story goes. Four young adults are teleported away from 1940s earth, where it turns out they're the last descendants of the great sages who defeated evil all those years ago, but with his last breath banished the sages to earth. Now, 200 years later, evil has risen again: a vile sorcerer has raised an army and is threatening the peaceful kingdoms of a fantasy world, and only the Divine Bloodline can weild the Weapons of Light and defeat the rampaging hordes. The heroes take up their weapons and fight the good fight, leading the armies of man and elf and dwarf and beast against the evil orcs, who are vaporized by their touch. They cut a path through the horde and defeat evil's greatest champions, who were guarding the Gem of Control, an ancient artifact that gave the terrible wizard control over the orcish population. Just as one of them swings their hammer to shatter it, the wizard intervenes, and uses the last bit of his control to destroy his army, lest they join you in their freed state. As the pieces of the gem hit the floor, already losing their sickly green glow, they see the attacking orcs fade into mist. They'd killed hundreds in your crusade, sure, but he just killed all of them. They later learn, against all fervent hopes, that this extended to the orcish homelands. Men, women, and children, cooking in their homes, planting the crops, raising brutecows and hunting in the dark forests... All gone in an instant. The scouts report a silent land with tools lying in workshops, food left uneaten at dining tables, and bursting into tears at entering a house to find it was a schoolhouse: Quills lying in all the seats, with rough parchment next to it showing the first few letters of the orcish alphabet.

They redouble their efforts, now fueled with genuine hatred for the evil sorcerer. He shifts his tactics, relying on darker magics to summon undead minions, which don't need the Gem of Control. They don't go poof when a holy weapon touches them, but are still no match for the divine warriors. With a skeleton the size of a zeppelin smashing down towers around them, the warriors reach the wizard and drive a broadsword of light through his chest. The skeletons collapse back into their eternal slumber in little piles on the floor.

The warriors put aside their weapons as they're received with great cheer. They're invited to join the royal families of the four kingdoms, marrying into the human, elf, dwarf, and beast royalty. They spend the rest of their long reign ensuring peace returns, monuments are made for the fallen orc nation, and the remaining undead who fled are not allowed to prey on the peasants, only taking up arms again to fight a den of vampires left behind.

In their old age, the wizard who brought them here reappears. It's taken him decades to develop the right magics, but he can finally send them home. They abdicate, letting their hybrid offspring take control, certain in their ability to run a kingdom with wisdom and justice. They leave behind their holy weapons, in case evil rises again. The wizard warns them that much may have changed in the world they left, as 80 years has passed there while it was only 40 for them, but they still want to see if London still stands and if their families or their descendants are alive.

They appear in the modern day, 2024. They're amazed at the technological progress, of course, but then there's a bigger shock. This isn't just an isekai story: this is a reverse-isekai story.

The holy weapons were forged using the same magics that brought them to the fantasy world in the first place. When they vaporized orcs, they didn't die, they were teleported. Teleported here. Every mind-controlled orc warrior that tasted their blade woke up uninjured... in Portsmouth.

And when the sorcerer tried to wipe them all out as the Gem of Control shattered, all he did was transfer that magic to every one of them. None of them died, except for a few elderly orcs who dropped dead from shock at ending up in England, Earth, 1943.

It's now 2024. The Orc population of London is 3 million. There's twelve orcs in parliament, and another in the house of lords. The world has changed a lot since they left, for the better, the weirder, and the greener.

[hotheadedhero]

Reacting to pregnant S/O

And how they tell everyone

2003 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

At first, he stares at you in silent disbelief before holding you close with all the joy in the world. He couldn't be happier. He's going to follow in his father's footsteps and teach them everything he knows. In fact, Splinter is the first person he tells, followed quickly by his brothers.

When the celebrations settle down, it suddenly dawns on him just how much he needs to prepare himself for this great responsibility. He already bears a heavy toll being the leader of his brothers and your protector but this? This will be a true test of accountability and he hopes that he will be strong enough to make sure nothing bad happens.

Yes. He's going to make sure he does everything in his power to ensure you two remain safe.

Raphael

Don't tell his brothers but he cries a little. How could he not? He already counts his blessings every day knowing you're his, so this is like the cherry on an already amazing cake. The entire family is gathered in the lounge, wanting them all to hear this news at the same time.

He starts to worry that his touch isn't gentle enough and that he could hurt the baby when they're born. It takes a lot of assurance on your end but his concern is incredibly sweet. You're in safe hands that are softer than he gives himself credit for and you know the baby is, too.

The nickname 'Mama' has now been officially upgraded to 'Baby Mama' and you are not complaining one bit.

Donatello

Astounded. Fascinated. In complete and utter awe over the fact that a tiny person is now growing inside of you. You can bet he drops every other project to look into this immediately. He always goes one-hundred and ten percent into his research, so you know you're in capable hands.

Everyone else finds out a few hours later when they stumble across him in his lab with notes strung up along the walls on how to best take care of the baby before and after labour. You do wish he'd calm down a bit but you put it down to his nerves and excitement.

This baby might just be his best invention yet and with the help of his most loving partner, no less.

Michelangelo

You aren't sure you've ever seen him exhibit such glee before. He is absolutely over the moon! There isn't a chance to figure out how you two break the news to the family because his reaction does that for you. He. Tells. Everyone! He will skate through the sewers and scream past every manhole cover and pipe that he's going to be a dad.

When he finally returns, he swoops you up and babbles about all of the fun things he's going to do with the baby. Read them comic books before bed, teach them how to skateboard, play pranks on Uncle Raph! You'll have to apologise to the red-clad turtle later.

Haha! He has his own little accomplice for his shenanigans, now.

As for Splinter in all of this, the prospect of becoming a grandfather is monumental. This family was already an unexpected surprise for him all those years ago but he couldn't feel more lucky knowing that it's about to expand. He's ready to bestow his wisdom onto more young minds.

[pilot-boi]

I just want everyone to get back, and after awhile, Nora and Ren start picking up that Weiss is following Jaune more around.

Nora is many things, but oblivious to her friends’ interpersonal relationships she is not.

Hopelessly addicted to syrup in any form? Yes. Mostly only good for hitting things with a big hammer. Definitely. But no one can say she’s blind to the nonsense going on in the lives of her friends.

Especially when it comes to romantic leanings.

Weiss’s crush on Pyrrha, Ruby’s on Penny, Blake’s on Sun, Jaune’s on Weiss- Nora’s seen it all, been there since day one for every pining glance and wistful sigh.

She’d been the first to notice Pyrrha pining after Jaune, and then Jaune pining back until it all went to shit. She’s known since she met him that she’s in love with Lie Ren. And Yang and Blake could not be more smitten if they tried.

So it does not escape her notice that after returning from the Ever After, Weiss simply won’t stop following Jaune around.

Weiss isn’t the only one, of course. Ren, Oscar, and herself have barely left their leader’s side since he returned. Nora doesn’t know about the boys, but she’s more than a little scared that if she lets him out of her sight he’s going walk through a door she can’t follow him through.

Jaune all but admitted that they almost lost him. She can’t bury him again.

So she laughs and slaps his back too hard and ignores how he flinches and his voice cracks with time that didn’t pass. All smiles and fun times from Nora. That’s her job. Better to focus on a potential crush from the ice queen than the decades he spent mourning them while they mourned him.

Ren is better at emotions since his Semblance evolved, but Nora doesn’t want a shortcut. He could probably look at Weiss and figure out exactly what’s going on, but that’s not the point.

Nora doesn’t want answers half as much as she wants a distraction. This is the closest she’s been to normal since Atlas fell.

So espionage it is.

It’s going to take more than a war for Nora to forget the less than suave wooing attempts Jaune made in Beacon, or Weiss’s prickly shut downs of each try. So for the crush to be on the other foot…

Well. It’s interesting enough for Nora to want to look into. Jaune is her family, and he’s fragile these days. She loves Weiss like a sister, but if she breaks his heart, Nora will break her.

She just wants to make sure her intuition is correct. Nora of the past wouldn’t have bothered, opting to shove the two of them into a closet into the ice queen confessed.

There’s a lot of things Nora of the past wouldn’t have bothered with. She’s smarter now, and that wisdom was bought with broken knuckles on gold barriers and stone monuments on sandy hills. So she’s going to make sure.

Nora follows Weiss following Jaune from a discrete distance through an alleyway shaded with draped cloth, close enough to keep them in sight but far enough that she can’t hear what they’re saying.

She happened to be passing by as they returned from a market trip that Weiss offered to accompany him on, and decided to tag along. Nora isn’t an idiot, she knows a date when she sees one. Odds are Jaune didn’t, bless his heart, but (and there’s a twinge of guilt) after decades living in a storybook how good would anyone be at social cues?

Jaune says something off-hand and Weiss giggles, covering her mouth with a hand. She snarks right back at him, resting her hand on his elbow and smiling. The tips of his ears turn red and he grins, rubbing the back of his neck.

Nora’s eyebrows raise. She hasn’t seen him act this way since Beacon. Not with Weiss, either. With Pyrrha.

The duo’s conversation seems to meander into the more serious and their stroll slows to a stop. Nora ducks into a doorway. When she peeks back out, they two are just standing there, heedless of the crowd bustling around them. Jaune stands a head taller than most of the passers, and he appears to be frozen.

Wait.

Oh no.

Oh no! The crowd! They’ve been trying to get him acclimated back to people, but this amount is clearly more than he’s ready for. Gods what was she thinking letting him-

Nora is about run to him from her hiding place when Jaune starts moving. No… not just moving, he’s being shepherded from the street. Weiss has one hand on his back and the other at his elbow and is ushering him off the busy street.

Jaune is all but a puppet in her hands, shaking and distant, eyes a million miles away. Nora follows the two of them slowly, no longer trying to keep a low profile. Espionage be damned, if Jaune needs her she’s willing to endure Weiss yelling.

Eventually she finds them in an alley off the main road. There’s no traffic here, just a few empty crates.

He’s sitting against a wall, head between his knees. Weiss is next to him. Her dress is covered in sand and schmutz, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Nora watches as she takes one of Jaune’s hands and places it on her chest.

Exaggerated breathing, in and out. She’s letting him feel her heartbeat, Nora realizes. The hand that isn’t holding his is rubbing circles into his back. A breath in, a breath out. And all through it Weiss is keeping up a dialogue of murmurs.

Her eyes don’t leave him even as his shudders turn to full on shakes and he comes back to his body in a flail of panic, lashing out at perceived enemies. Weiss doesn’t try to restrain him, just keeps holding his hand and murmuring quiet words.

Jaune calms, and his breath comes back to him in a choking sob. He curls into himself even tighter, leaning towards Weiss but not touching her, and Nora’s heart clenches. What did that place do to her brother who craves physical affection like a starving man craves food?

Weiss shuffles closer and rests an arm around him (as much as she can) still holding his one hand. Her thumb rubs across his knuckles and Nora can see Jaune press into the contact like it’s the only thing binding him to the planet.

Maybe it is.

She’s intruding. This moment isn’t for her.

Nora slips away from the alleyway and back to the Academy. It’s not how she would’ve liked to confirm it, but in a way her espionage was a success. It lightens something in her to know her intuition was correct. Despite everything, she’s still Nora.

And she couldn’t ask for better hands than Weiss to hold her leader’s bleeding heart.

[jaethaone]

Coming For Whats Mine

Part 2

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black female reader, mentions of Carmelo Hayes x black female reader

Rating: 18+

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: None really. Slight angst? maybe? Hint of toxic at the end. That’s all really.

Summary: Set at SummerSlam, Four Months after Wrestle Mania, Yn is set to defend her WWE Women’s Championship Title after her win at Wrestle Mania. It’s also been four months since she’s last seen, or heard from Roman despite their “relationship” at the time. How will things go for the Champion when the rumors of his return prove true.

A/n: So this is the first fic I’ve written in like 4 years, SummerSlam kind of gave me a sliver of inspiration so bear with me. I’m always up for feedback so reblog, comment, let me know what you guys think. I also left it open for a possible part two.. maybe. This Is Also Considered An AU since the events in the story don’t exactly follow real life.

GIF: @jeysuso

The bustling energy at SummerSlam 2024 pulsated through the air backstage as sound technicians, lighting crews, and wrestlers flitted about like frenetic fireflies. Excitement brimmed over in every corner; tonight was pivotal, not just for the promotion but for wrestlers both in and out of the ring.

Yn took a moment for herself, the chill of the backstage environment a welcome contrast to the crowded chaos outside. She stood before a mirror, The glint of the title belt rested on her shoulder like a crown she’d fought hard to earn, the gold reflecting her determination. The echo of cheers from the audience seeped through the walls, only intensifying her focus. Yet, despite the momentous occasion, a lingering heaviness sat in the pit of her stomach.

It had been four months since she had claimed the WWE Women’s Championship, and it felt like only yesterday when she had tasted victory after a grueling match against IYO SKY the same night Roman Reigns had lost his title to Cody Rhodes.

“Yn, you ready champ?”

Bianca’s voice broke through her thoughts bright and buoyant. She appeared at Yn’s side, her own hair styled to perfection, radiating confidence as she and Jade entered her dressing room after knocking.

Bianca, her fiery spirit contrasting with Yn’s calm demeanor, wore a dazzling outfit that shimmered under the harsh lights. Jade followed, her presence like a grounding force, her eyes full of both mischief and wisdom.

“I’ll be fine,” Yn replied, forcing a smile as she turned to face her friend. “Just another match, right?”

“Just another? It feels monumental to me,” Jade said thoughtfully, nudging her friend playfully. “Especially with the rumors swirling about Roman returning tonight. You two used to be… close?”

“Yeah.. close,” Yn replied, her tone fluctuating between nonchalance and suppressed emotion. “That feels like forever ago.”

“Or a different era,” Bianca added, eyebrow raised.

Despite Yns indifferent tone she couldn’t mask the tightness creeping into her chest. Days blurred together into months since that fateful night at WrestleMania, where Roman lost the title to Cody Rhodes, and Yn was crowned champion. It was supposed to be a moment of mutual joy, but the victory had felt hollow. Roman had ghosted her, leaving a void where triumph should have blossomed. Despite their burgeoning friendship, one that had hinted at something deeper, he had vanished, and with him, her hope.

“Four months is an eternity in WWE time. You really don’t feel anything now that he’s back?” Bianca asked breaking through Yns thoughts

Yn shook her head, pushing strands of hair out of her face. “No. I mean, we all have our lives to live, right? Roman ghosted me after ‘Mania. I saw it for what it was.” Despite her words, she felt a flicker of uncertainty. She had believed in something that night, something she wished wouldn’t fade with his silence.

“Uh-huh! Sure,” Jade challenged, eyeing Yn with skepticism. “You’re telling me you don’t care at all? You two had something special, and now he’s just…gone?”

“Seriously, Yn,” Bianca added. “You can’t deny it. You liked him.”

Yn inhaled sharply, steeling her heart against the memories of laughter shared and conversations that crawled past midnight.

Yn brushed off their concern with a laugh, but it felt hollow. “I’m all good. I don’t think about Roman. I have a match tonight, and I need to focus on that. It doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t do anymore. Besides I’ve got Carmelo. We’re not serious, but he’s here.”

“Carmelo? Really, that’s your takeaway?” Bianca Deadpanned. “Just be careful; he’s not exactly your usual type.”

“Great!” Yn grinned, but it was a little forced now. “Your concerns about Carmelo are adorable, but I can handle myself.”

She could hear the raucous cheers outside growing louder, a reminder of the pressure that lay ahead. Tonight was about her, her title, her reign. To maintain that, she needed to block out everything else. But as the show rolled on, Yn couldn’t escape the gnawing apprehension filling her thoughts. It surrounded her like a fog, thickening with each moment that passed leading to her title defense.

Time passed in a blur. The moments leading up to her entrance felt drawn out, yet time seemed to tick away invisibly. When it was her turn, the lights dimmed, and the arena erupted. The audience roared, adrenaline coursed through her veins, but the shadows of the past clung stubbornly.

Despite this she stepped out to face her challenger, she was an embodiment of strength and resilience. The adrenaline fueled her, and nothing was going to stand in her way. Each cheer, every shout of her name, ignited the fire within, and her determination flared to life.

The match unfolded with a punctuated rhythm of hard-hitting action, each move resonating with the audience who cheered her on. Yn felt powerful, confident, her expressions dropping into fierce concentration.

It was brutal yet exhilarating. Yn gave everything she had, countering her opponent’s moves with the skill she had honed over countless hours in the ring. The crowd rallied behind her, and she thrived off their energy, pushing herself beyond limits, chasing victory as she’d always done.

Time melted away, and at last, the bell rang. Yn stood victorious, breathless and basking in the exhilaration of the win. She raised her championship high, the bright lights illuminating her triumph. Cheers erupted, but all the while, there was a nagging sensation in her gut, the victory felt hollow.

As she exited the ring, the crush of bodies shifted, and the atmosphere in the locker room transformed. It was electric, reminiscent of old times tinged with uncertainty.

Yn sat in her locker room as the rest of the night cruised by, watching the remaining matches unfold. Unknowingly holding her breath as she watched the match between Solo And Cody For The Universe Championship.

Watching as every “member” of the Bloodline came out to assist Solo in trying to secure his win over Cody You stood to your feet as the familiar music hit your ears and the pop of the crowd could be heard from your room. The rumors were true.

The Tribal Chief was back

After watching Roman superman punch and spear Solo allowing Cody to retain his title, and also watching Roman tell Cody that said title belonged to him, you felt that it was time to head to your hotel. Granted you could have left a long time ago, not watching to face the real reason you decided to stay behind.

She steeled her racing heart and grabbed her bags, stepping out into the quiet of the halls, the noise of the crowd now a distant crescendo.

As she rounded the corner there he stood. Roman Reigns, backlit by the leering lights of the arena, as if he had stepped out of a dream.

He looked different yet the same—strong, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Yn!”

“Roman,” she replied, her heart hammering. She hadn’t anticipated this confrontation, nor was she prepared for the swirl of conflicting emotions erupting in her chest.

“Congratulations,” he offered, an easy smile playing on his lips, yet something felt rehearsed.

“Thanks,” she replied curtly, crossing her arms in subconscious defense. “Interesting timing, coming back after all this.”

“I’m back for good,” he clarified, an edge in his tone indicating the seriousness of his intention. “But I wanted to say—”

“Say what?” Yn interrupted. “Say you’re sorry for ghosting? For pretending we meant something?”

“You ghosted me, Roman. Four months. All this time, and not a word.”

He winced, an ache dancing in his eyes.

The air between them was thick with unresolved tension.

“I missed you.”

She laughed at that. “You have a funny way of showing it”

“It wasn’t just that night, Yn. that lost. It felt as if I lost everything. I had to rebuild.” His gaze softened, making her heart flip against her will. “You… you were a part of that journey I thought I needed to let go of.”

“And what? You think just appearing will change anything?” Yn shot back, her frustration rising. “You put me through hell—and yet, I fought to be the champion! To earn this belt!”

He stepped closer, reducing the distance with every heartbeat thrumming in her ears. “You’ve always been a champion babygirl. I’m just glad the rest of the world gets to see what I’ve already known”

Yn’s chest tightened, anger and nostalgia battling for dominance at the nickname. “You think it’s that simple? You don’t just disappear and then show up like a knight in shining armor because you feel like it."

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, his voice steady. “But I want to earn it. I need to try. For you.”

“I also see you.. with him—” he gestured vaguely, as if Carmelo were an afterthought.

“Carmelo treats me right,” Yn insisted, but doubts flickered like shadows behind her bravado.

“Does he?” Roman's intensity was disarming. “I never wanted to let you go; I was scared. But I know what you’re worth now.”

Yn’s heart raced, torn between the spark ignited by Roman’s words and the steady, purposeful connection she had built with Carmelo. “It’s not about you anymore, Roman. You chose yourself. You didn’t want what we had. If you want to play the game, you’ll have to accept that I’m moving forward.”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, she found herself yearning for their shared past, pushing against the memories of laughter and warmth. Yet, it was all too easy to fall back into the gravitational pull of his world—a world filled with echoes of promises and guilt.

“I’m here, Yn,” he said quietly, as if hoping his words could reshape her very understanding of their reality. “What I did was wrong, but I’m not here only for redemption. I’m here for you, if you’ll let me.”

The moment stretched like elastic, both thrilling and frightening. Yn remembered the spark she felt when they were together, the laughter, the whispered dreams. But she also recalled the shattering silence that followed his departure.

“I—” she started, taking a deep breath, heart racing as she grappled with the looming decision.

For what felt like an eternity, Yn stood silent as the shadows of doubt and desire melded and twisted within her. She thought of Carmelo, the person who had been there for her. Their relationship was light and airy, a painful attempt to distract herself from the past. Yet here Roman stood—the embodiment of unresolved emotions she had tried to bury deep.

“Roman—” she began, but he interrupted, stepping closer, the distance closing.

“Just give me a chance to explain. I was scared, Yn. Scared of what I felt for you, scared of the title loss, and scared—I know I didn’t handle it well. But I’m back now, and I want to make things right.”

“Things can’t just go back to the way they were,” she countered, a part of her wrestling with the truth of his words. She could fall back into this, but the other side—the need to protect herself—screamed loudly.

“You’re right. They can’t,” he agreed, his gaze unwavering. “But we can create something new. If you’ll let me.”

Yn felt the weight of indecision settle heavily. A part of her craved the safety of the stable friendship she had begun building with Carmelo, but her heart ached at the possibility of all she’d sought and lost with Roman.

Ultimately, she would have to choose. Would she risk the familiarity and comfort of her connection with Carmelo, or would she allow the flame that had once flickered so brightly with Roman to reignite?

“Tonight, I am the champion,” she whispered, steadying her resolve. “But I don’t know if I can be your...whatever it is you want from me.”

“I— I just don’t know if I can trust you again. I have to protect what I have built alone, Roman, even if it isn’t what you think it should be.”

A smile ghosted Roman’s lips, bittersweet but hopeful. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere this time. Just know that I’ll be waiting—should you choose to return.”

And as the air thickened with possibilities and remnants of the past hung like a thin veil, Yn found herself standing at the crossroads of longing and familiarity.

Meanwhile Roman was back not only for his spot as Tribal Chief and Head of the Table, or His Championship.. those will all come in due time trust. He was back for what was his, and that included Yn.