#people are allowed to feel how they want to feel about me on a personal level

[snailune]

Here's how I've planned to help myself with this in the new year.

I'm not, you know, any person of real authority on anything this covers, but maybe my plans could help you. I don't believe there is ever an expiration on getting yourself back, or making a new self from the old.

1. Acknowledging why you became a ghost is important in treating yourself like a person. From what I've seen, it's more common to have multiple issues than just one when it comes to losing or not knowing yourself. It's more likely been something that has served you at some point that isn't anymore, or went too far, or something out of your immediate control. Acknowledging this is the first step to understanding that you are not a permeable thing, that cause and effect happen to you. If you've lost enough to believe that the things you do have no effect on the world, the first step in getting that sense back is this.

2. Are you safe? Judge whether you are materially unsafe from expressing yourself in any way that could come up. If you are, you might not be able to do everything in it's full capacity, but you will be able to tear down some constructs in your own head to be more yourself. You can still do something. It's important to note that you'll probably feel the urge to hide away or suppress things when you first start expressing yourself, but that is a bit different than being unsafe.

3. Stop the urge to hide all of your dislikes from yourself and start small. Allow yourself to dislike something (a food, maybe?) and don't try to force your will to be tolerant of it, even if you don't express that dislike to other people yet.

4. If you're transgender, and have the will and means to, transition. Pick out a name and only use it to refer to yourself when thinking. Ask trusted friends to call you something different to test it out. If you're questioning, allow yourself to think about how you want to be perceived without the fear of someone reaching in and judging you for them. There is no thought you can be punished for. Of course, you can do bigger things, like starting medically transitioning if you want (and that is encouraged), but you can start small if it's scary, too. I don't think there's one thing on this list that has worked better for me than medically and socially transitioning.

5. Look back on what you liked as a child and try it out again. Not everything will be winners, there's some things that were just better in the past than now, but you might rekindle something that is near to you enough to call a personality trait, too. If you don't have any memory of the things you liked in your youth, it's the perfect time to explore things, especially if they're hobbies that everyone else has seemed to be doing since childhood.

6. Be more social, and/or ask your friends to reassure you that they know you. Talking to people in any capacity can help make yourself feel more like a real person if you connect at all. If you have trusted friends, ask them if they'd list some traits about you that they know of. Help establish a foundation of moving around in the world.

7. Take special notice in the little things you like. I just realized I like cut up raw veggies instead of a lot of Actual prepared dishes. Thinking of this as a fun journey rather than something someone should have figured out about themselves years ago makes it easier.

These are in essence my resolutions for the new year. If you are also going through something similar, we are in this together! Good luck to you, I hope you find joy, happiness, and contentment.

oooohhhh ok. the more you deny yourself the more you lose yourself

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 5

authors note: it's been so long. omg. i'm sorry. thank you to my bestie @prettypynklemonade for essentially making me update this 😭

masterlist

words: 6.7k

**gif by @dejameflorecer

warnings: some fluff, roman being possessive/borderline stalkerish, and smut

It’s just a date. Just a low, non-commitment type of date. 

At least, that’s what Solana keeps trying to tell herself. Keeps trying to remind herself. Keyword being trying, because of course, she decided to go the route of self-sabotage and self-harm by keying in Rhea on just what’s been going on, and more specifically, who she’s going on said date with.

“Are you out of your fawking mind?” Solana sighs while Kayden does her eyeshadow for her. 

The shorter woman snorts, working to blend in the crease color. “Well, that went as expected."

“Is this a joke? It has to be a joke?” She walks over to the two women, her tall presence alone demanding their attention. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

Kayden bites on her lip. “I—I don’t think it’s a joke.”

Solana sighs. “Rhea—”

“Sola.” Nothing about her voice indicates anything about what she’s about to say is going to be nice. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s just a date, Rhea.”

“Yeah, with Roman fawking Reigns.” Solana winces at the disgust imbued in his name. “He’s a sociopath. Why the hell would you even want to go out with someone like that?”

“He’s not….” Solana stops, unsure of how to word it. “I think there’s more to him than people realize.”

“Yeah, more evil,” Rhea harshly rebuffs. “Whatever you think you see in him, I promise, is an act. If he’s being nice to you, it’s only because he wants to fuck you.”

Another wince from Solana as Rhea more or less reiterates what Kayden first hypothesized when Solana confided in her best friend about the man. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kayden speaks up, turning to Rhea. “Regardless of how we may feel, Solana is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“This isn’t a decision. It’s a big ass mistake.” Rhea’s gazes soften for the first time, her tone almost pleading. “Solana, please don’t do this. You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and Roman Reigns is the exact kind of person who would hurt you.”

It’s strange. Just a month ago, Solana would 100% agree. Would not even be in this situation, because she would have found a way to cut Roman off, get away from him, even if it meant leaving town for a little while.

But, that was before she got to know him. Well, as much as one can get to know a mafia head who seems insistent on making her his, not excluding breaking into her home to ask her out on a date.

Solana is especially happy she decided to leave that part out of the story.

“It’s just a date,” is the final answer she settles on, not missing the disappointment in Rhea’s pretty blue eyes. “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

It’s definitely not the answer her friend was looking for, and Rhea doesn’t hesitate to make her disagreement known. As well as her boundaries.

“Well, I don’t want him here. This is your home, but it’s ours too,” she gestures between herself and Kayden. “And if you want to play with fire, I don’t want the flames anywhere near us.”

It’s a bit hurtful but fair. Solana nods. “I understand.”

She can’t allow herself to think about how the flames have already entered their humble abode, partially because of Roman’s lack of boundaries, but mostly because she’s continued to allow the lack of said boundaries.

Rhea’s gaze is assessing. “Your family doesn’t know, do they?” Intended as a question. Comes out as a statement.

Solana’s answer is quiet. “No.” 

Another pointed look. “I wonder why that is.”

“Okay,” Kayden cuts in, nervous chuckling a contrast to the tension building. “Obviously, we don’t necessarily agree with Solana’s actions, but again, we listen and we don’t judge.” 

Rhea scoffs. “Speak for your fucking self.” She kicks off the door, turning to leave when Solana calls her name. A blown out breath followed by her turning around. “Yeah?”

It feels wrong to ask, but Solana doesn’t have much of a choice. “Please…..please don’t say anything to anyone.”

A small smile sets on Rhea’s face, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “You know, Sola, the fact that you even have to ask me that should tell you how fucked up this is.” The smile is wiped away, replaced with the disappointment. “Don’t worry. I have zero desire to tell anyone about this.”

—------

“You wanted to see me?”

Roman lifts his eyes from the contracts laid out in front of him. Right away, he can see his sister is annoyed. Unsurprising. Rosalia looks and is irritable on a daily basis, but considering her activewear, he’d bet she’s even more irked with him because he’s interrupted her training.

Slamming the door behind her, she walks in and props down on the sofa closest to said door. “It better be worth my fucking time, too.”

Her comment doesn’t bother him. Roman sits back in the chair, responding in a calm but steel voice, “I’m gonna right to the chase.”

She glares. “As you should.”

Roman’s smile is small and wry. “You’re interfering in my personal business, Rosie.” The smile is dropped. “You know I don’t like that shit.”

Rolling her eyes, his twin couldn’t be more unbothered. “You mind telling me what the fuck you’re talking about? Not that I care, but—”

“I know you said something to Solana,” he interrupts, gaze cutting. “Something that upset her.” Something that made her try to push him away, and that’s the part that really pisses him off. 

His words seem to trigger something for his sister. “That little girl from the fight?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “She’s even more sensitive than I thought.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth.” Rosalia’s response is nonchalant as she casually admires her nails. “Just reminded her that she isn’t any different than your other hoes—”

Roman looks away, rolling his neck, doing his best to remind himself that Rosalia is his sister. She’s family. His response to her can’t be like it would to anyone else in this moment, where he’d already have pulled out his gun and lodged a bullet in their head.

He has to be…..mindful.

Running his hand through his beard, Roman manages a curt response. “Do me and yourself a favor, and stop fucking talking.” Because the more she does, the harder it will be to control his brewing temper. “Stay the fuck away from Solana.”

If he didn’t have her attention before, he most definitely has it now. “Excuse me? I don’t give a fuck about any of your little whores—”

He slams his fist on the desk, unable to taper his temper. “Call her out her name one more fucking time, Rosalia.”

His twin, however, is unbothered. Her eyes narrowing, assessing, studying. “Careful, brother, your feelings are showing.” Roman says nothing as his sister leans forward, head tilted. “You actually like this girl, don’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t answer the question, either. “As I said, my personal life is none of your fucking business.” 

Not answering the question is a bit of a necessity, because he doesn’t really know how to answer it. Saying he likes Solana feels a bit too much. He’s intrigued by her, massively so, intensely attracted to her and fantasizes about the day he can fuck her senseless. However, all of that can be true along with the fact that he doesn’t actually care about or like her.

Again, it’s just the intrigue of it all. She’s the first of many, many, women he’s entertained over the years that hasn’t fallen at his feet. Who he is, the power he holds, and the wealth he possesses doesn’t make her bat an eye. None of that means anything to her. In fact, she’s most definitely the first woman he’s had to pursue in his over thirty years on this earth, and while that may seem irksome and not worth it for most women, Solana is different. He doesn’t know how, but it and she just is. Hence him needing to put his sister in her place before she fucks up just whatever this is.

“And I as I told you, I don’t give a fuck about your personal life and who you decide to fuck. She was just there, and I told her the truth. Not my fault she couldn’t fucking handle it.”

“Rosalia.” He closes his eyes, that damn temptation to snap on her at an all time high. He’d never hit his sister, not unless they were training together, but he certainly isn’t above cussing her ass out and screaming at her. Right or not. “I’m only going to say it once. Leave Solana alone.”

His twin matches, meets, and maintains the stare-off. Sibling against sibling. Alpha vs Alpha. Naturally, she is the first to walk away, not back down. Never that. Just recognizes it isn’t worth it.

“Whatever.” She dismisses, standing up, hands on her hip. “Anything else you need to waste my time with?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning on her heel. “Didn’t think so.”

Anyone else would receive a much different response, especially as his sister slams the door, but as already stated, this is his sister. Rosalia drives him insane, but he loves her. It’s always been the two of them, and it always will be. Immediate family, at least. He just needed to establish some boundaries with her, and that’s been done. Should she decide to test them and test him, well, he’ll cross that bridge if and when they get there.

He doesn’t have time to focus on that. 

He’s got a date tonight to focus on. 

—--------

“Oh my gosh…..”

Solana has been on her fair share of dates. Most of which take place at a restaurant, from regular ole Red Lobster to restaurants with names so foreign and fancy that she can’t pronounce. Though the latter only happened once, and it was a disaster, resulting in her sneaking out halfway through the date.

But this, standing on the dock in front of the most stunning yacht she’s ever seen, she's certain that this takes the cake.

Solana is prompted by security to move so they can escort her onto said yacht, and she's so consumed by taking in everything majestic around her that she ends up completely oblivious to when she’s taken directly in front of the man himself.

Roman

He’s dressed appropriately given the setting and weather. Nice, short sleeved beige shirt with khaki shorts and matching shoes. Expensive watch on his wrist. Gold chain around his neck. Smoldering gaze on her, drinking her in from the bottom of her heels to the top of her head where her hair is pulled up in a nice updo.

He licks his lips. “Gotta admit, I was hoping you’d wear red.”

She refuses to tell him she considered it. “I—I like pink.”

He makes a sound and offers his hand. Solana takes a second to accept it, gasping quietly when he tugs her closer. “I like it.” His eyes flicker with something. “I think I’d like you better in nothing instead though.”

Solana tenses, hating the way she’s hit with something other than discomfort and is immensely grateful when he smiles. “Relax, sweetheart.” He starts to guide her behind him to where she realizes a table is set up for them, a romantic, beautiful dinner. “I’m a man of my word.” Solana tries not to think too much of him pulling out her chair for her. “I said no touching.”

Damn.

Embarrassment fills her at such a betraying thought, because why should she feel disappointed at that? 

Roman sits across from her, staring almost. “God, you are breathtaking.”

It’s hard not to look away when God Himself bestows such a compliment. “Thank you.” And she means it, something warm and almost comforting brewing in her belly, replacing the abundance of nerves. “You—you look handsome.”

He always looks handsome though. 

And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it. “Thank you.” His gaze is studying, as he admits, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Curious, she asks, “what would have happened if I didn’t?”

His smile is cheeky. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

She does. Solana knows this man would welcome himself into her home once more. Into her bedroom. And potentially, into her.

Thus, her showing up tonight truly was for the best, and the more she sits across from him, dialogue easy amongst them, something tells it was also the right thing to do.

Solana glances around, suddenly unnerved by him looking at her so much. It’s equally unsettling as it is flattering. “This is beautiful. You—you rented it out for us for tonight?”

He smiles again, but it’s more amusing than anything. “I own it.”

Her eyes widen. “You own it?”

“Bought it for tonight,” he answers, making her eyes widen even more as he reaches for the bottle of wine, popping it open and starting to pour some in her glass followed by his.

“Wait, you bought a yacht for our date?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “An actual yacht?”

“Pretty sure I answered that already.”

“Roman, that’s…..” She trails off, unsure just what to say and make of that. “We—we could have went to a restaurant or something.” Solana would have preferred that over him spending an obscene amount of money for just one night.

He shrugs. “You said you wanted something private.”

“Restaurants have private rooms, Roman.”

His voice is dangerously calm and smooth. “But not a private bedroom.”

Oh, Jesus.

Solana shifts in her chair, looking away as he chuckles. “Are you always this wound up?”

“I’m not wound up” she replies, feeling an unfamiliar amount of defensiveness. “It’s just….you’re very bold.” And, you don’t take no for an answer.

“I see something I want, and I go for it.” Is his simple reply as he picks invisible lint off his shirt. “That’s extended to people as well.” 

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Eager for a changing of subjects, she’s about to inquire about when the waiter—or whomever—will arrive when he takes her for yet another loop. “So, I was looking at your Instagram—”

“My Instagram?” She doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s hard not to. “H—how?” A valid question considering her page is private, and it’s been a couple weeks since she accepted any follow requests.

“I told you already. When I want something, I get it.” His answer objectively makes no sense but somehow answers her question. “I didn’t read your bio. Just looked at your pictures.”

Swallowing, she finds herself asking, curious almost, “and?”

His brow lifts, matching her curiosity. “And?”

Unsure why she's suddenly so nervous, Solana clears her throat, asking, “what did you think?”

The delay with his answer is the farthest thing from helpful with her anxiety. “I think there’s a lot more to you, Solana Miller, than I initially realized.”

Another almost vague answer that has her sitting forward in her seat, asking almost desperately, “is—is that a good or bad thing?”

The smile returns, and for the first time tonight, it doesn’t seem or even feel like there’s something underneath it. Just a genuine, authentic smile. 

“Tell me the more, and I’ll let you know.”

Solana chews on the inside of her cheek, not wanting to mess up her lipstick by biting down on her bottom lip. "What do you want to know?" 

His answer is instantaneous this round. "Everything."

It’s such a broad response, and off the top of her head, Solana is struggling to recall her posts. She’s shared photos of herself, obviously. Photos with friends and family. Photos of her bookstore and hobbies that include cooking, books, bible journaling, and even her horse, Rainbow. 

But, all of that seems too much to dump on a man for the first date.

Maybe the last.

Thus, her settling on sticking with the major things. 

"There's not much to me,” she answers with a shrug, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. “I'm....I'm an RN, but I've been on sabbatical for almost two years now. I—" There's a type of sadness that bleeds into her voice. "I was working in the ER, but the things I saw...." She shakes her head. "I just needed a break, needed to not be surrounded by so much death.” An honest, truthful, almost vulnerable thing she’s grateful Roman doesn’t press her on despite the absolute intrigue in his expression as she shares pieces of herself. 

A small smile falling on her face, she continues. “I've always found an escape in books and writing. Another passion I share with my mom, and we opened the bookstore and that....that's been it."

She’s not sure what she expected him to follow up with, but his question certainly isn’t it. "Does she work there with you?"

Ignoring the almost warmth that fills her at such an innocent, kind question, Solana shakes her head, "No, she's a cardiologist over at Central hospital." For whatever reason, even though he most definitely did not ask, Solana finds herself providing additional, unasked information, "she was a nurse back in Mexico, but when she married my dad and moved to the states, she went back to school and got her MD."

He sits forward, elbows on the table. "Did you ever want to do the same? Be a doctor?"

"I did, but...." Solana leans back in her seat, shrugging. "I was a gifted kid. I did all honors classes and a running start program, so when I graduated at 18, I already had my associates and was only in undergrad for 2 years. Did an accelerated program to get my RN, and by 20, I just felt burnt out from it all. I needed a break from school. Then I needed a break from nursing, and now I'm just....trying to enjoy the quiet."

An ironic thing considering there's nothing quiet about the man sitting across from her. 

It’s what causes her to ask, voice soft, "Roman....what do you want from me?" 

Because this can’t keep going on without her knowing just where they’re going. She needs some guidance, some insight into where his head is. Outside of the sexual aspect of this all. 

That part is very clear.

Roman seems to really sit and mull over her question, his handsome face shifting into something serious and genuine. "Not sure, but I'm intrigued by you, and that doesn't happen. Ever. So, I want to see where this goes."

It’s an answer, so she can respect that much. But, the fact that specificity is lacking in his response bothers her. What about her intrigues him? Is it the fact that he’s been able to initiate some type of intimacy both times they’ve been alone? Does she seem easy to him? Because, if that’s the case, the line in the sand needs to be drawn here and now. 

“Roman.” Solana is the one to take her time in figuring just how to word this. "You should know that I—I meant it when I said I'm not like that. I don't—I don't sleep around." Or at all, but he doesn't need to know that. Something tells her Roman knowing she's a virgin will only increase whatever interest he has in her. And, not in a good way. "I don't—”

His response arrives right away. “I know you don’t, and if that was what I was wanting, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Something tells her he’s being honest. If actual, full on sex is what he was after, he certainly wouldn’t be with her right now.

And it’s his honesty that creates that bridge for her. “Roman, I know we’ve….done things.” More him doing all the things to her. “But, I mean it. I—I don’t want to have sex with you.” And before he can press her, inquire just what and why, she explains, “sex means something to me. It’s not just a thing you do. It’s a bond and connection, and I only want that with someone I have a bond and connection with.” And, I don’t with you. 

Might not ever.

“I’m fine with….other things.” She doesn’t feel the need to elaborate on that. He should know exactly what the ‘other things’ are. “But….penetration is where I draw the line.” And just where the next quiet part comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue. But, she says it, and she says it loud enough for him to hear, whether intentional or not. “For now.”

It’s a stupid additive. One that makes his brow lift and Solana swallow. If she didn’t give up her virginity to her fiancé of all people, what chance does Roman have? It doesn’t even make any sense. He’s the last person she can see herself going that far with.

“For now….” And of course he settles on that part. Solana hates herself right about now. “I don’t really agree with you. On sex, I mean. We clearly have very different views on that, but regardless, I respect it. I will respect it.”

Oh.

That….that’s not exactly what she was expecting. 

At all.

“So what…what does that mean?”

Because now she’s even more confused than before. Because she was convinced the minute she made it clear she has no intentions on sleeping with Roman tonight, or any other night, he’d shut the shit down. Would pull away. 

That’s clearly not what's happening though. 

Roman’s answer is clear, concise, and assertive. “It means that doesn’t change what I said earlier.” He reaches his hand across the table, turning hers over, fingers tracing her palm. “I’m still intrigued and still want to see where this goes.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on each word that leaves his mouth, trying her best to process it. All of it.

What the hell is even going on? How did she end up in this position? Roman represents everything she hates about the world she was born into. People like him are the reason she’s done her best to stay away and keep her distance. 

And now, as Rhea pointed out, she’s playing with the fire God himself.

Yet there’s been zero effort on her part to extinguish the flames.

Even as they threaten to lap and consume her.

—--------

For all intents and purposes, dinner is enjoyable and not just the meal itself. Conversation between herself and the Head of the Table is normal, casual, their banter almost something natural and organic. 

And she finds herself just as interested in him as he is in her. Finds herself asking more questions about him, wanting to know more about the man who seems to not exactly be what she always thought him to be. 

Like the fact that he can cook. Or rather, claims that he can. Or that he makes an effort every Sunday to watch football with his cousins, his “best friends” as he calls them. Or even his interest in photography he shares with her, even a couple photos from his phone.

And with each tidbit shared, the normalization deepens. Roman feels less and less like a thing and more and more like a person.

The staff have just cleared the tables, Solana wiping her mouth when he asks, “where do you want to go for the next date?”

For the twentieth time tonight, she’s taken off guard. “Next date?” The small smile on her face betrays her as she teases him almost, “who said I agreed to one?”

Roman chuckles, once again reaching for her hand, holding it this time. “You did the second you stepped foot on this boat.” Her stomach drops, chest tightening for reasons unknown. “Agreed to this.”

Her heartbeat is in the danger zone as she asks in a low voice, “and what is this?”

He doesn’t skip a beat or take his eyes off her, answering so confidently, “us.”

Us

Solana is a mess. What the hell has she gotten herself into?

Shifting, she moves into a new space of trying to set more ground rules with the man who has her questioning almost everything she thought she knew about herself. “Roman, there’s no—”

“Come here.” 

Two words. So simple. Also challenging.

“Roman….”

He sits back in his chair, legs spreading just enough. “Solana, come here.”

Here would be his lap. Here would be a place that she absolutely should not be. But, it’s also the exact place she finds herself moving towards. Barely in front of him, Roman doesn’t hesitate to yank her down on his lap. She’s sideways, face angled down at him, hands on his shoulders. 

"Let me help you understand." Roman’s fingers dance up the spine of her back, adjusting her position on his lap, Solana having to ignore the sizable bulge underneath pressing into her ass. 

Why is he hard?

An unspoken question that’s drowned out by the alluring sound of his deep voice. "You're with me now. That means if someone looks at you, I'll kill them." His hand eventually moves to the side of her breast, applying just the lightest pressure, but enough to have her squeezing his thigh. "If they breathe too hard around you, I'll kill them." Solana has to bite on her bottom lip to retain what's bound to be a moan when he slides his hand to the front of her body, fingertips massaging her exposed skin through the cutouts of her skimpy dress. "And if they try to fucking touch you, they'll wish I had killed them when all is said and done." 

Completely stunned, she isn’t sure how to respond to that. Isn't sure what to say. Her response is truly something that spills out her mouth….”you’re crazy.”

Roman, however, just chuckles. “I’ve been called much worse, sweetheart.” He then sits up a bit, her eyes closing as he ghosts his lips over her shoulder. “Regardless, you still came tonight, stayed, and now you’re sitting on my lap. You know why?” Solana gasps when he moves his hand between her legs. “Because you like this shit. You like how I make you feel. All flustered and discombobulated.” She swallows, and he hums against her, asking, “wanna know how I know?” He easily slides his fingers past her soaked panties, grazing her wet pussy lips and lifting his hand to show her the proof of her body betraying her. 

Roman presents the undeniable evidence. “This is how.” And if the situation wasn’t already erotic enough, Solana can barely contain herself on his lap when he sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking each off.

Her stomach is caving and twisting and doing all sorts of things. “Roman…” 

This.  All of this is the exact reason why Solana has wanted to stay far away from this life. Has wanted nothing to do with the mafia world. The violence. The carnage. The mayhem. And yet, her thighs press together at Roman's oath and his carnal act for reasons she can't decipher.

His gaze drops to her legs, and she curses inwardly. Once again, her reaction to him is out and in the open. 

Roman smirks. "You're touch deprived...." His assessment is embarrassingly accurate. It's gross how Roman's inherently innocent touches seem to evoke more from her than her hand ever could. "I can't wait to fix that."

Solana swallows and taps into some deep rooted assertiveness as she asks, "what about you?"

Roman continues to lightly touch her through her dress. "What about me?"

Her stomach is doing all kinds of weird things, and her head clearly is several miles behind, because there's no logical basis for what comes out of her mouth next. "If—if I can't be with anyone else, then...then neither can you." 

His eyes flicker with something akin to disapproval. “I can't fuck you, but you don’t want me fucking anyone else?” He makes a sound, finger moving circles around her thigh. “Doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

On one hand it doesn’t, but on the other, it makes sense to her. “You say…you say you want to get to know me, to see where this goes, well that’s….that’s my stipulation.” The only one she’s really set throughout this whole thing that probably shouldn’t even be a thing in the first place. 

Roman is quiet for another good minute, finally answering. “Fine.” It’s painfully obvious he’s not excited about this caveat, but he agrees, nonetheless. “But, I meant what I said.” His voice and gaze darken again. “No one touches you but me.” His hand lifts to her neck, grasping just enough to evoke a gasp but not enough to restrict breathing. “Is that understood?”

Solana’s gaze is locked with his as she licks her lips, answering breathlessly, “yes.”

And just like that, the darkness settles into something easy.  “Good,” he says it so simply, so casually, hand dropping from her neck.

Solana just looks at him. 

It should be unsettling to her, at least a little, how easily he maneuvers between calm and charismatic and dark and intimidating. 

But, it doesn’t.

It does a bit of the opposite.

Lord, what the hell is she getting herself into? 

—-----------

After some coaxing, additional foreplay, and the reiteration of no penetration, Solana finds herself following Roman deeper into the yacht, headed toward the bedroom. The travel there is a nice distraction, Solana continuing to marvel at the luxury of it all. She wasn’t exactly raised poor, but this level of opulence is unfamiliar. But, something she most definitely could get used to. 

It’s still up in the air if it’s something she should get used to though. 

Finally arriving, Roman closes the door behind them and walks past her. Solana's eyes never leave him, especially when he starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding it to a nearby chair. 

Her cheeks are warm and reddened watching him move onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread just enough. She’s ready to remind him of her boundaries when he motions for her with his index finger. “Come here.”

Her chest tightens. “Roman…..”

He makes a sound. “I thought I told you I don’t like repeating myself.” He did. He most certainly did. “Come here.”

Solana swallows, partially unsure why she can’t stand her ground, can’t comprehend what causes her to pull her dress up her thighs just enough so she can crawl on the bed, over to him. Her heart races even more when he grabs her, positions her between his legs, back against his firm chest. 

His lips hover against her temple. “Good girl.”

Her eyes shut, that racing heart of hers nearing dangerous territories. “Roman, wh—what—”

“Touch yourself.”

Solana’s eyes shoot open. 

What did he just say?

And, she goes to express as such, “what do you—”

He moves his hands to her dress, dragging it up higher until her black thong is exposed. “I want you to show me how you touched yourself when I left that night.”

Immediate goosebumps sprout all over her damn body, her mouth dry, her brain struggling to process all of this. “Roman….”

“Because you did, didn’t you?” His taunts are accompanied by his hand slipping under the waistband of her thong, snapping it against her skin. “You fucked yourself thinking of daddy, didn’t you?”

Solana swallows, unable to answer. Horrified at just how he knows this. How he knows she most definitely laid up in her bed, using her hand and vibrator after he left her so flustered and needing a release.

Something freezes her more when an equally terrifying and erotic thought crosses her mind. Was he watching her?

“Roman, were you—” She’s silenced by his fingers dancing along her mons pubis, continuing to taunt and tease her, eager for compliance with his task. 

“Shhh.” His lips are moving along the perimeter of her face as he travels his hand from downward to upward, palming her breast. “Too much talking.” She chews down on her bottom lip when his thumb flicks her pebbled nipple. Damn her for forgoing a bra. “Daddy’s ready to watch.”

It’s crazy. All of it. All of this. All of him. Solana should be running for the hills, should be seeing what resources she can utilize to disappear for a little while, just long enough for this infatuation he has with her to fizzle out.

But, that’s not what happens. What happens is quite the opposite. Lifting her lower half, she slides her thong down her legs, lightly tossing it on the other side of the bed, thus leaving her bare and exposed.

In more ways than one.

Almost nervously, her hand travels to that special space between her legs, a small moan leaving her mouth when she realizes just how wet she already is.

It’s not normal how aroused this man can make her with just words and light touches. 

Three fingers gliding up her vagina evoke another moan from her and an almost grunt from the man behind her. 

“Look how wet you are.” His voice is something of awe and intrigue, Solana moving her fingers back to her pussy, gathering more of her essence. “Just for me. Always for me.”

Her breath is ragged as she starts playing with herself, eyes closing, thinking back to that night. Thinking back to how good his fingers felt inside of her, working her in a way no man ever has.

Solana spreads her thighs, giving her more access to her swollen throbbing clit. “Oh, fuck….”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against her skin, slipping his hand into her dress, palming her breast. “Work yourself, baby. Show me how you take care of yourself when daddy’s not around.”

Solana’s head is thrown back against his chest as she moves her fingers from her clit, to her sticky, gushy opening. In and out, she thrusts her fingers in, all the while imagining it’s someone else touching her.  Someone else making her thrash and moan the way she is. 

And that someone else is the man behind her, the man whose name she finds herself moaning, “Roman…..”

“Hmmm.” Stll, that damn teasing voice of his, deep, baritone, and already knowing. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell Daddy what his good girl needs.”

Oh, she hates him. Hates the way her pussy flutters every time he refers to himself as daddy. How her body responds in a way that defies all logic. 

Same as her response. 

“Touch me.” It’s embarrassing how needy and wanton she sounds in this moment, the way she nearly begs him, her other hand going to his thigh. 

Solana would give anything to see whatever nonverbal response he has at this request. Something smug, no doubt. All knowing. Because there’s no way he can be surprised at such a plea with this situation they're in, how she’s finger fucking herself, leaned up against his chest, his big hands groping and feeling all on her titties. 

The erotic of it all almost calls for his participation. 

And his participation is exactly what happens.

“Oh my God,” Solana nearly jumps off the bed when Roman’s hand is over hers, his thick fingers gently moving hers to the side, the pad of his thumb hovering over her clit, two other fingers dipping inside her. “Shit, don’t stop.”

His deep voice chuckling against her nearly rocks her to her core. “Oh, I don’t plan to.”

Solana’s body moves in sync with his hand as he works her, so good, oh so good. Solana is a whimpering mess, her hand now on top of his, unable to move away, unable to do anything but sink into this all consuming hole of pleasure. “Yes. Oh my—just like that.” 

“Look how needy you are. Fucking my hand like this.” His voice is deep, primal, laden with passion and sensuality that matches hers. “Do you have any idea how I’m going to ruin you?”

Yes. Yes, she absolutely does, because he already has. Just from his hand and mouth. 

Roman’s ministrations are nearing the point of too much, Solana’s release right around the corner, something the man bringing her to heaven is clearly very privy to.

He practically growls, asking, “you gonna come all over daddy’s hand? Hmm?” 

“Yes,” she whimpers, eyes clamped shut, hand moving to his wrist, squeezing when he quickens and intensifies his actions. “God, I’m gonna—ohhh.” She’s cut off by the orgasm that wrecks her body, her drenched cunt throbbing, body jerking against him, flashing, blinding white lights against her closed lids.

And minutes later, she’s limp, slightly panting, still holding onto him, still trying to settle herself.

Never has she come as hard as the man before her makes her come. It’s….overwhelming. In all of the right ways.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

It’s that question that makes her eyes shoot open. What did he just say?

But before Solana can process anything, Roman is moving them, switching around their positions, and it’s when he goes to lift her, she realizes just what position he’s putting them in.

Trepidation consumes her. “Roman, I can’t—”

“I’ve been thinking about eating you out all day,” he groans. Solana hates how easy and natural it is for him to say and admit to the most filthiest things. “Come sit on daddy’s face, so I can suck that sweet pussy.”

And that’s exactly what he’s doing, positioning her, hiking her dress up even higher, holding it scrunched at her waist. “Roman—”

“Stop talking,” he murmurs, Solana finally straddling his face, her hands gripping the headboard. Roman’s eyes are entranced by the sight of her pussy, so wet and pretty, dripping and needing him. “Come here….”

“Roman!” She gasps, when his strong hands tug her down, his mouth completely covering her, his tongue thrusted inside her tight hole. “Oh shit.” Solana’s head falls against her forearm that’s across the headboard. She’s seen this position in porn, has heard her friends talk about it, but no one told her it felt this damn good.

And maybe it’s less the position and more the man.

Roman’s moan underneath her as he eats her out, feasting on her pussy like it’s his first meal of the day, seems to lean on the side of less the position and all the man. 

There’s no concern in the world about suffocating him or too much of her weight bearing down on him when Roman’s grip on her thighs tighten as he pulls her even closer, his tongue circling around her engorged clit.

“God, it feels so good,” she moans, one hand reaching for her breast as she plays with her nipples, grinding down on his face. “Daddy….”

Roman’s groan underneath her is loud and unmistakable along with the way his left hand moves to her ass, giving a slap that echoes through the room and evokes another moan from her. 

She’s not entirely sure what stamina is required for eating pussy, at least the way Roman does, but his seems above average. Because Solana is propped up on his face so long that she feels her thighs begin to cramp and tense, resulting in her sinking down farther on him. And for a brief second, she feels bad, worries that her weight is too much. But, it’s quickly shoved to the side when he once again tugs down on her, welcoming it, welcoming and wanting her cunt to completely suffocate him.

A torture he seems to be deeply enjoying.

It takes some time, what feels like hours, hours that are filled with nothing but pleasure and ecstasy, before Solana’s orgasm overtakes her. And once again, she’s a whining, moaning, writhing mess, coming all over his face and in his mouth. It’s too much, overstimulating in every sense. So much so that it’s Roman who has to carefully lift her from off his face. He moves her down so she’s straddling his lap, her hands going to his shoulders, head in the crook of his neck as she tries to settle herself. 

And, it’s not helped by the massive bulge she feels pressing up against her ass.

Roman kisses her temple, applauding her, “such a good girl for me.” She feels it, every bit of it, even if nothing about this whole thing is good. The pleasure she’s getting out of it certainly is. “Look how you came for Daddy.”

And came she did, Solana can feel his damp beard scraping against her cheek, no doubt her essence being the cause of it. It’s better to focus on that feeling and sensation vs the strange sense of pride and accomplishment she feels at being his good girl.

It's just all so confusing.

She doesn’t know how to feel about this, about a lot of what’s happened since meeting a certain Roman Reigns. Or the way he just holds her, the way she holds onto him despite being fully descended from her orgasmic haze.

One thing’s for certain.

If Solana is in fact dancing with the devil, right now, in this moment, her only hope is that it’s a song that doesn’t end anytime soon.

[citrusipop]

Pagtingin! . hyun-ju

" When I reveal my feelings I hope your opinion of me won't change When I confess my secrets I hope your opinion of me won't change " - patingin by ben&ben

in which . in which Hyun-ju comes back after the events of the game and she happens to bump into her partner who she left without an explanation.

cho hyun-ju x reader (fem) . angst/fluff

based off . ♡

Strolling through the busy streets, you stumbled upon your favorite café. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and vanilla, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Sweet bossa nova music played softly in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations. It was the perfect day to settle down and work in the cozy atmosphere of the café. After ordering your usual coffee and sweet treats, you made your way to a nearby table by the window.

Taking your seat, you gazed out at the bustling street. Sure, it might seem cliché to some—a solitary figure at a window seat in a café—but to you, it was a small joy. The window wasn’t just a pane of glass; it was a lens into the endless stories unfolding outside. Watching strangers go about their lives, you found yourself imagining their worlds. Two girls walked past in school uniforms—you guessed they were high schoolers, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. Your eyes followed a middle-aged man pedaling his bike, his neatly pressed office attire suggesting he worked in accounting or something similar.

It fascinated you how everyone’s lives were so different from your own. Each person outside that window carried a story you’d never fully know, lives that were nothing like yours—boring, miserable, yet oddly peaceful and happy in their own way. And for a moment, watching them, you felt connected to something bigger, as though their differences somehow brought you closer to understanding your own quiet existence.

Your thoughts suddenly come to an end when you hear a group of people laughing next to you. You wish you had your earbuds with you to drown out the sounds but the gods were against you and made you forget to bring it. Wallowing in your sadness, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the table next to you and it made your mind race, turning to the table next to you…

It was her. For a moment, you froze, your breath hitching in your chest. Oh, how you wished this was a dream—because it certainly felt like one. A dream so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that the thought of waking up filled you with dread. But it wasn’t a dream. The world around you blurred and faded, leaving only her, like the central figure in a watercolor painting.

And then you heard it, her laughter. That soft, melodic sound you thought you’d forgotten but never truly could. It was like a gentle breeze carrying fragments of your past, filling you with a bittersweet ache. That laughter brought you back to a time when everything felt lighter, simpler, and whole. Nostalgia crashed into you, raw and unrelenting, pulling at the corners of your heart.

You wanted to move, to say something, but all you could do was sit there, drinking in the moment. That sound, that sight of her—it was a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. And for just an instant, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just a fleeting memory or a trick of your longing mind but something real, something you could hold onto, even if only for a little while.

You hadn’t realized how long your gaze had been fixed on her until you noticed she was looking back at you. Her almond-shaped brown eyes met yours, locking you in place. She gave you a smile like before, but your mind drifted to how beautiful and ethereal she looked as the sun from the window embraced her figure. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, the soft simple makeup making her look beautiful. You felt like you were seeing an angel for the first time, you felt like you were seeing her for the first time. And it made her heart skip a beat. You noticed how she excused herself to her friends and she was now making her way towards your table, quickly you moved your laptop and notepad away, your fingers running through your hair as you fixed it and made it look more presentable. 

“Hi…” Hyun-ju said shyly, looking right at you with a soft smile, you looked up from your notepad and gave her a tight smile. Awkward silence filled the air as the tall woman stood still in front of your table, you took notice and felt bad. You motioned your hand to the empty chair in front of you indicating that she can take that seat. Another set of awkward silence filled the coffee shop, the tension was so thick you felt as if coming to this cafe was a mistake. 

“You look beautiful today.”

The words hung in the air, soft but sincere, making Hyun-ju pause. Her eyes flickered to you, but you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cup in your hands. Still, the familiar warmth spread through her chest. Hearing you call her beautiful always meant the world to her. It was a reminder that you saw her, loved her, just as she was. Yet, the pang of guilt was unavoidable. She had walked away without a word, leaving behind questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes caught the faint smile tugging at your lips, and something shifted. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.

As if on cue, both of you started speaking at the same time, your voices overlapping awkwardly. You exchanged startled glances before bursting into quiet laughter, the sound breaking the tension between you. It was a silly, fleeting moment, but it carried a strange weight. For a second, it felt like you were teenagers again, stumbling through the nerves of a first date. Or perhaps it was just the awkwardness of two people who once knew each other so well, trying to find their footing again.

You stole another glance at Hyun-ju, and the sight of her hit you harder than you expected. The ache in your chest flared up, a sharp reminder of the emptiness her absence had left behind. No matter how much you had tried to fill that void, it had never worked. And now, sitting here with her, you couldn’t help but wonder if that missing piece had always been her.

But words refused to come. Your throat tightened, the lump there stubbornly blocking every thought, every feeling you wanted to voice. The two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. Yet, in the quiet, there was something unbreakable—a connection that time and distance hadn’t erased.

You hear Hyun-ju clear her throat, you glance at her as she says, “I…I miss you, it’s been a while.” It made you smile a bit despite the hurt you were feeling inside, “I miss you too.” You said softly, as your thumb caresses the warm cup of coffee. You never felt this wave of emotions before, something so bittersweet. Sadness and hurt was evident on your face and Hyun-ju can clearly see it. 

Your teary eyes locked with hers. “Funny, isn’t it? It’s been five weeks. Five weeks since I last heard from you.” Your voice wavered, though you tried to mask it with a frown. “And now, here you are, showing up as if nothing happened.” The words came out colder than you intended, laced with the bitterness that had been festering in the void her absence left behind.

Hyun-ju stood frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What could she even say? Would you believe her if she told you the truth? That she had been kidnapped, thrust into a series of deadly games because of her debts and her desperation to complete her transition? That she had watched countless lives end in horrifying ways, the weight of survival pressing down on her with every passing second?

You noticed the flicker of conflict in her expression, and it only fueled your frustration. “Look,” you said sharply, “if you don’t want to deal with this—us—it’s fine. Just say it.” Your voice cracked, but before you could say more, Hyun-ju cut you off.

“Y/N.” Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor in it. “I never said I didn’t want this. Or that I wanted it to be over. You mean too much to me.” Her gaze dropped, her voice softening. “You… you wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem.”

“Understand what, Hyun-ju?” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just show up and expect me to be okay after you disappeared without a word. No call, no text, nothing. Five weeks, Hyun-ju. Five.” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, your voice growing harsher. “Do you know how hard I tried to find you? How much I worried? Don’t tell me I don’t understand when you’re not even telling me what I’m supposed to understand.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the fragile tension like a blade. You didn’t want to sound this harsh, but the hurt, confusion, and stress had built up too much to hold back. It wasn’t just the absence that hurt—it was the silence, the unanswered questions, the sense that she had left you in the dark without a second thought.

The tone of your voice cut through Hyun-ju’s heart more deeply than you could ever know. Her chest ached with guilt, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She had thought leaving without a word was the right thing to do—a way to protect you from the chaos of her life. But now, facing the consequences, she realized how wrong she had been. Immature. Thoughtless.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore… that I’d be a disgrace to you, the way I am to everyone else.” Her words were soft, almost as if she was afraid of saying them out loud, afraid of the weight they carried.

Hearing her broke something in you. You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own confusion, that you hadn’t stopped to see hers. In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just you who had been hurting. She had been carrying her own burden of fear and self-doubt, silently tearing herself apart. And now, her vulnerability was laid bare, raw and trembling in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, Y/N,” Hyun-ju whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t be in a relationship with someone like me—”

Before she could finish, you reached out, gently taking her soft, larger hand in yours. “Stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care, Hyun-ju. I don’t care about any of that.”

Your thumb gently traced small circles over her hand, grounding both of you in the moment. “I love you for who you are. Every part of you. To me, you’re perfect—the most beautiful woman in the world. And honestly, it amazes me every single day that you chose someone like me to be with you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you gave her a soft, heartfelt smile. It wasn’t just your words that spoke—it was the way you looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. 

Hyun-ju let out a choked sob, gripping your hand tightly as if you might disappear. “I just… I thought that one day you’d wake up and realize you deserve someone better. That—That you’d see I’m not enough for you because I’m not perfect.” Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “This body… this body that I’ve fought so hard for, it’s still not enough. People look at me and see a lie, a joke. I thought maybe one day you’d see me the same way, and it would break me, Y/N. It would destroy me.”

Her words came in waves, each one laced with years of pain and fear. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight to exist. Someone who doesn’t carry the kind of baggage I do. I’ve seen the way people stare at us when we’re together. The way they judge you just for loving me. And I thought… maybe you’d get tired of it. Of me. Of always having to defend me, to fight for me. I thought you’d leave, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.”

Her voice grew softer, trembling as she continued. “You have no idea what it’s like… to constantly wonder if the people who love you will stop when they finally see you for who you really are.”

The raw vulnerability in her words cut through you like a knife. God, it pained you to see her like this. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and moved to her side. Kneeling down, you gently placed your fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet your gaze.

“Oh, love,” you murmured, your voice soft yet steady. “I will never, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” You brushed away the tears streaming down her face, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You are enough, Hyun-ju. You’re more than enough. You’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You gave her a soft smile, hoping it could reach the cracks in her heart. “You’re my Hyun-ju. The one who fills my life with warmth and love. The one who makes those incredible meals so I don’t have to spend a dime eating out. And the one who makes me laugh when I don’t even think I can smile.”

Your thumb stroked her cheek as you looked into her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t care what the world thinks, or what anyone says. I see you, Hyun-ju. I love you. Every single part of you. And nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

In that moment, you weren’t just offering her words—you were offering her a piece of your soul, a promise that no matter what storms came your way, you would face them together.

“I love you, Hyun-ju. All of you. Your body, your personality—everything. I love you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with sincerity.

You leaned in slowly, giving her a moment to meet you halfway. As your lips met hers, the kiss was tender, a gentle melding of emotions rather than just a physical gesture. It was soft but full of meaning, as if you were pouring all the love, reassurance, and devotion you felt into that single moment.

Her lips trembled against yours, and you could feel the faint taste of salt from her tears, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the wet trails on her cheeks. She responded hesitantly at first, as though afraid to believe this was real, but then her hands found their way to your arms, holding onto you as though grounding herself in your presence.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, her breath mingling with yours. “You’re my everything, Hyun-ju,” you said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. “Always.”

“I love you too.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “How about I buy you that favorite dessert of yours?” you offered, your voice light and filled with affection.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a reassuring squeeze before flashing her a smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that you saved just for her. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, one that told her she was cherished, loved, and safe with you.

As you walked out of the café, your gaze lingered on Hyun-ju, unable to help but admire her once more. You silently thanked the gods for blessing you with such a wonderful partner, vowing to do anything for her.

a/n . i told myself I was going to make a part two of mesmerized but I honestly got kind of lazy...and this prompt I could not stop thinking about it. This is my first time writing angst since i'm more of a writer who loves writing tooth rottening fluff....LOL

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

I Want You Back

This was originally requested by Anon who asked: "Could you make headcanons where you have an established relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters but your ex suddenly tries to win you back?" The links to the other houses are below.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Alan Mido, Leo Kurosagi, Sho Haizono x gn! Reader (separate)

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're happily in a relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters. So how will they react when your ex suddenly tries to win you back?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d think Alan would be super protective of you but he’s initially going to be very reserved. His self-doubt is coming back at full blast and he’s going to give you as much room as possible to make the decision you want.

He thinks you’re going to get back together with your ex so you’re with someone who isn’t constantly worrying over hurting you.

But the second he finds out you want to be with him and just want your ex to leave you alone, he’s going full protective boyfriend mode.

There’s no way your ex is going to be hanging around now that Alan’s stepped up to protect you. You’ve already got a wonderful boyfriend that has everything you could ever want.

Oh, Leo’s going to be so toxic with this one. But surprisingly not towards you. If he’s in a genuine relationship with you, he’s going to be really careful he doesn’t push you away.

No, no, no, he’s going to be super toxic towards your ex. I’m talking “befriending” them, then leaving them on read, doxing them, spreading rumours, and just generally making this person’s life a misery.

He’s also not afraid to bring his followers into things. He’ll post a video talking about how more people need to learn to accept no’s. And the second he lets slip “accidentally” that your ex has been hanging around, his followers are on the case.

There’s only a moment where Leo considers the possibility that maybe you want to be with your ex. But he’s going to push that thought down with all the other negative thoughts he has. He’ll deal with them one day…

Sho is the ultimate balance of Alan’s reservedness and Leo’s immediate defensiveness. And the main difference is that he’s going to sit down with you and have a conversation about what you want to do.

As soon as he knows where you stand, he’s got permission to act on all the protective feelings bubbling inside him.

Sure, Sho’s a nice guy, especially when it comes to you, but he’s in Vagastrom for a reason. He’s going to try and talk to your ex first and if that doesn’t work, he’s challenging your ex to a round in the pit.

 He knows damn well he’ll be able to beat you ex in the ring, especially if he has you cheering him on loudly from the side.

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[utilitycaster]

One of your recent posts talked about the way BH have essentially "run out of plot" in following the Red Moon/Predathos plot and the way that the PCS are being played.

I was also curious about your thought on the interparty dynamics in the end game, particularly with recent developments. One of the issues I've had with Bell's Hells for a while now is the way they don't challenge each other (or at least not in the way previous parties have)

Yeah; they don't. And honestly I think this is a combination of just...luck of the draw of the characters they created combined with that lack of room for those characters to develop because they've been in an environment that hasn't allowed much time and space for anything but rushing to the next task. Like, as mentioned, a lot of characters are kind of here to hang out or have goals that aren't specifically tied to personal change, if they have specific goals at all. That's not a bad thing! Grog, Jester, and Fearne all share that quality and are all fantastic executions of it - and Grog and Jester do change quite a bit despite that because the story gives them many opportunities to do so, and yes, because their fellow party members challenge them. But it feels like the bulk of Bells Hells if not all of it is kind of in that boat.

I remember an early panel in which Marisha said "I don't want to think anymore" and I know Travis has mentioned something similar for Chetney, of wanting to play someone much more chaotic after playing someone so highly controlled as Fjord. Liam also talked about stepping back from being a major decision maker at some point, and built Orym to be someone who had a viewpoint but didn't specifically assert it (as we've just seen). Like, I think most resentment C3 fans have towards C2 is just jealousy and bitterness but perhaps a fairer grievance is that the cast really brought their A-Game to the Mighty Nein with a lot of incredibly complicated, driven, messy characters and due to the smaller nature of the company then combined with the scaled back production of the pandemic focused intently on them; and then nearly all of them made a bunch of fairly go-with-the-flow or chaotic characters as a breather and (not unfairly or unreasonably!) thought they'd be in a story that would give them space to become something else or that would suit them, and it didn't. As someone who likes actual play I think if nothing else this serves as a look into how fantastic overall cast chemistry doesn't translate into compelling party dynamics.

To be clear, I think Bells Hells like and care about each other, but none are really the type to both strive to be better and challenge those around them to be as well. Even their defenders in the fandom are kind of leaning on the party of NPCs line from very early on [which is funny because a lot of people HATED that line at the time; I got hate over thinking it was apt] but the thing is yeah at this point in the campaign, they shouldn't still feel like a party of NPCs. Perhaps this is a personal preference, which, to be clear, does not in any way invalidate it as criticism, but as someone with a bit of a comics background, I've never been terribly into "Suicide Squad"-esque stories but I am into stories of Person Who Has An Opportunity And Rises To The Occasion Despite Not Being The Best Choice On Paper. Ultimately, my issue isn't that Bells Hells come from humble backgrounds and tragedy (this is also...not untrue for the Mighty Nein, incidentally; in fact they had even less endorsement from powerful groups. Molly died 26 episodes in and he just stayed fucking dead because no one had Keyleth's phone number so this is another case of "your defense just makes me think the Mighty Nein achieve this in a far superior manner"); my issue is that, as Laudna put it, they kind of just walk through doors because they're in front of them. I don't need them to become classically heroic; but I do need them to have some sort of intention. And they don't. Why are you walking through doors? "Because they're there" doesn't cut it. You're here because the Exandrian Accord gave you a whole bunch of support so don't play that "i'm just a nobody with nothing" shit anymore, it's demonstrably untrue.

I had this in the tags originally and I decided, perhaps unwisely, to move it into this post because I think it's relevant, but: in case it's not apparent, I think "You! Are! Valid!" culture is fucking awful; this is what that weirdo who thinks I'm from Reddit is mad at, I think (honestly I'm not sure if they're angry, they might just be very unwell). Like, it has roots in something true and helpful; you are valid for things like your race, gender, sexuality, ability/disability, and things that have happened to you in the past. But actually no one is automatically valid for their actions. Being incurious or inconsiderate or incapable of taking constructive criticism, even if this is tied to your past? not valid. Your trauma and pain is valid; what you do in their name very much might not be. And I think a lot of people who love Bells Hells do not like this message (which, Bells Hells don't like this message, hence the repeated "whatever you do is fine" conversations) and kind of romanticize a "NO ONE IS ON OUR SIDE WE MUST DO WHAT IS RIGHT FOR US THERE'S NO GOOD ANSWERS" state in which one cannot be held responsible for action nor inaction and that's a lot of why they respond so dramatically to the increasing sense within the fandom that this party lacks the juice and does judge them for inaction. Like, I've been talking about character agency and how a lot of people's enjoyment of Bells Hells hinges on how they HAD NO CHOICES and I think we're seeing the fallout, which is that a TTRPG story (ie, a medium defined more so than anything else about player choices) about characters who were stripped of choice kinda sucks ass, and anyone who doesn't look to actual play D&D to valid their personal morality (which, in this case, usually is "the world is unfair so I can do whatever I want" anyway) would rather see a story about a character who fucking had a viewpoint and did things with it, even if it were a "bad" viewpoint. I know I'm hard on villain stans because a lot of them are actually people who are like "what if the VILLAIN were the HERO...I am very intelligent," but actually, this is the crux of why Darth Vader was very popular. It's not because people thought he was a good person; it's because he drove the story more so than the heroes much of the time, and people responded to that. Purely reactive characters are boring and to get back to your original point do not challenge each other unless someone else starts the reaction chain, and there just haven't been too many opportunities of the external nor internal variety to do it. It's mostly bad luck and again, a session zero could have fixed this, but it is what it is.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

waiiiiit need a fic where reader finds out finnick told snow he’d take on more clients to ensure she’s safe

YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE!!

Innocent

HEAVY content warnings: trafficking of victors, panic attack, self hatred, suidcidal thoughts.

It was late. Finnick had just gotten home from a long trip. He was gone for nearly a month. A month away from you felt like years. A month away from your smile, a month away from your laughter, a month away from your warm touch.

Tiredly, he walks into the living room of your shared home, flicking on a lamp so he could see better.

He was exhausted.

For the past few weeks it had been nonstop. A new person every single night. At times he would think, if he should even keep up with all of it. But then he remembered why he was doing this, to keep you shielded from the truth, to keep you protected.

"If you want her to remain untouched, you take on the responsibility of the people that would've wanted her."

He passes by a mirror and sees his reflection. He sees the scratches and bruises left by his 'lovers'. He stares at them for a moment, wanting to just rip the skin off of his body instead of just covering them up and playing it off as injuries that he would get from fishing and swimming, maybe then he won't feel dirty and used.

He plops onto the couch, his entire body aching. He puts his head in his hands, thinking that he should end his misery already.

He scolds himself for this.

Finnick hated that he had such thoughts of quiting everything, he hates himself for wanting to give up, he hates feeling dirty, he hates feeling used, he hates himself for allowing Snow to make him bend at his will.

He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't handle being treated like a toy. He just wanted it all to end.

But if he truly ended it all, he would be leaving you. He would be leaving you to the hands of the Capitol.

And how they wanted to get their hands on you.

He felt tears well up in his eyes, he felt his hands begin to shake, he felt his heart race.

Then he heard quiet footsteps.

"Finn? Is that you?"

He turns his head and sees you in one of his shirts and your pajama bottoms.

"Yea it's me angel"

You rub your eyes and slowly walk toward the couch. "What time is it?"

"Late." Finnick says, trying to hold back his tears.

You sit down next to him, even though you're half asleep you notice that he's trembling. You move close to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Finnick?...Are you alright?" you say in a gentle tone.

Feeling your warm touch, Finnick breaks down.

You wrap your arms around him, "Finn? Finn what's wrong?" you say as you stroke his hair, trying your best to comfort him.

"I-I'm so sorry angel. I'm so sorry" he says through tears.

You look at him with confusion, "You're sorry for what Finn?"

"For everything. I'm so sorry, I can't do it anymore angel...I can't. I'm so tired." he says as he begins to hyperventilate.

You feel alarms going off inside your head. "Finn. Finnick please talk to me. Please." you say in a soothing tone as you cup his face in your hands.

"I can't keep doing this...I can’t keep pretending, keep smiling for them, keep letting them—" his voice breaks, his breath becomes more uneven.

"Finnick who are you talking about?"

"S-Snow- the entire Capitol-" he says, trembling as he practically sobs in your hands, shaking his head.

You press your lips to his forehead, resting yours against his when you pull away, "Finny...please talk to me,

He sniffles, "They own me. Snow… he owns me."

"Own you? What are you talking about Finny?"

He bites his lip, is he really about to tell you the whole truth?

"He… he sells me. To his friends. To anyone with enough money or influence. And if I say no, if I fight back, he threatens… everyone I care about."

You can feel a pit form in your stomach, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him cry in your arms. "Finny..." you whisper, stroking his hair, "How long has this been going on?"

"S-Since I was sixteen, and they parade me around like I was some prize, some… toy. That's why I take so many trips to the Capitol. That's why I act the way I act. I play the role because- because I thought it meant keeping everyone I cared about safe. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop him."

"And the worst part? They love it. The Capitol loves it. They think I’m... happy. That I want this." he says, his tears wetting the fabric of your shirt. "But it’s never enough. Snow always wants more."

You tighten your embrace, letting him cry it all out.

"He threatened you, angel. He wanted to do this same thing to you. I couldn’t let that happen. He would’ve taken you, used you, broken you. And I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t let him touch you. So I made a deal. I told him I’d take on more, do whatever he wanted, as long as he left you alone. That's why my trips have been so much longer."

Your heart shatters. You can feel tears begin to well in your eyes, you don't even know what to say. He's been dealing with so much. Alone. Just to keep you protected. "Oh..Finny" you say shakily, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead.

"I hate him. I hate myself for letting him control me. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you s-suffering . I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe."

You pull away from him slightly, making just enough space so you can press your lips against his.

"I did it to protect you angel. I lovd you too much to- to let you go through that. I couldn't let you go through any of that, you don't deserve to."

You kiss him again, "I know Finny. I know." you say in a gentle tone, kissing his forehead. "And I love you for that. I love you so much Finny."

You pull him into a tight embrace again, letting his get all his bottled up emotions out.

"I'm sorry for keeping this from you angel."

"It's not your fault Finny.." you whisper. "None of it is. It's Snow. Not you."

For the next few hours, you cuddle with Finnick on the couch. Running your fingers through his hair til you both fall asleep in eachother's embrace.

A/N: MY SHAYLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA☹️💔

[mrmeowski]

˚✧𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏/𝟐✧˚

Synopsis: An alternate time where they lived as not tales to tell in the dark but actual, living people. Although, they're not much different from the tales... as they still are monsters that aren't afraid to kill to get or protect their beloved.

CW: Yandere tendancies, blood, stalking, slight body horror

A/N: I caved in after a long break. I mean, I couldn't not write a fic about Homicipher! I fell hard for these monster men🥰

Word Count: 5.4k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Mr. Chopped [1.4k] 💜༻✧ Mr. Crawling [2.2k] 🧡༻✧ Mr. Gap [1.8k]

⋇⊰MR. CHOPPED⊱⋇

Haruto is hard to miss on campus. With his fiery ginger hair and boundless energy, he stood out in every crowd. At just eighteen, he acted more like a child than a college student, bounding around like a ball of energy.

He’d sprint up to classmates, pleading with them to join him in a game. The responses were always the same: excuses, polite rejections, or outright dismissals.

“Maybe later, Haruto.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“No thanks.”

Each rejection chipped away at his smile, but only for a moment. He’d bounce back, laughing off the rejection, and run off to find someone else. You admired his resilience even if you could see through the cracks in his ever-present grin.

There is only one person who occasionally humored his games: a tall, stoic student with silver hair. While Haruto seemed happy to have someone around, it's clear the other student barely tolerated his antics.

You’d watch from the sidelines as he desperately tried to engage the unwilling participant in an overly complicated game of tag or hide-and-seek around campus. Despite his efforts, it's obvious the games weren’t as fun when the enthusiasm isn’t mutual. Still, he carried on, his laughter ringing out like a challenge to the dull, routine college life.

Until now.

It' during your lunch break when you heard it: soft, muffled crying from one of the quieter corners of the library. The sound tugged at your chest, urging you to investigate. Rounding a shelf of dusty textbooks, you saw him.

Haruto, the campus’s eternal ball of sunshine, is crumpled on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his arms. His usual vibrant energy is replaced with trembling shoulders and quiet sobs.

“Haruto…?” You called out gently.

His head snapped up, wide amber eyes locking onto yours. He hastily scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, forcing a shaky grin to replace the vulnerability you’d just witnessed.

“Oh, hey! W-What are you doing here?” He said, his voice betraying the attempt at cheer. “Looking f-for a book or something? I.. I-I could help!”

Concern swimming in your voice as you spoke, “I should be asking you that... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” He waved you off with a laugh that sounded more hollow than his usual bright tone. “Just… resting my eyes. You know how boring studying is!~” You tilted your head, unconvinced.

“...Hey, it’s okay to be upset. You don’t.. have to hide it from me.” Something in your voice seemed to anchor him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Looking away, unable to meet your gaze, he managed to push out some words.

“I-It’s just…” he started, his voice breaking into a trembling whisper, “Nobody wants to play with me.” His fingers fidgeted in his lap, clutching at the hem of his uniform as if searching for some comfort.

“I get it… I really do. Everyone’s busy with their work, with exams, with their big, important futures... But—” His voice cracked, and he quickly swiped at the tears pooling in his amber eyes with his sleeve. “That doesn’t give them a reason to be so mean!” His words came out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. His gaze finally met yours, and your heart shattered.

He looked like a child left out in the rain—eyes wide, brimming with unshed tears, and filled with an innocence that felt too pure for this world.

You didn’t think it's possible for a person to express so much emotion, but he defied all expectations.

“I’m… sorry,” you murmured softly, unsure what else to say but desperate to soothe the ache in his voice.

“It’s not your fault,” he muttered, lowering his head again. “I just thought… maybe if I kept smiling, kept trying, someone would eventually want to have fun too. But…” His voice broke again as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Kneeling down beside him, your hand instinctively reaching out to brush away the tear tracing down his cheek.

“Why don’t we play?” You offered softly.

For a moment, he simply stared at you, searching your face as though trying to confirm that your words were real.

“You… you mean it?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were scared you might change your mind.

“Of course,” you grinned. “What do you want to play?” The light in his eyes returned, brighter and brighter, until he's practically glowing.

He sat up straighter, his usual energy bubbling back to the surface, though tinged with disbelief.

“I—I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting anyone to actually say yes!” He laughed, and it is the first real laugh you’d heard from him all day. “We could—oh! Hide-and-seek? Or tag? Or maybe we could build a card tower! No, wait—do you know how to fold paper cranes?”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him at his excitement infectious.

“Slow down, Haruto! We’ve got time, we can do whatever you want.”

His cheeks flushed a bright red, the warmth of his shy grin making your chest ache in the best way. He scratched the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in the messy strands of his orange hair.

“Hehe… sorry." Voice soft with an almost childlike sheepishness. “I’m just not used to being asked to play… or, well, being asked for anything at all, so I guess I got a little too excited.” He shrugged, glancing at the floor before his gaze flickered toward the clock hanging on the wall then back at you.

“How long’s your break?”

It had been a few weeks since that first encounter in the serenity of the library, where Haruto’s energy had melted, and you’d seen the hidden cracks in his endless joy.

Since then, your days had been peppered with moments spent together, from silly games in the courtyard to quiet talks on the campus benches.

You even met his peculiar silver-haired acquaintance, a stoic figure who always had this... smile in his pale features. The man struck you as strange yet you just dimissed it.

But of course, like him, you had your own life—friends, classes, and responsibilities that didn’t always align with his. Though you cherished the time you spent together, it isn’t always possible to hang out with him all the time.

Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t see it that way.

He didn’t care much for classes. If anything, they were an obstacle, stealing precious moments he could have spent with you. Whenever you weren’t around, his energy waned. It's as though your presence is the only thing keeping his world vibrant.

And when he did catch glimpses of you laughing with your friends during lunch or chatting in the halls.

His blood boiled.

Jealousy is an ugly, consuming thing. It twisted inside him, wrapping around his heart like sharp vines. His cheerful mask stayed firmly in place—he’d perfected it long ago—but beneath it, cracks were forming.

He couldn’t stand it.

That monster inside of him, the one he always kept at bay, clawed its way to the surface. He knew it's wrong, but the thought of you laughing with someone else, sharing the pieces of yourself that he craved, s unbearable.

So, when he saw your closest friend walking alone, his mind snapped. That friend had been stealing your attention, distracting you from him. They were the reason you weren’t his completely. And now... they were going to pay.

He followed silently, amber eyes locked onto their every movement. Like a predator stalking its prey, he kept his distance until the street grew quiet and deserted.

A rock lay nearby, jagged and heavy. He picked it up, gripping it tightly as his knuckles turned white. His breathing quickened and smile widened, stretching unnaturally across his face until it seemed like it might split his cheeks.

When your friend turned curious, he's already rushing forward, his figure a blur of orange and malice. They barely had time to register what's happening before the rock collided with a sickening crunch.

He didn’t stop.

Over and over, the rock came down, staining his hands and clothes as he laughed—a manic, broken sound that echoed in the empty street. Even when your friend’s features became unrecognizable, he didn’t pause. His smile never wavered.

This is for you.

When it's over, he let the rock drop from his bloodied hand, his chest heaving with exhilaration. He wiped his hands on his pants, smearing crimson streaks across the fabric, and looked up at the sky with a soft, almost serene expression.

“You’ll only have me in the end,” he whispered to himself, his voice dripping with quiet satisfaction. “I’ll be the only one you can turn to, the only one you can trust. My arms are the only place you belong… just like it should always be.”

⋇⊰MR. CRAWLING⊱⋇

Kaito—that is his name. One you’d only heard whispered during roll calls or by professors when pressed for an answer. Despite being in the same class for nearly half the semester, you’d barely noticed him—well, not entirely.

Tall and lanky, he looked like a shadow lingering at the edges of your vision. His pale complexion only added to the air of frailty around him, and the dark circles beneath his eyes gave him a perpetually exhausted. He's quiet, too quiet, always sitting alone with a notebook in hand, scribbling away.

Yet, you couldn’t ignore the way his soft, almost wistful smile lingered as he watched the groups of friends laughing together. You’d caught him sneaking glances at you once or twice as well, but each time you tried to meet his gaze, he quickly turned away, his face tinged with pink.

You felt bad for him. Maybe it's the loneliness in his eyes that mirrored your own.

Still, when it came time to pair up for a group assignment, Partners were chosen quickly, laughter and chatter filling the room as people paired up until only two remained.

It's to no surprise that he's left without a partner. Your own friends weren’t in this class, leaving you with little choice but to approach him.

He looked up then, his dark eyes meeting yours as you spoke, "Kaito... do you want to partner up?”

His eyes merely widened a bit and you had to stand in front of him for quite an awkwardly long time before he finally responding, "S-Sure.. it's just the two of us left, right?" True, whether either of you liked it or not, you have no choice.

Still, you wanted to ask him.

You sat on the chair beside him. Up close, you noticed the details you’d missed before—the small scars scattered near his eyes, the way his fingers kept fidgeting with his pen as though trying to mask his nervousness.

Opening your textbook, you placed it on the desk, while he quietly flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. The two of you started working in silence, diving into the labyrinth of symbols and translations required for the project.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that he is doing most of the heavy lifting. You tried to follow along, but the jumble of ancient symbols began to blur together, leaving you feeling overwhelmed.

“You’re really good at this,” you murmured, breaking the silence.

Your eyes stayed glued to the book, but you didn’t miss the way his hand froze mid-note. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his expression one of quiet disbelief, like he hadn’t expected to hear those words directed at him. A shaky smile crept across his lips.

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… doing well too.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie. I’m just flipping pages while you’re the one doing all the real work.”

He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s not—”

“I mean, look at this!” You interrupted, gesturing to the maze of symbols on the page in front of you. “It all looks the same! How are you even making sense of it?” You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, leaning back in your chair, distancing yourself from the headache-inducing text.

A faint, amused sound escaping his lips.

“I… I guess I’ve just always been good at patterns,” he said quietly.

His gaze lingered on you as you sighed in frustration, lips pursed and brows furrowed in concentration. There's something endearing about you and a hint of admiration flickered in his tired, dark eyes. Though he quickly looked away, pretending to refocus on the notebook in front of him.

His pen hovered over the page, his progress slowing. Deep down, he didn’t want to finish it. Each moment spent working with you felt precious, and the thought of the task ending meant the excuse to spend time together would be gone. But time had a cruel way of moving faster especially with someone you like.

The sharp ring of the bell shattered the quiet bubble the two of you had been working in. He blinked, the sound jarring him back to reality. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been smiling until it faded, replaced by a dull ache in his chest.

The teacher’s voice became a distant murmur, instructions about wrapping up barely registering. He didn’t move, still staring at the open notebook, feeling strangely hollow. That , until your voice cut through the fog.

“Hey, you good?” You asked, wrapping an arm around your book.

Kaito startled slightly, looking up at you.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered, quickly gathering his notebook and pen. “I just… spaced out, I guess. I-I do that uh.. quite a lot ahaha...”

“You sure?” Raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at that page for, like, a solid minute. You were so super focused and all.” Your teasing smile made his cheeks flush a faint pink, and he ducked his head, trying to hide it.

"S-Sorry,” he mumbled.

You laughed, “Well, don’t let it get to you. But seriously, I don’t know how I would’ve survived this without you.”

His lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded, clutching his notebook a little tighter.

“See you tomorrow?” You asked, pausing at the door.

“Y-Yeah,” he replied quickly, a little too eagerly.

You gave him one last smile before disappearing into the hallway, leaving him alone in the classroom. He stayed there for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d sat, his heart thudding in his chest.

Tomorrow. It isn’t much, but it' enough at least.

That conversation between you and Kaito replayed in his mind endlessly. For weeks, those stolen glances you two had shared across the room had been the highlight of his days, but now? Now he had something more—actual words, a connection, no matter how small.

But those interactions came at a cost. His nights grew restless, filled with vivid dreams and fantasies that left him feeling dazed when he woke up. He found himself longing for more moments with you.

Since the assignment brought you closer, he began to use your newfound acquaintance as a reason to linger near you. He’d sit beside you during breaks, his quiet presence soothing. He always seemed to know where you are, finding ways to cross paths with you after class.

You quickly realized that he is incredibly sweet. There is a warmth to his awkwardness that made it hard not to smile. He had this endearing habit of sticking close, always trailing behind you like a shadow, his tall frame somehow making his devotion seem both protective and.. puppy-like.

He also had a knack for being helpful. Whether it's explaining complex history topics, organizing your notes, or even packing your bag when you were running late, he always seemed eager to lighten your load. At lunch, he’d quietly take your empty tray without a word.

“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” you said one day, watching as he rearranged your books neatly into your bag.

“I know,” he replied softly, avoiding your gaze. “But I want to.” His sincerity always catch you off guard.

His eyes, dark and tired as they often seemed, held a vulnerability that made your heart ache. He isn’t just being kind—he's trying, in his own quiet way, to make himself indispensable to you.

And, little by little, it worked. You found yourself looking forward to his presence. But there is something about the way he always seemed to be there, watching, waiting, that would sent a chill up your spine.

You brushed it off, convincing yourself it was nothing. After all, he's just harmless, isn't he? Just a sweet, shy guy who wanted to help... right?

Well... the day came when your doubts turned into something far more tangible, far more terrifying.

It was a cold night, and the streets were empty as you made your way home. The air carried a biting chill that seeped into your bones and the dim streetlights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement. Ever since you’d left your friend’s house, you’d felt it—a presence just out of sight.

You kept glancing over your shoulder but each time, the street behind you was empty. It’s just paranoia, you told yourself, shaking your head and quickening your pace. Yet, as you crossed an alleyway, the feeling became undeniable.

Before you could react, an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you back into the shadows. Another hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the scream that tore from your throat. The furry fabric of their jacket brushed against your skin as you thrashed, but your attacker’s grip was unyielding.

You kicked and struggled, panic flooding your veins like ice, but it was no use. They were too strong. Then, amidst the sound of your muffled cries and your heart pounding in your ears, you heard a voice calling your name.

“[Name]!!” His voice was desperate, the footsteps quick and unsteady.

Your eyes widened as you spotted him at the mouth of the alleyway—Kaito. He was dressed entirely in black, a hood obscuring most of his features save for a glimpse of raven-black hair; the slightest bit of his eyes showing through the strands; and his slightly parted lips as he caught sight of you.

You tried to cry out, but your voice was trapped beneath the stranger’s hand.

The desperation in his expression hardened into something colder, something sharp and dangerous. His usual timid demeanor seemed to melt away as he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto the man holding you.

“Let them go,” he hissed.

The stranger only tightened their grip on you, a mocking laugh escaping their throat, “And what are you gonna do about it, kid?”

He didn’t respond. His dark eyes flicked to the trash can nearby, and before you could even register what he was planning, he grabbed the metal lid. With startling precision, he hurled it at the attacker.

A sickening crunch followed as the metal lid struck the stranger’s face. They yelped in pain, their grip on you loosening as they stumbled backward and crumpled to the ground. You staggered forward, gasping for air as you clutched your chest, your legs trembling beneath you.

But he wasn’t done.

He strode past you without a word, his shoulders tense, his movements deliberate.

“Kaito?” You called weakly, your voice shaking.

He didn’t acknowledge you. Instead, he knelt down, retrieving the trash can lid. His grip was firm, his knuckles white as he raised it high above his head.

You watched in horror as the first strike came down with a nauseating thud, the sound of metal meeting flesh reverberating in the narrow alleyway.

You flinched. Then another blow came, and another, each one more forceful, more brutal. The crunch of bone and the wet, sickening sound that followed made your stomach churn.

Your body refused to move. You stood there, shaking, your breath coming in shallow gasps as tears welled up in your eyes. The sounds—the violence—it was too much.

“Kaito!” You finally screamed, your voice breaking. “Please... stop!”

Finally, the onslaught ceased. The silence that followed was deafening, save for your ragged breathing and the faint clang as he let the blood-soaked lid slip from his hands.

His pale skin were stained with blood, his dark hair matted to his forehead. His wide eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto yours.

But what sent a cold shiver down your spine was the smile that crept across his face—a smile too wide, too unnatural.

He giggled, a soft, unsettling sound, and began walking toward you. Instinctively, you took a step back, but your foot caught on a loose rock. You stumbled, falling onto the cold pavement.

He stopped in front of you and knelt, bloodstained fingers brushing against his knees as he tilted his head to observe your frightened features.

“There’s no reason to be scared anymore,” he murmured, his voice soft and almost comforting if it were not with the situation. “I already dealt with it.”

His giggle returned, light and playful, like he hadn’t just done something horrifying.

“W-Why?” You choked out, your voice barely audible. “Why would you do that?!” Your mind raced with questions, a realization dawning on you. “Kaito… were you… w-were you follo—” Before you could finish, his blood-soaked finger trailed gently across your cheek, silencing you.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“I was expecting a thank you, you know? Not questions...” He teased, his tone light and cheerful. Then, he placed his hand on top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently ruffled it. “Hehe! But you’re adorable! I think that’s enough…~”

You could only stare at him, your body trembling with fear and confusion. His grin never faltered, his eyes gleaming with twisted affection

As he stood, towering over you, he extended a hand. You didn't take it. You couldn't.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he pouted. "I'm not the bad guy here! You know that I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Perhaps those words were too literal.

It just seemed that no matter where you were, he’d always be crawling back to your side whether you like it or not.

⋇⊰MR. GAP⊱⋇

What an absolute jerk.

You couldn’t help but glare at the man standing in front of you, his pale skin making the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent. His wavy, medium-length raven hair framed his smug face, and that ever-present, arrogant grin made your blood boil.

“What’s the matter? Just going to stare at me? You want this book, right?” He teased, holding the textbook just out of reach.

His laughter was sharp, echoing in the quiet of the library. This guy, Sukima, was the worst. He was always around, always popping up when you least wanted him.

It was as if he lived to make your life just a little more inconvenient. Like right now—when the book you needed was on a high shelf, and just as you were about to grab the ladder, he appeared out of nowhere, snatching it before you could.

He did this constantly, not just to you, but to everyone. Most people had learned to avoid him, except for the new students who hadn’t yet seen through his charm. But for you and the others, his antics were old news. They had grown sick of him, and you were no different.

"Heeeey, my arm’s getting tired," he taunted, swinging the book playfully. "I might just put it back, unless you—"

Before he could finish that infuriating sentence, you swiftly kicked him in the groin, your foot connecting squarely with his vulnerable spot.

He let out a yelp of pain, doubling over and dropping the book. You caught it with ease, your eyes narrowing as you turned on your heel.

"Go mess with someone else," you spat, walking away without sparing him another glance.

You missed the way his grin faltered, replaced with a deep frown as he clutched his groin.

“That’s not very kind of you!” He called after you, his voice strained but still carrying that mocking tone as he tried to catch up. “I was doing you a favor, and this is the thanks I get?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“I’m not some new student you can mess with,” you retorted, marching toward the librarian’s desk to check out the book.

"Why do you always assume the worst of me?" He's tone shifted slightly, but you weren’t having any of it.

He always played these games, always tried to twist things in his favor but you weren’t falling for it.

"You act like an ass, Sukima," you said bluntly, handing the book to the librarian. "What else am I supposed to assume?"

He chuckled behind you, his voice taking on that playful lilt again, "Well, maybe I'm just misunderstood. Ever think of that?"

You didn’t even bother responding as you took the book back and started heading for the exit. Yet, of course, he wasn’t done.

"I’ll see you around, you know," he called after you, his grin returning as he leaned against a nearby bookshelf. "I’ll pop back again~"

You sighed, not sparing a glance back at him, "I’m sure you will..."

Thank the heavens he wasn’t in your classes. If he were, you’d surely lose your sanity. Still, that didn’t mean you could avoid him entirely. Somehow, he always found a way to cross your path. Whether it was coincidence or intentional, you couldn’t tell.

If he was teasing someone else and spotted you, he'd drop them like a bad habit and rush over. The pattern had become so obvious that other students started using you as a shield, calling your name whenever he begans bothering them.

“Hey, it’s [Name]!” Someone shouted from the other side of the courtyard, and dread sank in your stomach like a stone.

Against your better judgment, you turned around. Sure enough, there he was—his lanky frame looming over the wide-eyed freshman.

The moment he heard your name, though, his entire demeanor shifted. He straightened, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, and started toward you with open arms.

“[Naaaame]!~” He called out in an exaggerated tone, giggling as he approached. “It’s been forever, hasn’t it?”

You shot him a glare. “It’s been a day, Sukima. Piss off.” You sidestepped him just as he was about to pull you into one of his infamous, unwanted hugs.

His pout was almost comical.

“Aw, come ooon,” he whined, flipping a strand of hair out of his face with dramatic flair. “Such a sunny day, and you’re so grumpy. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor by gracing you with my presence. And for free, no less!”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You look like you crawled out of a sewer. I’m doing you a favor by tolerating you.”

His gasp was theatrical, as if you’d mortally wounded him, “How cruel!” He cried, clutching his chest.

You ignored him and brushed past, determined to get to class on time. But just as you moved forward, you collided with someone else, nearly losing your balance as books tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, shit, I’m so sorry!” You blurted, crouching to help gather the fallen books.

“N-No, it’s my fault,” the other student mumbled, kneeling to join you.

His bangs obscured most of his face, but you recognized him immediately—a quiet guy from one of your lectures.

“Hey, I know you,” you said, handing him a book. “And seriously, don’t apologize. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention.”

He blinked at you, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he accepted the books.

“Th-Thank you,” he murmured, bowing slightly before hurrying off.

You smiled softly, watching him leave, only to feel Sukima’s presence looming behind you like a storm cloud.

“See?” You said, turning to face him. “That’s how it should be—an apology and a thank-you. Not ‘you owe me one.’” You rolled your eyes, brushing past him again.

He scoffed, his grin faltering as soon as you turned your back. His gaze flicked to the other student, now disappearing into the crowd, and his jaw tightened.

He’d caught the way that guy looked at you—the faint blush, the soft gratitude—and it made something ugly stir in his chest.

Sukima never cared much for classes. They were a tedious obligation, forced upon him by parents who still clung to the belief that he could make something of himself.

His grades were just enough to keep him afloat, a fact he took little pride in. So, skipping wasn’t a big deal—it just gave him more time to focus on things that truly piqued his interest. Like that student.

He leaned casually against the wall in the shadowy corner of the hallway, his dark eyes scanning the crowd as students began trickling out of their classrooms. He spotted him easily, the boy with the long bangs and timid demeanor, standing out in his gaze like a sore thumb.

The student moved with quiet purpose, pulling a striking red umbrella from his bag as he prepared to step into the rain.

He smirked. That color is disgusting, he thought, the brightness almost mocking his preference for muted tones. Still, he didn’t follow. Not yet. He had learned patience in these situations.

If you followed too closely, people noticed. And he hated being noticed when he didn’t want to be. The way students veered away from him in the hallways, their whispers trailing after him, only made it harder to move unnoticed.

The rain picked up, pattering against the windows as the student stepped outside, the crimson umbrella unfurling like a blooming flower. Sukima lingered just a moment longer, his smirk softening into something unreadable.

He wasn’t worried about losing sight of his target. He knew this town better than anyone—its alleyways, its shortcuts, its cracks.

This was his playground.

Pulling his hood up to shield himself from the rain, he slipped out a glass doors, taking a roundabout route to intersect with the student’s path.

The streets were quiet, save for the soft drumming of rain and the occasional splash of tires through puddles. His footsteps were nearly silent as he moved, weaving through narrow alleyways with practiced ease.

He didn’t need to see the red umbrella to know exactly where the student was.

His sharp gaze locked onto the crimson umbrella as he reached the end of the alley. The brightness of it against the dim, rainy backdrop only served to irritate him further.

Hidden in the shadows, he toyed with the flick knife in his hand, the blade glinting faintly in the dull light. Without hesitation, he surged forward, closing the gap between himself and the student.

The boy barely had time to react. Their eyes met—wide, terrified against Sukima’s predatory calm. The umbrella slipped from his grasp, forgotten as his hand shot out, gripping him by the throat and slamming him against the wet brick wall.

"W-Wait—" The student gasped, his voice strangled as Sukima’s grip tightened. "If it’s money you need! I-I have some! Please—just let me go!"

His dark chuckle echoed in the narrow alley.

"Money? Do I look like I give a damn about that?" He leaned closer, his breath cold against the student’s clammy skin. "No, no. I want you to leave [Name] alone. Permanently. Understand?" His words were laced with venom, his smile unnervingly wide.

The student’s face paled further.

Panic flickered in his eyes as he stammered, "O-Okay! I get it! I swear I’ll leave them alone!" He writhed in Sukima’s grasp, desperate to free himself.

His legs kicked, his hands clawed weakly at the arm pinning him, but Sukima barely flinched.

The struggle was almost pathetic. Though the student was taller, his frail build was no match for Sukima’s wiry strength. His grin twisted further, his satisfaction palpable as he effortlessly deflected the boy’s weak attempts at resistance.

"No, no, no." He shook his head mockingly, his grip tightening enough to make the student wheeze. "Words aren’t enough for me. I need… assurance." His gaze dropped to the student’s trembling arms. With a flick of his blade, the sharp edge caught the faint light once more. "You won’t be needing that, will you?"

The student’s eyes widened in horror as his intent became clear.

"W-Wait! No, please—!"

But he wasn’t listening. The blade moved swiftly, slicing into the student’s arm. The rain mixed with the crimson flow that seeped from the wound. The boy screamed, a piercing sound that echoed through the alley as the knife tore through flesh.

He met resistance at the bone, the blade catching on it with a sickening scrape. The student thrashed harder, his screams turning into ragged cries of pain. Blood coated Sukima’s hand, slick and hot, but his expression remained cold, focused.

"You’ll live," he muttered, his voice devoid of any real emotion. "But I doubt you’ll ever forget this." He pressed harder, forcing the blade deeper, until the student’s strength finally gave out.

His body slumped, but Sukima’s grip held him upright, ensuring the boy couldn’t collapse entirely.

He looked down on the atisfied, he let go abruptly, allowing the student to fall to the wet ground. He knelt briefly, his voice soft yet dripping with malice.

"Remember this pain every time you even think about [Name]. Next time, you'd lose more than an arm."

What Could've Been Pt. 2/2» [WIP] Request» Masterlist»

[twopoppies]

Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

[cowboyjen68]

how do I get my family comfortable around my gf. they aren't keen on people dating the same gender and my gf is a lovely masc butch but my family finds it odd she wants to be a boy but she doesn't

Sometimes you just can't or don't bother. I know their anxiety or awkwardness feels as uncomfortable to you as your relationship does to them. It is only natural we want our families approval or at least attempt to be nice and acceptance of the person who means most to us.

This might not be the answer you want but here is what I have learned. IT is often the long game. You both show up. You answer questions with as much respect as you can while also not allowing them to push your boundaries. Letting them know when they are crossing a line and helping them to reframe concerns or confusion in a way that lets you (or her) answer in a productive manner is a skill you will learn.

Her personality and likeability will help them to start to interact with her as a human and not the representation of someone they perceive as incomprehensible.

If she uses butch try that on for size. This is something I have learned working with old guys in farm country. They know what a butch lesbian is and in a very weird way that descriptor might set them at ease. It it might help them to understand that she is not "trying" to be anything she just is as she is and they don't need to dig any deeper.

There is no reason to start any battles or constantly try to explain. Sometimes you just go, enjoy the family time and if brought up you can try saying things like "isn't there something better to talk about" or humorously changing the subject. "Why would I want a man when I can have a woman who can ALSO open jars and get me flowers?" Laughter and laughing at yourself a bit can bring about a lighter air in the room and perhaps remove some of the awkwardness. If they know that you don't expect them to "get it" you just want them to leave it alone they might feel less on egg shells or just more apathetic. My ex once said to her mom "Well, she is not a man but she'd be happy to give some tips to your husband on how to dress". Got real quiet, then laughter, then it was kinda dropped.

I don't know the dynamic of your family but time, patience and humor is my suggestion.

Remembering it is not your problem but theirs and if things continue to be cruddy you have the right to opt out of further gatherings. It sucks to step away a bit but the blame would be in their hands and not yours.

[callmearcturus]

valonia47: IMO Dottie taught Ted avoidance and denial as the only allowed coping skills, which is how he ends up in England in the first place: avoiding the conflict and denying how bad his marriage has gotten. In that sense returning to Kansas is Ted breaking out of that and reconnecting with Henry on a regular basis instead of avoiding the inherent reminders of his relationship with his dad

two problems with this take, if you'll forgive my need to make a rebuttal.

ONE: Ted winding up in England because of conflict avoidance and denial is not how I read the situation at all. Hell, I don't think a man can move to another country without knowing things are bad, and every time he brings up Michelle, it's regarding the trouble in their marriage.

also, uh

given the entire fuckery with Dr. Jacob, I don't know if I actually agree at all with that take. Ted winds up in England because a pretty serious betrayal of trust.

this is one of the most interesting things the show does imo. like when Ted first talks about therapy and is dismissive/negative on it, I literally went "ah another otherwise progressive midwestern man who nonetheless doesn't like therapy" because bruh that's a thing for sure

and then ted tells sharon about his history of therapy and I was like "okay that's a little unusual but cmon ted you're better than this"

and then the fucking slap in the face happens and oh my fuck, Ted was right, he was manipulated by a fucking therapist holy shit, like all of his hesitations are entirely justified.

TWO: For Kansas to feel like a success for Ted, a LOT of shit would have needed to be done differently.

a. he needed to make the choice of his own volition, not because his mother pulled That Shit on him as punishment.

b. the show needed to actually show Kansas as living place that has support systems and people Ted loves. WHICH TO BE CLEAR: THE SHOW COULD HAVE DONE. fuck, if you want to read a fic that actually makes Ted moving back to Kansas make sense, I highly recommend Lafayette Goes To America, which I vouch for as a Missouri native is a loving and wonderful depiction of KCMO and why you'd want to live there.

c. why the fuck did they do that creepy fucking musical sting on the final shot of ted in kansas? i watched it with a friend who'd never seen the finale and they fucking gasped at it.

d. and this is a huge one for me is the trick each season with the opening/closing shots.

each season opens and closes on one character in a very deliberate move, like a reminder that you should be focusing on this person and the journey they've been on.

and it's not a necessarily positive journey.

with Rebecca, we watched her through season one transform from a hurt, vengeful, cruel person who was thrilled to ruin the lives of everyone around her if it helped her meet her goals into someone who finally recognized the gravity of their callousness.... but not before her actions led to the team being relegated.

with Nate, we watched him blossom as a tactician and strategist, and he winds up the head coach of West fucking Ham by the end..... but in the process, he loses everyone who supported him and he repeatedly fails to recreate those relationships in S3

with Ted, the show holds me down and kicks me repeatedly in the stomach until i admit i love a good tragedy I MEAN ted is successful, loved, respected, and supported by the people around him, he continues to work on himself in this place that he comes to adapt to and love... and instead of him asking "hey maybe i should review my custody arrangement and ask my son if he'd like to live here with me" he loses ALL OF THAT

there's this moment that makes the pain worse, this little (intentional? unintentional?) jab rebecca gives him. she begged this man to stay, offered to make him the best paid coach in the league, to personally assist in helping his family join him here, and he leaves.

it's a rejection. it's a rejection of richmond as meaningful, as people who love him, as his community and family. it hurts so fucking much.

none of them were worth trying for, ted? not rebecca, who held you tight when you had a panic attack? not trent, who detonated his career after shielding you from a press shitstorm? not roy, who came back to you and fucking quoted Jerry Maguire to your face, choosing to speak your language? fucking hell.

I blame Dottie for this, for how she looks at all the process Ted's made, resents it, and tears him back down. but the refutation of these people and their worth is part of the tragedy.

ANYWAY UH. I RESPECTFULLY DISAGREE. SORRY.

[moutainrusing]

problems

962 words, jegulus, platonic prongsfoot, platonic moonchaser, wolfstar

He was not bad. He was not engaging in incest. What the fuck, James? Shit, he’d just sworn. And again. In his head. It was fine. It was not fine. He was in love with his brother’s brother. Shit, he shouldn’t say it like that.

James was in love with his best friend’s brother.

Except he thought of his best friend as a brother.

So was he now thinking incestual thoughts? And how to stop? And on a scale of rottenness, how bad was he? Should he get thrown out for this? Put in jail? Someone needed to absolve him of this crime. It didn’t feel like a crime.

That’s the rottenness speaking!

He shouldn’t be in love with the brother of the person whom he thought of as a brother.

But he didn’t think of Regulus as a brother— Shut up, James. Just accept that you’re awful. He didn’t want to. He argued with the voice in his head – he was going insane – he refuted it, I’m not awful, but it rolled its eyes at him, the disembodied voice now had disembodied eyes, and James should be send to a psychiatric ward to be fixed for his mental problem of having a crush on his brother’s brother— He was normal. He really was. He just needed to keep it to himself and bottle it up and hopefully he wouldn’t do anything illegal.

Maybe seeking help was a good idea. He’d say, Hey, McGonagall, sign me up for therapy? You see, I have a problem—

You have many problems—

Shut up, voice, anyway, I have this problem where I’m crushing on my brother’s brother, please fix me—

You can’t be fixed.

James really hated his brain. If it weren’t for his brain, he wouldn’t be here finding Regulus attractive, because he wouldn’t have the thoughts to do so. He would be empty and calm and peaceful, the ultimate goal of meditation, and that was a good idea, he should meditate, breathe in deeply, cleanse his mind of all this dirt, and stop thinking about the dirt!

He was meditating.

He had problems, and he would pretend they didn’t exist. That’s not meditation, James.

The voice was supposed to go away when he cleared his thoughts.

He sat cross-legged on his bed, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to fill his brain with only air and nothing else. He was lighter than a cloud, nothing weighed him down, he’d float away and be forever untied from the Earth and all his troubles. Far away in space, where time would lose all meaning, and he would simply be particles of dust in a nebula. Imagine being a nebula. A lovely haze of starry explosion.

Regulus was a star.

James took in another deep breath, trying to suffocate his thoughts with the expansion of his lungs, he’d make room for nothing else except air and air and air and he couldn’t breathe—

“James!” Remus’s voice cut through to him, with a hand on his back, thumping it once, before he returned to the room and opened his eyes.

He latched onto Remus, flickering over Remus’s expression, and he knew exactly how to get rid of the concern written across it. All he had to do was make Remus hate him, so he blurted, “I’m in love with my brother’s brother.”

Remus’s eyes widened slightly, before he coughed, choking on a laugh, “Don’t say it like that, James, or people will get the wrong idea.”

Wildly, James gesticulated, “There is no right idea!”

“James,” Remus calmly caught James’s arms before they swung off his body. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t—”

“Regulus isn’t your brother,” Remus stared at him seriously. “You’re doing nothing wrong.”

“But—”

“You’re allowed to think of him in a romantic way. He’s not related to you, he’s a person you met on the journey of your life, and it’s okay for you to fall in love with him. Sirius is another person you met on the journey of your life, and you’re allowed to think of him in any way that you want to as well, and you chose to think of him as a brother. That doesn’t mean that all the random strangers in his family are also yours.”

James collapsed into Remus’s arms, head on his shoulder, mumbling into his neck, “I’m being stupid, right?”

He could imagine Remus’s smirk as he replied, “Nah. You’re never stupid.”

James scoffed, still clinging to Remus as he sought out more advice. “How should I tell Sirius?”

“Tell me what?” The door slammed shut as Sirius entered the room. He paused, looked at James and Remus, and pointed between them incredulously, “Are you telling me that you’re dating?!”

Laughing, James slipped out of Remus’s hug to sling an arm around his shoulder, “Nah, Remus is a brother to me.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, “What?! No, I’m not in love with my brother’s brother!”

Aw, he and Sirius were so similar. James burst out laughing at how stupid his honorary brother was.

With a deadpan expression, Remus added to Sirius’s distress, “I’m also younger than you.”

Dramatically, Sirius protested, “I’m not a pedophile!”

Jumping to his feet, James realised, “Regulus is younger than me! I’m an awful human being—”

“You’re a pedophile for Regulus?!” Sirius turned on him. He waved a condemning finger, “And you’re incestual!”

“You’re incestual!” James contested.

“Neither of you are incestual nor pedophiles,” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. He continued with a heavy sigh, “James, Regulus is in love with you too.”

Before Sirius could question this onslaught of upsetting revelations (apparently there was reciprocated romantic love between his brother and honorary brother), Remus mumbled as an afterthought, “And Sirius… I’m in love with you too.”

[mandalhoerian]

Gosh I wish you made such big analize about Xavier and Sylus, sometimes I feel so dumb that I can't read so good behind the lines. 😭😭😭

HEY NO CMON NOW NO NEED TO DISCREDIT YOURSELF LIKE THAT!!!! First of all, this is an ongoing game and story, think of it like an incomplete ao3 fic you have theories for. There are HUUGE gaps in there that will be filled later and until then, they are left to the interpretation of the player. It's only natural, there's SO MUCH stuff and lore out there to be consumed, which are often non-linear that it makes things confusing on purpose. It's all about feeding us crumbs about what's coming, of course we get lost!!

Secondly, I made the rafayel analysis because it confused the lights out of me with the constant nagging feeling that I was missing something and that's why I didn't understand most things and wanted to get my thoughts straight. Like the ebb day theories floating out there as to why he was Like That, why he said the things he did out of nowhere and randomly like "what if i take from you will you leave me?" after the topic was JUST about sceneries and the love and art burns me talk after YET AGAIN another art talk about inspiration in pain. I had whiplash over whiplash and felt the need to dive deep into intertidal zone.

It's not like that with Sylus and Xavier (and Zayne's) cards. At least for me. All of them are fairly self-contained compared to his, I feel like. And I'm sure other people have discussed this already, much better than I can as well -- especially Sylus, but I'll put my two cents in for a general review of both their memorias!

Xavier is experiencing negative emotions such as jealousy FOR THE FIRST TIME with MC. He doesn't know how to process these feelings which are allowed to be nurtured in a safe environment when that wasn't the case before in his life. They manifest in temper bursts that stem from a life of being forced to be emotionally blank. He wasn't allowed to be a child or freedom for himself and his thoughts and feelings and wants, so he starts behaving in a childish way -- it's something he's surprised about as well. This happens when you feel safe with a person that those repressed parts begin to open up and you start being yourself more with them. It's sad when you think about it, as cute as it is coming from Xavier. MC is so understanding of him and finding him being "expressive" more as a really positive thing. She's an amazing partner -- because let's face it, if this behavior came from a man in real life, it would be so annoying. Xavier isn't like those other men though, his jealousy doesn't come from a need to control or possess, a place of distrust, projection or disregard of personal boundaries. It's cute because it's followed by healthy communication to allow Xavier to process and grow and open up more, it doesn't threaten the relationship. This is just my interpretation, aside from the context of their previous lives together (the desire to monopolize now that he finally is with her) and this being Xavier's possibly last year on earth that gives a "i've got so little time left and i don't want to waste it" stuff.

And Sylus is. Well. There's a lot in there. The theme here is "their first time", and it's not limited to sleeping together, in my opinon. Theirs is a burgeoning relationship compared to the other "established" relationships. They're new to each other. We even see domesticity from them in MC's house for the first time, though it is a result of Sylus's Onychinus life making an introduction in their relationship as something that has to be legitimately talked about eventually. MC wants to come along with him and know more but Sylus hides a lot from her to keep her safe and separate from him, and yes it's his business and MC doesn't push (the mutual respect is insane here), but it's affecting their time together. Not that MC sees this as a problem because she's always ready to throw down (AND does lock in and gets one step ahead of him).

I read this as MC's first time finally letting him in and her desires/feelings for him that she asked him to stay and kept making the moves when it had all been him before. Her feelings are growing. And you can see how much it pleases him and makes him happy, he was waiting for this -- for MC to voluntarily want him and be honest with him. That's all Sylus wants. He can see into what she wants, and sure yeah he knows, but her outwardly voicing them to him is a different story altogether. It shows she trusts him, and that's important to Sylus.

She was mostly closed off and withdrawn from him emotionally because they have this dynamic that started off hostile that turned into teasing and provoking where she sees being vulnerable with him as a weakness that would be embarrassing. It's a budding relationship, remember? No couple is all in & open with each other right from the beginning, it comes later. And Sylus is a dominant man (not domineering, that's a different word) and I think MC doesn't like being weak next to someone like him, and she perceives a power imbalance there unconsciously even though Sylus wants her to be open so bad and rely on him more and give her everything she wants and needs.

So it's HUUUUUGE that they showed Sylus intertwine their hands together when he had to FORCE IT before. MC is finally receiving him with open arms and you can see he's delighted. It's so romantic first of all, but mans is hungry, BUT HE'S ALSO SO TENDER AND LOVING !!! GOOD FOR YOU SYLUS GET IT. I love this for him and that he felt safe enough to sleep even though he's nocturnal. Or she sucked the soul right out of his dick and knocked him out cold 😭 the sex was so astronomically soul ascending i guess LMFAO

Again, I'm sorry if I got anything wrong. These are just my thoughts, and they are surface level!

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Romantic Ending Ch. 23

Chapter 22

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The death of the God of Tanzanite is an inevitable end that will eventually come—

The God, in his mercy, offers his life to the future so that the divination-dependent people can live on their own feet.

I respect the last God of the continent.

But my heart couldn't keep up.

What did the God think of me, who felt this way?

Emma: Wh... What are you doing?

Just a few seconds ago, I was desperately trying to hold back tears, but now, as Prince Azel stood up from his chair and embraced me, confusion overwhelmed my mind.

My blurred vision melted into his warmth, and when I tried to pull away, he put his arm around my head.

Azel: I couldn't bear to see your unsightly face.

Emma: ...This is where you're supposed to say, "Cry as much as you want in my arms."

Azel: I would never say something so disgusting.

(His words are harsh, but his touch is gentle.)

He gently stroked my head as if to comfort me.

Whether it was unconscious or intentional, either way, the God was always sinful.

(I wish Prince Azel's true nature was a wicked God, corrupted to the core by evil.)

His compassion became a poison, stinging my eyes and bringing a heat to them.

Emma: Prince Azel... I think I'm going to cry after all.

Azel: Don't cry, it's troublesome.

Azel: Besides, you can't persuade me if you're crying, can you?

Emma: ...Persuasion... I can't do it anymore.

(I can't think of anything else to say.)

(I can't think... so...)

Taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't see my face, I stopped holding back my tears.

Azel: I thought you'd be more persistent.

Emma: Did you... want me to be?

Azel: No? It's just, a good person like you wouldn't be able to accept someone's death, right?

Azel: Especially Belle, known for her beautiful heart.

Emma: ...If I were to stop you, I would need a good reason to do so.

Emma: "You have to cherish your life"... that's not a reason that applies to everyone.

(Even if I brandish my morals and ethics here, it would ultimately be self-righteous of me.)

(I can't reach Prince Azel's lofty perspective.)

Emma: To Prince Azel, who is worried about the future of the illusory country and trying to start a revolution...

Emma: No matter how hard I rack my brain, all I have are personal feelings.

(I can't find the words to reach someone who carries out their plan with such conviction.)

(...Even though we spent time together, it was ultimately short, and the fact that I'm an outsider remains unchanged.)

Emma: Because I can only say selfish things...

Emma: ...I have no choice... but to cry.

(My voice... is trembling.)

Even though I clutched Prince Azel's clothes as if to vent my emotions, he didn't shake me off.

Azel: Will you feel better if you cry?

Emma: ...It might be a temporary relief.

Azel: Then I'll allow it.

Emma: You said I shouldn't cry earlier...

Azel: Just cry before you babble on, cry now!

(Is this... also mercy?)

Prince Azel continued to stroke my hair.

His touch, which felt almost affectionate, and the gentleness of his heartbeat that reached my ears finally broke the dam of my tears.

Biting my lip to keep from crying out loud, I pressed my trembling body against Prince Azel's.

(After I cry my heart out, I have to make a choice.)

(Whether to part ways with Prince Azel like this, or...)

Either way, it would be a painful choice, and I choked back my sobs.

As I sobbed like a child, an out-of-place laughter fell upon me.

Emma: Wh... Why... are you... laughing?

Azel: Excuse me. I didn't expect you to cry this much.

Azel: You haven't been living your life relying on God, have you?

Azel: You don't have to worry about your future tomorrow because of God's death.

Azel: I was wondering why you're sobbing so much...

Azel: Did you like being a slave that much?

Emma: Not a slave... a shrine maiden (*priestess)...

Azel: It's the same in that you're being used by me.

Azel: I've used you, but I've never given you anything in return, have I?

Emma: ...Thinking about it calmly... that's true...

(Starting with being tricked into debt with swindler-like tactics...)

(Being used as a shield to avoid women, and because of that, falling victim to an aphrodisiac.)

(Being forced to cook as labor for debt repayment, and there was also that harsh errand of going back and forth between the city...)

Emma: I've been... used... and abandoned... by Prince Azel... so many times.

But strangely, I don't feel bad about it, because it was fun.

The God never truly treated me as a "slave."

When I was affected by the aphrodisiac, he cared for me, when I was cold, he embraced me, and when I was tired, he cooked for me.

When I tried to sleep on the floor, he carried me to the bed, and when he wished for me to not come to the party, he reluctantly went with me.

Prince Azel is that kind of contrary person.

I liked his twisted kindness—I came to like it.

(He's deeply embedded in my heart, to the point that I'm crying this much, and in the end, we're parting ways with death...)

(I think... I deserve compensation...)

Emma: I want... the reward I haven't received...

Azel: Have you forgotten that your labor was for debt repayment?

Emma: The... wounds in my heart... will remain... forever.

Emma: It's to the extent that... I have to claim compensation exceeding my debt.

When I made a wicked claim, imitating the greedy, wicked God, he laughed again.

Azel: I'll listen if you want to ask.

Emma: Then...

I had been thinking while crying.

About how to spend the time until the moment Prince Azel dies—

Emma: Make me... a part of your plan.

Azel: .............

When I wiped my tears and looked up, Prince Azel was making a blatantly sullen face.

Azel: I couldn't hear you very well.

Emma: M-Make me... a part of it!

Azel: Oh dear, I can't hear you.

Emma: Liar!

Azel: I don't remember saying I'd listen to anything.

Azel: Besides, are you stupid?

Azel: Being a part of it means you have to witness my death.

Prince Azel roughly wiped my wet cheeks with his sleeve.

Azel: There's no way a woman who's sobbing like this could do such a thing.

Emma: ...I... don't think I can either...

Emma: But I want a reason to witness it.

Emma: A reason for me to accept Prince Azel's death without running away.

(My heart refuses to accept the fact that Prince Azel will be gone.)

(This is something I can't do anything about, so at least I want a trigger to face it.)

(Instead of running away, I want to witness Prince Azel's great achievement... and...)

(I want to be with him for as long as possible.)

Azel: Are you serious?

Emma: ...I wouldn't joke about something like this.

I peered into his mystical eyes, filled with stars, to convey my feelings.

I must look unsightly, reflected in those beautiful eyes.

Prince Azel still had a sullen expression on his face, but...

As we gazed at each other, he gradually brought his face closer and placed his lips on my forehead.

(!?)

Azel: Ah, my mistake.

Emma: Th... That's not something you do by mistake!?

Azel: I just misjudged the distance, don't make a fuss, don't yell.

(What was that kiss!?)

The God averted his eyes awkwardly.

My heart screamed in agony at having been subjected to another sin at this juncture.

(...From now on, I'll call you the "suggestive God" instead of the "wicked God.")

Azel: There is one simple task that anyone can do... or maybe not.

(...)

Emma: I'll do it.

Azel: Don't you want to hear what it is?

Emma: I'm not considering refusing any task.

Emma: But if possible...

Emma: I hope it's something that will allow me to be with Prince Azel until the very end.

Azel: –...It's because you're like that that you get hurt.

(.....?)

Prince Azel cleared his throat, let go of me, and turned his back.

Azel: The plan is tomorrow.

Azel: Since you said you'd do it, don't run away halfway.

(Tomorrow...)

(...Tomorrow is the day of the end.)

Emma: I'll do my best.

My voice trembled as I conveyed my determination.

-

Perhaps busy chasing after Kamal, who had been branded a sinner by the apostle, the people no longer visited the solitary desert castle.

Although there was a chance to return to the castle now, Prince Azel didn't drive me out, as I was reluctant to leave and remained in the temple.

Eventually, the sun set, and the giant moon that illuminated the illusory country rose in the sky.

The final night had arrived, whether I liked it or not.

Emma: Are you really alright?

Azel: Don't make me say it again.

Prince Azel, holding a kitchen knife, carefully chopped the vegetables.

Ideally, I would have wanted to do it, but with one arm unusable, I was helpless.

(His movements are stiff. He must be really scared.)

Emma: Even if we don't chop the vegetables like before and just put them whole in the pot...

Azel: It would make me cry if that was the last supper.

Azel: Besides, wouldn't it be hard to eat with your hand like that?

Emma: .....

Azel: ...Don't grin, the knife might slip and fly off.

Emma: You absolutely have to avoid that!?

(It's just like any other night. The only difference is that our roles are reversed.)

If I let my guard down, tears threaten to spill from my still swollen eyes.

(Something... I have to distract myself with something.)

Emma: Cooking is... tough, isn't it?

Azel: What are you talking about out of the blue?

Emma: No, I was just thinking that since Prince Azel is a God and a prince, it must have been tough for you at first...

Emma: How long have you been living here alone?

When I brought up a casual topic, Prince Azel, perhaps sensing my intention, let out a sigh of exasperation.

Azel: It's been about ten years.

Emma: You used to live in the castle before, right?

Azel: Yes. But one day, an incident happened.

Azel: ...A nightmarish incident where a large number of aphrodisiac-affected women came rushing in.

Emma: What kind of disturbing incident is that...?

Azel: Exactly as it sounds, that geezer orchestrated it, and a horde of women who had taken aphrodisiacs barged into my room.

Azel: They started taking off their clothes, moaning on their own... I don't know a hell worse than that.

(Wow... that's awful just to imagine.)

Azel: Even a gentle God like me snapped and started living here, practically running away from home. That's how it all began.

Emma: That's, well...

Emma: ...I can understand why you dislike women, Prince Azel.

Azel: I never said I disliked you, not even once—

Azel: Well, maybe I do dislike women, but it's frustrating, isn't it? It's like I've lost.

Emma: You're not fooling anyone.

Azel: Oh, the knife...

Emma: Don't let it slip!

I couldn't help but laugh at the suggestive God, formerly known as Prince Azel, who furrowed his brows in a sulky manner.

Emma: I'm glad I'm not hated.

Azel: Don't get cocky.

Emma: But you were the one who said it...

Azel: Well, still...

Azel: You might be the woman I've talked to the longest in my life.

Emma: ...That's...

(That's a record that will never be broken again.)

Emma: ...An honor.

-

The last supper was plentiful, as we aimed to use up all the ingredients remaining in the temple.

Since it couldn't all fit on the kitchen counter, we spread a beautiful cloth by the window in the room and arranged the dishes there, holding a feast while gazing at the moon.

It included the meatless, perfectly round croquettes I had made before, along with a dish of chickpeas mashed into a paste and flavored with cumin, bell peppers stuffed with minced meat and seasoned with spices from the desert country, and for the main course, Prince Azel's specialty tagine, made with steamed vegetables and meat.

I also used the vegetables Prince Azel had cut for me to prepare a pot-au-feu, a staple home-cooked dish in Rhodolite.

I even baked some simple langues de chat for dessert, making for a more extravagant menu than usual.

(It feels strange to have Rhodolite and Tanzanite cuisine lined up like this.)

I immediately reached for a croquette with my fork, but...

Emma: Ah...

Eating with only one hand was more difficult than I expected, and it tumbled onto my clothes.

Emma: I need more practice.

Azel: What are you talking about?

Before I could pick it up, a hand reached out, and the croquette disappeared into Prince Azel's mouth.

At the same time, the fork was taken from my hand, and he brought it to my lips with the croquette still skewered on it.

Azel: See, when something is offered to you, you're supposed to open your mouth, right?

*flashback*

Emma: In the world, this is called "aah."

Emma: When something is offered to you, you open your mouth.

Azel: ..............

*flashback over*

(...That time...)

Prince Azel, with a grumpy look on his face, forcefully pushed the croquette against my lips.

When I hesitantly opened my mouth, he mercilessly stuffed it in.

(...! ...It's big!)

Prince Azel intently watched as I desperately chewed and swallowed.

Azel: Your mouth is unexpectedly small.

(...He wasn't being mean, he really didn't know.)

With a nonchalant expression, he broke the croquette and offered a smaller piece in front of me.

Emma: Thank you. But then Prince Azel won't be able to eat.

Azel: I'll just eat normally later?

Emma: It'll get cold.

Azel: The taste won't change. Just eat it.

Emma: munch...

(This feeling of being unaccustomed to "aah," it makes me flustered.)

(...I wish this would last forever.)

Azel: Don't make Kamal and Prince Silvio go through the same trouble.

Emma: I wouldn't ask them to "aah" me. Normal people don't do that.

(Ah...)

Prince Azel's hand stopped at my careless slip of the tongue.

Azel: What was that thing we did before, then?

Emma: That was... well... the situation was unavoidable, so to speak...

Emma: "Aah" is originally something you only do with someone you're close to, but... ahaha... haha...

Azel: ...You tricked me.

Emma: I didn't trick you!?

Azel: No wonder there was no "aah" when you had dinner with Prince Silvio.

Emma: That would be horrifying—ow!

Even as he pinched my cheek in displeasure, Prince Azel didn't withdraw the fork.

Emma: What's wrong with it? We're close.

Azel: We're not close, we're complete strangers.

Emma: So you do this kind of thing with everyone, Prince Azel?

Azel: ......

Emma: ...Come to think of it, only Silvio is called "Prince," so in terms of closeness...

Emma: Ow, ow, I'm sorry!

Prince Azel, pulling my cheeks hard, turned away.

Azel: I only call Silvio "Prince" because he's my benefactor.

Emma: Eh... not because he's rich?

Azel: Of course, that's part of it, but...

(So it is part of it.)

Azel: I told you before that Kamal was exiled, right? I had no way to contact him.

Azel: But one day, Prince Silvio, who was visiting as a merchant, smuggled Kamal into the country in his cargo.

Azel: You usually have to undergo a cargo inspection at the port, but...

Azel: They can't thoroughly inspect the luggage brought by royalty from another country.

Azel: Taking advantage of that loophole, the exile was able to return to Tanzanite.

(I can't believe that happened...)

(That's why Prince Silvio wasn't surprised when he found out Kamal-san was a man.)

Azel: Once he returned, I could disguise him however I wanted...

Azel: But if it weren't for that merchant's quick thinking, I wouldn't have been reunited with Kamal even now.

Emma: ...So that's the reason for the "Prince."

(It seems he's not just greedy.)

Each time I learn something new, my impression of Prince Azel changes.

Azel: On the other hand, you've been so disrespectful that it's a waste to even call you "Miss."

Azel: Maybe I should just call you Emma from now on.

Emma: .......

Azel: ...What's with that subtle look on your face?

Emma: Nothing...

(...This person's obliviousness is truly terrifying...)

In general, being called by your first name indicates a closer relationship than using honorifics like "Prince" or "Miss," but...

I couldn't bring myself to say that.

-

The night passed by in a flash, and the end drew near.

Once the sun rose from the horizon tomorrow, this time would never return.

Whenever my mind relaxed, tears welled up, and I pressed them into my pillow as I shifted in bed.

Prince Azel was reading a book beside me, maintaining his usual composure despite it being the last day.

Emma: ...Aren't you scared?

Azel: Not at all?

Emma: I'm... scared.

Azel: I figured.

Emma: ...Shall we chat?

Azel: We've already talked enough.

Emma: There are tons of things I want to know about Prince Azel.

(...I don't want to sleep.)

(Just for today, I want to keep seeing this dream for as long as possible.)

Azel: For example?

Emma: ...Like why Prince Azel is so greedy.

Azel: There's no reason, money is necessary to live.

Emma: You said that before, didn't you?

*flashback*

Emma: Is the Living God that hard up for money?

Azel: I don't take money because I'm hard up.

Azel: I take money to live.

*flashback over*

Emma: But you're not in a position to be troubled by money, Prince Azel.

Azel: ...Certainly, if I wanted to, I could get any amount of living expenses from the national treasury.

Azel: But depending on someone else's money is the same as having your life and freedom in their hands.

Azel: It would defeat the purpose of escaping to the solitary desert castle.

(Now that he mentions it, that's true. He could be forced to accept women by being held hostage with money.)

Azel: To escape from that geezer, I needed to earn money on my own.

Azel: But God can't openly do business.

Emma: Why is that?

Azel: Because it would become an offering, not a business.

Azel: People desire God's protection. If that God says "I want money," they'll rush to offer it.

Azel: Tanzanite is a country with deep faith. It wouldn't be strange for someone to offer their entire fortune.

(...It was the God's way of making sure people's lives wouldn't be ruined.)

Azel: If I can't do business with the people of my own country, then I should turn my attention to people from other countries.

Azel: To earn money, I needed to invite many people from other countries.

(People from other countries...)

*flashback*

Silvio: ...It's been about ten years.

Silvio: Since Tanzanite started focusin' on tourism and became one of the best at attractin' visitors on the continent with its song and dance.

*flashback over*

Emma: Ah, could it be...

Emma: Did you start the tourism industry, Prince Azel?

Azel: You're sharp today, aren't you?

(I'm surprised...)

Emma: I thought it originated with Kumushu, the head of the tourism association...

Azel: I was the one giving instructions to that Kumushu.

Azel: I opened up the closed country, and gradually people from other countries started flowing in.

Azel: And, as you know, the richest man on the continent, drawn by the rumors, took the bait.

Emma: If Prince Silvio is your business partner, you won't have any trouble with money, will you?

Azel: Yes, he's still my biggest source of income.

Azel: Thanks to him, I've been able to invest in all sorts of things that the national budget couldn't afford.

(...Wait, so Prince Azel is actually a rich man disguised as someone poor...?)

Prince Azel closed his book and lay down.

He wasn't facing away from me as usual, but facing me.

Azel: By the way, don't you think it's unfair?

Emma: What is?

Azel: We've been talking about me this whole time, and you haven't said anything about yourself.

Emma: ...Are you perhaps interested in me—

Azel: I'm just tired of talking.

He pinched my cheeks.

I'm used to it now, and even this pain is dear to me.

(But when this night is over...)

(...! ...No, I still can't come to terms with it.)

Prince Azel must have noticed my teary eyes.

Azel: What kind of person are you, and how have you lived your life?

Emma: ...That's a long story.

Azel: I'm impressed that you've lived such a fulfilling life.

(I'll talk as much as you want. To keep this night from ending...)

But dreams don't last.

—The moon set, the sun rose, and the day of the end arrived.

.

.

.

Romantic Ending Ch. 23 Letter

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because they're funny

Scar: You have an impressive pain tolerance. Grian: Thanks, it's the trauma.

Scar: Where are you going? Grian: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Grian: Scar, no. Scar: Scar, yes.

Scar: Do I least have a chance to explain myself? Grian: This is America, so nope! Scar: This isn't America, this is OHIO!

Scar: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Grian: Well, it’s frowned upon. Scar: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? Scar: That’s okay, right?

Scar: Grian, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Grian: Aww, thanks- Scar: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

Grian: Remain CALM! slaps Scar multiple times

Scar: My head hurts. Grian: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

Grian, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Scar: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

Grian: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Scar: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Grian: Can I have your number? Scar, visible texting: I don't have a phone.

Scar: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Grian: You know that's called a coma, right? Scar: Scar: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

Grian: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight. Scar: Actually, Grian, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.

Grian: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Scar: I don't have pupils.

Grian: Hey. Scar: pissed off You… complete …ASS, Grian! You show up here after WEEKS, and you say “hey”?!

Scar: I love hearing Grian shouting at someone else. It makes such a nice change.

Scar: Any idiot would know that. Grian: I knew that! Scar: See?

Grian: I know this isn’t going to end well and I don’t care. So don’t you try and stop me, Scar! Scar: I wasn’t stopping you. I was asking if you had a spare camera so I can record this.

Grian, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Scar: Well, that's you. Grian: Me?! Is that what I look like? Scar: You don't know? Grian: Busy day.

Scar: hiding something in their coat I think we should adopt another kid! Grian: No. Scar: Why not? Grian: Because when you say “kid”, you mean “cat”, and we already have fifteen of those. Scar: unzips coat Sixteen.

Grian: Breaking News, Scar has disappointed us.

Grian: You are an absolute fucking dork. Scar, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork! Grian: sighs Yeah, you're my dork.

Scar: You know how some people consider “may you have an interesting life” to be a curse? Grian: Yes…? Scar: Fuck those people. Wanna have an adventure?

Scar: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows. Grian: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

Scar: Okay, two person huddle. Grian: You can't huddle with two people. This is just a hug.

Grian: I couldn't do this without you, Scar. Scar: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

Grian: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT. Scar: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes.

Grian: What's gone wrong, Scar? Scar: Hey! That’s one hell of a thing to say to a person. Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis. Grian: That’s technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling? Scar: Well… There’s a crisis.

Grian: I know one person who finds me funny! Scar: Okay, who?… and you can't say yourself! Grian: Okay then I'm out.

Grian: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Scar: I had a lizard that I burnt.

[angel-dustspo]

2025 - The year of your Recovery ₊˚⊹ᰔ

2025 is the year of change, and in the first part of January everybody is extremely motivated to "glow up", "reinvent themselves" and "change their lives". I'm all for that, but I believe there is something even more important that we should focus on in 2025: recovering. Learning how to be there for yourself, appreciate your own value, know your worth and finally, how to love yourself should be a priority this year. In order to achieve all of those, you'd have to undo the damage that has been done to your brain by the eating disorder and begin your healing process.

It's an extremely brave thing to acknowledge there is a problem and to actively WANT to change it. Recovery is a hard thing and, at times, it could seem even more challanging than the disorder itself and make you wonder "why did I even begin this, there's no point, i want to give up". It's normal to have bad days too, where you feel like you can't keep going anymore, but it's very important to keep pushing yourself. Recovery isn't linear and it WILL hurt, but it's so worth it to finally enjoy that dessert, have enough energy to hang out with your friends, improve your mood, feel warm again, have the strenght to go for a walk, and to look in the mirror and be happy with the person you see, to love the way you look and to fall in love with yourself again.

✮ Here are some recovery tips that have worked for me:

ׂ╰┈➤ Inspiring youtube videos

My most important tip for any disorder, addiction or problem ever. I know I would still be in the same place the little girl 4 years ago was if I didn't discover the recovery and self improvement youtubers. This has been the most important thing in my recovery journey because it was the starting point, the switch that finally showed me the light. Watching just a few videos made me change the way I am forever. I feel like everybody trying to recover should watch and learn from other people's mistakes and their journeys.

The people I find the most helpful are:

Linda Sun (I basically owe her my life, nothing and nobody ever helped me so much as she did through her inspiring videos!!!)

zoeunlimited (she helped me with beating ana by making me understand how the metabolism actually works and how important food is - please watch the metabolism videos)

growingannanas

Coleen Christensen

LilBigNanc

Mae Alice Suzuki

ׂ╰┈➤ The Tumblr pro-recovery community

A key piece in my recovery, I wouldn't be in such a good mental state without Tumblr. It's true that it helped me beat an0rexia forever, become my best self and develop all my healthy habits. But we all know though that Tumblr can be a very toxic place for obsessive self improvement and that good health achieved by any means is glorified here, and I got myself orth0rexia from here, which I'm still struggling to recover from too. It's important to take the good stuff only and ignore any harmful media on here.

ׂ╰┈➤ Have "allowing days/meals"

My approach was to say "I allow myself to eat this". No reason needed to enjoy something you (used to) love, and I aim to feel no guilt afterwards. It doesn't work all the time, but it's a BIG step towards being able to eat anything guilt-free.

ׂ╰┈➤ Not consuming ED media

Say goodbye Tumblr th1nspo, glorifying eds on Tiktok or saving all those ana pins, all it does is ruin your progress and make you feel miresable about your own journey

ׂ╰┈➤ Changing your end-goals

My end goals changed from being skinny and pretty to being strong and healthy, and doing things towards my new goal has brought me unintentional weight loss and enhanced my features a lot. Chasing that unhealthy beauty only attracts opposite results.

ׂ╰┈➤ Thinking about your reasons for recovering

It's extremely easy to get lost. Always keep in mind your recovery reasons and reassure yourself that you will succeed. Think about what you'll be able to do, what you miss now and how you will feel if you keep going, and stay strong!!!

ׂ╰┈➤ Don't beat yourself up

We all screw up sometimes, and the important thing is to keep hoping and keep working towards our dreams. It's stupid of me to just say this continuously, but you have to never give up on recovery. Most days you will hate yourself so much and not understand what's going on or what are you doing wrong. It might be the worst thing for your mental health right now, but in a week, a month, a year, you will be so happy you started recovery and never gave up on it.

The path is not easy, but it is worth every struggle. I hope 2025 is the year when you recover and you start to love yourself. You're so brave and I'm so proud of you for trying, good luck on your journey <333