#one of those 'nothing is happening but a lot is happening because a lot is getting set up'

[firstruleofmethclub]

I know this isn't technically the tags, but it's because I'm gonna put something else in the tags.

I think that a lot of what is really "worst" movies that are out there are the sort that were made on shoestring budgets. Some microbudget movies are genuinely really good, but a lot just aren't. Often the movies that just don't have a single likeable thing in them are made this way, and getting through them is just a chore. (I'll put a list of some of the most egregious ones in the tags).

But "nothing I liked" is outclassed by "something I HATED". And it's to bigger budgets we turn for things like that. Movies that evoke genuine, roiling anger. Even if they maybe had a likeable person in them, or an arguably good performance, or a good sequence, or a cool design, over all they just infuriate you, and have you shouting "WHY" at the screen. That's the sort of thing you're more likely to find in macrobudget (or when it's in lower cost brackets, it's usually lower cost Oscar-bait).

For mine I think it's a tie between Transformers 4 and Transformers 5. Of the two, I did objectively spend much more of my time in the latter being completely bewildered and saying out loud "Why?? Why is this happening??" than I did in the former. But Transformer's 4 has that thing where they stop the movie dead to look directly into the camera and say "Hey adults in the audience, it's actually cool and normal to have sex with teenagers, here's a legal precedent if you're worried about those pesky 'law' things getting in the way", so, sixawun I guess.

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

[777rare]

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT. 2

THESE NOTES ARE ONLY A STUDY OF MINE AND HAS/HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN YET, SO IF IT DOES NOT RESONATE WITH YOU, FORGIVE ME AS IT WAS ONLY A STUDY/OBSERVATION OF MINE.

I DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, COPY OR REWORD ANY OF MY FELLOW ASTROLOGY OBSERVERS POSTS AND I DEMAND THE SAME IN RETURN.

•Jupiter in Gemini = being spoken about a lot this year. Many people gossiping about you. You can also speak to a lot of people this year.

•Mars in the 11th house = having friends who are either men or are very masculine in nature. You can even get into a lot of arguments with your friends this year and even your elder sibling. Also feeling confined or uncomfortable with the people you hang out with.

•Actually, Vertex in the Solar Return Chart should be seen by the previous year SRC. For example to check out the significant events in my life this year (2025) I will have to see where my vertex is placed in the 2024 SRC.

Examples:

•Suppose my Vertex sat in the 9th house in my 2024 SRC, then I will be travelling more in the year 2025.

•Suppose I have Vertex sitting in the 7th house in my 2024 SRC, then I will fall in love with someone in the year 2025.

•Suppose I have Vertex in the 3rd/11th house in my 2024 SRC, then I will make new friends or there will be significant events pertaining social groups and friendship circle in the year 2025.

•Suppose my Vertex sat in the 10th house in my 2024 SRC, then there will be significant events pertaining your public image, your appearance, your job opportunities, etc in 2025.

•if Vertex is in the 6th house in 2024 SRC, then I will focus more on my health, I can have significant events take place in my workplace and with acquaintances. Also maybe even adopting a pet in 2025.

•Jupiter in the 10th house = You will be paid a lot of attention to in the public eye. It doesn't have to just be where you study or work, even while you're walking in the streets, people will stare, it's like all the eyes are on you. Why? This is because of the radiant energy you vibrate this year, it's very divine and pure, one full of life. That's why people feel quite drawn to your energy and appearance, thus keeping their eye on you. If you do involve in public events and social settings then you will be quite popular and eye catching. It is not just the people who know you, who find you so alluring, even the people who see you for the first time in their life feel so drawn towards you. You have this powerful presence this year that makes people bow down to you (doesn't have to be literally😂)

•I have observed that wherever Mars sits, you tend to feel very uneasy or uncomfortable there throughout the year, especially with the male gender, even if nothing bad may be happening. Like when I had Mars in the 4rth house in 2022, I was so so uncomfortable around my family members, especially my brother. I and my brother have been close growing up so that year made me so confused as to why was I so uncomfortable around him? I even had terrible fights with my family that year. Also when I had my Mars sitting in the 9th house in 2024, I got very uncomfortable around most of my teachers and I was so guarded when I was with my Dad and my teachers.

•The 12th house when occupied in the SRC can already give you a hint that you will be going through a lot of losses and pain that year. The planets occupying the house show how you retreat and think of these losses and painful endings. Ex: I had moon, uranus and Jupiter in my 12th house last year, and damn, that year was terribly painful (not tryna scare anyone, just giving you a heads up), and how I reacted showed with these planets. I reacted more to this pain than I usually do and became very wreckless (uranus) like fighting with anyone I know and destroying the peace of those around me as well as my own and i had terrible mood swings and kept crying when I was alone but no one knew (moon), I also tried to use philosophy to make myself feel better. I tried to learn from it and take more guidance from the universe. This year I also got a lot of prophetic dreams (normally I do cuz of my uranus in the 12th but this year it was more prominent) that came to life. It was actually prophetic nightmares lol.

This applies even for the 8th house, but the difference is you lose things with the 12th house placements not knowing if it will ever come back because it may and when it comes to the 8th house a lot of pain with experiences and connections transform you, you face a rebirth and a lot of things die (not literally, I mean end...the one where there is no coming back).

ZODIAC AND ITS IMPACT ON THE HOUSES:

•Where ♈ is, is where you are brave, come first, are energetic and self-oriented.

•Where ♉ is, is where you are very stingy or what you are possessive of, sensual, comfortable and dependable.

•Where ♊ is, is where you are fluent, curious, clever, seen as charming and communicate a lot of very talkative.

•Where ♋ is, is where you will get pampered a lot, nurtured and protected or what/who you protect.

•Where ♌ is, is where you will have a lot of focus on you, where you tend to get creative, are adventurous, generous, have exciting experiences, and take risks (can also show who you take risks for)

•Where ♍ is, is where you try to be of service, where you are sceptical, doubtful and have to work to be accepted.

•Where ♎ is, is where you are cooperative, diplomatic, keep trying to find a balance, and are even competitive.

•Where ♏ is, where you feel compulsive or obliged to take care of, what you get more into, experience a lot of intensity, where you keep secrets, what areas of your life you keep secrets about.

•Where ♐ is, is where you are more optimistic, crazy, fun, adventurous, and are liked by everyone. Also where you expand to new horizons.

•Where ♑ is, is where you are very serious, responsible, formal and even choosy.

•Where ♒ is, is where you are quite the rebel, are independent, think a lot about in terms of the future, and where you are truly you.

•Where ♓ is, is where you are compassionate, sensitive, merciful, what you dream of a lot, and possibly even wishes pertaining that area come true if you just dream about it.

Thankyou for going through my post once again, I really appreciate it😊

I hope you all have a good day ahead! Bye for now!💖

[captainmalewriter]

Crown Legend

Alex Gonzalez lived by one motto in life: work hard, play hard. Those four short words were all the young Latino needed to motivate himself every morning before work. Working in construction was no walk in the park, but it paid good money, and money was Alex’s second favorite thing in life (the first being women, of course). 

The clock struck 6PM that Friday evening. As always, Alex was the first one to clock out and leave. 

There was going to be a huge party at La Rana Mojada tonight. Alex knew he just needed to be there. He drove back to his apartment in record time and ran inside with great excitement, only to go into a coughing fit due to a strong smell assaulting his nose as soon as he walked in. The cause of the smell stood a few feet away from him in the form of his roommate Rico, who was already dressed to the 9s and ready to head out. 

“Aye pa, what the fuck is that smell?” Alex said. Rico grinned before responding. 

“It’s this new cologne that just hit the markets. Crown Legend. Shit’s expensive as fuck but I was able to snatch one up before they sold out again. Smells good, huh,”

“Yeah it smells alright but fuck man it’s too strong!!”

“You think so? I haven’t noticed, but hey, the bitches go crazy for Crown Legend! Check it, these two blonde chicks were all over me after they caught a whiff of me!”

Rico whipped his phone out and showed Alex photographic proof. The women surrounding Rico in the photos were gorgeous, with their glossy lips and massive racks. Alex couldn’t lie; he was impressed by his roommate’s game, maybe even a little bit envious too. 

“So wassup, you’re coming to La Rana tonight right?” Rico asked.

“Yeah man. I just gotta get ready first. I’ll catch you down there, save me a shot alright.” 

The two men dapped each other up and went their separate ways. Alex showered and then went to his room to get dressed for the night. 

Alex couldn’t stop thinking about Crown Legend as he got ready. The cologne’s overwhelming scent made him dislike it. But despite its strength, it did smell pretty damn good. Plus, Alex couldn’t deny the success it brought with the ladies. The cologne already helped his roommate pull a couple of bad bitches. If it helped Rico, surely it would help him too. 

As that last thought crossed his mind, Alex found himself unconsciously walking over to Rico’s room. He grabbed the blue bottle from the top of his dresser. Even from just the feel of the sleek bottle in his hand, Alex could tell it was very high-quality cologne. No doubt Rico spent a lot of money just to buy it…

Alex decided to give himself a quick spritz on his wrists. He went in for a quick sniff, only to go back for a deeper sniff once the scent filled his nose. The cologne had a luxurious scent that smelled of aged oud coupled with amber resin and a touch of citrus. All he needed was to get over the initial shock of how strong it was to realize how great it smelled. Alex wasn’t sure what got into him; he just couldn’t get enough of it! 

Then, against his better judgment, he showered himself in Crown Legend. He sprayed it all over his neck, chest, and arms, only stopping once he was fully doused in the expensive cologne. Once he was satisfied, Alex put back the cologne bottle and returned to his room like nothing happened. He finished getting ready and then left for La Rana.

The party was already in full swing by the time Alex had arrived. Heads were turning the moment he walked in, though that was mostly because of the obscene amount of cologne he was wearing. Alex loved all the attention regardless. He walked over to the bar with a haughty strut, downed two shots of tequila like it was water, and proceeded to flirt with any woman who caught his eye. By the end of the hour, he was out on the dance floor with a beautiful, busty brunette as his dancing partner. Alex almost couldn’t believe how quickly he scored that night. His success cleared the last bit of doubt in his mind. Crown Legend was a game-changer!

As Alex danced and drank the night away, he began to notice something strange happening to him. Even though he was surrounded by some of the hottest women he had ever seen, he found himself eyeing some of the men in the club. He quickly corrected his line of sight back to a woman every time he caught himself checking out some dude. Yet despite his efforts, Alex just couldn’t resist the male eye candy all around him. Alex licked his lips as he watched with hungry eyes various men swaying their hips to the rhythm of the music, their skin glistening with sweat underneath the strobing club lights. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get close to one of those men and—

“What the fuck’s going on with me…” Alex held a hand to his temples. The music was way too loud all of a sudden. The lights too bright. Desperate to escape the over-stimulating environment, he rushed to the bathroom and ran inside an empty stall. As he tried catching his breath, Alex noticed how hot he was. His clothes were clinging to his body with how sweaty he was. He decided to strip down to just his underwear to cool down, hoping it would help whatever was going on inside his mind and body. 

Alex sighed. As he leaned against the bathroom wall, a certain moist sound coming from the neighboring stall perked up his ears. Like most men, Alex almost immediately recognized the fapping sound. He turned and saw some guy’s pants hanging around his hairy ankles. There was also a sizable hole covered up with toilet paper in the divider separating the two stalls. He must’ve missed these details due to how fast he ran in. Coupled with the stifled groan the guy just let out, it became all too clear what was going on. 

Normally, Alex would’ve been disgusted by what he was witnessing, but that wasn’t the case this time. Instead, he listened to the sensual sounds of some guy stroking his cock like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. There was something exciting about meeting another man in a public bathroom. Alex could feel how fast his heart beat as he massaged his nipple, letting out a small grunt with every pinch he gave himself. The man groaned a little bit louder in response, encouraging Alex to join in on the fun. And so he did. 

He took a step forward. His socks were now visible to whoever was in the other stall. A moment passed without either of them saying or doing anything else. Then, the man took the rolled-up paper out of the hole and leaned in, giving Alex a clear sight of both his lips and the bushy facial hair he had. The sight of another man’s mouth, ready and eager to please, pushed Alex over the edge. Before he knew it, a massive tent had already formed in his underwear. No longer able to hold back, Alex took off the last piece of clothes he had on and slipped his hard member into the hole. The man took him inside his mouth and began sucking away on his sensitive tip.

“Ugh? Oooohhhh…”

Alex threw his arms behind his head as the pleasure from the man working his way down his meat overtook him. He titled his head into his hairy armpit and sniffed it. The mix of his own body musk combined with Crown Legend was delightfully intoxicating, causing him to let out an obscene moan with every whiff. 

The man had a warm, wet mouth and he knew how to keep a firm grip with his lips. The man took his time too, making sure to give every inch of Alex’s dick some attention before eventually taking Alex’s entire length down his throat. It drove Alex crazy every time the man’s thick mustache brushed against his own bush. He was moaning like a madman, pressing his hips against the stall divider, desperate to get his cock even deeper into the man’s throat.

“Arggg… Fuckkkk…” 

It surprised Alex how much he enjoyed getting serviced by another guy. He was no stranger to getting head. He had received more blowjobs than he could even count! Yet this random, unnamed stranger was quickly on his way to taking the number one spot! 

His.

“No… NO! STOP IT!” 

Alex jumped away from the glory hole and rushed to get his clothes back on. The man yelped with surprise at how abruptly Alex had ended it. 

“What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“NO! I ain’t gay!!”

“Are you sure? It seemed like you were really enjoying it—”

“Man, FUCK you!” 

Alex threw his shirt on, then bolted out of there. He forced his way through the crowd of drunk people, only stopping when he finally got back to his car. He got in, drove as fast as he could back to his apartment, and hopped in the shower to wash everything off. Alex stood in the spray of warm water completely dumbfounded. He had been attracted to women and only women his entire life! The way he acted was just so… out of character for him. No matter how much he thought about it, he just couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so attracted to men. 

“Whatever. I’m never doing that gay shit again…” Alex swore to himself as he dried off with a towel. With only his underwear on, Alex stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway— where his roommate Rico was standing shirtless and still semi-drunk. 

“Heyyy there… SEXY motherfuckaa…” Rico slurred his words as he spoke. Alex felt his nose twitch. There was a smell lingering in the air. Alex closed his eyes and focused on his sense of smell as he inhaled deeply. He could vividly smell the alcohol on Rico’s breath along with his sweaty body odor after a night of dancing, but there was another scent too. It was one Alex had become all too familiar with. 

Crown Legend. 

Alex took another deep sniff of the air, letting the cologne reignite his homoerotic desires, then let out a satisfied sigh. Rico smelled good, and Alex needed to get closer to him. 

Alex closed the distance between Rico and himself and planted a firm kiss on his roommate’s lips. Rico kissed him right back. Their boorish grunts and deep groans filled the tiny apartment hallway as they made out like they were angry at each other. Alex pulled away to start licking and kissing his way down Rico’s body, beginning with the crane of his neck and only stopping once he was on his knees with Rico’s big, brown cock in his face. 

“Nuuughhhh fuck yeah…” they groaned in unison. 

Alex was experiencing sensory ecstasy. The sensual sounds of pleasuring another man with his mouth. The strong smell of Rico’s musk combined with the strong cologne. The feeling of another man’s cock filling up his mouth with every thrust. And finally, the salty, warm taste of swallowing his first-ever load as he drained Rico’s balls with his throat. Alex was red in the face and drenched with sweat by the time they finished. Hooking up with another dude was a pleasure unlike any other Alex had experienced, and it left him hungry for more.

“Hey, it’s only midnight,” Rico started. “We can still head out and fuck around some more. You down?” 

“Fuck yeah I am, lemme go get dressed and let’s go!!” Alex replied. As he got up, Rico grabbed the bottle of Crown Legend from his room and looked at Alex with a devilish grin.

“Want another hit before we head out?” Rico swirled the bottle, causing the liquid fragrance inside to slosh around. Alex hesitated at first but quickly agreed when he remembered just how good Crown Legend smelled. The cologne had completely reworked his cognition from how much he had been exposed to it.

“Yeah, sure, just another little spritz or two wouldn’t hurt…”

[seumyo]

people thinking that sakusa’s being maltreated because of the bruises on his forearm, but the truth is . .

Sakusa is known to always wear his compression sleeves on and off the court for post-game press conferences. It completed his signature look. His overall flair.

Everything seemed normal at first, but it wasn’t long before murmurs surfaced through the room. Reporters exchanged glances, some scrolling through their phones, others whispering among themselves.

The reason? For the first time in a long while, Sakusa wasn’t wearing his compression sleeves.

His toned forearms were exposed for everyone to see, and to the media’s surprise, they weren’t completely unblemished. Faint bruises and clusters of reddish dots speckled his skin—nothing severe, but noticeable enough to raise eyebrows. Some looked older, fading into his skin, while others were more recent.

The questions were bound to come.

“Sakusa-san, many fans have noticed that you’re not wearing your usual sleeves today. And, well…” she hesitated, gesturing vaguely at his arms.

“There’s been a lot of speculation about the marks on your skin. Is everything alright?”

Sakusa blinked once, his expression unreadable. He glanced down at his arms, clearly catching onto what she meant. A moment of silence passed before he let out a slow exhale through his nose.

He knew this would happen eventually.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Then, into the mic, he deadpanned, “I’m fine.”

The room remained unconvinced.

Sakusa could already imagine what the internet was saying. Rumors were probably spreading like wildfire—was he getting into fights? Had he been injured in training? Worse, was something happening at home?

“If I may, are those from mosquitos? With the recent outbreak of mosquitos due to the warm weather, could it be from those?”

“No.”

“Allergies, perhaps?”

“None.”

A few more reporters shuffled in their seats, hesitant but clearly eager to dig deeper.

Then, another one asked, “Just to clarify, you’re saying these marks aren’t from… any sort of external conflict?”

Sakusa’s brow twitched. He leaned forward slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask as he adjusted the mic, and let out another small sigh. “I’m not being abused, if that’s what people are implying.”

The room went silent. His fellow players exchanged approving nods, letting their teammate handle the situation.

“My wife is in medical school,” Sakusa continued, his voice even, matter-of-fact. “She’s refreshing her phlebotomy skills, and I often volunteer to be her patient whenever she needs someone for a demo or assignment.”

The silence stretched for a moment before a few quiet chuckles broke through, some from relief, others from sheer amusement at the unexpected explanation. Well, it wasn’t often Sakusa talked about you.

“So… you’re saying these marks are from blood extractions?”

“Yes,” he answered, tilting his head slightly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “She wants to practice, and I’d rather help her than have her struggle to find volunteers.”

Hinata whispered something to Bokuto, but even with the low volume of the mic, Sakusa still caught it.

“That’s kinda romantic.”

He turned his head slightly to glare at them, but Bokuto was already grinning. “No, but really! That’s, like, peak husband material. You’re not even fond of monthly checkups.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Meian chuckled. “You’re literally letting someone practice on you repeatedly. That’s dedication.”

Reporters were already typing away, some clearly rewriting their headlines. What had started as a potentially scandalous story had turned into something else entirely.

The media had long known Sakusa to be a private person, almost aggressively so. He rarely spoke about his personal life, and to this day, many fans still couldn’t believe he was married. Out of all the MSBY Black Jackals players, Sakusa and your marriage are by far the most private.

It wouldn’t even have been known if it weren’t for Hinata’s post with the newly wedded couple a year ago!

And yet, here he was, casually revealing that he lets you practice medical procedures on him just to support your studies.

“Is she any good?” another reporter asked, grinning now. “At phlebotomy?”

His eyes narrowed briefly. “Her undergraduate course is medical laboratory science—so yes, she’s been doing this for years.”

“And you’ve never complained?”

He shrugged. That was the stupidest question he’s heard today.

“Why would I? She supports me in my career. The least I can do is support her in hers.”

The room was quiet for a second before a wave of approving murmurs spread across the lobby area. The tension had completely shifted.

Bokuto grinned. “Man, you’re really down bad for your wife, huh?”

Sakusa sighed, clearly regretting every life decision that led him to sitting next to Bokuto in this moment. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to volleyball.”

Hinata laughed. “It’s not, but it’s fun to watch you get all flustered as you tell them more about [Last Name], Omi!”

“I’m not flustered,” Sakusa muttered, tugging at his jersey sleeve slightly as if contemplating whether he should just start wearing them all the time again to avoid situations like this.

“Like hell ye aren’t,” Atsumu snorted.

By the time the conference ended, social media had already latched onto the revelation.

#SakusaBestHusband started trending almost immediately, with fans gushing over how unexpectedly sweet he was. Some joked that they wanted a “Sakusa-level” of support in their relationships.

-

You had been watching the press conference from your laptop at home, your face buried in your hands as your notifications blew up.

A few minutes later, Sakusa messaged you.

Kiyoomi: I hate the internet.

You: And they love you, actually.

Kiyoomi: They won’t shut up about me letting you stab me with needles.

You: You do let me stab you with needles.

Kiyoomi: It’s more than that. Ugh, people don’t educate themselves enough about your profession

Kiyoomi: And it sounds worse when you say it like that.

You laughed, shaking your head.

You: Well, you are the best husband in the whole world ever. You kind of brought this on yourself.

He didn’t reply right away, and you assumed he was on his way back home. But when your phone buzzed again, your heart warmed at the short but sincere message.

Kiyoomi: You’re worth it. Be home in 20 minutes

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[moran-with-a-g]

You must understand that a political issue is not something that's just going to disappear once you stop caring about it. It's not like "A x B are a toxic ship and you should only ship A with C!!" or whatever other fandom drama people participate in.

And in fandom, if you follow what's popular, it becomes the fanon. There's no fanon for real life issues.

You won't hurt anyone by getting the point of a fictional story wrong. You hurt a LOT of people by not understanding the holocaust and acting like you do.

People call it "whataboutism" when you try to try and tell them "why do you care about this, and not that?" The question doesn't mean to say "you should care about that more", or "you should care about everything horrible going on in the world rn". It's "why, out of every horrible thing that's happening in the world, did you choose to focus on this issue and on this perspective?"

Some people focus on gay rights because they're gay or know someone who's gay. Some people focus on climate change, or pollution, because they learnt about the impact it has on our world and want to make it better for us and for future generations. Some people focus on a war because they have families or friends living there.

And then a lot of people look at them, go "this is what a good person does nowadays", and join in on supporting the issue without the proper research of what they're supporting. And when you don't properly understand what it is you're fighting for, what it is that your movement is trying to achieve, and what's the best way to tackle the issue - a lot of times you will cause way more harm than good.

A cis person who doesn't actually understand what being trans is could go and protest for our right to have our gender in our ID instead of our agab, protest for us to be treated like our gender and not our agab, and then also promote that doctors treat trans men exactly like they treat cis men - and end up blocking trans men from treatments related to pregnancy, breast cancer, etc. The same cis person could also go and say that transmascs can't be lesbians and have nothing to do with the lesbian community because they're men, without bothering to learn the shared history the two groups have.

Some issues are more clear-cut than others. Some APPEAR more clear-cut than others. In politics nothing is ever a simple right and wrong, good and evil. And if you're going to actually dedicate yourself to an issue you have to understand what it is you're supporting, what the goal of the movement is and why, and the history behind it. You can't ever claim you know everything there is to know, or that you know enough. There's never a point where you'll know everything. And you definitely cannot know everything about an issue that went on for over a thousand years.

Self doubting is SO important when it comes to political issues. You ALWAYS need to ask yourself "Why am I supporting that? What am I supporting? How will that affect others? Is this truly the best course of action to take?" and sometimes the answer should be that you don't know. That it's too complicated to know, that you don't have enough information to form an educated opinion. This is not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of maturity and responsibility. Those things you support affect the life of real people, and you can end up hurting the ones you support more than the ones you oppose.

I tried to make it as general as I could because this is not just about I/P for me (even though this is mainly about I/P). This is about every political issue that becomes a "trend". It's good when a political issue gains a lot of support, but if that support is uninformed and only follows what the trend is, it could snowball very fast and turn a crowd of people to support a very new and harmful perspective instead. It makes it so easy for people who are against this issue to chime in, alter the way they explain it a little bit, popularize the new idea and repeat until suddenly the whole issue is flipped.

open your third eye QUICK by realizing that people engage with politics in the same way that they engage with fandom

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty five

authors note: hopefully, after this one, a lot of things will make sense. long-term storytelling, friends.....i know what i'm doing.

cw/tw: angst, graphic violence, attempted and real violence against women and children, scenes regarding sexual assault, and discussion of csa.

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k 

The second Solana didn’t answer the phone when he called, Roman knew something was very, very wrong.

Solana always answers his calls and texts, and every single one of those outreach attempts by the Tribal Chief goes unanswered.

So, it’s not him being notified that there was an “incident” at the library where she works and he knew she was, that triggered him. It wasn’t even Bautista not answering his phone. It was being hit with the sound of Solana’s sweet voice via her voicemail that he just knew something bad had happened.

And, it had him sick to his stomach. 

The minute Roman arrives at the taped off library, police and first responders surrounding the area, a crowd of individuals gathered, trying to see what’s happened.

Matteo and Dwayne in tow, Roman is barely on the steps when the all too familiar stench hits him.

Death.

It’s the smell of death, and it permeates the environment, bypassing the roped off establishment, slapping him in the face the minute he walks in and is met with the grisly sight.

A sight that makes Dwayne mutter, “Jesus Christ….”

Bodies almost lined up, stacked against and with each other. Some overlapping. Some right beside each other. The coroner has clearly yet to arrive, as they’re all still uncovered, revealing the gristly details of their demise. Riddled with bullets, gaping holes telling the onslaught was something similar to a firing squad.

But, it’s two bodies in particular that draw the attention of the three men. Separate from the rest, faces grotesquely disfigured, their shirts ripped open and revealing their chests that are also riddled with bullets. It’s not that horrific site that has Roman crouching down for a better examination.

It’s what’s been carved into what remains of their chests that has his blood boiling. A symbol.

A symbol that he knows all too well.

The Nightmare Factory.

Matteo is saying something, either to him or Dwayne, but Roman is too consumed with a level of rage he’s never felt before.

“Rhodes.” It’s a simple word filled and consumed with an almost ungodly amount of hatred. “Rhodes is behind this.”

Cody Rhodes is responsible for this attack, this violent, grisly attack that claimed the lives of so many, two of his best men included, and even more, the kidnapping of his wife.

Because Roman has lived long enough to recognize the optics of this situation. The place where his wife works was attacked, countless people killed, and yet his wife is nowhere to be accounted for. Not to mention that a calling card, a message was clearly left, letting him know exactly who was behind this. 

It all points to one thing, and one thing only.

Cody fucking Rhodes has taken Solana.

He’s taken his pregnant wife.

“I don’t know.” It’s Matteo’s voice. That much Roman can make out. Nothing else, because the amount of rage burning within his big body is on the verge of an explosion. “Something feels off about—“

“Let me through!”

The voice of the one man Roman both hates and loves to hear in this moment. The Tribal Chief stands up and turns around to see the man of the hour who’s just zoomed past the barricade of cops zoning off the area.

Or, supposed to be. 

And, in yet another twist that no one could have seen coming, an almost deranged Cody makes his way directly towards Roman, screaming almost wildly, “you evil son of a bitch!”

Wrong….fucking…..words.

Naturally, both Matteo and Dwayne move to prevent Cody from swinging on Roman, but it makes no difference, because the Head of the Table easily bulldozes his way in between them and makes a beeline for his target.

Roman’s powerful punch sends Cody flying flat on his ass. Roman wastes no time jumping on top of him, big hands wrapped around his neck. “WHERE IS SHE!” 

A roar of a question that travels through nearly every floor of the library. It’s met with Cody’s hands grasping at Roman’s forearms, trying to pry himself free from the other man’s iron grip. When that fails to work, he takes advantage of Roman’s focus on choking the life out of him to lift his leg, knocking Roman off.

And in a matter of seconds, the roles are switched, Cody landing a rather nasty blow to Roman’s right cheek. “Where’s Brandi and Emma!”

As Dwayne and Matteo move to separate the powerhouses, the latter of the two starts to put the confusing out of place pieces together.

Yanking Cody off his brother, restraining the other man as Dwayne does the same with Roman, Matteo's younger brother barks, “WHERE THE HELL IS SHE!”

Naturally, Cody growls back, seemingly unbothered in the face of a borderline mad man. "Where's my wife!”

And, it’s in both men asking the same thing yet again that it clicks for Matteo, prompting him to shout, “would you both just wait a damn minute!”

Of course, neither man is trying to listen, both continuing to fight like hell to break free before they can rip each other apart and fall right into the trap that’s clearly been laid out for them.

Even if they’re both too blinded by rage and grief to see it.

“Listen to me!” Matteo hisses, his voice borderline venomous. He forces Cody’s gaze on him, putting two and two together. “Your wife and daughter have been taken.” And then, redirection to Roman. “And your wife has been taken.” Able to grasp his younger brother‘s attention, Matteo doesn’t waste the opportunity. “If Cody is truly the one responsible for this kidnapping, what sense does it make for him to show up and be here right now?”

Then back to Cody who is no longer thrashing as hard against him, “and if Roman was responsible for the kidnapping of your family, why would he be out here in the open right now, showing his hand?” He looks between the two men whose faces reveal they’re both at least trying to consider Matteo’s assessment. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Dwayne also seems to be biting but gestures with his head to the desecrated bodies. “But what about the Nightmare insignia?”

At that, Cody barks a confused, “what?”

It’s only them that Matteo releases him and motions over to the fallen Bloodline men. Cody walks over, the other three never taking their eyes off him.

Matteo especially watches as his face fills with confusion before he looks over, speaking directly to the Tribal Chief. “I didn’t order any hit.” He takes it to another level, clarifying with an almost clenched jaw. “And, I damn sure didn’t kidnap your wife.”

“And, he didn’t kidnap yours,” Matteo informs, recognizing his brother is far too irate still to offer any sort of response. “But, someone did.” 

“And they just wanted you to think each other did,” Dwayne supplies, fully following and believing Matteo’s train of thought. The same way, with excellent peripheral vision, he’s followed the subtle change in body language of the guards who have watched quietly, without any overt reaction to the scene before them.

The same way Roman and Cody, even in the midst of their unbridled fury, noticed the brief shared look between two of their guards.

Bloodline and Nightmare Factory.

Matteo also noticed, commenting in that same unsuspecting tone. “They wanted to draw you both out at the same time….”

“At the same place,” Dwayne finishes for him, again giving away nothing.

And then, chaos. 

It’s almost like a scene out of a movie, something that defies logic and science with how fast the four men whip out the guns they all have on them.

How one minute, the four are involved in a tense exchange amongst one another, and the next, they’re shooting down the same men who should be there protecting and watching them.

Bodies crumble and fall to the floor as the four men are relentless and merciless, nothing but headshots as they skillfully maneuver and evade the returned fire.  Hiding and dodging the rain of gunfire, each man ends up partially hiding behind some sort of object as they smartly aim for the guards that attempt to enter the premises, dropping them before they can step foot in.

The unlikely group manage to shoot their way out of the front of the library, the previously nosy crowd scrambling and running for their lives amongst the gunfire.

“Come on!” Dwayne guides and ushers them toward the SUV after the last cop is dropped, nothing but bleeding, deceased corpses surrounding them. “We need to get the fuck out of here before they send more.”

“He’s not coming with us,” Roman growls, ripping the front door open.

“Yes, he is,” Dwayne protests, earning a look that would absolutely kill, if possible, from his younger cousin. “Look, we need to find out just what—”

Cody, however, is not here for it just as much as the Tribal Chief isn’t. “I’m not going anywhere with you pieces of—” An abrupt interruption followed by his body starting to crumple, only to reveal a bored and irritated looking Matteo, clearly having done them all a favor with a single, effective knock to the back of the head.

The Italian man curses. “He talks too damn much.” Matteo doesn’t waste any time in shoving Cody’s unconscious body into the back of the car, directing to Dwayne. “We need to go to my house.”

“Why?” Roman asks, partially present, mostly elsewhere. So much has happened in under the span of an hour, even more in just the past twenty minutes. And the thought that keeps booming in his head, keeps oscillating, poking and torturing him is the most unbelievable and terrifying of them all.

Solana has been taken. 

His wife, who he swore to protect with everything in him, has been taken.

And though nothing would bring him greater joy than to beat Rhodes to a bloody pulp until he fesses up where she is, Matteo and Dwayne are right.

It doesn’t make sense.

Rhodes is an evil son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid. He would never make such a risky move and follow up with a public appearance. He’d make sure to throw that stone and hide the hell out of his hands. Even more, there’s something to be said about the fact that Rhodes wife and child have also been taken.

Something tells Roman the blonde bitch isn’t lying about that. The feral, almost devastated look in his eyes revealed as much.

It’s the same look Roman’s had since realizing what’s happened.

“We’re being hunted down and targeted,” Matteo answers as the four men are in the vehicle, Dwayne driving them to what Roman would guess is Matteo’s house. “They’re more than likely to have gone after my wife as well.”

Dwayne chuckles darkly. “Their death wish.”

Roman is once again tuned out, eyes closed, forehead against the window of the SUV. 

Solana.

His sweet, innocent wife who he just saw hours earlier, who was excited about sharing so many things with him this evening, is gone. 

Taken.

Kidnapped.

Missing. 

How did this happen?

“What the fuck is going on?” Ava’s confused, irritated, angry voice rips Roman from his thoughts, as he realizes it’s coming through the speakers of the SUV. Dwayne, who’s driving them now to Matteo’s house, has called her. 

“You were attacked.” A statement, not a question from Dwayne. He then jumps to an absolute question, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” A bit of a frazzled response, the anger coming down and settling into more of reality setting in. “My place is a disaster, but I guess that’s a given with all the dead bodies.”

A bit of a grim visual for the Tribal Chief, though he finds himself both pleased and unsurprised. Though Ava keeps a bit of a distance from the dark side of the business, much like everyone else in his family, she can defend herself. 

She can defend herself very well.

“Someone needs to answer my question though,” she interrupts, the anger building back up again. “Why the hell did our men attack me?”

“It’s a coup,” Roman speaks for the first time, gaze focused outside the window, watching the passing cars. “Someone’s trying to overthrow me.” No emotion attached. Just laying of the facts. Until the next thing that comes out of his mouth. “They’ve—they’ve taken Solana.”

Silence on the other end. “What?” A heavy, shaky sigh. “Oh my God….”

Roman closes his eyes. The sentiment is shared.

More than anyone could ever realize.

“Ava, where are you?” She shares an approximate location, as she’s also driving around, trying to put as much distance between herself and her home. “I need you to listen to me carefully.” Dwayne grabs his phone, expertly navigating the device in his hand and the steering wheel in the other. “I just sent you an address. I need you to go straight there. Don’t text, call or talk to a single fucking soul. Only answer your phone if it’s me, Matteo, or Roman. You understand me?”

“Got it.” The most affirmative her voice has sounded in the entire call. “But, what—”

“Wait.” Another interruption from Roman. Dwayne has just set his phone back down as he glances between the road and his cousin. Roman directs his next statement to Ava. “I need you to stop somewhere first.”

—-----

Pain.

That’s the first thing Solana feels as she slowly blinks her eyes, coming to. It’s a sensation that’s focalized in her wrists, face, and the back of her head. Throbbing and stinging in three separate areas. Sensations that dominate her wherewithal as she slowly ascends to consciousness. Eyes now completely open, she blinks a couple times, an almost old, stale odor invading her senses. Frowning and scowling, Solana looks around, recognizing the almost abrasiveness against her cheek. The floor. It’s from the aged, concrete flooring. And, the difficulty she has in sitting up is mostly due to the fact that her hands are bound in front of her with zip ties that are digging into her skin, small specks of scraped and bloodied skin visible as she assesses the tight hold.

Slight panic builds up in her from being restrained and unable to feel her belly. Touch her baby bump. A self-soothing gesture that will help alleviate her nerves regarding the safety of her babies. But, she can’t. Bound and restricted, she’s delegated to a sort of common sense train. The only solace in her stemming from the fact that she feels no pain or discomfort anywhere near her abdominal area.

That’s one issue somewhat tackled.

But, there’s so many more left.

And, they all come rushing into her with the devastating weight and depth of a category 5 hurricane.

The library. Brandi and Emma. The invasion of both Nightmare and Bloodline men alike. Solo. Bron.

Tears fill her eyes. 

Sami

Bautista 

Dead.

The children whose fate she can only hope was different from the two men who so bravely risked and lost their lives trying to save others.

Roman.

That’s when the tears threaten to spill over, and Solana has to work harder than she ever has in her life to keep it together. 

He’s fine. 

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

She has to tell herself this. Can believe nothing else. Because, anything else is surely enough to drag her to the inescapable depths of emotional hell.

She’s certain she’ll concede to the nervous breakdown she’s on the verge of from what’s happened alone if she allows herself to think about something happening to her soulmate.

Sitting up and looking around, Solana does her best to pull from and implement some of her therapy skills. She’s a mess right now, and while anyone in her situation would be and feel just the same, Solana doesn’t have that luxury. She doesn’t have that luxury because of the two lives growing inside her. 

She has to keep it together.

For her girls.

Like her life depends on it. 

Because their lives depend on it.

The room she’s in is old, dark, shabby, and dreary. A cot is in the corner with a raggedy blanket, but outside of that and a rusty looking desk and chair on the other side, there’s nothing else. Nothing but the dark, heavy looking door that’s shut and the window above her that informs her it’s daytime, given the natural sunlight that shines through.

It doesn’t make a difference.

There’s no sun or anything sunny about what’s occurred.

Only darkness.

Solana is searching and looking around the room, eager and almost desperate for anything that could distract her from how broken she feels when a sound startles her.

It’s coming from across her. 

The door.

Fear partially paralyzes her as she watches the knob turn, her breath withheld, gaze focused as a figure appears in the doorway, almost entirely eclipsing anything beyond said door with their robust figure.

And just like that, fear gradually chips away and is built up with a new set of emotions.

Confusion and anger.

Solana can’t look away, her voice barely above a breath, as she speaks from the heart. From visceral emotion. “You son of a bitch….”

Rikishi's expression is smug. “You’re up.” A generic, calm, almost friendly acknowledgement. Solana catches a glimpse of the guards behind him departing, shutting the door for him, leaving the two of them alone. She can’t, won’t look away as he moves to sit at the rinky-dink chair in the corner of the room. “Can I get you anything?” The cruel, taunt in the wake of his smirk only spikes her anger to another level.

She sneers, appalled, shocked, disgusted, horrified. “You’re behind this.” 

Rikishi’s smile deepens. “Surprise.”

Solana feels sick. “Where is my husband?” It’s just one of many questions she has, but the location—and status—of her husband is the most important. 

Rikishi chuckles. “You mean is he still alive?” The delay in his answer is the longest 30 seconds of Solana’s life. “Yes, Roman still lives.” As much as she hates showing her relief at his answer, she can’t help it. Should she believe him? Probably not. He could be lying. He’s obviously a lying snake, but in this moment, she needs to believe him. She needs to believe that her husband is still alive.

She needs the hope.

“For now, at least.” And just like that, the hope is dashed, dread filling her. “It’s only a matter of time before he shows up, guns blazing because we took his precious little wife.” Rikishi's sick, demented smile returns. “And, then we’ll have him right where we want him.”

There’s something about the ‘we’ that triggers something for her, makes her curious as to just how deep this betrayal goes, but the priority is rather on something else implied in his statement. A cruel, terrifying realization. 

“A trap,” she whispers, the color almost draining from her face. “It’s…it’s a trap.”

They’ve taken her to draw out Roman.

To trap him.

Solana shakes her head, refusing, unable to believe him. To listen to him. “He won’t—he won’t fall for it.” No. Roman is too smart for that.

“You really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?” Rikishi laughs, humor nowhere to be found in the sound that leaves his rotund body. “Of course, he will. Roman can’t see or think straight when it comes to you. He’ll show up here, alone, outnumbered, thinking he’s going to save you—”

Solana’s eyes water. “No.”

“And, he’ll be alone, because we’ve swept the rug from under him. He knows he can’t trust his own Bloodline anymore, and that’s gotta be killing him right about now. That and the fact that his weak little wife has been taken. He’s not thinking straight.”

She whimpers, eyes closing, tears streaming. “Stop it.”

“And who does he have left? Fucking Dwayne and a brother he refuses to acknowledge?” Rikishi snorts. “He has nothing.” He tilts his head to the side, pride filling him seeing the toll his words are taking on the young girl. “And really, as much as it’s your fault, in that same breath, we also have you to thank for this.” Rikishi leans forward in the chair, shrugging one shoulder. “Sure, you fucked up with the original plan—”

Solana’s eyes shoot open. "What?” When he says nothing, she has to ask again, all the while hating how destroyed she sounds. “What—what are you talking about?”

Delight fills his face. “Where do you think your father got the plan from in the first place for you to kill Roman?” Solana might as well have been shoved and slammed into the wall behind her. It would have the same impact as his words. “It was all supposed to be so much more simpler than this, really. You wouldn’t even have had to get close enough to gain his trust. Didn’t need it. Just slip the poison in his food.” The bile building up in Solana’s throat is on the verge of morphing into vomit. “But, of course, my little cousin had to throw us for a loop. He cut off your contact with your family, so we had no idea what was going on….until we did.”

She wants to say something, anything, but words seem a thing no longer accessible for her, prompting him to continue.

“I could see it. The way he started to feel something for you. To care for you.” Disgust is his countenance. “Love.” But, just as quickly as he was disgusted, he’s gleeful. “And then a new opportunity was presented. A first. Because for the first time, the great Roman Reigns had a weakness.” She closes her eyes. “So, a new plan was formed. One that would finally uproot that arrogant son of a bitch from his throne and allow a new era. A better one.”

Solo. 

She’s a terrible mess of emotions, but that one indication is baffling to her. Does he really think Solo is fit to lead the Bloodline? But, it’s a short-lived thing, because what gnaws at her is his accusation. A truthful statement, if she’s being honest with herself.

She has become Roman’s weakness. The one way to get to him, and it’s worked.

It’s worked to a depressing T.

Solana is still filled with so many questions, but a single word sits at the tip of her tongue, spilling over. “Why?” That’s the part she can’t seem to grasp. This plan has clearly been in the makes for months, so it can’t be because of what happened after Fetu’s funeral. So, just what has driven this man to such a diabolical, evil course of action. “Why are you doing this to him? He’s done everything for the Bloodl—”

“He should have never been the one to lead!” Rikishi snaps, banging his fist on the table. “Not Roman. Not Nakoa. None of them!” He continues, Solana remembering that Nakoa was Roman’s father. “It should have been me and my sons. And, it would have, if he had just died like the rest of them that night.”

It’s then. In that moment, with that one telling, revealing statement, Solana puts the devastating, heartbreaking pieces together. “Oh my God….” Her eyes are traveling everywhere before setting on evil personified. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Rikishi lifts his chin, an almost unspoken acknowledgment. “You….you were behind the hit?”

Calling it a 'hit’ seems too minimizing. Massacre. It was a massacre.

Rikishi simply huffs. “I simply made Dusty aware that Nakoa planned to turn on him. The idiot was too stupid and fearful of losing his growing empire to realize it was all lies. Such a weak ass man. It was far too easy to plant the seeds. I just had to watch them grow.”

“Oh my God…” Solana repeats, as a new wave of tears builds up. Rikishi. He was the one behind it all. The reason Roman lost his family, and almost his life. It was because of his own flesh and blood. 

The same flesh and blood behind the most current attempt to take out her husband once more. To put him down.

For good this time.

“I won’t—I won’t let you hurt him,” she vows, shaking her head. She looks up, matching his dark, evil gaze. “I won’t.” Because he’s already caused her husband so much hurt, so much pain, it feels almost criminal for her to not do what she can to stop that. To save him.

A small smile followed by a laugh. Loud and hearty. “Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.” Rikishi stands up, walking over to her, Solana refusing to look away or cower, even as he bends over. “What are you gonna do? Huh?” Solana gasps loudly from the sudden, unexpected impact of his hand against her face. Her eyes clench shut from the stinging and throbbing. “You are nothing without Roman or the Bloodline.” His eyes burn with intense hatred and disgust, watching and enjoying how Solana struggles to lift her head. “You’re going to die just like him—”

She cries. “no.”

Solana winces when he grabs her by her jaw, squeezing, forcing her to look at him. “—but while Roman will leave a sort of legacy behind him, what will you have? Huh? Nothing!” He screams in her face, Solana closing her eyes, trying her best to block out his hurtful words. “You’ll have nothing, because you are nothing. We found you as a stupid, uneducated, naive, weak, broken bitch, and that’s exactly how you’ll die.”

—------------

It’s strategic. All of it. Necessary.

Parking a little up the road from where Matteo’s house sits, almost nestled back into a corner, surrounded by trees in the back. A forest of sorts. A forest that serves as the shielding used by the men who realize what idiocy comes with trying to pull up to the front of the house, especially given the SUV’s already parked out front.

Bloodline vehicles.

Once a good thing, now an omen.

Naturally, Matteo leads the charge, knowing the layout of his property better than the other two men, especially Roman who’d never been here prior to today.

A still unconscious Cody is left locked in the SUV. Not that Roman cares. Behind the kidnapping or not, that son of a bitch could drop dead for all the Tribal Chief cares.

Nonverbal communication and hand gestures as the three men smartly make their way into the home from the back. As they move inside, ready and prepared for whatever, it’s almost anti-climatic. Because, for Roman, at least, there’s a slight expectation for some Bloodline security to try to attack them.

Except, entering the spacious foyer of Matteo’s home, what they’re met with is a scene similar to the library. Bodies laid around. 12. Roman counts twelve. Each with a minimum of one gunshot wound. Execution style. Throats slashed. A few with obvious stab wounds in the chest.

In the heart.

“And, I’d just mopped these damn floors, too.” The sound of a voice, bored and feminine, draws the attention of the three men. Sitting down on the middle of the steps is none other than a dangerously calm looking Afia. Gun in one hand, bloody butcher knife in the other, the only indication she has of being involved in any sort of altercation is the splotches of blood splashed on her shirt and the weapons on her person. “I’m also offended they only sent twelve. I deserve at least twenty.”

Dwayne and Roman lower their guns, surveying the deceased once more to make sure they are, in fact, no longer among the living. Matteo is the first to respond, chuckling as he lowers his gun. “I suppose that’s the reason for the overkill, no?”

Afia makes a sound, rising from off the stairs where she stands, still with the gun and knife in hand. Her eyes are narrowed. Listening Watching. Waiting.

Once pleased and satisfied that the threats have all been eliminated, she responds. 

“The overkill is because they chose the wrong damn house.” A vicious statement accompanied by a murderous gleam in her eyes. “One of you want to tell me why?”

Matteo has other pressing concerns. “The children—”

“In the panic room,” she answers, seeing the relief cross his handsome face. “They’re safe.”

Roman looks away. He’d give anything for that to be the case with Solana right now.

“It’s a coup,” Dwayne answers, looking around, as if suspecting another onslaught of attacks. “Someone’s trying to overthrow Roman.”

“I think it’s more than just an overthrow,” Afia corrects, walking over and kicking one of the men so he’s on his back. She points down. “Is that not the insignia of the Bloodline?” A rhetorical question. She doesn’t need anyone to tell her what she already knows. “This is an inside job.” She directs her statement to Roman. “You’ve been betrayed.”

Words that he doesn’t need to hear. A realization Roman came to the minute he realized his men were about to turn their guns on him back at the library.

A weighty, heavy thing, but nothing that anchors him down as much as the next thing that comes out his mouth. “Solana’s been kidnapped.”

And, at that, Afia gives the first indication of any type of emotion. “What?” Roman looks away. “Well, we have to get her back—”

“We will,” Matteo assures. “We just need to sit down and figure out the how.”

“And, we need to get the hell out of here,” Dwayne’s expression is a little more pressing, as he continues to look around. Watchful. Cautious. “I have a place we can go. It’ll be safe. They won’t be able to find us.” 

Afia nods, Matteo and her disappearing to go retrieve the children from the panic room.  It’s when he’s alone with his cousin for the first time, Dwayne voices what he knows his younger cousin is thinking.

“Roman….” The other man is turned away, looking down, taking in the state and amount of deceased that surrounds them. “This isn’t your fault—”

“Yes, it is.” A pained, quiet, angry interruption. Dwayne watches the way Roman’s jaw clenches, how his eyes shut and his fist forms at his side. “I should have—I should have seen this coming.”

And, for the life of him, Roman doesn’t know how he didn’t. He’s always prided himself on being three, five, hell, even ten steps ahead. It’s how he’s stayed on top for so long, never giving his enemies the opportunity to advance on him. And now, everything he’s built, everything he’s worked for is crumbling down right in front of him.

And, he doesn’t mean the Bloodline.

“We always prepare for threats from the outside, uce. Not the inside—”

“But, I should have.” Another interruption as Roman turns to his cousin, the turmoil that eats him up loud and evident. “I’m supposed to be better than that. I should have been, but I wasn’t and now—”

“Hey.” Dwayne places a hand on his shoulder, forcing his distressed gaze on him. 

“She’s pregnant, Dwayne….”

“I know.” His voice is contrite and sympathetic, recognizing that it’s not just Solana Roman fears for. It’s for their children she’s carrying that, he prays with everything in him, is something she knows to keep hidden from her kidnappers. By whatever means necessary. “But, let me tell you something about that wife of yours, uce. She’s got some fire in her. If anyone can handle this, can manage until we can get to her, it’s Solana.”

As objectively reassuring as Dwayne’s words are, they don’t do much to abate the fear and nerves of the Tribal Chief.

Because Roman has a nagging, almost gut-like feeling that someone isn’t making it out of this alive, and he doesn’t care if it’s him. 

He’ll just be damned if it’s her.

And, if he is the one to fall, he’s dragging every son of a bitch involved with this coup with him to the gates of hell.

—------

Solana knows exactly the last time she felt this way.

Heavy. 

Hurting. 

Hopeless. 

It was the night of her second suicide attempt.

In this moment, she doesn’t feel suicidal. Has no desire to take her own life. She just feels a tremendous, overwhelming amount of grief. Grief at what occurred then, what’s about to occur, and what still remains to occur.

It’s all so devastating. 

Solana knows evil. Was raised by it for a good chunk of her life. But, there’s just something she can’t fathom about Rikishi being able to parade himself as this trusted advisor to Roman, an ally, a friend, a cousin, all the while knowing he was responsible for the vicious murder of Roman’s family.

That he also tried to kill Roman once but failed.

And, now he’s trying again.

That makes her cry a little harder. Maybe a lot harder. It goes back to that helplessness, the suffocating feeling of having all of this information and no way to get it to him. To provide him with the truth, to give him a warning, something, but none of it is an option. It’s not an option, because she has no idea where she is and no way to contact him or anyone. Hands still bound, she doesn’t need them to feel in her back pocket to see her phone is no longer there.

Most likely taken or fell out at some point during her kidnapping.

Again, hopeless.

Solana jumps once more when the door is swung open with so much force that it slams against the wall behind it. She’s ready and prepared for Rikishi to enter, only for it to not be him and someone else. Two people. One she recognizes, and the other she does not. It's a tall white man with an intimidating, muscular build, ropes of muscles for arm. But, it's not his physique that makes Solana nervous. It's the way his bright blue eyes settle on her. Predatory. It sends chills down her spine, an uneasy feeling overcoming Solana, forcing her to focus on the person she knows.

Brandi.

But, whatever discomfort she’d felt from the man’s unsettling stare is quickly replaced with an overwhelming amount of dread and horror taking in the appearance of Emma's mother. Brandi’s face is bruised, her lip busted, and her clothes are disheveled, but it’s the empty, almost dazed look in her eyes that Solana knows all too well.

And the realization is crushing. 

Solana gasps when the man just tosses Brandi down onto the floor, offering a look of disgust to the woman he just discarded as if she was trash and a look of nothing good to Solana. However, it’s not until he slams the door shut behind him that Solana does her best to get up, an almost impossible task with her baby bump as well as her wrists still being bound.

“Brandi….”

Solana watches how Brandi offers no sign of acknowledgment, just crawls over to the nearest wall and pulls her legs up to her chest, a sign of pain flashing across her battered face as she settles into a fetal position.

Solana’s chest tightens. She knows exactly what Brandi is feeling right now. Numb. It’s a numbness that feels like everything and nothing at the same time, a deep, guttural scream lying within the confines of shock from trauma.

A trauma Solana knows all too well.

“Brandi, please—”

“Just leave me alone.” A whispered, pained thing. Empty and hollow.

Solana swallows. “I–”

“This is all your fault.”

Five words. A simple sentence. One hell of an impact.

The tightening in Solana’s chest only intensifies, just as the tears brewing threaten to spill down her face for the umpteenth time today. “Wh–what?”

It’s only then that Brandi looks up, that hollowness replaced with indescribable anger. And pain. “I’m here because of you.” Her bottom lip trembles as she lifts one hand, pointing to the door. “My baby is somewhere out there because of you.” Her volume increases as she gestures to herself with a trembling hand. “I was just rap—” Her eyes close, her entire body shaking as she breaks out in sobs, hands covering her face. 

And, in that moment, while Solana’s heart swells with a tremendous amount of empathy, of heartbreaking understanding.

She can do nothing else, she can say nothing else.

Because, Brandi isn’t entirely wrong.

She’s not entirely wrong at all.

—----------

It’s about 45 minutes into the drive that Roman realizes where Dwayne is taking them all, and initially, he’s irritated, not necessarily because of where they’re going and more because of the fact that they have to go there.

In hiding.

Because, they are.

Because, they no longer know who to trust.

Roman no longer knows who to trust.

After driving for a total of almost two hours, they arrrive at their destination.

Roman steps out of the parked SUV at the same time as Dwayne. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Matteo and Afia helping the children out the Escalade that they drove. 

“Well, ya’ll look like shit.” 

Beer in hand, bid body leaning against the pillar on his porch, Steve Austin’s gaze is assessing and judgmental. Typical for the man whose attitude could only be matched by his ferocity in the field.

A legendary mercenary who worked closely with Dwayne many years ago on countless assignments and missions but is now semi-retired working as a private firearm dealer.

Dwayne chuckles, taking the first step onto said porch. “We’ve seen better days.” His small smile morphs into something almost regretful. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Steve makes a sound, brushing off the unnecessary indirect apology. “All the times you saved my ass when we were out there young, dumb, hotheads? Don’t mention it.” He directs his attention then to Roman, also looking something close to repentant. “Real sorry to hear about what’s happening.”

Roman says nothing. What does someone being and feeling sorry for him do?

Not a damn thing.

The door to the house busts open, revealing a flustered Ava who has a slight cut on her eyebrow. Her focus immediately lands on Roman, who she makes a beeline over, pulling him into a hug.

“We’re gonna get her back,” she whispers in his ear, holding him close and tight.

Again, nothing is said. 

He’d give anything to feel that way, because right about now, Roman can’t deny the helpless feeling building and budding inside of them.

He does have to ask, trailing off, “did you….”

Ava nods. “She’s upstairs sleeping.”

Roman nods.

One.

That’s one thing he can feel slightly relieved about.

Dulce.

Dulce is safe, Roman asking Ava to pick her up from the groomers, because Solana being kidnapped is one thing, but he’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to her dog who she loves more than anything.

The same dog he can admit, only to himself, he also loves.

Just then, the backdoor opens as a just-now-coming-to Rhodes exits, looking just as lost as he probably feels. Hand to the back of his head, he asks no one in particular. “Where the hell am I?”

Ava looks over at Cody with an undeniable amount of anger. Her gaze and question is then set to Roman. “What the hell is he—”

“It’s a long story,” he dismisses, asking Steve. “Can we come in?”

Finishing off his beer—probably the third of the day—he tosses it with zero regard. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t gon’ make ya’ll stand out here looking like a bunch of dumbasses.”

The group make their way into the house, Steve granting them privacy and Ava offering to take the kids upstairs with snacks and drinks so they also don’t have to overhear what’s bound to be a heavy conversation.

“So, what do we know?” Afia asks as the lot of them surround Steve’s large dining room table, Dwayne sitting at said table with his laptop open, attempting to access the Bloodline database.

A fruitless effort, given the quiet curse that leaves his mouth and the flashing red from the screen. Roman has never been tech savvy, but he knows enough to know that’s never a good sign.

“Solana, Brandi Rhodes, and Emma Rhodes, Brandi and Cody’s daughter were all kidnapped earlier this afternoon at the local library where Solana works and mother and daughter were visiting for some reason.” Matteo supplies, looking over at Cody. “Is it normal for her to go there—”

“No,” Cody answers immediately, pacing back and forth. “And, I don’t know why the hell she was there in the first place. I know….I know she went a couple months ago, and somehow Emma got separated from her, but from what Brandi told me, Solana found Emma and helped her find—”

“Wait, what?” Roman would like nothing more to kill Cody. For one reason. For no reason. For all the reasons. There’s a river of red and blood that’s too deep, too thick for them to ever see eye to eye, so it’s safe to say the Tribal Chief wasn’t listening to a damn thing the man was saying until he got to that part. “What do you mean Solana found her? They know each other?”

Cody looks over, shaking his head. “I don’t know specifics. Just that Brandi told me Solana helped Emma get back to her, and that Emma…she really liked her.” his voice trails off, his gaze focusing on the wall adjacent to him, emotion bubbling. He clears his throat, clearly remembering where he is and who he’s talking to. “I told her never to go back there after that, so for the life of me, I can’t figure out why she went back.”

Roman is quiet, not giving two shits about why the fuck Rhodes’ wife went against his orders and is more concerned with why and how Solana never told him about this. How no one in her security detail never thought to tell him.

How Solo, who was probably still her personal guard at the time, never said a thing.

And as if listening, a beep sounds from the computer.

"What is it?" Matteo inquires.

"It's a video conference request," Dwayne answers. He looks over at Roman. "From Solo."

Something unknown but heavy laps at Roman, an almost eerie knowing, as he mutters a quiet but firm. "Answer it."

Dwayne does just that, jabbing the button on the laptop, the group all waiting for the video to load.

And, then it does.

“Son of a bitch….” Is Dwayne’s hissed response at the sight of several men standing behind one man who sits in the middle, dressed in an all black suit with a red ula fala around his neck.

Solo.

It’s Solo.

But, he’s not alone, because Roman recognizes four of the men behind him.

Tama, Tonga, Jacob, and Rikishi.

All his family. 

All currently behind the violent siege underway.

“I’m going to fucking rip you to pieces,” Roman vows, hand fisting at his side as, in a matter of mere seconds, he went from feeling an array of emotions to just one.

Anger.

Nothing but anger.

All of them. 

He’s going to kill every single fucking one of them. Slowly. Painfully. Methodically. In every brutal, grisly way that he can think of.

Solo smirks, lifting his chin. “Roman Reigns.” A formal acknowledgement tinged with a hint of humor. “I think you’ve seen better days.”

Roman takes no one by surprise when the anger courses through his body manifests in him screaming out, “where is she!”

Rikishi makes a tsk tsk tsk sound. “You never were good with patience, huh?”

“Cut the shit, you two,” Dwayne practically growls, both him and Matteo doing their best to study the background to try to get some sense of where he might be located. The fucker is smart though, as it seems there’s some sort of black draping, intended to shield from that sort of detection. “Where’s Solana?”

Cody also cuts in with similar sentiments as Roman. “Where’s Brandi and Emma!”

Solo rolls his eyes. “That’s a question for your lil’ cousin, Rhodes.”

At that, Roman sees the way Cody’s face pales. “Bron?” And then, the anger. “Bron is behind this?”

“They both are,” Roman states, teeth gritted, putting the pieces together in real time. “They’ve been working together.”

Solo’s smirk confirms as such. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why both the Bloodline and Nightmare Factory men turned on both him and Cody back at the library. An alliance of some sort has been formed between the former enforcers. 

“Roman isn’t fit to lead the Bloodline anymore,” Solo growls, fist on the table before him. “We need new leadership. It just so happened Bron felt the same about the Nightmare Factory."

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Roman snarls. “You can’t trust a fucking Rhodes!”

Solo’s smile is nothing shut of evil, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Just like you couldn’t trust us, huh?”

A blow.

It’s a fucking blow to the gut. To the chest. To the soul. Because Solo is right in that.

Roman couldn’t trust him, but he did, and it’s potentially cost him everything.

“But, aye, I’m a generous Tribal Chief, so imma do you a favor.” He stands up, gesturing for whoever is filming to follow him. “Come on.”

A maniacal laugh sounds from behind the camera, and in that single second, the situation progresses from bad to worse.

Roman would know that sound anywhere, but it’s an equally pissed Rhodes who identifies the person. “Seth...”

Roman’s eyes shut. Of course. Of course, they would recruit him for this. That psychotic son of a bitch has no love for Roman nor Cody, believing himself a “victim” and “abandoned” by both of them. Roman’s caution is upped a notch with this new piece of information.

Seth is the definition of a wild card. Whatever role he plays in this whole thing can’t be minimized nor downplayed.

They’re moving down a dimly lit hall, and Roman can see out of the corner of his eye Afia taking notes, clearly trying to document as much of the space as possible. Trying to narrow down a potential location.

Helpful but maybe not necessary.

Solo finally arrives in a dingy looking room that’s filled with more of Roman's men, his former Bloodline, armed and ready.

But then, Roman’s world shatters. 

“Solana…”

He sees her. Solana. She’s alive, but her face is red and bruised, a cut on her cheek, dried blood caked on her pretty skin. He searches her body for any other sign of injury, but it’s impossible to do so given the oversized hoodie, jeans, and sneakers she wears.

He has no idea how to know about….about the girls.

It kills him.

But, that’s nothing compared to when he realizes just what’s happening. She’s being dragged by her hair into the room where fucking Tama throws her to the ground, Solana landing on her palms.

“You asked for her, right?” Solo mocks, a cruel grin on his face. “Here she is.” He barks at Tama to pick her back up. “Aye, Solana, you remember that?” 

The camera switches from the scene of Solana being yanked up once again by her hair to a medium large stainless steel bucket that Roman can see is filled with water. Instantly, he knows what’s about to happen.

“I swear to God, Solo, if you—” He’s stopped by the camera panning to Solana who was clearly looking in the direction of the camera, probably hearing his voice, but now it’s directed toward her.

Catches the moment she sees the bin and also knows what's about to occur.

“No.” Her eyes are wide and filled with fright that practically cripples him. “No!” Solana cries, instantly moving to try to break free as Tama leads her over to the bucket. “No, please!”

“Solo, please—” Roman finds himself begging almost. He doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll do whatever it takes. Because Solana being subjected to that, to the torture she worked so hard to escape, it kills him. His pride doesn’t exist in that moment.

“What kind of weak man goes after an innocent woman, huh?” Matteo barks, the anger felt amongst the group of them nothing compared to the pain that fills Roman.

He was supposed to protect her.

He promised to protect her.

And now, look.

He’s failed her.

He’s failed her just like he failed his family.

Soalna’s screams and cries haunt him, Roman preparing to plead, whatever it takes, when a new voice is heard.

“Aye! What you doing, man!”

Chills. 

No.

The day’s events must be taking their toll on Roman, because there’s no way—

And then, he sees it.

Sees how the camera pans to a furious looking Jey who grabs Tama, punching him out and putting himself between Solana and their cousin. Solana scrambles away to the nearest wall, eyes closed, hand over her chest, obviously trying to settle her nerves.

“What the hell is this, Solo!” Jey shouts as Tonga restrains Tama from striking back. “You ain’t say it was gonna be all of this! I ain’t sign up for this shit!”

There’s a rush of emotions running through Roman in this moment for a variety of reasons. He can hear the shocked, angry responses of those around him, see how Solo chides his older brother for being so “weak,” but all of that pales in comparison to how Roman’s chest tightens seeing Solana scream out in fear when Jey moves toward her.

“Don’t touch me!” She shouts, shaking her head. “How—how could you do this to us?” She sounds every bit as hurt and betrayed as he feels. “How could you do this to Roman?”

The same question probably shared amongst the group helplessly watching the horrors unfold. 

“God, you're so goddamn annoying."

A new voice added to the conversation.

Also, not unfamiliar.  

Samantha appears in frame, but she’s not alone. She’s roughly holding the arm of a young, crying child. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together to figure out who said child is.

Cody’s shoulders drop. “Emma!”

Emma is crying, face red and ruddy. “Where’s my mommy!” She cries harder when Samantha tosses her to the ground. “I want my daddy!” 

It’s a gut-wrenching scene to watch, for sure, but while a devastated Cody tries to gather the attention of his terrified daughter, Roman can only focus and watch as Solana gets up and rushes over to Emma, holding and cradling her.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she comforts. Roman sees the way Emma holds onto her, clearly feeling safe with his wife. A strange, almost solemn scene. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

A sneering Sam advances over to Solana and Emma, but Solana is quick, easily maneuvering Emma behind her.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Solana hisses, shoulders squared, voice firm. It’s a bit of a shift for Roman, something close to surprise and pride filling him. It’s such a switch. The fear that had Solana cowered in the corner is nowhere to be seen as she puts herself between this child who she doesn’t even know, not well anyway, and a woman clearly intent on no good.

Samantha scoffs, stepping forward. “Move.” A sick smirk appears on her face as she lifts up a folding knife, effectively stilling the Tribal Chief. Fuck. “Or maybe I’ll just do us all a favor and kill you now.”

Roman isn’t sure what he expects his wife to do. He just knows that it kills him to have to watch all of this unfold and not do anything about it.

Not be able to protect her.

And then, it happens. Almost too quick. Solana’s speed seems to defy logic. Her forearm against Samantha’s neck, throwing her off balance, forcing her to drop the knife that Solana doesn’t hesitate to grab. And with continued swiftness, Solana suddenly has the upper hand. She’s holding Samantha’s arms behind her back, the knife in Solana’s hand pressed dangerously into her back, possibly drawing blood given the wince on Sam’s face.

Mouth near her ear, Solana hisses, loud enough for all to hear. “I’d like to see you try, bitch.”

She shoves and kicks her away, expertly retracting the knife that disappears in the sleeve of her hoodie. 

Impressed isn’t exactly the right word to use to describe what Roman feels. There’s nothing impressive about what’s happening, but a small sense of relief does build in him in seeing that even in this midst of what’s happened, Solana hasn’t lost it.

Hasn’t lost that fight and fire she’s worked so hard over the past months to build.

“You got this, Sol…” Afia whispers, loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t give up.”

A shared sentiment. 

But, as Samantha gets up and prepares to lunge for Solana, Jey once again stands in front of Solana who continues to protect Emma.

“You ain’t putting your fucking hands on her.”

Words that Roman would like to find reassuring, but he can’t. He can’t, because Jey is a part of this whole thing.

He’s clearly picked his side, and it’s not Roman’s.

Solo makes a sound, big face back in the screen. “As you can see, there’s a lot going on.” He blows out a breath, as if overwhelmed by it all. As if this isn’t all his doing. “But look, Imma’ cut right to the point.” There’s movement from Solo walking out the room, camera focused only on him. “You got 48hrs to bring your ass here, so we can settle this once and for all. And to help you out, I’m gon send you the exact coordinates of where we are.” He then adds, as if remembering. “Same goes for your new buddy, Cody.”

It’s a difficult, almost painful thing for Roman to focus on what’s being said when all he can visualize is Solo’s bloody, gruesome corpse after Roman gets his hands on him. But then, he says it, he says what Roman’s emotions have blocked him from considering.

“And, I know you got a lot going on right now, but even you and that big ass ego you got can’t deny you already know how this gon’ turn out.” He rolls his shoulders, voice equally menacing as it is threatening. “Not only have you been outsmarted, but you’re outmanned, outnumbered, outgunned.” He smiles, once again, no trace of humor to be detected. “Who you got there? Dwayne? Matteo? Rhodes?” He laughs, humorlessly. “You have nothing.”

Matteo and Dwayne say something in response, but Roman does not. He says nothing, because there’s nothing to say.

Solo is right.

Roman has been betrayed and turned on by the people closest to him, his Bloodline, maybe even the Cosa Nostra at this point. He doesn’t even fucking know anymore. He just knows, for the first time in his life, he’s been backed into a corner and the way out seems to be a far off, distant, nearly impossible thing.

“....And that’s not just a prediction—” Solo’s statement, familiar and close, snatches Roman away from his depressing realization. He looks off camera, only for another figure to fill the frame, Roman’s devastation deepening.

Paul’s smirking frame takes up the entire shot. “It’s a spoiler.”

The screen goes black.

“Son of a bitc—”

Dwayne’s curse is silence by Roman tipping over a chair as he angrily marches outside the house through the backdoor and into the yard. He throws a nearby chair across the spacious yard, uncaring of any damage or destruction caused in the process.

His chest hurts, and his head throbs, consumed with swimming, overwhelming thoughts.

They’ve betrayed him. Every fucking person he thought he could trust has all turned on him.

They’ve all fucking betrayed him.

Eyes shut, breathing heavy, Roman has to place his hand over his chest to settle himself. It’s too much. 

Too fucking much.

Heavy footsteps behind him give away the person present, but Roman isn’t in the mood.

“Roman….”

“Not right now,” he grits out, on the verge of a panic attack. Or maybe a nervous breakdown. Or, hell, maybe a fucking heart attack. At this point, who fucking knows.

Dwayne sighs. “Roman, you—”

“WHAT!” Roman turns around and snaps. All of the emotions, the happenings, the loss, the betrayal finally bubbling over and erupting. Roman motions to nothing in particular, just the dark abyss of the wooded forest beyond Steve’s backyard. “He has the Bloodline! He has the Nightmare Factory! He has my wife!” It’s with that last acknowledgment Roman’s shoulders slump, the despair taking front row. His voice lowered, he clarifies. “My pregnant wife.” Premature defeat as well as an unfamiliar helplessness fills the devastated man’s voice, as he admits, “I have nothing to lose.”

Dwayne allows it. Allows him the moment to have this. To let it all hit him, heavy and crushing, but necessary, nonetheless. 

Because there’s no way in hell they can survive this with him suppressing all of his feelings.

“That’s bullshit, Roman, and you know it.” Dwayne finally speaks after a few minutes of silence. “You have everything to lose.” Dwayne points back to the house. “He has your wife, yes. He has the backing of the Bloodline. Maybe. But, you know what he doesn’t have? He doesn’t have your mind. He doesn’t have your ruthlessness. Doesn’t have your intellect. Solo’s a little bitch cosplaying as a grown man cause his fat ass daddy has bucked him up to think he’s fit for the job.” Dwayne continues, seeing and knowing his younger cousin well enough to know he’s taking in everything that’s being said. “He thinks he’s won, because he knows what Solana means to you, knows how much you love her, and he thinks it’s made you weak.”

“He’s right.” Matteo’s voice suddenly sounds from the steps leading into the house. “He’s playing a mind game with you.” Stepping down into the yard, he crosses his arms, adding, “he’s clearly been watching you. Studying you.”

When Dwayne gives him the nod of approval, a sign to continue, Matteo doesn’t waste it. “You must have a million and one emotions running through you right now. That’s okay. Hone it and use it. Use it to fuel your anger and your fury, because you’re going to need it to make it through this.”

Eyes shut, words marinating, there’s a settling of the previously spiking panic that’s minimizing and settling into something else inside of Roman. Something powerful and stirring.

“You’ve been betrayed. Clearly. From several angles, and that shit’s gotta hurt like hell coming from family.” Roman looks away. “But, you know as well as I do, that’s not the priority right now. The priority is getting Solana back and reminding those bastards why the biggest and last mistake they’ll ever make in life was crossing Roman fucking Reigns.”

To say this has been the worst day of his life would be an understatement. The worst day of his life would be more than welcomed over whatever this is. Regardless of how awful and hurt and lost Roman feels at all that’s occurred, the wise, sage words of his relatives are effective.

They tap into that part of him that hasn’t been needed in a while. The part of him that he’s always wanted to keep hidden away from Solana. The reason he’s as feared as he is.

Because, it’s needed.

Roman isn’t needed in this moment. Roman needs to rest and recover.

The Tribal Chief is who’s needed.

And, that’s exactly who Solo is going to get.

“We have to play this smart,” is Roman’s only acknowledgment of everything that was stated. He appreciates it, but to go beyond that would require a deeper amount of reflecting. He doesn’t have time for this shit. Doesn’t have time to be Roman Reigns right now. 

They made him into the ruthless, aggressive, merciless killer that he is, and that’s exactly who they’re about to receive.

“They have the numbers advantage,” Roman finishes. Because as lethal as the combination of himself, Dwayne, Matteo, and maybe Afia and Ava could be, it still pales in comparison to not only the Bloodline, but the Nightmare Factory. 

A big advantage.

Dwayne shakes his head. “Maybe not.” Both Matteo and Roman cast skeptical expressions as he vaguely answers. “I may have made a call.”

And just like that, Roman’s defenses are up again. “To who?”

A voice clearing from by the back door sounds, drawing the attention of all three men. It’s Ava. “So, Santos Escobar is here?

Roman easily shifts from cautious to irritated. “What the fuck, Dwayne?”

The older man lifts his hands in an almost defensive manner. “Look, I know you’ve got no love for Escobar, and the feeling is mutual, but you yourself told me he said Solana is also under the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma, so that means they’d be willing to help us.”

But, it mostly goes in one ear and out the other. Stubbornly, almost defiantly, Roman reiterates, “I don’t need his help.”

“Yes, you do, Roman,” Matteo cuts in, his voice almost gentle like. “Like you said, they have the number advantage. We have to try to even that up as much as we can.”

At that, his own words being used against him, Roman has no retort.

He has no retort because that nagging voice inside of him acknowledges that Matteo and Dwayne are right.

If there’s help to be offered, he would be a fool to decline it.

But, it’s almost impossible for him to not be chained down by both his pride and his trauma at once again being betrayed. At being in a place where the same man who he once thought he’d lay down his life for if the situation called for it, is working with the people hellbent on seeing Roman’s demise.

Solo and Rikishi’s betrayal is crushing.

Jey’s is shattering.

And Roman isn’t stupid. He knows how tense things with Jey have been, maybe always been to some extent, but this coup has clearly been a well plotted, planned thing for some time. Long before his issues with Jey stirred up again for round two.

When Roman thought they were fine, they weren’t. 

They very clearly weren’t.

Roman turns away, hands on his head as he blows out a deep breath. The battle between logic and trauma in the final round, tussling deep within his chest and soul.

And then a memory hits him, a scene from one of his many dreams rolling him into the battle for a paramount, necessary perspective switch.

Leya sniffles to the left of him. “You have to save her, daddy.”  His head snaps to her, confused by her words, confused by the fact that he’s not freaking out more, by the fact that he just somehow knows that Solana has been taken. “She won’t have much time.”

“Mommy can only fight with us for so long.” His attention switches to Lina, her comment leaving him just as perplexed as her twin. “You’re gonna have to trust them, daddy.”

“What?” He breathes. The weight on his chest is intensifying by the fucking second. “I don’t—”

“It’s the only way to save her.” Leyah reaches for his arm, her little mouth formed into a frown. “They’re gonna kill her if you don’t.”

His chest nearly explodes at that one word.

Kill

But, it’s when the next statement that leaves their mouths, at the same time, that does him over.

“And they’re gonna kill us too.”

The entire flashback to his ominous dream almost nightmare is overall unsettling in many ways, but there’s a certain part he can’t negate, that he can’t ignore.

“You’re gonna have to trust them, daddy.”

Trust.

Such a difficult, impossible thing for Roman, especially when it’s that same thing that has him in the situation he’s in now.

He trusted the wrong people, and now Solana—and his unborn daughters—are paying for it.

Roman closes his eyes.

Utilizing the words from his dream children from an actual dream as a guiding force might not be the best. It might even be crazy to some people, but he’s starting to believe that Solana was right when she said the dreams meant something.

Premonitions, almost. 

Needed for a time like this. 

Because, it’s all he has. 

“Okay.” 

A simple word. 

A powerful agreement.

Matteo and Dwayne exchange a look, neither willing or wanting to say anything to risk Roman backtracking. They simply guide him back into the house where, sure enough, Escobar waits with two men and one women trailing him. Roman recognizes the two men from being at the restaurant that day. 

He also recognizes the woman. 

Bayley.

And, she looks just as gutted as Roman feels. 

“That son of a bitch.” She shakes her head, fist at her side. “What kind of piece of shit goes after an innocent woman?”

Her question is presented to no one in particular. Just a necessary thing she clearly needs to get out, along with an array of other emotions. She angrily wipes at her teary eyes, looking away.

Santos gaze is leveled as he directs his question toward Roman. “Do you have her location?”

Dwayne answers. “Yes. An abandoned plant about two hours out from here.”

The shorter man nods, taking in the information. “Are you sure?”

“Solo sent us the coordinates.” Matteo supplies, already knowing he doesn’t need to say anything else after that. Santos look in response is telling enough. 

Looking directly at Roman, he states aloud, “he wants you to come.” 

Bayley whispers what everyone was thinking when Solo first announced he was sharing the address so willingly. “A trap.”

Roman says nothing. Trap or not, nothing could keep him from going to save his wife. Even if he had to go at it alone.

“Someone wants to speak to you.” Santos appearance was unexpected as hell, but such a statement leaving his mouth is at the top of the unexpected hill. “And, it’s not a request.”

Just like that, the anger is building up again in the Head of the Table. “Excuse me? Who the fuck—”

“Roman.” Matteo’s single word is layered with all the unspoken things. The reminder he needs. Priorities.

Biting his tongue and setting aside his pride, Roman grits out a reluctant, “fine.”

Santos and his men move quickly to set up an open laptop where Dwayne’s once was, motioning for Roman to take the seat previously occupied by his older cousin.

And, in a matter of minutes, the setup is completed. It’s the same crowd gathered around to watch and observe, sans Cody, who’d apparently gone out front.

For similar reasons as Roman, he’d guess.

It’s a similar setup to Solo and crew, but in this one, the background is obvious and visible. They’re in a conference room. A man sitting at the front of the table with another to the right of him, older and a bit heavier. There’s something familiar about him that Roman can’t put his hand on.

Santos speaks in Spanish to the men, and it’s then how Roman notices the improved posture of the latest guests. A sign of respect and reverence for whoever these men are, clearly.

“Roman Reigns,” the one at the head of the table speaks, his deep voice thickly accented. “Not exactly the circumstances under which I’d thought we’d meet, but an honor, nonetheless.”

If only Roman felt the same.

“Who the hell are you?”

But, while the majority of the room hit Roman with disapproving glances at his brusque response, the man on screen simply smiles. “Your reputation precedes you. I’m impressed.”

And, I don’t care.

Roman is just about to snap at Escobar for wasting his time when finally, a proper introduction is given. “My name is Domingo Lopez.” Right away, any trace of irritability felt within Roman is washed away and replaced with a sense of surprise and confusion. 

Roman knows that name very well. Anyone in the business does.

Domingo Lopez.

The head of the Gulf Cartel, the oldest and biggest Mexican criminal syndicate.

The same syndicate Roman has been trying and planning to meet with to discuss a possible alliance with for some weeks now. Months, maybe. But, something had always come up, either on Roman’s end or Lopez's end.

What a meeting, indeed.  

Domingo chuckles. “I take it you know who I am now.”

No shit. The shift in Roman’s tone is audible, even his body language. “I do.”

Domingo sits forward. “And you’re wondering what the hell it is I want with you.” He then gestures to the man beside him. “This is Tomas Escobar. Old man has served the Cartel for decades. A loyal aid to my father before he retired and a trusted guide for me since I took over so many years ago at the age of 18. Similar to yourself.” Roman is focused less on the connections and more the name.

He knows that name.

It was in the letter Solana let him read. The one from her mother. 

Tomas Escobar.

Her uncle.

Tomas is Solana’s great uncle.

And judging now by the slight similarities in appearance, Santos' father.

Still, making all of these connections is something Roman keeps to himself, instead asking a more relevant question that comes out as more of a statement. “You’re aware of what’s happened.”

Domingo nods. “I am.” He leans back into his seat. Roman would guess Santos informed his father, and his father made his boss aware. But, why?

“Normally, I would allow a select number of men to aid in this rescue effort you plan to undergo. Whatever men and resources within the Legado Del Fantasma would be your limit, but….but this is different.” He clasps his hands together, acknowledging. “Tomas has served me well, and Santos has also proven to be an effective leader. But, the truth of the matter is that what I am prepared to do is solely because of your wife, Mr. Reigns.”

Brows furrowed, Roman doesn’t hesitate to ask. “What do you mean?” 

“A few months ago, during your trip to Isla Mujeres, you and your wife met my daughter, Aurora.” Roman stills, instantly recalling the quiet little girl who’d taken a liking to him but especially Solana.

Shit. 

That same girl is Mexico’s biggest cartel leader’s daughter?

“Solana was kind to her, offering a simple gesture of kindness that has not only helped my little girl in more ways than you can imagine but my family as a whole.” He explains, voice shifting into something almost sentimental. A rare thing for such a man. “And for that, I owe your wife a great debt that I intend to make good on right now.”

“Solana may be an Escobar by blood and thus has the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma, but from here on out, she also will have the protection of the full Gulf Cartel as well.”

Roman is stunned into silence. What does he say to that?

“Right now, as we speak, I have several fleets of my best men and weapons headed your way. They should arrive in a few hours.” A wave of silence overcomes the entire room, a disbelief of sorts for almost everyone. Especially Roman. “Whatever else you need, ask, and it is yours.”

To say this day has been one of the most stressful of his life would absolutely be putting it lightly. Just this morning, everything was fine. By the afternoon, he felt like he was in hell. And now, he sits here before another of one of the most feared men on the continent, hearing that not only is the Cartel supplying the Tribal Chief with an army and unlimited resources, but there’s a standing invitation for support later down the road.

He’s fucking floored.

Domingo, however, isn’t done. “Mr. Reigns, you will bring your wife home safely, strike down anyone who was a part of this coup, and when the dust settles, we shall meet to discuss business.” He smirks, eyes alight with greed and anticipation. “An alliance with the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra will only strengthen our empires.” The same sentiment Roman had when his initial interest piqued in the Cartel. “But, I am only interested in securing that deal if it is you who sits at the head of the table, because as I said earlier, your reputation precedes you.” A beat. “And, as far as I am concerned, you are the only Tribal Chief.”

—-----------

The minute Solana is thrown back into the same room she was in before, where Brandi still lies there, silent and unmoving, she feels it.

Small, subtle, but present.

There’s a switch that’s occurred. A death and a rebirth.

She doesn’t feel the same sense of dread that had her feeling helpless and hopeless. Doesn't feel as empty and deterred. 

She feels the exact opposite. 

Determined.

Hopeful.

Angry,

And, it’s all because of a single little girl.

Emma.

Because when Samantha moved to hurt Emma, something snapped in Solana. It was like she was broken from the shackles of her despair and thrust into an overwhelming sense of urgency and protection.

Because, it wasn’t Emma’s crying, helpless face she saw.

It was herself.

Solana saw a younger version of herself.

She was that helpless, defenseless child.

But, she’ll be damned if she lets Emma suffer the same fate.

It’s why she stood so boldly and with confidence against Samantha, because that’s what she needs to make it out of this alive. And, she will. Because she made a promise. 

To herself. 

To her girls.

To her family

Her husband and unborn children that she’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. 

Because it’s when she was being dragged back to her cell by Nia, another accomplice in this nightmare, a memory hit her. A recollection of what, at the time, felt like a dream, but now, she most definitely knows and understands was not a dream.

It was a warning.

“Mommy.”

Solana is startled by the sudden presence of her girls. She never even heard them walk over. “Yes, baby?”

“You’re gonna protect us, right?”

Eyes crinkling with confusion, Solana adjusts her baby boy, lightly patting his back. “What–what do you mean, honey?”

Her oldest eyes watering only sets Solana off even more, as she looks to Roman for some assistance only to see he’s no longer there.

He’s gone.

Solana’s stomach drops as she turns her head, looking to see where he’s gone when her daughter moves a hand to the baby’s back. “You’re gonna have to fight for us.”

Solana is beyond confused right now. About it all. “I don’t—”

“Daddy’s not gonna be there. You have to do it, mama.” The quieter of the two taking a turn to speak, voice almost desperate and emotional only exacerbates the situation. Solana feels her own tears forming when her daughter reaches out her little hand, placing it on her shoulder. “And you can’t trust them.”

That’s when Solana really stills. Looking between the two who wear such troubled expressions, she asks, “trust who?”

Solana’s eyes shut.

Rikishi. 

Solo. 

Nia.

Jey.

That’s who the girls were talking about. They were who she couldn’t trust.

But, it’s less the warning from her daughters that Solana keeps at the forefront of her mind, and more the question, “you’re gonna protect us, right?” and the reminder, “you’re gonna have to fight for us.”

Hands now free from the ties, she places her hand over her belly, a silent promise made.

Fight.

Something Solana at one point didn’t think she was capable of, but the truth of the matter is that she’s been fighting her whole life.

She fought to live, beat her coma, when the men who took her mother’s life also tried to take hers.

She fought and dragged her way out that house after being gang raped and beaten as a child, overcoming her injuries to live.

She survived not one but two attempts at taking her own life.

Solana has spent her entire life surviving adversity after adversity, and she’s damn sure not about to stop now.

Deep down, she knows Roman is coming for her, knows that there’s no way in hell he won’t, and while it terrifies her what he could be walking into, she has to trust he knows what he’s doing. Trust that he’s got this.

She just has to stay alive long enough for him to get to her.

Gaze falling over to Brandi, Solana is careful in her movements, keeping a comfortable distance as she settles on her knees in front of the woman.

“I saw Emma.”

Just like that, Brandi jumps up, eyes wide, filled with abject fear. “What? Is sh—”

“She’s okay,” Solana assures. Jey had told her he’d make sure no one hurt the little girl after also promising to try to secure it to where Emma could be with them. Not that it makes much of a difference.

He’s a liar and can go to hell just like the rest of them.

“Brandi, I need you to listen to me.” Solana doesn’t know how much time she has until the woman before her, who’s now crying again, overwhelmed with everything that’s happened, shuts her out again. “You’re hurt and confused and angry and so many other things, and I know this not just because….because we’re both in this situation together, but….” She drops her head, pushing back some of her hair, voice lowering into an almost whisper. “Because I felt the same way after I was raped.”

Had she been looking up, Solana would have seen the horrified gleam in the other woman’s eyes. “And that….that’s going to take time to heal from, but you will heal from it. I promise you that.” Solana believes that with everything in her. She has to. “But right now….right now is not about healing, it’s about surviving.” Solana looks back at her, swallowing and returning to her previously strong, firm voice. “We are not going to die in here. Your daughter is not going to die in here.”

My daughters are not going to die in here, Solana thinks to herself. A vow. A promise. An oath.

“We are going to fight like hell, and we are going to survive this.” Brandi’s bottom lip trembles, as she remains quiet but listening. “But, we have to do it together. And, I know….I know our husband’s history with each other, but it’s not about that right now. That’s them. This is us. And right now, our priority is to get out of here alive, which I know we can do….but, I need you to trust me.”

Such an impossible thing for the other woman, Solana is certain. She’s certain because it’s that trust that landed them in the situation they’re in. 

Roman

Cody

Solana

Brandi

They all trusted the people who swore to love and protect them, but now, those same people seek to destroy them.

And she can’t let that happen.

Solana doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to pressure Brandi, just wants to leave her with important things to consider.

And, she does, because just as Solana is preparing to move back to where she was previously sitting, a still, small voice fills the room.

“What do you need me to do?”

An indescribable joy and relief fills Solana that's only matched by her determination that make every bastard that's apart of this plot pay for what they've done.

She’s about to show them all just how “stupid” this bitch is.

[mixingandmelting]

hi hii <3 take as long as you need to get to this request or even ignore it if you want to <3

i was wondering what thoughts you have on the batboys dating a reader with a story like jason’s? like they died, maybe they worked for some group of assassins as a kid and died one mission. they get revived and obviously find that weird - also, they’re an adult? - and go back to the hometown of gotham and try to settle down. they actively go out as a ‘civilian’ undercover at night and save a few people from getting mugged maybe but they no longer kill. probably meets the boys because of this and then? i dunno i’m not a writer sorry 😭

A/n: did three of the five since Duke and Damian aren't adults yet 😔

Dick: Gradually Dating

If he had a nickel every time someone close to him was dead then revived using the Lazarus Pit, he’d have four nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened four times: Jason, Cass, Damian, and, now, you. It took a while for him to get closer to you, initially because he was impressed by your skills when taking those muggers only for him to be hook, line, and sinker for you. You’re everything he needed including all the ways he didn’t know he needed. He would be yapping and you would be listening to everything he says and keep it in mind. He could be in the foulest or darkest mood and somehow you’d be able to pull him out of it where he gets flustered when realizing he’s getting spoiled by you. 

He is very much pleased to say he, successfully, got together with you and is the happiest man in all of space and time. It’s a habit for him to pester you constantly with the goal being you cringing at the puns and word play he does. His hands are always on you, no matter the place, time, occasion. In your hands, on your shoulders, around your waist- 24/7 unless he’s on a long-distance mission. He’ll simply bombard you with texts on how much he misses you and asks if you miss him. All because he loves you and you’re cute but that talk is for another day.The only problem he has developed recently is not liking how Jason’s rubbing off on you ever since you met him. Blue will always be better than red and his discowing costume is a masterpiece what do you mean :( 

Jason: Buddies to Dating

The two of you hit things off right from the start when he first met you. Sure, trying to chat with you as you beat up a group of muggers wasn’t the greatest way to begin a relationship but hey. By the end of the night, you both bonded over having similar pasts and became trauma buddies. Having a person who understands what it's like to go through a crappy past like his made you become his go-to person whenever he’s in the dump and going through an episode. You laugh along and share his dark humor. You know the best ways to comfort him. You accept all of him including his flaws with no bias or judgement. Add all that to him thinking you’re stronger than him where you choose not to resent but rather overcome your past- his admiration developed into adoration for you. 

Nothing has changed once the two of you became official, other than him enjoying how he gets to physically hold you more to his heart's content. Really, he’s never been into showing affection but here he is, being the physical affectionate one out of the two of you because he likes making you flush from the simplest things like kissing you on cheek, rubbing circles on the back of your hand when holding hands . Especially in public, which he teases you about all the time. He’s definitely more tamed than Dick though, where he’s not constantly all over you 24/7, though at home, cuddling is a must. So is making sure everyone knows he’s yours and you’re the best person alive. Anyone who argues you’re not can suck it and talk to his fist. 

Tim: Denial to Acceptance

It was from investigating why the rate of mugging during the night dropped that led him to meeting you, after doing a background check on you prior. But color him surprised when you don’t like a certain group of people he knows that’s dipped in the Lazarus Pit. He thought it was out of curiosity and making sure you weren’t planning to become an underground crime-lord that he followed you around and chatted with you whenever he got caught (which was 90% of the time). It seemed like you were struggling and with how nice and kind you were towards everyone and him, he was only trying to help by leaving things you need after he leaves. Then you smiled and- oh shit, he actually likes you. 

It’s still a work in progress in terms of being more expressive in public where recently the two of you successfully hold hands comfortably without either of you getting too self-conscious. Same with the occasional hugs and pecks on the cheek. At home is a different story. He’s completely clingy. Working in your lap or you in his arms always wrapped around you as he follows you around the house, of course helping you out as he does. Displays every form of affection and the fact you reciprocate it makes everything even better. Not that he’s good at hiding it from others at the beginning when he’s always on his phone, texting you, and getting flustered when someone mentions you or you’re with him.

[grandline-fics]

Single Red Rose with Shanks please~ 🌹

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS: none come to mind

CHARACTERS: Shanks

WORDS: 1,434

A/N: Thank you @littlemissmav for this valentines request. I had a lot of fun with this one and I hope it's to your liking! 🌹

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

The bar was as uncharacteristically lively for it still being relatively early in the afternoon but this is what happened when the Red Haired Pirates came back for their visits. Their presence never failed to bring a fresh surge of life to the otherwise calm and peaceful island. The best food and drink were always brought out the second their ship appeared on the horizon in swift preparation for when Shanks and the crew disembarked from the Red Force and began their usual route through the city, gathering their loyal fanbase of civilians eager to hear the newest stories of the crews’ exploits and adventures and those begging to go with them when they’d eventually leave again. As always regardless of what the flurry of questions thrown his way was, Shanks merely laughed and told them. “Have a little patience. We’ll eat and drink first and then we’ll talk.”

“What? Please tell me you’re joking!” Your voice cut through Shanks’ attention on the group he was sitting with in the tavern. Mostly because even though you hadn’t yelled your tone was a definite shift from the air of festivity. His attention was also caught because he had noticed you from time to time when he stopped by the island. With his tankard of ale poised at his mouth, Shanks glanced over his shoulder to see you stood in the corner of the room staring at your friend with wide eyes. “You set me up with someone I don’t even know? Are you crazy?!”

“What?” You friend asked with a small shrug, unbothered. “He’s cute in a certain kind of way.”

“So you go out with him then!” You hissed and Shanks held back a chuckle. 

“It wasn’t me he wanted to ask out, not that it matters. It’s a double date, so I’ll be there too if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Th-that doesn’t matter. What possessed you say yes on my behalf and without even talking to me about it first?” You asked, unable to wrap your head around what was thrown at you. You thought you were having a night out with your friend, now you were facing the reality that a date you hadn’t agreed to was on their way. 

“There wasn’t much time. Besides every time I try to set you up with someone you back out. I think this’ll be fun, you need to put yourself out there again.” Your friend assured you with a smile. “Come on, it’s almost time to meet them. You’ll be thanking me tomorrow for this, I just know it.”

“I highly doubt that.” You grumbled, being pulled from the tavern to the meeting spot. You were still not happy that your friend had yet to apologise for all but forcing you into this with no warning. You were so wrapped up your forced date that you failed to notice you’d gotten Shanks’ attention the whole time, his keen gaze following you as you left the tavern against your will. With you gone, Shanks effortless reentered the conversation currently happening at the table like nothing had happened but his curiosity was definitely piqued.

For the next hour he remained at the bar, enjoying the awed stares as the stories were shared and drinks continued to flow. Still though Shanks couldn’t stop thinking about your unhappy expression as you were dragged from the bar. It was so unlike you because anytime he did spot you in his visits here you were always smiling so sweetly. It didn’t sit right with him that you were clearly uncomfortable but who knew? Perhaps the date was actually working out well as your friend had predicted it would. Knowing he couldn’t properly enjoy himself until he had his answer, Shanks got to his feet and lightly clapped Benn on the shoulder. “Going for a change of scenery. Might be back in a bit.”

Used to his Captain’s random whims, Benn merely nodded and waved him off. He’d either see Shanks back here, back on the ship or randomly the next day at some stage depending on what kind of mischief he managed to come across on his solo wandering. Shanks didn’t know exactly where you’d gone for your date but he'd been to the island enough times to know the key spots couples tended to go to-especially for first dates- and headed for those first. The first couple places got him nowhere but the third place he spotted you immediately. Your friend and her date were all but draped over each other while you were the complete opposite to your date. You sat angled in your seat, trying to create space between you and him while he was oblivious and attempting to convince you to come closer.

“Promise I won’t bite, don’t be shy and come closer.”

“I’m happy where I am thanks.” Oh this was painful to watch and Shanks’ eyes narrowed slightly when he saw your date gearing up to press again for you to move closer to him. Immediately he approached, throwing his arm out wide and calling out to you. “Baby, there you are!” You and the others in the building looked his way and when you saw the Emperor’s stare on you, you choked on your drink. No. There was no way he was talking to you and yet here he was, not looking anywhere else but your face. “I was looking everywhere for you. I know I was a little late but that’s no reason to go out with someone else to make me jealous.”

You could only part your lips and try to remember how to speak but nothing coherent was coming to you. All you could really register firmly in your mind was Shanks was in front of you. Your shock only grew when he fell to his knees in front of your seat and took your hand into his. “Please give me another chance. Just say the word and I’ll sweep you off your feet all over again.”  

Shanks gave you a wink that your date couldn’t see, wordlessly telling you to play along. At the prospect of cutting the date short your brain began to function again and you let out a small laugh. “Sweep me off my feet, huh?” You repeated, feeling your nerves settle when Shanks’ strong fingers lightly squeezed yours in reassurance. Feeling stronger you cleared your throat and tried to look convincing enough that the others wouldn’t see through the lie. “I suppose giving you a second chance is the least I could do seeing as you tracked me down.”

Grinning Shanks was on his feet in seconds and in a swift but smooth motion had you lifted onto your feet and effortlessly guiding you outside. “Seriously thank you for that, you’re a life saver.”

“Life saver?” Shanks grinned as you let out a calming breath, leaning against a random building he’d stopped beside. “He that bad?”

“Apart from the backhanded compliments, blatantly eyeing up others, and ordering more drinks before I was finished my first one yeah he was swell.” You sighed. You had a feeling your friend only dragged you along on the date because hers asked if she knew anyone for his friend and it had nothing to do with getting you to ‘put yourself out there.’ Still Shanks didn't need to hear any of that, he’d done his part so you smiled at him once more and moved to walk again. “Thanks again.”

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?” Shanks asked, falling into step beside you but remaining a gentleman by not touching you. Last thing he wanted was to take you from one uncomfortable situation and put you in another. “I promised to sweep you off your feet, remember. That's if you want to?”

“You were serious?” You asked in surprised, looking to see he his expression showed no deception. There was no denying he was a very handsome man and it wasn’t everyday you got an offer of a date with someone like him. “Okay, I did promise you a second chance after all. Sweep away.” Grinning Shanks stepped a little closer and took your hand to lead you somewhere different, glancing at you when you laughed softly. “When you got on your knees back there and pretended to beg for me to take you back I thought you were going to propose.”

“I guess it did look like that.” Shanks agreed with a laugh before offering you a playful smile. “But before we move on to marriage we’ll eat and drink first…then we’ll talk.” 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter

[daggersandarrows]

#Regarding the Lee stuff until someone can say “These are the paragraphs that he plagiarized from” I’m not really getting into that because#at this point any similarities to Flat Earth are murky rather than definitive (others have talked about this so feel free to search for#those posts) but on a general level I guess where I’m at is 1) No work is so good that it justifies carrying on like nothing happened (such#as the GO fans who wanted more nods to the show at the BAFTAs 💀)#and 2) No work is above critique and personally I’ve seen more posts in defense of still liking his art rather than being open to critique#So yes the quality of one’s work is not linked to one’s morality#But considering how many fans just wanted to “separate the art from the artist” so that they can continue posting about their “good art”#I think I’m more tired regarding the excuses than anything else#(although going back to OP’s point I doubt so many people would be entertaining these unconfirmed plagiarism claims back in 2018)#Neil Gaiman#tw neil gaiman

hope you don't mind @thevampireviolet but i wanted to rb again with your tags--also an extremely solid point. tbqh i think the tendency to suddenly focus on the quality of a work post scandal reveals a lot about us/how people think--like, why is it important to talk about this now rather than what the person did? not that people should stop, of course; but as you said, why are people suddenly so defensive of his works now? i see how my original post can come off as hypocritical in this regard but i think my sentiment more or less lines up with yours. i'm just tired of people deciding that the most important thing about persons in a scandal is the quality of work they create, either for the purpose of defending it or defaming it. like on some level; who cares? why are we tying that to what the person did?

wrt the "all of neil gaiman's books are actually stolen and he's lifted every single plot from some other, worthier writer": are we doing this because we actually believe that or are we doing this because we can't accept that bad people could ever make something beautiful or good or inspiring. we have Got to stop. we cannot retroactively sour grapes every single work of art created by every rapist, misogynist, cheater, and liar to exist. fucking stop equating beauty with goodness. austin jones has an incredible voice. austin jones is a horrific person. fucking hold it in your hands and look at it and be uncomfortable with it. beauty is not goodness. beauty is not goodness.

[drdemonprince]

im really envious of u. I like reading your writing and the stories you tell about sex and stuff and it sounds like u have a lot of fun. I don’t no if I will ever be able to live like that. im autistic and very inhibited is probably the best word. I find it hard to meet new people and go new places. a few times I have gone to local munches but been too introverted to say anything to people and I just sit there feeling self conscious and silly. they have been really nice. but I haven’t made any friends or anything. I feel like I need someone to take me under their wing kinda and give me an in. It seems like I’d really enjoy it a lot but don’t no how to make my way in. I don’t feel confident enough to just use apps and hook up. especially as im so new to it all and dont no what im doing really. I’ve read what you say about going to the social gatherings and stuff but what if im too shy to say anything? I don’t no how to be more uninhibited but I feel like that’s what I need.

please keep in mind that I was not doing any of this shit until I was like 32 years old. up until then I was in only a handful of relationships, mostly ones I had stumbled into through no agency of my own, and I had never really lived out any of my kinky desires. hell I had barely even gone out to a club or a concert or anything on my own, certainly not very often, let alone a sex club or something like that. I had to practice socializing on my own terms, and trying new things alone and scared and finding what was valuable in them despite those feelings a lot. like many many years a lot.

I didn't really venture out into the gay bath house or any of the cruising bars until I had a partner who was interested in taking me to them. that provided me with an in and an emotionally safe anchor with which to explore. I am also indebted to friends who showed me around places like steamworks and explained to me the nonverbals of cruising, which I then went ahead and put in my own cruising guide.

to this day I still have a much better time at events like puppy play night when I go with some homies and can spend some time joking around with them and using their support to help meet people before eventually breaking off and wandering into a back room to get laid. I still routinely have nights where I will go out on my own and do very little but sip from my drink and stand around awkwardly for four hours, maybe dance a bit, and go home.

cruising is an exercise in patience. you are never guaranteed any particular outcome or experience. you work with what nature gives you, and you learn to find some appreciation in simply being there and bearing witness. 9 times out of 10 you get turned down or there just isn't a spark. happens on the apps too.

shooting your shot and getting turned down is a successful consent negotiation. everybody has done everything correctly and it ended the only way that it should have. there's nothing to do but dust yourself off, not take it as some dramatic declaration of your life worth, and go at it again.

I recommend visiting cruising spaces with a friend. and just going purely for voyeuristic and anthropological reasons the first couple times. The only way you become a person who can do this stuff is by doing it, a fuck ton of times. message a lot of people. Go to a lot of events.

at some point you have to find the very act of going to be motivating and enjoyable in some way. thankfully I am fascinated by humans, enjoy dancing, like having a little drink or an edible and wandering around, and treat it all as very valuable writing fodder. you have to find what set of motivations work for you. because it's not about instant success or gratification ever. It is always a lot of waiting and watching and wondering what the night is going to bring, and making peace that often it will bring nothing at all except for being alive amongst others.

keep at it though. start really small. I am so glad that I got to this point, because yeah my life is really interesting and sexually gratifying and fun. but it also is entire weekends of just standing around nursing a drink and doing nothing and looking like an NPC. happens to the best of us

[shimmershifts]

how to reality shift

method one: pure awareness

for those who have never heard of it, the state of pure awareness is exactly what it sounds like: pure awareness, detached from the input of your 3D senses, a state where you are no longer grounded to the 3D. this means you will not feel your body, or any surroundings at all. for those who have already heard of it, you may have heard this referred to as "the void state" or "the void", (especially recently,) but i don't like this term as it implies that "the void" is some sort of place that you go to, and it's not. "the void state" is not somewhere you go, it is a state of being and experiencing that you become.

what is the state of pure awareness?

the state of pure awareness is just you. you are your awareness, and the state of pure awareness is just you, without the data and input of your 3rd dimensional senses distracting you.

why does pure awareness help with reality shifting?

when we reality shift, our goal is to find a way to trigger our awareness into a movement in the 4th and 5th dimensional directions. for some, this is easier to do when you are not distracted by the 3D. this isn't because it's impossible to shift while aware of the 3D! on the contrary, lots of people shift while totally awake and aware in the 3D, in either their CR, or their DR, or even both. but for most of us, our awareness is really used to and really comfortable piloting our 3D body here. so perhaps try getting into a state of pure awareness and see if that helps you trigger a shift.

i believe the state of pure awareness is natural, a side effect of the simple fact that the bodies we inhabit are 3D, and our awareness isn't. our awareness is not a 3D object, mass, or body part. you can't point to and say "there it is, that's human awareness." but in our current states, our awareness gets all this input and data about reality from a 3D body.

the reason you see nothing and feel nothing when you're in the state of pure awareness is because when your awareness is not focusing on input from your 3D body, there is nothing for your to "see", "feel" or "hear" and no body for you to see, feel or hear it with. those are 3D concepts, and 3D senses.

how will i know im in the state of pure awareness?

you will have absolutely zero input from your 3D senses. there will be nothing, and yet you will be totally and comfortably aware. that means if your body feels tingly, floaty, dizzy, fuzzy, etc you are not in pure awareness. if you see hallucinations, flashes of light, etc, you are not in pure awareness. if your thoughts are muddled, dreamlike, or confused, you are not in pure awareness. if things change or destabilize into a different dreamlike scene, you are not in pure awareness. if you can feel your 3D body in any way, you are not in pure awareness.

how do i get into the state of pure awareness?

there are many different ways to get into the state of pure awareness. if one way doesn't work for you, please feel free to try another or even make up your own way. now, technically, you don't need a method to do this. because the state of pure awareness is not some place we have to travel to or a locked dungeon we need a secret key to get into... it hypothetically is possible to simply instantly get into the state of pure awareness. ie, to completely let go of 3D distraction, and become pure awareness right now. so, first, i urge you to try it. like, actually. pause your reading, and try to become pure awareness.

did it work?

if yes, congratulations, you've done it! you don't need to read the rest of this, or maybe skip down to the 'troubleshooting' section if you're one of those people who can get into the state of pure awareness but finds they aren't triggered to reality shift from it, and just came back here without being able to shift to your DR.

if it didn't work, do not despair. i think you're fully capable of getting into the state of pure awareness, and it may start to feel more natural and happen with more ease with practice. for now, here are some pointers.

method 1(a)

meditation. don't let that word scare you off! i'm someone with adhd, and ptsd. in my past, meditation was always spoken about or taught to me in a way that was completely ineffectual for me. i thought meditation just didn't work on me. turns out, all i needed was a method that was accessible for me, and for someone to explain what meditation actually is in first place because it turns out, what i was trying to force my mind to do isn't even needed or isn't even what mediation is. so no wonder why it didn't work! i'm planning to make a much longer "how to meditate" series for those who struggle, but for now i'm going to be fairly brief. if it doesn't work, just move on to 1(b), or 1(c) for now.

step one: choose an environment. it's okay if there are distractions, but it may help you to pick the most comfortable environment possible, whatever that means to you. do you want to be alone? outdoors? in the dark? what position do you want to be in? etc.

step two: relax your physical body, if you can. however this might look for you. can't relax? hold space for your body to relax if it can, but don't force it. some people find it easier to physically relax if they first tense up as hard as they can, and then let it go. this is the stage where some choose to focus on their breathing, do a body scan, etc. once you feel you are relaxed enough, turn your attention away from your physical body. note: this does not mean that your physical body has to stop feeling sensations. your nerves and senses will continue to function, because they always do, and that's their job. that's okay. your goal is not to force your body to be numb and comatose because it won't be. if physical sensations come to your awareness, simply acknowledge them and let it pass you by.

step three: relax your mind, if you can. however that might look for you. keep in mind, this does not mean to "clear your mind" in the sense of having no thoughts at all. that's not necessary, and your brain is meant to think. begin to let it do that without you. that's okay. if thoughts come to you, simply acknowledge them and let them pass you by. it may help to focus your awareness on something in your imagination, while you allow your brain to think in the background. common ones are counting, visualizing thinks like smoke, light, or a rhythmic activity like swimming, walking, etc.

at some point during steps two or three, you may start to experience hypnogogic symptoms. they aren't the goal with this method, and you don't need to focus on them. if you feel them, that's okay, just acknowledge the sensations and let them pass.

struggling to let thoughts pass you by? it may help to take a similar approach with your mind as some do with the body, taking the "tense your body and then release to relax". "tense"/focus on each one of your thoughts, acknowledge it, and then let it go. if it helps, try to visualize (or create the idea of) a place to put them. this could mean floating them away into the clouds, placing them into a box, or tossing them off a cliff. whatever you pick, acknowledge you do not need to be aware of that thought or sensation right now, and put it away for later. it may help to visualize putting them all in there, and then closing the box or turning away from wherever you put it.

step four: pure awareness. for this step, i'm gonna ask you to pick one thing to focus on. your mind and body should be relaxed, with no sensations or thoughts distracting you, it's all just passing you by. pick one thing. it could be anything. a mantra (ie, repeating "i am" in your mind) counting, a visualization (a place, maybe an object, or a simple, repeating sensation like the sound of ocean waves or the feeling of breeze on your skin.) whatever it is, turn your full awareness to that. take as long as you need, revisiting steps three and four whenever necessary. is your full awareness on your chosen focus? great, now let it go.

one of two things will happen. either your awareness will let go and you'll become a state of pure awareness, or distractions will spring back up. let them if they do, it's okay. it may take practice, you may have to bring yourself back up and stop for now and try again another time, or you may be able to continue if you go back through steps two and three and make another attempt.

method 1(b)

hypnogogia. some people experience hypnogogia when they meditate, but this is not a meditation method. this method is for those who don't want to meditate but who naturally experience hypnogogia when they're waking up or as they're falling asleep. identify which you experience, and plan to make use of it the next time it happens. you can increase the chances of it occurring very simply, if you're someone this works for.

for as you're falling asleep: every night when you go to sleep, your body and mind fall asleep, and they actually do this separately. the next time you're going to bed, and you'd like to reality shift, just try to keep your mind aware. you don't have to do anything special, you can just let your mind think normally. to avoid falling asleep, just keep your awareness focused, rather than letting it slip away as you would when you are going to sleep. if you need something to help hold your awareness in your mind, try counting, or visualizing, or focusing on one minute sense (ie, the weight of your blankets, or the sound of the refrigerator buzzing from the kitchen.) just let your body fall asleep. you don't have to do anything in particular to let this happen. your body naturally falls asleep every night, just don't get in the way of the process and it'll do the same as it always does. at some point, your mind will still be awake but your body will begin to fall into sleep, and this is when you start to experience symptoms of hypnogogia. lights flashing, hallucinations, fuzzy or tingly sensations, spinning, dizziness, floating, etc.

for as you're waking up: basically the same as above, but do it right after waking up instead. if you struggle with letting your body fall asleep when you first go to bed, this method might help you. right when you wake up, your body is still fully of sleepiness, and it's generally much easier for your body to fall back asleep than it was to fall asleep in the first place. use that, relax, keep your awareness in your mind and wait until the hypnogogia symptoms start. (this one doesn't often work for me because i have ptsd, and when i wake up i often immediately jump into fight or flight mode, totally and instantly awake. if that's you, this might not be the method for you!)

once you're in hypnogogia: there are a few ways you can go about this, and you can try both.

try focusing on the hypnogogic sensations. these are not real 3D senses, and your goal is to get away from the 3D distractions, so chase them. stay in them as long as you can. this technique is kind of like following the white rabbit down into wonderland, except that it's your awareness following strange buzzy sensations and flashing lights out of your body. try this until the 3D completely falls away, and the hypnogogia falls away next, leaving you in the void much like the white rabbit ditched alice when she fell down that hole.

did the hypnogogia not fall away? don't panic, try technique two: manually let go of the hypnogogic sensations. let them pass. actually, avoid them. your arms are tingling? notice it, and shift your awareness away. body spinning? let it go. don't try to focus your awareness on anything, just let things happen while you focus on being aware.

eventually, you should become pure awareness. if you try a few times and can't, this might not be the best method for you. some people are overwhelmed or distracted by symptoms of hypnogogia rather than being able to use it to reach pure awareness. just see what works for you!

method 1(c)

lucid dreams. when you become lucid in a dream, you're almost already in the state of pure awareness. if you know about lucid dreaming, you might understand what i mean. you're lucid, and you're fully detached from the 3D. that's great, that's the pure awareness state, right?..... not quite, because of the "dream" part. in most lucid dreams, there is still that "dreamlike" quality. however, if you're someone who is able to lucid dreams often, and have the skill to stabilize your lucid dream, you can also develop the skill to dismiss the dream entirely. that way, you go from lucid dreaming, to just lucid. (ie, pure awareness.)

i won't go too deep into how to have a lucid dream here because there's so much to say (if anyone requests it, i might make a follow up later about how to lucid dreaming!) but for now, the relevant info is how to stabilize the dream, giving you the ability to dismiss it.

so you're lucid. awesome! now what?

first, perform reality checks to confirm that you are lucid dreaming. poke your finger through your hand. did it go through? you are dreaming. now pinch your nose, and take a deep breath. did you breath? you are dreaming. look for a clock, or create one. look at the time, look away, and look back again. did the time change? you are dreaming. look for a mirror, or create one. look at your reflection. are you dreaming?

continue using reality checks intermittently. i've found that people can be fully lucid, and then forget they're dreaming and lose control.

now to stabilize the dream. first, stabilize yourself. hold up your hands. how many fingers do you have? touch the tip of your index finger to each finger on your other hand as you count them. are there five on each hand? good. now press your hands together, palm to palm, and rub. can you feel it? great! clasp your hands together, intertwining your fingers, and then pull them apart. count your fingers again. still five on each hand? great, you're ready to move on.

now stabilize your surroundings. to do this, use each of your five senses. first, look at something and notice the details. is it colorful? is it clear? now listen. can you hear anything? what about touch, reach out and touch something. hold it in your hand, and focus on keeping it there. smell it, and then taste it. (it sounds weird, but it really helps.)

now practice dream control. that thing in your hands, do you still have it? if not, redo the previous step. if yes, great! now turn it into something else, change the color, or the size. now make your thing disappear, but on purpose. now make something else appear. then make it disappear. do another reality check. do you still have five fingers?

now to dismiss the dream. this might take a few tries, as your brain is dreaming, it will try to add things in, or take you into a new dream. focus on your awareness, and insist on staying aware while the dream disappears. it may seem easier to dismiss things one by one (ie, the walls, the floor, then your body) but in my experience this can make things less stable. try dismissing everything all at once, if you can.

did it work? confirm that you're in the state of pure awareness (see: how will i know i'm in the state of pure awareness? above.) are your thoughts clear, consistent, and in control? are you totally stable, with no risk of waking up or coming out of the state? if not, you may still be dreaming. if you realize you're still dreaming, just let yourself enter a new dream scene and repeat the step above.

what do i do once im in the state of pure awareness? how do i shift?

actually, there's a lot you can do! but this is a reality shifting post, so that's what we'll focus on. once you've confirmed you're in the state of pure awareness, you are no longer aware of any 3D at all. hypothetically, it's just as easy to become aware of your DR from there as it is to become aware of this reality. first, try just doing it. become aware of your DR.

did that work? if not, try some of the tools you'd use to trigger a shift in general, except now you're doing them from the state of pure awareness with zero 3D distractions.

relax. there is absolutely zero rush. time does not pass here the way it does in the 3D. in the 3D, we perceive time as passing linearly, but your awareness is no longer tied to the third dimension. you have no body here, and you are not attached to your 3D brain or mind either. relax in your awareness.

visualize your DR. i think visualization is one of our most powerful tools for reality shifting, and it's even better in the void with no distraction. remember, you don't need to create the whole world with the power of your mind. you're not creating the world, and you're not traveling there. you're already there, you're just becoming aware of it. focus your awareness on small things about your DR. i think it helps to choose a few that feel close, familiar, or very real. where are you? what's your name? what are you going to do next? what are you wearing? what do you always have in your pockets when you leave the house? your favorite piece of jewelry? what does it feel like?

repeat. this could be a mantra, counting, your visualization, whatever, just pick something, if you find that repeating is something that helps you.

now visualize the very moment you want to shift into. use your senses, but don't force yourself to use one that's not coming naturally, ie don't sit there thinking "oh no, now i have to think of something to taste-" let go. you, dear reader who is reading this right now, are you thinking of one thing you can taste? probably not. unless you're eating hot chips. your DR self doesn't have to try to focus on being there, you're just there. so what are you sensing? are you seeing anything? smelling anything? hearing anything? feeling anything? don't create these sensations, or force yourself to feel them, you're in the state of pure awareness and you can't feel anything anyways. just reach for them.

at some point, you should become aware of your DR. in my experience, you don't have to force yourself there and there's no "symptoms" of being about to be there, especially because if you're in the state of pure awareness so there's no 3D sensations at all. it may feel like a "blip" or like a "pull" or a "blink" or like a "shift", and then you're there.

troubleshooting:

i can't get into the state of pure awareness.

don't worry, it's not the only way to reality shift. if 1(b) and 1(c) don't work for you, consider waiting for my meditation guides to be out, or methods 2 and 3, or come up with something all your own. you do not need to get into the state of pure awareness to reality shift, it's just one method that helps some people.

i got into the state of pure awareness, but i didn't shift.

well, there's two possibilities here. either you weren't actually in the state of pure awareness (ie, you accidentally fell asleep, or into a dream, or you were in some other meditative state you mistook for pure awareness).... or you did shift. to here. when you're pure awareness, you're not aware of this 3D reality, so when you became aware of this 3D reality, that was you reality shifting to here. oops! it happens, you can try again. do you remember how it felt when you reality shifted here from pure awareness? what triggered it? see if you can use that, and try to reverse engineer whatever made you become aware of here, to become aware of your DR next time instead.

if it does not work, over and over, then the state of pure awareness may not be what helps trigger you to shift to your DR. try a different method!

ok lovelies that's all for now!

-shimmer

[impish-baby]

Yandere Omega father x beta reader how would you perceive this?

I am thinking..single omega father that is completely out of mind, the only thing he knows for certain is that he loves you more than anything!

You're his gift, his pride and joy, the one blessing he was given out of years of strife

He doesn't mean to make things hard for you, truly, it's just that you're his baby! You shouldn't have to lift a finger around the house, don't worry, dad has it covered (and if you have a tough time getting a starter job because you're embarrassed that you don't know how to do basic tasks, you where silly for wanting to work in the first place)

Dating has been a no-go for him for a very long time, omega father needed all his attention to be on you, it's important for pups to have lots of care! Really, he just despises the idea of anyone else taking on a parental role in your life

If he were to ever start dating again, he's so nitpicky that there's rarely a second date if he even got through the first. He gets so anxious being away, his poor puppy is home by themselves :(( they have to be devested that he isn't there with them, he can just imagine them curled up in his nest waiting for him to get back like a good kid.. (insert shot of reader having the time of their life chugging energy drinks and watching all the movies that were 'too inappropriate'... jk, the weirdo probably has nanny cams everywhere)

He isn't above the worst kinds of manipulation to get you to stay with him

Sobbing, choking on air breakdowns that make you worry to the core.. bawling his eyes out about you not caring about him, hating him (you just wanted to visit a friend)

Escalating, especially if it's about you eventually moving out. He's desperate, fear clawing at his chest as he sobs that he should just die then, that he'll wither away because his precious baby doesn't want their dumb father anymore

Sometimes, the bouts swing into fits of anger that have you crying. He doesn't yell, not really, but who wants the only parent they have telling them that they gave up their entire lives for them and now you're throwing all that away? That it's your fault your dad suffered for years, didn't eat because he had to make sure you did, and here you are walking away like he means nothing to you, ungrateful brat..

He never means it, of course! It's just that.. dad gets really upset when you talk about things of that nature, sweetie, and it is true to an extent that he sacrificed everything for you, weren't you being a little selfish now that you think about it? Come here, he'll dutifully wipe away those yucky tears so you can go cuddle and forget what a stupid thing you said, it's like nothing ever happened! :D

[annoyinglilbro]

Angel who is so dainty and oh so genderless, "I don't do labels" until the demon forcemascs the shit out of him is that anything

They also beat the shit out of each other with flaming swords and twisted daggers because why not

The demon has been watching them for awhile. Everytime he thinks he knows, he doesn’t. The curves are soft, hair short, eyes round and doey. His lips are pouted and chest is flat. Their voice doesn’t give anything away either, and really all the demon wants to know is what’s under that stupid Lacey gown. Ofcourse he isn’t ever expecting the angel to let him see, they’re constantly at each others throats.

“Hey pretty bird, gonna sing a song for me today?” He asks when the angel walks by, only scoffing and rolling their eyes.

“Why would I ever sing for you? You’re not worthy. You’re damned already, there’s nothing I could sing for you.”

Demon Hums but continues his stride by their side. This is routine. He’ll hang around, push some buttons, just enough to watch that face turn red and words turn truely spiteful.

“Give me a chance and I’ll make you sing real pretty for me, doll. Just gotta get you out of those clothes. What’s an angel look like under those wraps anyway?”

The angel pulls their clothes tighter to their body, cheeks heating up a light pink and lips turning to a frown.

“Come on, I’m sure you’re a real pretty girl under there.” The angel glares, making the demon put his hands up in surrender. “Or boy. You’re a real pretty boy, aren’t you?” That gets a different reaction. A spark of something in the angel eyes.

“I’m not a girl or a boy. Angels are genderless, regardless of what’s under our uniforms. We don’t do labels, there’s no need. Sex is a sin.”

“Oh I think you’re wrong there, sweet boy. I think you know you’re a boy but you’re just too scared to say it. Come on, no one else is here. You can say it. You a pretty boy?”

It happens fast. The fist that makes contact with his face, drawing blood from his nose and lip. He’s stood in shock, watching the way the angels lip trembles and their chest heaves.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, pretty boy.” The demon quips, wiping away the stray stream of red with his thumb.

“Stop it. You’ll get me introuble. We’re not supposed to…want those things. Okay? Please for once will you just drop it?”

Ofcourse he doesn’t. He grabs the dainty boy by his arm and drags him into an empty alley. Slams him into a wall and points a silver dagger just under his chin. The Angel looks at him, wide eyed and shivering under his touch.

“Everything’s a sin with you angels, isn’t it? Always denying yourself the simple pleasures. You lot wouldn’t be so stuck up if you just learned to enjoy the little things. Like having your cock played with.” His hand is slipping through the robes, feeling between the angels legs and into his cunt. His fingers dance over his little dick, perked and hidden under the hood. The way the Angel gasps and tries to throw his head back further against the brick wall makes the demon throb in his pants. “There it is. Your pretty little cock, probably so neglected. Tell me do you ever touch it? Ever give it any attention? What do you when you feel that ache between your legs?” His fingers continue working at him the entire time.

“I…I don’t do anything I..I’m not su-supposed to hmmm…”

“Don’t lie to me, Angel. What do you do, really, when your little cock gets hard and your cunt gets all wet.”

The angel bites his lip, looking to the side.

“I…sometimes I’ll rub against m-my pillow…I don’t mean to though! My clit just gets so- ah!!” He’s cut off by a pinch to the sensitive bundle.

“That’s not your clit, baby boy. That’s your cock. You’ll address it as such, cause you’re a pretty boy right? And that’s what boys have, cocks.”

“We’re..we’re not supposed to lean towards either gender- fuck! Please please please!!” Another harsh pinch, fingers that tug. It brings tears to the angels eyes.

“Stop denying yourself. Let it feel good. Let yourself be who you really are. What are you?”

The angel whines, body shaking against the wall and face bright red. His hips have started moving against the hand between his legs.

“I’m..I’m a boy! I’m a boy, I know it. I know I’m a boy, okay? I know I am. But I can’t, you wouldn’t understand! I can’t just be that, okay! I could lose my wings, my halo, I could fall.”

The demon leans in, pointed teeth now against the angels neck.

“I think you’ll find there’s worse things in life than falling. But I get it. That’s fine. How about when it’s just us, you’re a boy? Does that sound good, baby?” He sinks his teeth into the pale skin between his neck and shoulder, marking his claim on the boy.

The angel lets out a choked sob, legs shaking when he cums against the demons fingers. He’s slumped into his body, energy drained and fight gone.

“What could you possibly understand about what I’m going through?” He mumbles, head against the demons shoulder now. The blade is still pressed against his skin but he doesn’t care much for it now. It’s an after thought, an empty threat.

The demon doesn’t say anything, just grabs the angels hand and slides it down his pants. The angel gasps when he feels the familiar slit and button like dick. He leans back to meet his eyes, and the demon just smiles.

“Not all sinners are born this way. Some of us were song birds once too.”

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 7) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc ⌗ wc: 8.5k

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer@bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

The coffee bar in Anfield's canteen was dead quiet this early. Trent scrolled through his latest Instagram post while waiting for his order - just match photos from Plymouth, him celebrating the free kick, that moment during warm-ups he'd already gotten proper stick for.

His notifications were crazy. Everyone from fan pages to gossip blogs reposting and analyzing every detail. DeuxMoi had gone full detective mode:

"SPOTTED: Liverpool's golden boy getting soppy at FA Cup match. Sources say mystery photographer GF has him properly whipped. We're living for this soft era TAA!"

The comments were even worse:

"That 'A' celebration I can't 😭😭" "He's so gone for her" "Who is she?? Drop the skincare routine sis" "Mans really blowing kisses now? She must be something else 👀" "Remember when he tried being posh with that Sophie girl? This feels more real" "She's too alternative for him" "That's our boy growing up 🥺" "Those sunglasses are Prada SS24 collection someone's got TASTE"

Some proper weird ones too: "Step on me queen" "They would make beautiful babies" "I know what she got him doing behind closed doors 😈"

If they only knew.

His coffee arrived just as another blog posted: "TAA's New Romance: From Bad Boy to Soft Boy? A Timeline."

Proper violation, all of it. But he couldn't help grinning at his phone like some teenager.

Even if the Daily Mail's "Liverpool Star TAMED By Photographer?" headline was a bit much.

The training ground was buzzing more than usual. Trent could hear the lads before he even reached the dressing room, all huddled around someone's phone.

"There he is!" Ibou's voice boomed. "Our romantic hero!"

"Seen the Daily Mail?" Darwin waved his phone. "They're calling you 'whipped.'"

"Proper soft lad now," Robbo grinned. "What happened to Mr. Posh London?"

"Better than that Sophie era," Mo said quietly, pulling on his boots. "You seem happier."

That’s because he was happier. Ecstatic even.

The session started intense - Slot had them doing drills that had Trent's legs burning. But the chat wouldn't stop.

"That 'A' celebration though–" Darwin started.

"For Aura," Trent cut in.

"Sure mate," Robbo laughed. "Nothing to do with a certain photographer?"

Even Virgil was smirking now, watching Trent try to focus on his crosses while the lads proper rinsed him.

His phone buzzed in his bag - probably April seeing all this shit online. She'd been finding it funny, all these blogs trying to figure her out. Kept sending him the wildest theories with laughing emojis.

"Oi lover boy!" Slot called out. "Less daydreaming, more crossing!"

The lads actually cheered at that.

Proper long day ahead.

"You know what's mad though?" Darwin said during their water break. "All these blogs thinking they've figured her out. Calling her 'alternative' and that."

"Should see what they're saying on Twitter," Robbo added. "Proper CSI investigation about her style choices."

"Saw one calling her the 'mysterious bad girl photographer who's tamed Liverpool's playboy,'" Curtis scrolled through his phone.

"Playboy?" Now Trent properly laughed. "When was I ever-"

"Remember that time with the London lot?" Joe cut in. "All those posh clubs and that?"

"Rather forget it."

"This is better though, right?" Mo said, that knowing look in his eyes. "Being yourself?"

Before Trent could answer, his phone buzzed.

April: Your mentions are hilarious. April: Apparently I'm a witch who's enchanted you. April: If they only knew my actual methods 😈

"Look at that smile," Darwin crowed. "She's texting you dirty things isn't she?"

"Shut up."

"Back to work!" Slot called out. "Save the romance for after training!"

The lads were never going to let this go. But watching them try to figure April out… entertaining that. Even if half their guesses weren't nearly as wild as the truth.

The tactical session after water break was insane - working on new set piece routines for their next league match. Trent's mind stayed sharp though, even with the lads still taking the piss.

"Maybe we should all get a photographer watching training," Darwin called after Trent placed another perfect cross. "Might play better."

"You'd need one who can handle you lot first," Trent shot back.

"True that," Robbo laughed. "Not everyone tells Nike to fuck off when they don't like the concept."

"Wait what?" Ibou perked up.

"That was her?" Curtis joined in. "The one who binned their campaign?"

Trent just grinned. That was his April alright.

"No wonder she's got standards," Robbo continued. "If she can tell Nike to get bent-"

"Oi!" Slot's voice cut through. "Less gossip, more football!"

But even their gaffer was smirking now. The whole club had gone proper soft over this thing with April.

His phone buzzed again in his bag.

"Don't even think about checking that," Virgil called out, but he was grinning too. "Save it for after training."

Violation, all of them.

But Trent couldn't stop smiling either.

Slot ended training with shooting drills - competitive stuff that had everyone trying to outdo each other. Trent's deliveries were getting sharper each time, like he'd unlocked some new level of precision.

"Ready for Everton then?" Virgil asked as they headed in.

"More than."

"Bringing April?"

"If I earn it."

That made Virgil pause halfway through taking off his boots. "If you what?"

But Trent was already heading for the showers, pretending he hadn't heard. Some things were better left unexplained to his captain.

His phone lit up as he was getting dressed - April had sent through a video. Just three seconds of her at some photoshoot, directing some poor player. But the way she was giving those commands…..

"Your face has gone red," Curtis noted. "She sending you work stuff or 'work stuff'?"

"Shut up."

But his hands were already fumbling with his keys.

"Tell her thanks by the way!" Robbo called after him. "Your crosses are ten times better when she's got you trained– I mean focused!"

The lads' laughter followed him out to his car.

The drive to April's studio felt longer than usual. She'd taken over some massive space in the Baltic Triangle for her latest athlete series - proper artsy setup that had Tyler excited about brand possibilities.

His phone buzzed at a red light.

April: Glad training went well.

April: Those commands really working for you, aren't they?

His collar felt tight suddenly. She was never going to let him live down how well he responded to orders, was she?

The studio door was open when he arrived, music drifting out - some jazz thing she always played during shoots. He found her behind her massive camera, directing some rugby player into position.

"Chin up," she commanded, and Trent's stomach actually flipped. "Little to the left."

The rugby lad - a real massive unit - followed every instruction perfectly. Made Trent feel slightly better about how quickly he'd fallen into taking April's orders.

"We're done," she announced finally. "My assistant will sort the rest."

The way she said 'done' had Trent's skin tingling. Because that tone meant–

"Ready for your private session?" She turned those eyes on him. "Got some new directions to try out."

Fucking hell.

The rugby player gave him an odd look as he left, probably wondering why Liverpool's right back was blushing in a photography studio.

If he only knew.

April locked the studio door with that click that always made his stomach flip. Her assistant had scampered off too - probably used to these "private sessions" by now.

"So," she turned to face him, all business suddenly. "That free kick technique."

Not what he was expecting. "What?"

"The way you looked up at me before taking it." She moved closer, professional photographer face on but something else in her eyes. "Want to analyze that focus of yours."

"Thought this was a private session?"

"It is." Her smile turned dangerous. "I'm studying your form."

She had him sit in one of her fancy studio chairs, then started circling him slowly. Proper predator mode now.

"You see," she continued, voice dropping lower, "there's something fascinating about the way you respond to... direction."

His collar felt too tight again.

"That look up to the stands," her fingers traced his jaw. "Seeking permission almost."

"I wasn't–"

"Don't lie." Not a suggestion. "We both know exactly what you were doing."

Fuck.

"Now then," she moved behind him, hands on his shoulders. "Let's see how well you follow instructions when there's no crowd watching."

His breath actually caught.

"Color?"

"Green," he managed. "So green."

"Strip to your boxers," she commanded, suddenly all business again. "Want to see those muscles that had everyone at training impressed today."

The studio air was cool against his skin as he complied. April's eyes tracked every movement like she was composing shots in her head.

"Good boy." She circled him again. "Now, about that celebration..."

"For Aura–"

"Don't lie to your dom." Her nails traced his shoulders. "That 'A' wasn't just for your niece, was it?"

His face heated. "No ma'am."

"Mmm." She moved to her camera setup. "The whole world trying to figure out who's got Liverpool's golden boy making love declarations during matches."

"Wasn't a love–"

"On your knees."

His body responded before his brain could catch up.

"That's better." She adjusted her lens. "We’re going to see if you can be a good boy when there's a camera involved."

Fucking hell.

"Going to document that focus of yours," she continued, that photographer's precision mixing with her dom voice. "Show you exactly what you look like when you're being good for me."

The camera clicked.

This was going to be an interesting session. Though these definitely weren't the kind of shots Tyler had in mind for his brand deals.

April reached for her hair, pulling it free from that complicated bun. Her curls cascaded down, longer than when they'd first met. Something about them drove him mental - wild and untamed, just like her.

She shed her clothes with that same grace she did everything, down to matching black underwear. The camera clicker in her hand made his heart skip - professional and dom all at once.

Beautiful didn't cover it. She was art herself, the kind that belonged in galleries.

April moved toward him like she had all the time in the world, each step calculated to drive him mad. When she straddled his lap, his hands found her waist automatically.

"Kiss me." Her eyes locked with his, command clear.

He obeyed instantly because that's what good boys did. The kiss was electric - all the tension from their public teasing finally breaking. Camera flashes caught the moment in his peripheral vision, but he was lost in her - the taste of her lipstick, the soft sighs she made.

Then she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"Hands behind your back," she murmured against his lips. Even her softest commands had him obeying instantly.

The camera clicked again, catching him looking up at her like she hung the moon. Which she probably had, knowing April.

Her curls fell around them like a curtain as she kissed along his jaw, following the path to his ear. "Such a good boy for me."

His whole body shuddered at the praise.

"Though that celebration..." She pulled back, studying his face. "Very bold of you. Making the whole world wonder."

"Wasn't thinking straight."

"No?" Her smile turned wicked. "Too focused on impressing me?"

"Always."

The admission made her eyes darken. Another click of the camera.

"My good boy," she whispered, fingers tracing his muscles. "So eager to show everyone who you belong to."

His hands twitched behind his back, desperate to touch her curls, to pull her closer. But he stayed still because that's what she wanted.

"Color?"

"Green, ma'am. Still green."

The camera caught that moment too - him properly gone for her, following her every command.

"Tell me what you were thinking," she said, rolling her hips slightly. "When you looked up at me before that free kick."

His brain wasn't working proper now, not with her moving like that. "Just... wanted to make you proud."

Click. The camera catching his confession.

"And were you thinking about your reward?" Her lips brushed his ear. "About what good boys get?"

"Yes ma'am."

Her curls tickled his chest as she moved to his neck, finding the spot that always made him weak. The same spot she'd marked before Plymouth.

"Should I mark you again?" Her teeth grazed his skin. "Give everyone something new to speculate about?"

His "please" came out embarrassingly needy.

Click. Another photo of him falling apart for her.

"Such pretty begging." She pulled back to study his face. "But I think..." her smile turned dangerous. "I think we need to work on your control first."

His hands were shaking behind his back now.

"After all," she continued, "can't have you getting distracted during matches just because I'm watching."

Jesus Christ.

"Stand up," she commanded suddenly, sliding off his lap. "Against that wall."

His legs were shaking as he obeyed, back pressed against the exposed brick. April watched him move, that photographer's eye mixed with something darker.

The clicker still dangled from her wrist as she approached. Her curls were proper wild now, matching the look in her eyes.

"Beautiful," she murmured, more to herself than him. Like she was composing the perfect shot in her head. "Now stay still."

Click. Him pressed against her studio wall, looking at her like she was everything.

She traced the muscles in his chest, following the path down to his abs. Each touch deliberate, calculated to drive him mental.

"The whole world thinks they know what we do," she said softly. "All those blogs speculating..."

Click. His reaction to her words, to her touch.

"If they only knew..." Her nails scraped lightly across his skin. "How perfectly you submit."

His head fell back against the wall, overwhelmed.

"Look at me."

His eyes snapped to hers instantly.

"Good boy." She smiled that smile that meant trouble.

The camera definitely caught everything - every command, every reaction, every moment he fell deeper under her spell.

Her lips found his again, deep and demanding, each kiss punctuated by the camera's click as it captured their profiles - her curls falling around them, his hands still obediently at his sides. One last perfect shot.

Finally, she pulled away to head to her set-up. The sound of the camera powering down felt like permission to breathe. She set the clicker aside, each movement calculated.

April moved back over to him, smile wide and genuine as her fingers traced his cropped hair. Different April now - still commanding but with something else mixed in.

"You've been so good," she murmured. "Time for your reward."

His whole body went hot at her tone.

Trent’s breath hitched as April stepped back, her gaze never leaving his as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. The straps slid down her arms, and the black lace hit the floor, leaving her bare under the soft glow of the studio lights. His hands twitched at his sides, the urge to touch her damn near unbearable, but he stayed put. He knew better than to move without her say-so.

Her panties followed next, a slow, deliberate slide down the curve of her hips. Then, with a tilt of her head, she gestured toward him. "Take off your boxers."

Trent obeyed without hesitation, pushing them down in one smooth motion. His dick stood hard and aching, but April didn’t reach for it. Instead, she ran a single finger down his chest, tracing over the ridges of his abs, lower and lower, before stopping just short of where he wanted her most.

She smirked. "You were so good for me earlier," she mused, tilting her head. "It’s only right I take care of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, muscles tensing as she gave him a slow once-over. The way she looked at him — like he was something to be studied, savored — made his pulse race.

Then, without another word, April placed a hand on his chest and pushed him to the left. Trent let her guide him until the back of his knees met the cool leather of the chaise nearby, his body sprawled under her gaze.

She moved between his legs, climbing onto the seat with the same grace and precision she brought to everything she did. Then, with that same teasing smirk, she lifted one knee and settled herself above him.

His eyes darkened as the realization sank in. "Yeah?" His voice was rough, hopeful.

April hummed, running her fingers through his short curls before gripping them tight. "Yeah," she confirmed, shifting forward until her thighs framed his face. "This is your reward."

Trent didn’t need to be told twice.

His hands, finally free to move, gripped the backs of her thighs, pulling her fully onto his mouth. April gasped, her head falling back as his tongue flicked against her clit, slow and precise. He was a menace — taking his time, making her feel every deliberate movement.

"You taste so fucking good, ma’am," he murmured, voice muffled against her skin. His hands squeezed, fingers digging into her ass as he pulled her closer, deeper until she was grinding on his face. April barely had time to catch her breath before he doubled down, tongue slipping lower to her hole before working its way back up, circling, teasing.

Her nails raked over his scalp, her grip tightening as she rocked against his mouth. "Just like that," she panted, legs trembling as heat coiled deep in her stomach. "Don’t stop."

Like hell he would.

Trent groaned against her, the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her spine. His grip tightened, his movements growing hungrier, sloppier. His nose pressed against her folds, his tongue relentless as his senses grew drunk on her scent, her taste, her sounds.

April swore, her thighs clamping around his head as she rode out the waves crashing through her. Trent didn’t let up — not even as her body shuddered, not even as she whimpered from the overstimulation, not until he caught every drop she was giving him.

His tongue slowed, softening, easing her down from the high. When she finally lifted herself off him, her body still buzzing, she took a moment to exhale.

Trent wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. "Best reward ever, ma’am."

April laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his slick lips. "You earned it."

*******************************************************

They got dressed slowly, April's curls even wilder now as she pulled them back into some semblance of order.

"Come here," she called him over to her massive computer screen. "Want to show you something."

The photos loaded up - proper artistic color shots that looked like they belonged in some fancy magazine. Him looking up at her with complete devotion, her curls creating shadows across his chest, their profiles caught in perfect contrast.

"These are…" He couldn't find the words.

"Better than those boring brand shots Tyler keeps pushing?" She scrolled through more - each one like a Calvin Klein ad but more intimate somehow. More real.

Some were proper hot - the kind that would never see daylight. But others… the way she'd captured them together. Like proper art.

"Your face here," she pointed to one where he was gazing up at her. "That's what I want to capture in our next shoot."

"That look's just for you though."

She turned to him, smile soft. "I know. These private ones stay private. But that intensity…" Her fingers traced his jaw. "That devotion. That's what sells."

He looked back at the screen - at himself completely under her spell, at her looking like some kind of goddess.

Maybe Tyler was onto something with these photoshoots after all.

"You hungry?" The words came out weirdly nervous, considering what they'd just been doing.

April's eyebrow arched at his tone. "If you want me to sleepover, then just say that."

His brain properly short-circuited. This wasn't how it usually worked. April was all about earning rewards, about proving himself worthy of her time. Not just...

"You're still on a reward," she said, like she could read his confusion. That smirk playing at her lips.

"Still?" He couldn't hide his shock.

"I mean unless you–"

"No, no, great." The words tumbled out too fast, making her laugh.

Mental how she could still surprise him like this. One minute proper dom photographer, next offering to stay over like it was nothing.

Though based on her smile, this extended reward probably came with its own set of commands.

"Need to stop at my hotel first," she said, gathering her things. "Get clothes."

"Could always wear mine again." The memory of her in his jersey at Plymouth made his stomach flip.

"Bold of you to assume you've earned that privilege." But she was smiling as they made their way out of the studio. "Besides, Marcel's seen enough of our dynamic for one lifetime."

True that. His brother was probably still traumatized from their last encounter.

April's Ferrari purred to life outside the studio. "Meet me at the Hope Street Hotel then? Unless..." that dangerous smile again. "You want to ride with me?"

The last time she'd driven him anywhere, he'd nearly lost his mind. Something about her controlling the wheel, deciding their speed, choosing when to make him grip his seat...

"I'll follow."

Her laugh echoed across the car park. "Smart boy. Don't want you too worked up before dinner."

The drive to Hope Street had him thinking about how different things were now. Over a month ago he was trying to be some posh London footballer for Sophie. Now he was following a photographer who'd changed his whole life, ready to do whatever she commanded.

Morning light caught the silk of April's bonnet, making her look angelic as she slept. Mad that - considering what she'd done to him last night. His body was still tingling from her rewards, but it was this moment that had him grinning like some teenager.

Thank fuck Marcel had been out when they got back. The sounds she'd pulled from him would've scarred his brother for life. Though the best part came after - April letting him be soft, cuddling into her like some touch-starved puppy.

Dead embarrassing how much he loved that part. The mighty TAA, Liverpool's right back, turning into a cuddle monster the second April opened her arms. But something about being held by her... it was like his brain finally shut up. No Arsenal thoughts, no pressure, no expectations. Just her curls tickling his face (before the bonnet went on) and her heartbeat under his ear.

Mental that really - how someone who could have him begging one minute could make him feel this peaceful the next. Like some kind of mad anxiety medicine, but one that also happened to be the sexiest woman he'd ever seen.

She stirred slightly, those long eyelashes fluttering. Even half asleep she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Proper gone for her, wasn't he?

But watching her sleep in his bed, wearing nothing but that bonnet and a satisfied smile... he couldn't bring himself to care how whipped he looked. Some things were worth looking soft for.

"You're being a weirdo," she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Not a weirdo. You're just beautiful."

That got a laugh out of her. She stretched, all languid grace like some expensive cat, before turning those eyes on him. Her fingers found the strings of his durag, playing with them absently.

"We're so Black," she said, properly giggling now.

"What?"

She gestured between them - her in her silk bonnet, him in his durag. "Look at us."

"Ah... we are." He couldn't help grinning too.

Her fingers traced his features next, lingering on his cheekbones before finding his lips. They were still swollen from last night's activities.

"You really like the taste of me, huh?"

"I love the taste of you." The words came instant, honest. Maybe too honest for this early, but he didn't care.

And he did - everything about April Tanisha-Marley Goodplenty was addictive. Her skin, her essence, just... her. Like some drug he never wanted to quit.

The way she looked at him then - soft but still with that edge that drove him mental. Like she could read every thought in his head and liked what she saw.

Proper gone for her didn't even cover it anymore.

"M'goin' to make breakfast," he said, watching her stretch again. "If you're hungry."

That got her attention - dom mode flickering across her face even as she looked surprised. "You can cook?"

"Just breakfast," he mumbled, feeling proper shy suddenly. Like he hadn't had his face between her legs hours ago.

She propped herself up on an elbow, watching him slip out of bed. His boxers and sweats were somewhere on the floor where she'd thrown them last night.

"Plantains or no plantains?" he asked, pulling them on.

Her eyebrows shot up, properly impressed now. "Yuh nah real Jamaican if yuh nuh eat plantain."

His whole face lit up at her patois, grinning like he'd scored at Anfield. "Mi proper Jamaican, seen?"

The way she looked at him then - mix of dom and something softer. Like he'd surprised her in the best way.

He leaned over the bed to kiss her, tasting morning and last night and something that was just April.

The kitchen was calling though. Time to show her what else this scouse-yardie could do.

His gran would be proper proud, using her recipe to impress a girl. Though maybe not this specific situation.

His massive kitchen felt different this morning — warmer somehow with April padding down behind him. She'd nicked one of his training tops, the fabric falling to mid-thigh. Still had that bonnet on though.

"Proper chef's kitchen this," she said, hopping onto his counter like she owned it. Her legs dangling as she watched him move around the space.

He pulled out the plantains he always kept stocked - some things you just didn't forget from childhood. Proper ripe ones too, black spots all over like his gran taught him.

"Look who's prepared," April's voice had that dom edge creeping back. Like she was proud of him even for this.

His hands moved on autopilot - slicing plantains at an angle, getting the oil right. Years of watching his dad and gran in the kitchen coming back.

"You're actually decent at this," she observed, stealing a piece of raw plantain. "Full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Got many talents me."

"Oh?" That dangerous smile. "Like what you did with your tongue last night?"

He nearly dropped the spatula. Even after everything, she could still make him blush.

"Careful now," she laughed. "Don't want you burnin' my breakfast."

The way she matched his accent, teasing but fond... crazy how she could switch from dom to playful so quick.

But watching her steal more plantain pieces, looking cozy in his kitchen... Yeah, he could get used to this.

"Callaloo in the fridge an' all," he said, pulling out the tin. Not as good as fresh, but it'd do.

"Saltfish too?" April looked really impressed now.

"Course." He was already soaking the fish from last night - some things you learned to prep ahead.

Her eyes lit up watching him work - seasoning the callaloo just right, getting the saltfish ready. Even had some hard dough bread in the freezer.

"Festival?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah, that's pushin' it. Can't have everything."

"Uncultured."

But she was grinning, still perched on his counter like some queen overseeing her domain. The kitchen smelled homey now - plantains frying, callaloo steaming, that specific scent that reminded him of Sunday mornings at his gran's.

"Johnny cakes instead?" he offered.

"Now you're just showing off."

He was though - wanting to prove something about their shared culture maybe. Like yeah, he might be a scouse footballer living in this massive house, but he knew where he came from.

"Your dad teach you all this?"

"Gran mostly. Proper strict about keeping traditions."

April's smile went soft. "Mine too. Used to make me help in the kitchen every weekend."

Mental how something as simple as breakfast could feel this intimate. But watching her steal another piece of plantain, looking at him like he'd done something special just by remembering their roots...

Yeah, this was more than just cooking.

"Rice and peas though," April said, watching him work. "Your gran make it with coconut milk or just water?"

"Coconut milk. What you take me for?"

They went through their list - proper Jamaican food chat. Jerk chicken debates (April swore by Boston Bay style), ackee and saltfish preferences (they both agreed it had to have the right amount of peppers), patty loyalties (he was Tastee ride or die, she claimed Juici was better).

"Curry goat's the best though," Trent said, plating up their breakfast.

"Oxtail."

"Nah, you're wrong."

"Excuse me?" That dom eyebrow went up. "Want to rethink that statement?"

"Even with all due respect, ma'am," he grinned, "curry goat's clear."

April actually rolled her eyes. "Your taste is questionable. Like your crossing sometimes."

"Oi!"

But she was laughing now, proper genuine. Something about her sitting cross-legged on his counter, arguing about food in his training top... it felt right.

"Maybe I'll have to cook for you," she said suddenly. "Show you how oxtail's supposed to taste."

His brain properly short-circuited. April "I don't cook for no man" Goodplenty offering to make him food?

"That good last night, was I?"

Her smile turned wicked. "Guess that tongue's useful for something after all."

Still mental how she could switch from soft to sexy that quick. But watching her steal more plantain off his plate, looking at him like he'd done something special...

Yeah, he'd put that tongue to work any time if it meant more mornings like this.

*****************************************************

Perfect Tuesday this - just him and April chilling between rounds of her having him begging. Crazy that she was his girlfriend now. Like yeah, there were contracts and commands and rewards, but there was also this - her curled into his side on the massive sofa, some Netflix thing playing that neither of them was properly watching.

They'd finally put clothes on after spending most of the day naked. Him in his Nike tracksuit, her in this crop top and leggings combo that had him thinking about starting another round. The way those curves looked in that fabric should be illegal really.

Girlfriend. The word still felt new in his head. Different from the dom/sub thing but connected somehow. Like April had found a way to own every part of him, not just the bits that liked following orders.

The front door clicking open broke through his thoughts. Marcel appeared, took one look at them cuddled up, and pulled a face.

"You two decent this time?"

"Shut up," Trent threw a cushion at him.

"Just checking!" Marcel dodged it easily. "Heard enough last night before I had to leave again."

April just smiled that dom smile of hers. "You're welcome."

"Violation, the pair of you," Marcel muttered, but he was grinning. "Just keep it down yeah? These walls aren't that thick."

"No promises," April said sweetly, making both brothers choke.

Watching her wind up his brother while practically sitting in his lap was perfect - she fit right in.

"There's leftovers in the fridge!" April called out to Marcel as he sauntered off.

The excited "YES!" that came from the kitchen told them he'd found the plantains and saltfish. Trent shot April a look - she was playing house now?

"Fix your face," she said, but her eyes were dancing.

He couldn't help grinning, turning back to whatever was on TV. Mental how domestic this felt.

Marcel appeared again, plate in hand, still chewing. "April, you're welcome here anytime if you're cooking like this. Tastes just like Gran's."

"Actually," April's smile went wicked, "Trent made it."

The way Marcel's eyebrow shot up had Trent bracing himself. He knew that look - his brother was about to be starting shit.

"You're cooking now?" Marcel's voice went high with glee.

"Marcel–"

"You're cooking for a woman?"

Trent ran a hand down his face. Trust his little brother to take it there.

"Mar–"

"I'm telling mum and Ty!" Marcel was practically bouncing. "Holy shit, Trent is really whipped!"

He disappeared, probably running off to violate Trent in the family group chat like the snitch he was.

"You do like to be whipped though." April's voice was pure innocence.

He turned to stare at her.

"What?" She patted his cheek affectionately, laughing. "You do. It's okay to like it, baby."

Fucking hell. The way she could just say shit like that, looking all sweet while properly violating him...

She was the maddest woman he'd ever met.

And he was gone for it.

The Merseyside Derby was always mental, but this was taking the piss. Trent sat on the bench, working the massage gun on his dodgy hamstring, watching Everton park the bus like they were defending the fucking Alamo.

17-1-6 formation. Proper embarrassing that.

When Beto scored in the 11th minute, the Everton crowd lost it. Five minutes felt like forever until Mac equalized, shutting them up.

Then it all kicked off.

Doucoure went in on Curtis like he had a personal vendetta. Nasty challenge that had everyone losing their heads. Before Trent could even process it, both teams were in each other's faces, testosterone going mental.

He was up and in the mix before his brain caught up - hamstring forgotten because that was his teammate getting proper violated. His family.

The whole thing was dead embarrassing really. Grown men squaring up like it was closing time at Liverpool ONE. And April was up there watching all this nonsense from the family box.

Some welcome to her first Merseyside Derby this.

"Sit down!" Slot bellowed at him. "Your hamstring!"

But how could he sit when Curtis was getting targeted like that? When Everton was trying their usual shithouse tactics?

Proper violation, all of it.

And his girlfriend was watching him hobble around on the sidelines like some PE teacher trying to break up a playground fight.

Not exactly the impression he was trying to make.

The second half kicked off with Mo doing what Mo does - a worldie that had the away end going mental. But then Tarkowski equalized and everything went to shit…..again.

CuJo and Doucoure were at it once more - something about a tackle being "too rough." Proper rich coming from Doucoure who'd been trying to end careers all match.

Red cards for both of them.

Slot lost it completely - arms going everywhere like one of them inflatable things outside car dealerships. The fourth official didn't rate it though.

Red card for the gaffer too.

What the actual fuck was this match?

By full time, Trent's hamstring was screaming from all the times he'd jumped up to get involved. 2-2 draw felt like a violation after all that drama.

The away dressing room was dead silent until Virgil stood up. Their captain looked proper fuming.

"What the fuck was that?" His voice was scary calm. "Acting like children out there. All of you."

No one dared speak. Even Mo was studying his boots.

"Derby or not, we're Liverpool Football Club. We don't lose our heads like that."

Trent caught Curtis's eye across the room. Both of them proper chastised.

"Sort yourselves out. Because that..." Virgil shook his head. "That was embarrassing."

He wasn't wrong. And somewhere upstairs, April had watched that whole circus.

A long night ahead explaining this one.

The shower room was tense - everyone still processing Virgil's words and that match. Trent's hamstring was giving him grief from all the times he'd jumped up during the chaos. Stupid that, making it worse when he was supposed to be resting.

"Your girl's waiting outside," Robbo grinned as he left, hair still damp from the shower.

The lads all turned to stare at Trent, who was trying to get his tracksuit on without aggravating his hamstring more. The way they were smirking, you'd think they hadn't just got bollocked by their captain.

April was indeed waiting, looking editorial even in casual clothes, that fucking lollipop in her mouth again. The way she was working it had him forgetting about his hamstring for a second. But the second she saw him...

"Yuh mad or wha?" Her patois came out sharp. "Jumpin' round like pickney when yuh hamstring mash up?"

Something about her telling him off in patois was doing things to his head. Shouldn't be hot, but it was. The way her accent got stronger when she was vexed.

"Yuh supposed to rest, but no. Had to play big man." Her voice was eerily calm, which somehow made it worse. "Now di injury worse dan before. Like yuh nuh have sense."

Then Virgil walked out, followed by Mo and Ibou, and April switched up so fast it gave Trent whiplash. Her whole face brightened, voice going sweet as anything. That dom energy vanishing like it was never there.

"Hi boys!" Like she hadn't just been scalding him in Jamaican. Like she hadn't been ready to give him the telling off of his life.

The way she smiled at Virgil had Trent confused - especially when his captain smiled back, all that locker room fury gone. Gone where? What was this?

"Take care of this one," Virgil said as April hugged him goodbye. Then, in what he thought was a whisper but Trent definitely heard: "Don't punish him too harsh."

Trent's eyes went proper wide. What the actual fuck? Since when did his captain know about...

April just rolled her eyes at Virgil's comment, but there was something there - like they shared some secret Trent wasn't in on. Some inside joke he wasn't part of.

After the others left, Trent just stood there, brain trying to process what he'd just witnessed. His captain and his dom having some sort of understanding? About punishment?

"What the actual fuck was that?"

April just popped the lollipop back in her mouth, smirking. "Get in the car. We need to discuss your behavior."

Proper mad, this woman. The way she could switch between personas like that - angry Jamaican girlfriend to sweet WAG to dom in the space of minutes.

But watching her walk ahead of him, already planning whatever punishment she had in mind... yeah, he was even more gone for her now.

Though he really needed to figure out what was going on with Virgil.

A lad stopped them before they reached the Ferrari - a young guy with a Liverpool jersey and phone ready.

"Trent mate! Could I get a quick photo?"

His hamstring was screaming and April's punishment was waiting, but some things you just did. Proper part of the job.

"Your girlfriend's proper fit," the lad said as Trent signed his jersey. Then, with that dumb confidence only certain men had: "If you don't treat her right, I will."

Trent's jaw clenched, but April's hand was already on his chest. Looked sweet to anyone watching, but he could feel the warning in her touch.

"That's sweet," she said, voice dripping honey but eyes pure danger. "But I'm good where I am. Besides…" her smile went sharp. "You couldn't handle me."

The lad actually brightened at that, like the melt he was. Nudged Trent's shoulder with a grin. "Mate, keep this one yeah?"

Yeah, I'm trying to, Trent thought, watching April walk ahead to the car.

If only this muppet knew exactly what "handling" April meant. Man probably couldn't last five minutes following her commands.

But watching her slide into the driver's seat, that dom energy already creeping back…

Yeah, he'd keep her alright. If she let him.

Trent winced putting his duffel in the trunk, hamstring proper giving him grief now, then slid into the passenger's side. The stadium lights were fading behind them as April's Ferrari purred to life, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel like she was composing her thoughts.

"I really don't like seeing you hobble around when you're not at one hundred percent," she started as they pulled out of the lot. Liverpool's nighttime traffic moved around them, street lights and shop fronts painting shadows across her face, making her look even more intimidating somehow. The lollipop was gone now, but her lips still looked red from it.

"But CuJo-"

"Don't interrupt me."

"Yes, ma'am."

She was calmer now though, voice less sharp as she drove. The Ferrari handled like it was made for her, just like everything else in her life. "You weren't being a good boy. Not thinking things through. Though…" her tone softened slightly. "I understand wanting to help Curtis. That match was a proper clusterfuck."

"Tell me about it."

"And Slot getting a red? Who does that? In a derby of all matches?"

"Refs must've been on Everton's payroll."

"Wouldn't put it past them. That whole match was a circus."

The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the engine's purr and distant city noise. Trent couldn't help himself though - that interaction outside the dressing room was doing his head in. "So… that thing with Virgil…"

"Jealous?" Her smile was knowing, catching the glow of passing headlights.

"No," he said too quickly. But he was though - what kind of secret understanding did they have? What inside joke was he missing?

"He's a cool person," she said like she was reading his mind again. "And his wife is very cool."

The way she emphasized 'very' made his ears perk up. Something about her tone… Wait…

"April…" He squinted at her profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights.

"Yes, baby?" So casual as she took a turn, the Ferrari handling like an extension of her will.

"What is going on?"

Her chuckle was dark, echoing in the car's intimate space. "With what, baby? Speak plainly."

Fine. "Did you know Virgil before-" he gestured between them, at this thing they had become.

"Nope, never met him before our arrangement." She drove in silence for a few seconds, the city moving past their windows. "But… I had my… uh, let's call them 'dom senses' I guess, about Virgil. And I met his wife and my senses were right. As usual."

What the actual fuck? Was she saying his captain-

"My guess is he's a switch, given his wife's… tendencies. She's very assertive, isn't she? Very sure of herself, takes lead… remind you of someone?"

Holy shit.

His captain's wife was literally April.

"No fucking way." He scoffed. Not Virgil. Not his massive, intimidating captain. The man who'd just been properly bollocking them in the dressing room.

"The evidence is there, baby." Her smile was pure evil now, reflected in the windscreen. "Makes sense to me because a dom/dom together could never work, but a dom/switch… oh yes…"

His brain was properly broken now. His captain… his massive, intimidating captain…

Every interaction they'd had lately started replaying in his head. The knowing looks, the comments about April being "good for him," that whispered line about punishment…

His brain was still trying to catch up as they drove through his neighborhood. Like one of those videos where someone points out something obvious and suddenly you can't unsee it.

Virgil and his wife. All those "yes dear" moments at team gatherings. The way she'd give him that look and he'd just… comply. Everyone just thought it was normal marriage stuff, but now…

"How did I not see it before?" The words came out without permission.

April's laugh was knowing. "Because you weren't looking for it. But think about it - the way he leads on the pitch but follows her lead at home. How he can switch between commanding the team and taking direction."

Fucking hell. Even the word 'switch' hit different now.

"Those training sessions where he's proper strict…" Trent's mind was racing. "Then at dinner parties he's all 'whatever you say, love.'"

"Starting to get it now?"

All those times Virgil had seemed to understand about him and April. The comments about her being good for him. That knowing look when April commanded attention in a room.

His captain was a switch. His massive, intimidating, tattooed, throw-you-under-the-bus-in-training captain liked being told what to do by his wife.

God, he didn't know if he could ever look at him the same ever again.

"Your face right now," April was proper enjoying this. "Processing that your big strong captain isn't always in charge?"

"This is…" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"Welcome to the lifestyle, baby." Her hand found his thigh. "There's a lot you haven't noticed yet."

His head snapped toward her. "What else?"

But that smile just turned wicked as she drove on.

Proper violation, this woman. Always keeping him guessing.

Their conversation about Virgil had him so fucked up he barely noticed they'd reached his place until April was punching in his gate code. Mental that - how naturally she did it now, like she'd been doing it forever.

The Ferrari's headlights swept across his massive house as she pulled into the drive. Everything looked proper quiet - no lights on inside. Marcel must be out again.

The engine died, leaving them in this weird silence. April's hand moved to his thigh, thumb making these small circles that had his brain short-circuiting between thoughts of Virgil's apparent submissive side and what punishment she had planned for his match behavior.

"Still processing?" Her voice was pure amusement.

"Can't believe I never noticed."

"You'll start seeing it everywhere now." She turned to face him, and even in the dark her eyes had that dangerous glint. "But right now… we need to discuss your hamstring situation."

The way she said 'discuss' made his stomach flip.

"Inside." Not a suggestion. "We have things to sort out."

His hamstring might be fucked, but he'd never moved faster.

******************************************************

The PT's hands were working his hamstring while Trent scrolled through Instagram, trying not to wince. Someone had actually managed to film April going off on him in patois outside the dressing room - proper HD quality too. His face in it was embarrassing, looking at her like she hung the moon even while she was telling him off.

The comments were going proper mental:

"Mi nuh see no chancla but bro ducking like his Jamaican mom bout to launch one 😭" "Every yardie watching this having war flashbacks" "He's looking at her like 'yes mommy sorry mommy' 💀" "That's a proper Liverpool relationship if I ever saw one" "Scouse man getting checked by his girl, nothing new here" "Someone tell her to yell at me next PLEASE" "TAA found his match finally" "The way he's just accepting the cussing 😂" "No English subtitles needed, that tone is universal" "My Jamaican gran watching this like 'she too soft with him'"

Then there were the confused ones: "What language is this???" "Is he okay? She seems aggressive" "Someone translate please!"

The Liverpool fans were having a proper field day: "Local lad gets proper telling off, tale as old as time" "That's how we show love on Merseyside" "Only in Liverpool do we call this romance 😍"

Last night's punishment hadn't been too harsh - his hamstring saved him from anything physical, but having to write "I will make responsible decisions while injured" one hundred times like some naughty schoolboy… proper humiliating that. April had sat there watching him write each line, making him start over if his handwriting got sloppy.

Though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it a bit. Something about her overseeing his punishment, being strict but caring…

The PT room door opened and Trent nearly dropped his phone. Virgil walked in, all captain's presence, and everything got awkward.

How do you look your captain in the eye after finding out he might be a switch? After realizing all those "yes dear" moments had deeper meaning? After understanding why he always seemed to get April's commands?

"Hamstring okay?" Virgil asked, casual as anything. Like he hadn't whispered about punishments to April last night.

"Yeah…" Trent's voice came out weird. "Just… getting treatment."

"April sort you out last night?"

The knowing look in Virgil's eye had Trent wanting to disappear into the massage table. Every interaction they'd ever had was replaying in his head now, filtered through this new understanding.

"Nothing too harsh I hope?" Virgil continued, and Trent could swear he was enjoying this. "Given the injury."

"Just… lines."

"Ah." That knowing smile again. "Classic."

Proper violation, this whole situation. His captain giving him that look, probably thinking about his own experiences with discipline…

Nope. Not going there. Some things you just didn't need to know about your captain.

"Lines are better than what my wi-" Virgil caught himself, clearing his throat. "Than what you probably expected."

Trent's brain properly short-circuited. Was his captain actually about to share…?

"Listen," Virgil sat on the treatment table next to him, voice going quieter. "About last night…"

"We don't have to-"

"No, we do." Captain voice now. "Because you're looking at me like I've grown two heads and we need to sort this."

The PT had mysteriously disappeared, probably sensing this wasn't for their ears.

"April told you, didn't she?" Virgil wasn't really asking. "About her… suspicions?" Trent nodded, not trusting his voice. "Good. Then we can skip the awkward bit." Virgil actually grinned. "Because watching you try to process this is painful."

"But you're…" Trent gestured vaguely at all of Virgil. "You know. You."

"And? Dom at work, different at home. You telling me you don't understand that now?"

Well fuck. When he put it like that…

"Just…" Virgil stood up, back to captain mode. "Don't let it affect things on the pitch. What we do in private is private."

"Yes cap- sir- uh…"

Virgil's laugh echoed through the PT room. "Now you're just taking the piss."

But something had shifted between them. Some new understanding that went beyond captain and player.

"Oh, and Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Lines are just the start mate. Trust me."

Fucking hell.

Trent sat there for a second after Virgil left, still feeling like his brain was running five minutes behind the conversation.

Lines are just the start, mate. Trust me.

Trust him?

He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. How the fuck was he supposed to process all of that? Virgil — his captain, his mentor — had just casually confirmed what April had suspected, and now, apparently, they shared... what? An understanding? Some secret code of conduct?

Trent wasn’t even sure how to feel about it, except he knew his brain was running through the last twenty-four hours on a loop, connecting things that he probably wouldn’t have noticed before. The way Virgil handled things. The quiet control. The way people listened to him without question. The way he never raised his voice, never needed to.

Dom at work, different at home.

The words settled in his gut, heavy but not unwelcome. If he’d had any doubts before, they were gone now.

A slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips. April was going to lose her mind when he told her.

Speaking of…

His phone buzzed on the table next to him.

April: You alive? Or did Virgil eat you alive for breakfast?

Trent: Debatable.

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, disappearing just as fast.

April: Need me to come kiss it better?

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Trent: You just wanna know what he said.

April: ...Maybe.

Yeah, she was going to eat this up.

Trent stretched his arms over his head, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. His muscles ached still, but under it was something else, something looser. Like he’d passed some weird initiation he hadn’t even known he was part of.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Come home and tell me everything.

His dick twitched in his shorts. Jesus, this woman.

Trent: You’re actually evil.

April: And yet you love it.

She had him there.

He grabbed his things and headed out, already thinking of the things he could get her back for when he got home.

Maybe he'd make her beg for it this time, as if she'd ever let him, of course.

..............tbd

[kyouka-supremacy]

How do you think the fight is going to happen if between Atsushi and Akutugawa if Akutugawa actually lost his memories?

Also what do you think Atsushi will feel about his memory loss (if it actually sticks)?

Now, premising this by saying I don't think Akutagawa will permanently lose his memories at all– although it's a nice concept to explore outside of the canon manga.

“The fight”, you mean the after-six-months fight? I don't think there'll be any fight if Akutagawa has definitely lost his memories. I mean: it's mainly Akutagawa who, at least verbally, is so fixated on fighting and killing Atsushi. I don't think Atsushi ever wished to kill Akutagawa. Although, nothing of that matters, because he's not Akutagawa anymore, you know? He's not the Akutagawa Atsushi knows, and holds those complicated feelings for. I don't think everything we know about Atsushi's feelings for Akutagawa should count anymore, since Akutagawa is now a different person. At least that's how I see it??

Overall, Atsushi wouldn't uphold the deal against Akutagawa when Akutagawa doesn't even remember making it. Atsushi is not interested in fighting– definitely not against this Akutagawa.

I like to think Atsushi would be friends with the new Akutagawa. I believe it'd be a very bittersweet experience for him; I think he'd regret a lot of things. At this point Atsushi must... Like Akutagawa, to some extent– he died for him. He can't not be grateful for that. He probably sees Akutagawa under a new light now, and maybe, now that he's come to understand there was light within him too, regrets not having tried to know him better while he could. So I can see Atsushi being compassionate to the new Akutagawa in ways he never was with his Akutagawa. Although, I don't see Atsushi ever loving the new Akutagawa romantically... For how I interpret sskk, Atsushi realized he loved Akutagawa the moment he saw him die (that is, the moment he realized Akutagawa was human). That was the Akutagawa he loved, and now he's dead, died for him. I believe Atsushi would be too haunted by his dead Akutagawa to love the new one.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Hi Clementine! I found your Jade fic because Sol reblogged it and adytshrgeutrdjghvkguftyfdhgfd)tfhgvjgv!!!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗 Oh my gosh!! It was just absolutely perfect and I am in love with your writing now!!! 💙💙💙💙💙 Jade is already one of my favorite Twisted Wonderland characters and for you to write something so amazing - like I can’t even right now. This is perfect, you are amazing, and I love you so much for writing such an incredible story with Jade and posting it on here. Thank you so much!

Ahhhhh!! I'm screaming! Thank you for all the compliments! I always love specific ones lol

I looooove Sol too. She's amazing. I've been in her dms talking and discussing ideas. She's helped me a lot

I'm so glad you like my writing! This fanfic for Jade was really fun. I wasn't expecting it to become so good either, but here we are. I love to write stuff in canon, so expect to see more of that

Because you left so much love in my inbox, I'll disclose what I've been working on recently. It brings me joy when I give people some teasers lol... I also have no idea who your fav characters are, so i have no idea if this will interest you. Disclaimer: this is all WIPs, so things are subjected to change lol

I've been writing the "Overblot Slap -- Vil x Reader." That one is going to be a hit. Many people liked my theory if you just slapped Vil, he probably wouldn't overblot, so I'm making it into a fanfic. It will probably end up being 12k too if not a little more. It goes from Vil's "overblot prevention" to marriage, like Jade's

I have it all lined out. However, I'm still talking to @solxamber about Vil's characterization in terms of the man learning emotional processing. I feel like that would be really hard for him because it's not he usually does. It's hard to break habits, but Vil is nothing if not determined.

Like the Jade x Reader fanfic, it has a good variety of scenes and feelings. This one is more fluff, feel good, and wholesome. Unfortunately, no spice scene... so far at least. It doesn't seem necessary. However, there are some huge comedy elements. The Reader is bold as always and occassionally sassy.

I will disclose a little tiny, tiny teaser to get people hyped:

It's a wild move to stomp up to an almost overblotting Vil, slap him, and then say, "Yeah, you're ugly. You've been acting ugly for awhile now. You almost committed murder because of your stupid ego and inferiority complex. Not everything's about you. You don't get to decide you've lost when you haven't even performed. You're shirking your responsibilities as the team leader."

I read that and kinda lose my mind because what a power move. Again, Reader is bold and so done lol

It's so nice to see Vil so happy in this too. The progression is endearing to watch

We got a Rook x Observant Reader. I'm still playing around with it. I'm not sure how their relationship will play out. I have the first meeting and then Reader semi-catching Rook spying on them. It's more like "oh, i'll investigate where I think he was and check for anything that would indicate he was here." Then they realize that might be intimidating or threatening to someone who wants to stay hidden, so they just kinda apologize to air, knowing Rook is somewhere in the area lol

However, it's unclear where I go after that. I know that Vil's going to a problem. It's Chapter 5. What do you expect?

I'd like to write something with Azul (the man was so funny in the Jade x Reader). I'm not 100% how that will look. I have an idea that might turn into a series. Idk if I'm going to fully commit. Basically take characters realizing their sentient and they're kinda in a game. They kinda get one of those isekai systems where it's like "don't let the Reader know you're sentient and you can earn points." So they get to know Reader that way. Then maybe they're about to die and so Azul pulls them into Twisted Wonderland. That's really the only way I can think of a romance happening with Azul.

As someone so guarded and assuming everyone has ulterior motives, I feel like if Azul would be hard to get to. If didn't have the security of like "oh this person doesn't know i can hear them. Therefore, they will just say their true feelings about me because they don't have a reason not to," then it would be a lot harder

This concept would also be fun for an Idia x Reader. The whole "oh my god, i'm in a game" moment is great. He make so many fun anime trope references and whatnot. He's also so sassy and sarcastic. I haven't written for him before but this seems hilarious to me. I can envision it now.

Technically, I think all the overblot students could have a concept like this. Maybe everyone honestly.

This was also inspired by my reaction to Octavinelle revealing Jamil as the mastermind behind the chaos or whatever. I remember screaming in outrage when Jamil hypnotized Azul. Then the cheer that went up after the twist happened was so loud. So I thought it would be funny if Azul could hear the Reader during that section. He doesn't have anyone like that in game, so I thought I would give it to him