#we'll always have traveler con

[captainclint]

ngl my first reflex was to check the wj tag before even thinking about watching the London M9 reunion..... welp

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʀᴏᴍᴇs ʀᴜʟᴇ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Summary: The deeper levels of both you and Marcus are revealed to one another

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), ANGSTY, gladiator battles, gore, blood, PTSD, scars, injury, corrupt people, exploitation

A/n: Hey everyone, the new part is finally posted! I've been really busy lately. For those who don't know, I'm a teaching assistant and I also coach cheer and dance at our school. I've been busy getting stuff done for that, so sorry for the wait. Please enjoy! P.S. Sorry, I didn't have time to proofread. (i combined your asks in my own way but sadly there no smut @theamunsonsworld?)

The last day of your honeymoon dawned with a soft, golden light that bathed the villa in gentle warmth. As you and Marcus made your way back to your father's villa in a horse-drawn carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones filled the silence. Marcus watched the passing scenery, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Breaking the silence, Marcus turned to you, his brow furrowed. "You know," he began, his tone serious, "when your father brought up that ridiculous expectation over dinner, I had to stop myself from laughing."

You looked at him, surprised. "Laughing? Why?"

"Because," Marcus said, leaning back against the cushioned seat, "the idea that we could just decide to have a child on a whim as if it were that simple, is absurd. Your father lives in a world of his own making sometimes."

You let out a bitter laugh, the weight of the conversation settling in. "He’s always been like that—demanding, controlling. It’s as if he forgets I’m a person, not just a means to an end."

Marcus nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "The expectations of Rome can be suffocating. But we can try to live differently, take our time, even find ways to see your mother."

A spark of hope flickered within you. "It sounds wonderful, but it feels like a distant dream."

Marcus shifted closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "It doesn’t have to be. We can make it a reality, bit by bit."

Your gaze fell, the words heavy on your tongue. "I’ve been rebellious my whole life, Marcus. But the truth is, as a woman, I have no choice. I’m trapped in these roles."

His hand found yours again, squeezing gently. "You’ve always had a fire in you. That spirit is what drew me to you."

A wave of emotions crashed over you, frustration mingling with gratitude. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Fighting, resisting, when it feels like nothing ever changes."

"You’ve already changed so much," Marcus reassured you. "And together, we can push further. We can find ways to see your mother. She deserves to know you’re thinking of her."

Your heart ached with longing, the image of your mother vivid in your mind. "I want that more than anything. To have her back in my life, even if only for a while."

Marcus smiled, his expression softening. "We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can travel under the guise of visiting trade routes or exploring new markets. There’s always a way."

You looked at him, a smile breaking through despite everything. "You always find the silver lining, don’t you?"

He chuckled, his eyes bright. "Someone has to. Besides, it’s easier with you by my side."

You felt a surge of gratitude for Marcus, for his understanding and support. "Thank you, Marcus. For everything."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "We're in this together. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

As the silence settled between you, Marcus’s gaze turned contemplative. "Have you ever thought about having kids? I mean, not now, but in the future."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "Kids? I suppose I have, but not for a long time. I'm only eighteen, Marcus. There's so much I want to do first."

Marcus nodded, understanding but curious. "What do you want to do before that?"

You sighed, the weight of your dreams pressing against the confines of your reality. "I want to see the world, and experience things beyond the confines of my father's estate. I want to spend time with my mother, and really get to know her again. And... I want to build something with you, something that’s ours, without the shadow of my family's expectations hanging over us."

Marcus's curiosity was piqued. "An addition?"

You nodded, a determined look in your eyes. "I want us to live in the villa. The one where we honeymooned and where I spent my childhood. It holds so many memories, and it's the one place that feels like home to me."

Marcus's expression softened. "The villa? That place is beautiful. I can see why you'd want to make it our home."

"It's more than just beautiful," you explained. "It's where I felt happiest, where my mother and I had some of our best times before everything fell apart. It feels like a safe haven, and I want to create new, happy memories there with you."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes searching yours. "And you think having kids would interfere with that?"

"Not interfere, exactly," you clarified, trying to articulate your feelings. "It's just... I want to be ready. I want to be in a place where I feel secure and happy, where I know I can give them the love and stability they deserve. And right now, I'm not there yet. We’re not there yet."

Marcus tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "So, you're saying you need more time to figure things out? Typical."

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glint in your gaze. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

He chuckled, his laugh a warm, familiar sound. "Just that you're always planning, always thinking ahead. Sometimes, I think you should just live in the moment a little more."

You huffed, a mock frown forming on your face. "Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on living in the moment?"

"Absolutely," he said with a grin, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "I am the very definition of spontaneous."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Right, because nothing says 'spontaneous' like planning out our every move on this journey."

"Hey, that was different," he defended, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I was being responsible, making sure we didn't end up stranded in the middle of nowhere."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You know, sometimes I think you just like arguing with me."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious but his eyes still warm. "Maybe I do. But only because I care about you. And I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future."

You softened, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I know, Marcus. And I appreciate it. I really do. We'll get there, together. But right now, I need to focus on the present, on getting my mother to the villa and figuring out our next steps."

Marcus nodded, his expression resolute. "Then that's what we'll do. Together."

The carriage came to a halt after the long journey. You were back at your father’s palace. The first person in your line of sight was Aurelia, standing tall and poised beside your father. Her presence always brought a mixture of emotions—resentment, bitterness, and a grudging respect for her unyielding confidence. Your father, ever the imposing figure, stood with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as Marcus helped you down from the carriage. His hand was a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions swirling inside you. Your mind raced with thoughts—fear, anticipation, and a deep-seated dread. The memory of the villa, your mother's isolation, and your father's control weighed heavily on you. And now, the nagging worry that you might not be pregnant gnawed at your insides. You had to face them both with a facade of calm.

Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you approached your father and Aurelia. He had always been your guide, your support, and now was no different. His presence gave you the strength to lift your chin and meet their gaze head-on.

“Welcome back,” your father said, his voice cold and detached. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

“It was fine, Father,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Aurelia’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and malice. “You look well,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “I’m sure the trip was good for you both.”

Before you could respond, your father turned his gaze to Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “Did you manage to fulfill your duties, Marcus? I trust you took full advantage of the... solitude?”

You felt Marcus stiffen beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Our trip was about more than just that, Sir,” Marcus replied evenly, though you could sense the tension in his voice.

Your father wasn’t satisfied. “More than that? Do you understand the gravity of your position, Marcus? My daughter’s primary responsibility is to produce an heir. Have you been diligent in your efforts, or have you been wasting time?”

Anger flared inside you, and you stepped forward, your voice sharp. “That’s quite inappropriate, Father. Our trip was about reconnecting and planning our future.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Your future is already decided. You are to produce an heir. Everything else is secondary.”

Marcus intervened, his voice calm and measured. “With all due respect, Sir, building a strong foundation for our future is essential for the well-being of our potential children. It ensures they are brought into a stable and loving environment, which, in the long term, benefits your legacy.”

You bristled at your father’s invasive question, but Marcus’s reasoning was sound. Your father’s eyes flickered with a hint of consideration before hardening again. “Your pretty words won’t change the facts. An heir is needed. Quickly.”

Aurelia’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and vindictive. “Now, now, let’s not get heated. We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

You shot her a glare, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, family. How could I forget?”

Aurelia continued, her tone saccharine. “Your father only wants what’s best for you. We all do.”

Marcus stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “We understand the expectations, but we also need to live our lives the way we see fit. The stability and happiness of our family should come first.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed further. “You will do as you’re told. You owe it to this family.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt your frustration boiling over. “I owe this family nothing. I’ve been controlled and manipulated my entire life. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Aurelia stepped closer, her presence imposing. “Let’s not forget our manners, dear. We all have roles to play, and you must play yours.”

Your temper flared at her condescension, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. “And what exactly is my role, Aurelia? To be paraded around like a prize, while you sit here on your high horse?”

Aurelia’s smile was icy. “Careful, sister. Your jealousy is showing. Not everyone is cut out for greatness.”

You took a step forward, hand twitching with the urge to slap her. “Jealousy? Of you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Before you could act on your impulse, Marcus gently but firmly grasped your arm, pulling you back. “Enough,” he said quietly, his voice a mix of warning and concern.

Aurelia’s smirk widened, sensing victory. “Always the temperamental one. It’s a wonder Marcus puts up with you.”

You were about to retort when a maid hurried into the courtyard, her face pale and anxious. “My lord, my lady,” she addressed your father and Aurelia, glancing nervously at you. “I have urgent news.”

Your father’s stern expression softened slightly. “Speak.”

The maid took a deep breath. “Lady Aurelia is with child.”

Aurelia’s triumphant smile was instantaneous, and she looked at you with smug satisfaction. “Looks like I’ll be fulfilling my role just fine.”

You felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath you. The news hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, and a deep-seated fear of being overshadowed.

Your father stepped forward, his gaze heavy with expectation. “I hope to hear the same from you soon,” he said, his tone a blend of command and disappointment. “But for now, I have work to do and a marriage to finalize with your mother. We’ll speak more of this later.”

Marcus tightened his grip on your arm, sensing your rising fury. “Let’s go,” he murmured, practically dragging you away before you could lash out further.

As you walked briskly away from the courtyard, you seethed. “How dare she? How dare he?” you muttered, your mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and injustice.

Marcus slowed his pace, his expression one of deep concern. “You can’t let them get to you like this.”

“How can I not?” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “She always wins, always gets the praise, and now this? And Father... he doesn’t even see me.”

Marcus stopped, turning to face you fully. “I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I love you for who you are, not for any role you’re supposed to play.”

His words were meant to comfort, but the pain of your father’s disregard and Aurelia’s gloating was too fresh, too raw. “It’s not enough,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “I need to be more than just... tolerated.”

Arriving at your bedchamber, you muttered under your breath, “He wants to finalize the marriage with my mother. To bind us even more to his plans.”

Marcus closed the door behind you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. You stood there for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on you, before the rage started to build. The anger that had been simmering all day erupted like a volcano.

“Gods, Marcus, I can’t take this anymore!” you screamed, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “Every single thing he does, every decision he makes, it’s all about control. He treats us like pawns, like we’re nothing more than pieces on his chessboard!”

Marcus watched you, his face stoic, but his eyes were full of understanding. He knew you needed to get it all out, to release the torrent of fury that had been building for so long.

You began to pace the room, your hands clenched into fists. “He wants nothing to do with my mother, and now he’s probably scheming to marry her off to some other noble. It’s like she’s just another tool to be used! And Aurelia—gods, I hate her. She’s always gloating, always scheming. She thinks she can replace my mother and secure her own power. And now, she’s pregnant before me. Pregnant! Not that I want to be pregnant, but she’s doing it just to spite me, just to rub it in my face!”

Your movements became more erratic, your pacing more frantic. “And my mother, what will happen to her? She’ll be left with nothing. Nothing! While Aurelia parades around, acting like she owns everything. She’s pregnant, Marcus, and everyone will fawn over her, praise her, while I’m just... just here. Expected to play a role, to be a good little pawn in his game.”

You stopped pacing abruptly, turning to Marcus with fire in your eyes. “And do you know what I want? I just want to be with you. I want to fuck my new husband without having to think about heirs and duties and all this... this bullshit! Is that so much to ask?”

Tears of pure rage welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wiped them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. “I hate him, Marcus. I hate the way he makes me feel, the way he manipulates everything to suit his own needs. And I hate that I feel so powerless against him.”

Marcus stepped closer, his hands outstretched, but you waved him off, needing to continue venting. “And it’s not just him. It’s everything. The way Aurelia gloats, the way the servants look at me with pity, the endless expectations and demands. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m disappointing someone. It’s suffocating!”

Your voice broke as you continued, the tears finally spilling over. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of anger, of frustration, of sheer, unadulterated fury. “I’m so tired of feeling trapped, of feeling like I’m not good enough. I want to live my own life, make my own choices. I want to be free, Marcus. Is that too much to ask?”

You turned to him, your chest heaving with the effort of releasing all your pent-up anger. Marcus stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You resisted at first, but then you let yourself sink into his embrace, the fury still burning inside you but tempered by his presence.

“I love you,” Marcus whispered, his voice steady and calm. “I love you for who you are, not for who you’re supposed to be. You’re not alone in this. We’ll find a way.”

His words were few, but they were like a balm to your raging soul. You clung to him, letting the tears flow freely now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. “I just want to be free,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined.

Marcus held you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “We will be,” he promised. “We’ll find a way to break free from all of this. Together.”

You cried into his shoulder, your tears soaking his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. Slowly, the fury began to ebb, replaced by a weary resolve.

“We’ll get through this,” Marcus said softly, his voice full of conviction. “One step at a time. And we won’t let him win. Not now, not ever.”

You nodded against his shoulder, the fire inside you still burning but now directed towards a purpose. “We’ll fight,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “We’ll fight for our freedom, for our future. Together.”

Marcus pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “Together,” he echoed, his eyes full of love and determination.

You took a deep breath, feeling a new sense of resolve. The road ahead would be difficult, but you were ready to face it. With Marcus by your side, you knew you could overcome anything. And you would—no matter what it took.

As you pulled back from Marcus, your eyes met his, and you felt a flicker of hope. But then reality crashed back in. “But what if things don’t change, Marcus? What if life in Rome is just more of the same? More schemes, more manipulation?”

Marcus sighed his brow furrowing in thought. “Life in Rome will have its challenges, no doubt. The politics, the power plays—it won’t be easy. But we’ll navigate it together. We’ve faced worse before, and we’ve come out stronger.”

The truth of his words resonated with you, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just wish we didn’t have to play these games. I want to live, Marcus. Really live.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “And we will. We’ll find moments of peace, places where we can be ourselves. Just like the beach. We’ll make our own freedom, carve out our own happiness. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m just so tired of fighting. Tired of always being on edge.”

Marcus pulled you close again, his embrace strong and reassuring. “I know. But you’re not alone in this fight. We’ll face it together, and we’ll find a way to create the life we want. No matter what it takes.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Marcus by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you would face whatever challenges came your way, and together, you would find a way to break free from the chains that bound you.

“My lord, there’s—” the guard started, but you pulled away from Marcus, not wanting anyone to see you so vulnerable.

“What is it?” you snapped, your voice sharp.

The guard hesitated, clearly taken aback by your tone. “There’s a situation in the courtyard. Your father demands your presence immediately.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus before standing. “Fine. Tell him we’re coming.”

As the guard left, you turned to Marcus, your earlier anger rekindling. “This never ends, does it? He won’t even let me have a moment of peace.”

Marcus squeezed your hand, his touch reassuring. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

As you walked with Marcus toward the courtyard, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. Your frustration bubbled up, manifesting in a sharp, sarcastic tone. “Another grand announcement from my dear father. How thrilling.”

Marcus squeezed your hand gently, trying to calm the storm inside you. “We’ll face it together.”

In the courtyard, your father stood at the center, flanked by Aurelia and a handful of stern-faced servants. His piercing gaze locked onto you and Marcus as you approached.

“Well, isn’t this just a picture-perfect family moment?” you said, your voice dripping with irony.

Your father’s expression hardened. “Enough. This is a matter of utmost importance.”

You sighed, preparing for yet another lecture, but your father’s voice turned icy and commanding. “We’ve received correspondence from the Emperor. He demands your and Marcus’s presence at the palace immediately.”

Marcus’s calm demeanor shattered as he took the letter from your father’s outstretched hand. His face paled as he read the contents.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. But Marcus remained silent, his eyes fixed on the letter, brows furrowed in concern.

Your father’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You are to leave at dawn. Be prepared.”

Marcus nodded stiffly. “We will.”

As you turned to leave, Aurelia’s mocking tone echoed behind you. “Do try not to disgrace the family.”

The knot in your stomach tightened with each step you took away from the courtyard. “Marcus, what’s in the letter?”

He didn’t respond, his silence only amplifying your anxiety. When you reached your chambers, he finally turned to face you, worry etched into his features.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “The Emperor has summoned us. This isn’t a polite request; it’s a command. Refusing isn’t an option.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “But why? What does the Emperor want with us?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “It’s about the gladiators. He wants my insights on the performance of the newest recruits.”

You blinked in disbelief. “Gladiators? Why does he care about your opinion on that?”

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a sound you rarely heard from him. “Because I wasn’t always a general. I was once a gladiator. The Emperor thinks my perspective is valuable.”

Sarcasm bubbled up as you tried to cope with the mounting fear. “So we’re just part of his entertainment now? I know how gladiators work, Marcus.”

His eyes flashed with a sudden coldness, his voice slicing through your sarcasm. “No, you don’t. You’ve never been in the arena, fighting for your life. You’ve never faced that horror.”

You recoiled at the intensity of his response. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

“Just what?” he snapped. “Think it’s easy? Think it’s something I want to revisit? The Emperor wants to parade my past, to judge others as I was judged. It’s a matter of life and death for those men.”

Your anger melted away, replaced by a creeping fear. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

He cut you off, his voice low and fierce. “I want nothing to do with that life. But I’m not foolish enough to disobey the Emperor again.”

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling inside you. “So what do we do?”

Marcus was like a stone wall as he spoke, his voice steady and unyielding. “We go. We play their game. The upbringing you despise, the training that shaped me—it has to be on full display. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are not kind rulers. They won't hesitate to use anyone for their own gain.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “You just saw me scream and yell. I’m not exactly the epitome of grace and strategy.”

Marcus’s expression softened for a moment, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “You’re more than you realize. But we need to be careful. They’re not just rulers; they’re predators. We have to show them strength, unity.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Marcus. I won’t let them drag you back into that life. I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice filled with fierce tenderness. “But we have to be smart about this. We need to present a united front, show them we’re not to be trifled with.”

You nodded, your resolve hardening. “Together, then. We face them together.”

Marcus pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth grounding you amidst the turmoil. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “We have to.”

As you and Marcus entered the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with tension. The towering pillars and opulent decorations did little to mask the underlying menace that seemed to permeate the room. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla sat upon their thrones, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of Marcus and you approaching.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed gladiator,” Geta drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “And his rebellious bride. How charming.”

Caracalla’s gaze was colder, more calculating. “It’s been some time, Marcus. I trust you’ve found civilized life to your liking?”

Marcus’s face remained impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body beside you. “I serve as I am commanded, Your Majesties.”

Geta smirked, his eyes flicking to you. “And your wife. How interesting that you chose to marry someone with such a... colorful history. Tell me, my dear, do you still harbor those rebellious thoughts?”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you forced yourself to remain calm. “I am loyal to my husband and to the throne,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray your fear.

Caracalla leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “We shall see. Loyalty is tested in the most unexpected ways.”

Your mind raced as you tried to gauge their intentions. The emperors had made Marcus a gladiator, using him for their entertainment and power. Now they were testing you both, probing for any signs of defiance. You knew this was more than a mere audience; it was a test of your loyalty and a way to ensure you posed no threat to their rule.

“I understand your concerns, Your Majesties,” Marcus said, his voice steady and controlled. “But I assure you, we have no intention of going against the throne.”

Geta chuckled the sound grating on your nerves. “Intentions can change. We simply want to make sure you remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear. This was your chance to protect your mother, to ensure she wasn’t caught in the crossfire of political games. If you could gain the emperor’s favor, perhaps they would leave her alone. As the conversation continued, your mind churned with thoughts of her. She had always been a pawn in these power struggles, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering because of your actions. You needed to be careful, to play their game and show them you were no threat.

But despite your efforts to remain composed, your nerves betrayed you. Your hands trembled slightly, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You glanced at Marcus, hoping for some reassurance. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you found an unspoken comfort. His presence was a steady anchor, grounding you amidst the storm of your emotions.

Marcus noticed your fear, and though he didn’t say anything, his hand subtly brushed against yours, a silent promise that he was there for you. His strength and unwavering support bolstered your resolve, giving you the courage to face the emperors.

Caracalla’s gaze shifted between you and Marcus, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “We shall see how well you fare under scrutiny. Your loyalty will be tested, both of you.”

Geta’s expression darkened. “Do not forget, Marcus, that we made you what you are. And we can unmake you just as easily.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he remained composed. “I am aware.”

The emperors exchanged a satisfied glance, clearly enjoying their display of power. “You are dismissed,” Geta said, waving a hand dismissively. “Remember, we are always watching.”

As you and Marcus turned to leave, your heart pounded in your chest. The encounter had been a stark reminder of the precariousness of your situation. You were walking a tightrope, balancing your need to protect your family with the constant threat of imperial retribution.

Once you were outside the hall, you let out a shaky breath. Marcus pulled you into a quiet alcove, his hands gently cupping your face. But instead of finding solace in his touch, you saw the fear in his eyes, a deep-rooted terror that mirrored your own.

“Marcus,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “are you alright?”

He tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, but the lie was thin, transparent.

You took his hand, feeling the tremor in his fingers. “No, you’re not. You’re scared.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away, his shoulders tensing. “I can’t go back to that life,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t be their pawn again.”

You felt a surge of protectiveness, the same anger that had fueled you the day before now burning on his behalf. “We won’t let them do that to you,” you said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”

His gaze snapped back to you, a mixture of fear and desperation in his eyes. “How can you be so sure? They’re the emperors. They can do whatever they want.”

You squeezed his hand, pulling him closer. “Because we’re stronger together. And we won’t let them break us.”

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to go back to that place,” he said, his voice breaking. “The things I did, the things I saw...”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re not alone, Marcus. I’m here with you.”

For a moment, he clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Then, he pulled back, his eyes haunted. “Sometimes, it’s like I’m still there. Like I never left.”

You felt a pang of fear for him, a deep concern that he was showing signs of something you couldn’t quite understand but knew was serious. “We’ll get through this,” you said, your voice steady. “But right now, we need to get to our room. You need to rest.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. Together, you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Once inside, you closed the door and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Talk to me,” you urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Marcus’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something far away. “It’s like... like I can hear the crowds again. Feel the sand under my feet, the weight of the sword in my hand. The fear, the anger—it all comes rushing back.”

You knelt before him, taking his hands in yours. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “But I’m not, am I? I’m always going to be that gladiator to them. A tool to be used, a spectacle to be enjoyed.”

Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was reliving. “Marcus, look at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw the depth of his fear, the scars that ran deeper than you had realized.

“You’re not just a gladiator,” you said firmly. “You’re my husband. You’re a general, a leader, a man with a future. And we’re going to get through this together. We’re going to show them that they don’t control us.”

He took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You are,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And when you feel like you can’t go on, I’ll be here to hold you up. Just like you’ve always done for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “You’ll never have to find out,” you murmured. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Marcus held you for a few moments longer, then pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “I need to take my mind off all of this.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course. Actually, when I was in the carriage, I was brushing up on my Latin. Just in case the emperors decided to make things even more difficult by not speaking English.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “The carriage? I was wondering what you were saying to the driver.”

A laugh broke through his tense demeanor, the sound lifting some of the weight between you. “Latin, huh? How’s that going?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit more at ease. “Not too bad, actually. Although, I think I might have accidentally told the driver that his mother is a donkey.”

Marcus chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I’m sure he appreciated the compliment.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Hey, I’m trying here! Besides, it’s not like I had much else to do.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Come here,” he said, his voice softer now as he pulled you into his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His hands settled on your hips, and you could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes.

You relaxed against him, your arms looping around his neck. “I missed this,” you admitted, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “Just being us.”

“Me too,” he murmured, his hands moving up your back in a soothing motion. “It feels like everything’s been so chaotic lately.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his. “But we have each other, and that’s what matters.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Always.”

For a while, you sat there in comfortable silence, the tension from the day slowly melting away. You exchanged light-hearted banter, your bickering and teasing gradually returning to the easy rhythm you both cherished.

“Remember when we first met?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Marcus’s eyes lit up with the memory. “How could I forget? You were trying to run away from our arranged marriage and fell off the horse you were riding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I was so determined to escape. I didn’t even realize how dangerous it was.”

He chuckled softly. “You were fierce, that’s for sure. Maybe I should teach you how to ride properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Are we still talking about horses?”

Marcus’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with playful intent. “Depends. Do you want a lesson?”

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his. “Only if you promise to be a very hands-on teacher.”

He kissed you back, his hands tightening on your hips. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need.”

You pulled back slightly, your expression turning more serious. “Marcus, can I ask you something?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Of course. Anything.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What do you think about kids? How many would you want? And… do you have any names in mind?”

Marcus looked thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve always wanted a big family,” he said slowly. “Maybe three or four kids. I think it would be nice for them to have siblings, to grow up with a sense of family and support.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’d like that too. And names?”

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. “I’ve always liked the name Alexander for a boy. And maybe Lucia for a girl. Strong names, with history and meaning.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “I like those names. They feel… right.”

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with a mixture of concern and vulnerability. “Is there something else on your mind?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous. “Actually, yes. I was wondering… could you stop cumming inside of me every time we… you know, make love?”

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I want to make sure we’re both ready when we decide to have children. I don’t want to rush into it because of… well, an accident.”

He looked relieved, then thoughtful. “I understand. I just… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you, Marcus. And I want us to build our family together when we’re both ready.”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re right. We should be deliberate about this. I promise, I’ll be more careful.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

He kissed you back, his hands moving to cradle your face. “I love you. More than anything.”

You rested your forehead against his, feeling a deep sense of peace. “We’ll get through this, Marcus. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with love and determination. “Together.”

You sat in the coliseum, the roaring crowd around you a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The naval battle below was a spectacle of chaos and violence, the clash of cannons reverberating through the air, each blast sending shockwaves that you could feel in your chest. Ships collided with bone-jarring force, the sound of wood splintering and men shouting echoing through the vast arena.

The emperors insisted on your attention. Emperor Geta’s voice cut through the noise, a chilling command. “Watch closely, my dear. This is the true essence of power.”

You forced yourself to turn back to the spectacle. A cannonball ripped through the hull of a ship, sending debris and bodies flying. The water turned red with blood, the cries of the dying blending with the roar of the crowd. Your stomach twisted, and you clenched your hands in your lap, willing the nausea to pass.

You tried to focus on the details, finding yourself strangely drawn to the movements and strategies of the combatants. You rooted silently for the ship you wanted to see survive, your heart racing with each close call. The emperors watched you closely, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement. They seemed to thrive on the chaos, their power evident in the way they manipulated those around them.

Emperor Caracalla leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. “Do you see how they struggle? Like ants in a flood, all their efforts meaningless. Yet, it's so entertaining.”

You nodded absently, your mind half-focused on the battle. The cruelty of the emperors was a constant presence, but you found yourself oddly captivated by the sheer spectacle of the naval engagement. Each cannon blast, each desperate maneuver, drew you in deeper.

Marcus was away, speaking with the other generals, his face drawn and pale when he returned. He immediately noticed your distress. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, his own fear and worry evident in his eyes. “I hate this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I can’t look away.”

Marcus’s eyes darkened with understanding. “That’s their power,” he said softly. “They make us complicit in their cruelty.”

Emperor Geta’s voice interrupted your exchange. “Ah, Marcus. Come, sit with us. Enjoy the show.”

Reluctantly, Marcus guided you to sit beside him, his grip on your hand tight. The emperors’ attention shifted back to the battle, their comments filled with a sickly admiration for the carnage. “Look at that,” Geta exclaimed as another ship went down, “such bravery wasted on a lost cause.”

Caracalla chuckled darkly. “Indeed. It’s fascinating how they cling to hope even in the face of certain death.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. He leaned in closer to you. “They won’t talk about the true cost,” he said, his voice barely audible. “The lives lost, the families left behind. To them, it’s all just a game.”

You nodded, your hand tightening around his. The brutal display below was more than just a show; it was a reminder of the emperors' absolute power and the fragility of your position. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the deafening roar of the crowd, a relentless assault on your senses. You could barely focus on the battles, your mind racing with fear and the need to stay strong for Marcus.

The next gladiators entered the arena, their expressions a mixture of determination and resignation. As they clashed, you tried to avoid looking at the bloodshed, but the emperors' voices cut through your resolve. "Watch carefully," Caracalla commanded, his tone devoid of empathy. "This is where men are forged."

Marcus’s hand trembled in yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as if it were your own. He kept his eyes on the fighters, but you could see the haunted look in his gaze, memories of his own time in the arena flooding back. His muscles were tense, every fiber of his being screaming to protect you, to fight against the fate they were trying to impose on you both.

With each brutal kill, the emperors’ excitement grew. They leaned forward, shouting encouragement and jeering at the combatants, their faces alight with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, there it is!" Geta exclaimed as a particularly gruesome decapitation took place. "Such skill, such beauty in the art of death."

You pressed closer to Marcus, trying to shield yourself from the horror unfolding below. "We have to find a way out," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can’t let them do this to us."

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving the arena. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But we have to be careful. They’re watching our every move."

The next fight began, even more savage than the last. You felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape the relentless violence. Marcus’s grip on your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded, a lifeline in the sea of blood and death.

The emperors’ voices grew louder, their laughter echoing around the coliseum. “You see, Marcus,” Geta said, turning to him with a predatory smile. “This is why we miss you. Your fights were always the highlight, full of glory and gore. These men… they lack your finesse.”

Marcus stiffened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled fear and anger simmering beneath the surface. His breath was shallow, his eyes darting nervously around the coliseum. The confident warrior you knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by a man haunted by his past.

Caracalla leaned in, his gaze fixed on the arena below where a mere boy, no older than twelve, was being led out. The tiger, a majestic and deadly creature, prowled on the other side, its eyes gleaming with hunger. “Tell us, Marcus,” Caracalla said with a sinister gleam in his eye, “who do you favor? The boy or the beast?”

A chill ran down your spine, and you found your voice. “This is madness,” you protested, your voice trembling. “He’s just a child!”

Geta’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Silence,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Marcus will speak for himself.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between the boy and the tiger. He looked like a man on the edge, torn between his desire to protect and his fear of the consequences. “Neither,” he said finally, his voice shaky. “This isn’t a fight. It’s a slaughter.”

Caracalla’s laughter was a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The unpredictability, the thrill of survival against impossible odds.”

You wanted to scream, to protest further, but the emperors’ power was absolute. You could only watch in horror as the scene below unfolded. The boy looked terrified, his small frame trembling as he faced the tiger. The crowd’s bloodthirsty roars grew louder, drowning out any semblance of reason.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus’s hand tightened around yours, the pressure almost painful. You felt his body tremble, each muscle tense with a mixture of fear and anger. His eyes were fixed on the boy and the tiger, a haunted look replacing the confidence you once knew. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, betraying the inner turmoil he was desperately trying to contain.

“No!” you exclaimed, unable to contain yourself. “He’s not your puppet. He’s not here for your entertainment.”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto you with a predatory intensity. “Such spirit,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Marcus, you are a lucky man.”

The words seemed to cut through Marcus like a blade. He turned to you, his eyes wide and wild. “Stop,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with fear. “Just stop. You’re making it worse.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his harsh words, but you knew he was scared. You squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort, but he pulled away, his gaze flicking nervously between you and the emperors.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus didn’t protest this time. He didn’t argue or try to reason with them. He simply stood there, his body rigid, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the memories of past battles and bloodshed that haunted him.

“Marcus, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t do this.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desperation. “I have no choice,” he said softly. “They leave me none.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "What exactly are the terms?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

The emperors exchanged amused glances. Geta leaned forward, a predatory smile on his lips. "If Marcus wins, he may choose any residence owned by us as a treat for his newlywed wife. A generous offer, wouldn't you say?"

"And if he loses?" you pressed, your stomach twisting with dread.

Caracalla's smile was a twisted mockery of kindness. "If he loses, he will fight for all of Rome again. But this time, he will take the place of the boy who is supposed to fight the lion."

Your blood ran cold at the thought. "This is madness," you whispered, barely able to contain your horror. "You're talking about a man's life as if it's a game."

"Everything is a game, my dear," Geta replied, his tone dripping with condescension. "And Marcus knows the rules better than anyone."

Marcus stood there, his face pale, his body trembling with a mix of fear and determination. He looked at you, his eyes pleading. "I will do what I must," he said softly. "For us."

“No, Marcus, you can't,” you protested, your voice breaking. “There has to be another way.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “I have no choice,” he repeated, the words a hollow echo of resignation.

Before you could say more, the emperors' guards stepped forward, their grips firm and unyielding as they held you back, you struggled against them, your desperation mounting. “Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. “He’s not your pawn!”

Geta's cold eyes locked onto you, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Such fire,” he mused, almost to himself. “But Marcus knows his duty.”

Caracalla laughed, the sound grating and malevolent. “Watch closely, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You might learn something about true power.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as Marcus turned away, walking slowly toward the arena's entrance. The boy and the tiger were being led back into their cages, the boy’s terrified eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he disappeared from view. Your heart ached for him, but it was Marcus who now faced the same deadly fate.

As the gates closed behind Marcus, you were left standing at the edge of the arena, your hands clenched into fists. The crowd’s roars grew louder, their bloodlust palpable. You sank into your seat, your body trembling with fear and helplessness.

Moments stretched into an eternity, each second marked by the deafening cheers of the spectators. Finally, Marcus emerged, clad in armor and wielding a sword. His face was a mask of determination, but you could see the fear in his eyes. He looked up at you, and you mouthed silently, “I believe in you.”

The gate opposite Marcus creaked open, and the tiger was released. It prowled forward, its muscles rippling under its striped fur, eyes locked onto Marcus with predatory intent. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation.

“Look at him,” Geta murmured to Caracalla, his voice barely audible over the din. “Still has that fire in him, even after all this time.”

Caracalla nodded a twisted smile on his lips. “It’s what makes him so entertaining. Let’s see if he still has the skill to match.”

You clung to your seat, your heart racing as you watched the tiger circle Marcus. Every fiber of your being was focused on him, silently willing him to survive. The arena seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the deadly dance between man and beast.

Marcus moved with a cautious grace, his sword held steady. The tiger lunged, and he sidestepped, bringing his blade down in a swift arc. The tiger snarled, more angry than hurt, and the battle truly began.

Each clash was a test of Marcus’s skill and endurance. The tiger’s powerful swipes and lunges were met with precise parries and counterattacks. The crowd roared with every close call, their bloodthirsty excitement a constant backdrop to the deadly struggle.

Geta leaned closer to Caracalla, his eyes gleaming with interest. “He’s slower than he used to be,” he commented, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“But still formidable,” Caracalla replied, his gaze never leaving the arena. “Let’s see how long he can keep this up.”

Your eyes never left Marcus, every movement of his sword, every step he took etched into your mind. You saw the strain in his posture, the weariness beginning to show. But you also saw his determination, the fire that drove him to protect you and fight for your future.

The tiger lunged again, and Marcus sidestepped, thrusting his sword into the beast’s side. The tiger roared in pain, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down. Marcus circled, his breathing heavy, his eyes focused on the next move.

You bit your lip, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “Come on, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crowd. “You can do this.”

The emperors’ eyes were fixed on the battle, their expressions a mix of amusement and anticipation. “He still has some fight in him,” Geta remarked, his tone almost admiring.

Caracalla smirked. “Let’s see if he can finish it.”

With a final, desperate lunge, Marcus brought his sword down with all his strength. The blade struck true, piercing the tiger’s heart. The beast collapsed with a final roar, its body twitching in its death throes.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their bloodlust satisfied. Marcus stood there, panting and covered in sweat, his eyes searching the crowd until they found yours. He nodded once, a silent promise that he would come back to you.

Geta clapped his hands, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Well done, Marcus,” he said, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “You have earned your reward.”

Marcus approached, his steps unsteady but his resolve unwavering. “We did it,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and love. “We made it.”

As soon as he reached you, your emotions overwhelmed you, and tears began to fall. You couldn’t hold them back any longer. The fear, the violence, the constant threat—it all came pouring out. Marcus wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as sobs wracked your body. “It’s over,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “We’re safe now.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his embrace. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside fading away. But the respite was short-lived. The emperors, ever impatient, approached with their questions.

“What residence do you desire, Marcus?” Geta asked, his tone dismissive of your pain. “You must choose.”

Marcus looked up, his eyes hardening with determination. “A residence close to the villa near Calacari,” he said firmly. “It’s secluded and secure.”

Caracalla nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. It will be arranged. Now, go and clean yourself. The blood is rather unbecoming.”

Marcus turned back to you, his eyes filled with concern. “Let’s get out of here,” he said gently, guiding you towards the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was a haven of calm, the warm steam rising in gentle curls, a stark contrast to the brutal scene you had just left. Marcus began to strip off his bloodstained clothes, wincing with each movement. You stepped forward to help, your fingers trembling as you undid the clasps and buttons. As his shirt came off, you gasped at the sight of new scars marring his skin.

“Marcus…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you. “I’m alright. It looks worse than it is.”

You gently traced the lines of the scars, your touch soft and tender. “I hate seeing you like this,” you said, tears welling up again. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

Marcus smiled, a hint of his usual playful self returning. “You already do, just by being here with me.”

You helped him into the warm water, your movements careful and precise. As he sank into the bath, he let out a sigh of relief. You joined him, sitting beside him and gently washing away the blood and grime. The tension in his body gradually eased, though the pain was still evident in his eyes.

Despite the sadness, you couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood. “You know,” you said with a small smile, “I think I’m starting to enjoy taking care of you like this.”

Marcus chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could get used to it,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Once we’re back in our own bed, I’ll take even better care of you,” you whispered, your tone both sweet and flirty.

His eyes darkened with desire, but as he tried to pull you closer, a sharp pain made him wince. “Maybe we should wait until I’m a bit more recovered,” he admitted, his voice strained.

You nodded, understanding and concern in your eyes. “Of course,” you said softly. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

Marcus smiled, his love for you shining through the pain. “We’ll have plenty of time for that,” he said, his hand gently caressing your arm. “Right now, let’s just be together.”

You sat in the bathhouse, the warm water soothing your tired bodies, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew you could face anything. Marcus’s presence was your anchor, and together, you would find your way back to peace and happiness.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The storm had passed, and now, it was time to heal and rebuild. With Marcus by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

After a long while of comfortable silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft but firm. “Marcus,” you began, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “You can never, ever go silent on me like that again. Do you understand? The fear of not knowing what you were thinking, what you were feeling—it’s unbearable. If you ever do, you’ll have something far worse than a lion to face.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, then slowly nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I will never shut you out again.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Good,” you whispered. “Because we face everything together, remember?”

“Always,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

The weekend from hell was over. Between Aurelia's pregnancy and the gladiators, you and Marcus were emotionally drained. But one question still lingered. "Why the emperor's residence near Calacari?" you asked as the carriage rolled along the uneven roads, taking you away from the horrors of the coliseum.

Marcus looked at you, his eyes softening with tenderness. "It’s not just for us," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's for your mother."

You frowned, confusion knitting your brow. "My mother? Why would you care about where she lives?"

He took a deep breath, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "Remember when you told me about your father? How you feared he might leave your mother with nothing? I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, vulnerable. This villa isn't on the water but further inland, so it won’t worsen her fear of the sea. She can live there with or without him, and she can stay by us whenever she wants."

You blinked, absorbing his words. "You thought of all that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I want her to have a safe place, a sanctuary. Just like I want for us. Life under Rome's rule is too cruel, too unpredictable. We deserve a place where we can be happy, away from the chaos."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, pouring all your gratitude and love into that one kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, "Never ever go silent on me like that again, Marcus. You scared me. You’ll have something worse than a lion on your hands if you do."

He chuckled softly, a genuine smile breaking through his weary expression. "I promise," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I won't go silent on you again."

The carriage hit a bump, jolting you both, and you clung to Marcus, who winced in pain. "Are you alright?" you asked, your concern immediate.

He nodded, though his face betrayed the discomfort he felt. "I’m fine," he said, but his voice cracked, revealing the truth. "I miss the days when our biggest worry was a petty argument or growing pains. Now, I can't even have my wife on my lap without feeling like my body is falling apart."

Your heart ached for him, and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "We'll get through this, Marcus. Together. We’ll find peace and happiness, away from Rome’s cruelty."

Marcus sighed, leaning into your touch. "I hope so. I dream of a life where we can wake up to the sound of birds, not the roar of the crowd. A place where we can raise our children without fear."

You smiled, the vision of that future giving you strength. "We’ll make it happen. We’ll build that life, one day at a time."

Marcus smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of hope. "I believe you, but how soon are we talking?" he asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "I don't think I can stand another day in Rome's chaos."

You chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "Patience, my love. We’ll get there. But first, we need to survive the next few months."

Marcus groaned dramatically. "Months? You're killing me. I was hoping for days, maybe weeks."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, stop it. You know it’ll take time to arrange everything."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "I guess I'll just have to endure your company in the meantime."

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Endure, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

His expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I wouldn't trade a moment of it, not for anything," he said softly. "Even if it means dealing with your father’s wrath when we get back."

You sighed, the reality of your situation creeping back in. "He’s not going to take the news well, is he?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, probably not. But we’ll face it together. Just like we’ve faced everything else."

You nodded, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Together," you echoed, the word a promise as much as a reassurance.

[notakugelblitz]

YOUR SONG • THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (season 1)

Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Viktor

just imagine these songs being in the OST and playing during those “scenes” ;) you’re number 8 btw. english isn’t my first language so sorry if you spot any mistake. enjoy ☂️

LUTHER

/ your power : telepathy /

"I'm going to miss you..."
"I'll miss you too..."

Against his broad chest, you held back your tears as his hand gently caressed your scalp.

"We'll talk every night, won't we?"
"I promise..."

You pulled away and looked at him for a long time. He fixed his gaze on your lips, weighing the pros and cons of his intentions. Just as he was about to close the distance between you, your father burst into the room.

"It's time to go, Number 1. Clear out, Number 8, this isn't the time to distract him."

Luther finally planted a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you breathless, a terrible frustration swelling within you.

Days, months, and years passed. Every night, you would retreat to the roof to gaze at the moon, talking to Luther thanks to your telepathy ability. You often fell asleep first, and Grace would come to cover you with a blanket when the nights grew a bit chilly. Luther loved to hum a song, Flares, as if to remind himself that you would always be there for him, sending him out flares.

DIEGO

/ your power : see the future /

A soft light filtered into the gymnasium's basement. A faint music coming from upstairs woke you up. You grumbled and stormed up the stairs. Wearing nothing but an old t-shirt belonging to your brother—and, incidentally, your boyfriend (no, thankfully, it’s not incest)��you flung the door open and saw Diego dancing with a mop in the ring. You burst out laughing, which made him jump.

"Am I dreaming, or are you laughing at me?"

You tried to respond, but tears were welling up in the corners of your eyes. Bent over with laughter, you suddenly felt warm droplets splash across your face: he had just splashed you with the mop. You stared at him for a long moment and jumped on the ring trying to catch him.

A wild fight ensued, in rhythm with the music, with the floor becoming extremely slippery due to the water. You delivered several kicks at him, which he blocked with the broomstick. It was a fight worthy of a Bruce Lee movie. Since both of you were very skilled in martial arts (and because you could anticipate each of his moves thanks to your power of visualizing the near future), you lowered your guard to let him win for once. Diego grabbed you by the waist, and you both tumbled near the entrance.

You ended up on top of each other, just like in all those wonderful clichés. Just as Number 2 was about to kiss you, the boss of the place stormed in. He flew into a rage and rushed toward the radio. Unfortunately, he slipped and crashed face-first onto the floor, making you both burst out laughing. Well... you had to clean up everything afterward, and in silence. Still, those moments of total hilarity were and still are the best ...

ALLISON

/ your power : water manipulation /

Having become a renowned actress, Allison traveled extensively. As for Patrick, he worked a lot. You were the perfect candidate to look after Claire. Having left the Umbrella Academy at the same time as your sister, you were inseparable, and whenever she returned from a shoot, you were so happy to spend time together.

Claire adored you, and you managed to calm her tantrums easily, greatly relieving Allison.

One evening, as your sister came home late, you put Claire to bed. She was having trouble falling asleep. So, you waved your finger over a glass, filling it with fresh water, and placed it on her nightstand. Then, with a soft and soothing voice, you hummed the lullaby Wendy sings to the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, her favorite cartoon. It was a routine that worked every time. Allison arrived in the middle of your performance and deliberately stayed behind the door to listen. Once Claire was asleep, you chuckled.

"I know you're there," you whispered.
"I know you know." she giggles.
"I heard a rumor that you stop spying on me."
"You know I can’t help it. It’s adorable. Thanks for everything."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It didn’t bother you at all. You went downstairs and opened a bottle of wine to celebrate her return. Patrick left you two alone, and you silently thanked him because these moments with your sister were the best.

KLAUS

/ your power : animal metamorphosis /

It was an evening like any other. Or at least, that’s what you hoped. You were waiting for Klaus outside the nightclub he was in so you could take him home. You preferred to be the one who did so rather than letting him leave alone in a terrible state. As the agreed-upon time had passed, you sighed and stormed out of your car. You entered the club without any difficulty, as the bouncer recognized you immediately. It had its perks to be a member of the Umbrella Academy back then. You searched the entire club for Klaus and finally found him on the rooftop. He was shouting incomprehensible things while walking along the edge of the building. You rushed to join him.

"Klaus, get down. Right now," you ordered, pulling on his sleeve.
"Oh Y/N, I’m so happy to see you!" he chirped, his persistent sniffles confirming to you that he had relapsed again.
"It’s not funny, Klaus, you could..."

Before you could even finish your sentence, he slipped off the edge of the building and fell into the void. Immediately, you transformed into a falcon and dove toward the ground, but it was too late: he had already crashed. Blood was pouring from the back of his head, but that didn’t stop you from kneeling beside him and resting his head on your lap.

"Damn it, Klaus..." you cried, pressing your forehead against his. "You’re such an idiot..."

It was as if your world had just collapsed, all because of some damn white powder and a brother who was a little too dependent. Suddenly, he took a huge breath, coming back from the dead. You were completely shocked.

"Oh! I knew you’d catch me. You always catch me," he chuckled, pressing his temple against your chest like a little child.

And then he fell asleep. You were stunned and took him back to your car. He had been dead... and then alive. High but alive. You didn’t quite understand what had just happened, and you never talked to him about it until he discovered his ability to resurrect in 1963. That explained a lot …

FIVE

/ your power : healing /

Since Five disappeared, not a day had passed without you searching for a way to find him. You studied all sorts of science books, looking for theories on time travel or anything related. Then, you expanded your research to history books, wondering if he might have done something that left a mark on time. When you were too tired to read, you helped Viktor make peanut butter sandwiches just in case he reappeared.

After leaving the Umbrella Academy when you came of age, you continued your research, scouring every library. But what you didn’t know was that a certain organization known as The Temps Commission had taken an interest in you and was considering recruiting you. Whether it was for your relentless determination, your knowledge of time travel, or your healing abilities, you could only be an asset.

When The Handler found you in an aisle of the Dallas Central Library, you immediately accepted her offer. If anyone had information on Five, it would be them. But your disappointment was immense when you found no trace of him once you were there. That didn’t stop you from continuing your search for many years, so much so that, after a while, Herb secretly helped you through the Infinite Switchboard. And that’s how you found Five, in the middle of the apocalypse. Having no right to interfere with the timeline, you begged The Handler to recruit him as an agent, just like you.

"I’ll think about it," she had said, even though she had already been watching him for 30 years.

Then, one fine day, you were summoned to The Handler’s office. Five was there too.

"Five, I present to you your partner, Y/N Hargreeves. Well, you already know each other. I’ll leave you to it."

She left the room, leaving you two standing there, arms hanging by your sides.

"I found you," he let out.

"I found you," you replied. "I trusted the signs, so I made my way back to you somehow."

"Pathetic," he chuckled, though a smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm glad to see you too, Five," you sighed, smiling just as much.

BEN

/ your power : invisibility /

As Ben was reading, an upbeat music filled the house. The 11-year-old boy went to the living room and saw Grace and you dancing the Rock'N Roll while laughing. Mom was teaching you some steps, her eternal pristine smile fixed on her face.

"Oh, Ben, you’re here! Do you want to give it a try?"

You jumped at the sight of your brother and suddenly disappeared, your cheeks turning red.

"Y/N, show yourself…" Grace sighed, amused.

"Yeah, you were doing great!" exclaimed the young boy.

You reappeared, looking at him with hesitation.

"Really?"

"Cross my heart!"

"Alright, kids, let's continue! Take my hand and follow my steps!"

So you listened to him, dancing awkwardly on the living room carpet. Your siblings watched you from the walkway. At one point, Ben let go of Mom and made his tentacles appear. He began making sort of waves in rhythm, which made everyone laugh. Your father and Pogo were in the surveillance room. The chimpanzee glanced at his master: he was smiling discreetly. Eventually, all the other children came to join you, even Viktor, who had always felt excluded. These moments of joy and freedom were rare. Your gaze met Ben's, sparkling. So, this was happiness.

After Ben's death, whenever you felt sad, your radio would turn on by itself to play that eternal song, warming your heart. Much later, Klaus told you that Ben's ghost had been watching over you and, not wanting to scare you, this was the most discreet way to comfort you.

VIKTOR

On this September 6th, 1997, everyone felt relaxed because it was Saturday, and every first Saturday of the month was a day off for the Umbrella Academy. No training until Monday. Of course, the children were encouraged to study, but that was certainly not on your mind, nor on Viktor's. As you were watching TV, sitting on the floor, a news flash interrupted your documentary on Canadian otters. Lady Diana's funeral was being broadcast live from London.

"She was so beautiful," you sighed, resting your chin on your knees, which were encircled by your arms.
"I'm sure it wasn't an accident," Viktor murmured conspiratorially, looking absent-minded.

His pale face suddenly lit up, and he immediately straightened.

"Look! It's Elton John!"

Immediately, you pressed your little noses against the screen to watch the singer enter the abbey. The presenter announced that he was going to sing a final tribute to his late best friend.

"Move away from the screen, you'll hurt your eyes," Grace gently instructed, holding a tray filled with cookies.

“Mom! Can you record this, please?" you exclaimed without even turning around.
“Of course, Number 8," she replied.
"Imagine if we could play this song ! You with the violin and me with the piano !" you giggled.

Viktor nodded with a large smile, still absorbed by the man's performance. Ever since, you've watched repeatedly the tape Grace made you, learning the partition thanks to your perfect pitch. You'd usually play along to distract your father who appreciated it. Oh he never said so but his silence was quite approving.

[gotasenseivebeenbetrayed]

peter

"Preserved from when we were just kids" "The goddess of timing Once found us beguiling"

The first part, they were 18 and 22 when they first got together and during the beginning of their relationship and "beguiling" means enchanting/charming - and the World was enchanted by them when they were together (aside from the haters) and then even while they were off and on over the years, he was always the one that she said would come in and out of her life and they'd "never be over", all which still fits with that beguiling line.

"I thought it was just goodbye for now"

"You said you were gonna grow up Then you were gonna come find me"

This is NOT giving me Matty vibes at all and I'll die on that hill. Again, 18 and 22 fits here more than 24 and 25. Sure, you're still growing at 24/25 don't get me wrong but, Matty was very much not saying "I'm going to grow up and come find you one day" at 25 years old in the height of his addiction and during his "I can't be with someone bigger than me because I want success on my own". This is giving "I was 18 when we got together and I need to figure my shit out but, one day we'll be together when I do". This also fits her saying he was always in and out of her life. She's been waiting for him to grow up and come find her again.

"But life was always easier on you Than it was on me"

She got way more hate during their relationship than he did, as she mentions in Slut! On top of the fact, he dated/had flings with many women back to back and never got shit for it but, she dates men back to back and gets hated for it. Granted, that could fit just about any male if we're honest but, she specifically wrote Slut! about Harry so.

"When crossing your jet stream We both did the best we could do Underneath the same moon In different galaxies"

This is giving me very much "we were constantly traveling for work and maybe my jet would cross over yours and we'd end up in the same place and try to make it work and then again when we were so far away from each other". It's also interesting that this album has quite a bit of talk about galaxies/aliens/moons and then circus/con men etc. when the last two MVS we got from Harry were "Satellite" and "Daylight" - Satellite which has the imagery of the sky/galaxy and saying he's waiting for her and then we have "Daylight" which is a circus theme MV.

"And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned"

Here she's saying she dated other men during their time apart but, she was always still waiting for him to return to her and tell her he's grown up, figured out what he wanted, and that it's her.I also get the vibe she mentions men specifically because she was talking about him still being a "boy", so she dated men waiting for him - Calvin/Tom because they were her age range and they were "masquerading" as her boyfriend.

"And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired"

This specific line is what has everyone thinking Matty but, they MET when he was 25. He was not laying all these promises out to her then and that's not what this line is saying to me. It's saying that the muse made all these promises to her BEFORE he turned 25 and then they saw each other again when he was 25 - he told her "I made those as a kid, they've expired now that we're older, they were just fantasies". Harry was 25 when he released Fine Line and when they saw each other at Ed's wedding. My guess is that was the first time they'd seen each other in a while and there was a talk that night and he might've said something along those lines or she took it that way.

All of this to also say the obvious ties of "Peter" and this song bringing the Peter Pan imagery and then "Peter Losing Wendy" reference in "Cardigan" which is obviously about Harry Styles. The fact people want to connect that with Matty now because they think this song is Matty is wild. Matty was not that young when they met, 25 is still a grown ass adult. Technically Harry was 17 when he met Taylor and who knows if they actually dated before he turned 18 or not. But James in Cardigan acts like a 17/18 year old Harry probably would've acted vs a 25 year old man. And even IF Matty and Taylor had a thing back then, it was an incredibly quick fling. Sleeping together and maybe a few dates but, they were definitely never in a relationship. She did not write Cardigan about a short fling.

[alcazarofthestars]

Hi, hi! I have a request~ What about Yandere Blade x reader who was a part of astral express? The reader is close friend of Dan Heng, so they are always together because their personality is similar. Like, Blade fall in love with them, but they hate him because he's Dan Heng's enemy. That's it. Anyways, nice to meet you~ :3

Oooo~, so like enemies to lovers or a one sided romance? That's interesting! I really liked this idea so I tried a different writing style, please tell me whether or not you like it! It's nice to meet you too btw!

Summary: After leaving the Luofu due to certain unknown reasons and joining the astral express along with a close friend, [Name] had met a rather mysterious man who called himself Blade. After their encounter, they keep feeling watched... Thankfully their dearest friend, Dan Heng, is always there with them to help! (Takes place after Loufu story quest.)

Warnings: ooc, Yandere, yandere content, stalking, unrequited love, one sided romance, unhealthy obsession, obsession, fighting, bad writing, blood, mc is Stelle, gender of reader is unspecified etc. If any of those scare and/or make you uncomfortable please leave.

Suggested to read in dark mode!

Being a member of the astral express has its own pros and cons even more so since you have the ability to manipulate blood, why don't we go through the pros and cons of being in the astral express crew in [Name]'s point of view?

Pros:

1. You get to travel the galaxy with friends while also going on fun adventures together!

"March, call everyone to come here! We're almost arriving at our next destination!" A cheery voice called out to a light pink haired girl who started joyfully skipping down the astral express' halls with glee. After a while March had come back with two other people one with dark black hair and the other with long grey hair. "Finally," The [HairColor}ette started. "We're nearing our next stop!" They said excitedly while turning to her pink haired friend who shared the same level of excitement as they do while imaginary stars surround the happy duo. Seeing this, the black haired male just sighed while the grey haired girl only hummed in response. "We're only stopping here to get some supplies, remember?" As the male said this, the stars surrounding the duo shattered and fell to the ground. "Really? Aw man, I really wanted to look around..." [Name] pouted as they turn their attention onto their black haired friend. "... Fine, I'll ask Miss Himeko to give us a few days to explore, happy?" He sighed unable to resist his friend's pouting face. "Very, thanks Dan heng!" They said as they hugged him. "Wanna try some of the food there? I heard it's very good!" March chirped happily. "hm... I heard so too. Sure why not." The taller grey haired female responded. "Seriously? You two want to spend the time there?" Their black haired friend deadpanned at them while [Name] went between the two to stop any chance of a conflict. "Ahaha, how about me and Stelle go check out the food while you and [Name] go sight seeing?" March suggested as all the others nodded. "Great! It's settled then! We'll regroup back at our hotel at nine, deal?"

2. Meeting new friends and making new connections while helping others in the process!

The black and [HairColor] duo walked around a historical sight while taking pictures and reading the history of said sight. "Ne ne, Dan heng... Are you hungry yet? We've been walking and looking around for one and a half hour..." They complained to their close companion to which he only hummed in response. "Sure, let's go get something to eat." He said as his dear friend cheered as they took his hand and dragged him at a quick speed. "Hey, calm down. I can walk on my own." He grunted as [Name] finally let go of his hand. "A-ah, right... my bad..." They apologized as Dan heng turned around to dust off some dirt on his shirt, but when he turned around again his dear friend had disappeared from his sight. Meanwhile, [Name] had got distracted by a spiderlily that shouldn't be able to grow on this planet. Intrigued, they went to investigate it only to find a trail of said flowers growing. Curiosity kills the cat they say as when [Name] followed the trail, they found an injured stranger who had many massive wounds all over his body. The unconscious injured stranger had handsome features; like his long silky black hair that fades to red covering one of his eyes, broad shoulders, his ears that both carries an earring one that's shaped like a tassel and the other is shaped like a piercing(?), bandages covering some parts of his body, his strong hands-... 'What am I thinking?! Get it together, [Name]! Stop staring at the stupidly hot stranger and help him!' They thought as they finally stopped gawking at the feature that adorned the injured stranger. 'The nearest hospital or clinic is miles away... But... The hotel we're staying at isn't far! And I think I have some medical supplies in my bag to help him, time to put all those lessons with Miss Himeko to use! Great thinking, [Name]!' They thought happily while trying to carry the stranger.

After a while, they were finally able to get the stranger to their hotel room but to do so they had used an unused long coat and a dark shade of glasses along with a black masker to hide his injuries and disguise him so that [Name] wouldn't get reported by onlookers to the police for kidnapping. Thankfully, by some miracle, it had unexpectedly worked. They placed him on their bed and used some alcohol from their bag to clean his wounds before using their ability to manipulate blood in order to stop more blood from flowing out of his body then patched it up using the stuff she had prepared from her bag and lastly took off his top to place bandages on then placed the blanket on his body. 'I did it! Miss Himeko would be proud!' Happy with their work, [Name] let out a breath that was unintentionally held in due to the stress and sighed before looking at their phone to send Dan heng a message that they're fine and went to explore a bit by themselves while also telling him to meet up at the hotel lobby just as they planned together. Looking back at the stranger, [Name] couldn't help but feel as if they had met/knew him before in the past... (Pls bear with me I don't really know how to bandage a person..)

Not that long after [Name] had gotten very tired to the point they were fighting to keep their eyes open but soon fell asleep while sitting on an armchair that they dragged from under the lamp and moved it beside their bed so they could watch over their patient. Soon, the stranger woke up and the first thing he saw was a gorgeous [HairColor]ette sleeping so peacefully on a chair right next to him. The sight of them made him speechless, breathless even and wonder how such a perfect being exists in this cruel world. He couldn't help but be attracted to the said person who looked like they were blessed by the aeon of beauty herself, expecilly with those features of their's that make you want to keep looking for hours on end. Snapping out of his thoughts he shuffled around the bed to get out but ended up waking up the sleeping beauty (that's what he named you) beside him as they let out a yawn. "Haah... Are you awake...?" They mumbled while stretching their arms up, "Mhm... Do you need anything...?" [Name] asked while offering a smile. "... Where am I? and who are you?" He asked. "Ah, right. Well first of all, we're at a hotel located in St. Freya. Secondly, I'm [Name]. Nice to meet you... uh..." They responded. "Blade, my name." He answered. "Ah! Alright, nice to meet you Blade!" [Name] said as they gave him a closed eye smile to which he only nodded "Likewise." He said while looking at the person that saved him. "That reminds me," They started. "is there anything else you need?" [Name] asked clearly worried about their patient's health and need. "... Why... Why did you save me?" He questioned in a monotone voice, if you didn't know any better than you would've thought he was angry but due to a a friend who is as cold as ice most of the time, you have learnt to read people's expressions and body language to understand a persons true feelings. "A-ah... Well you see, I was traveling with some close friends of mine and we were going sightseeing but I kinda got bored so I went to look around, that's when I found you in a small alley... It wouldn't be kind of me to just ignore you, but since the nearest hospital or clinic was miles away I took you here. I apologize if I did a bad job at cleaning and patching your wounds, I'm not that skilled in these types of stuff... But if you do need anything else just ask me, alright. I need to go out for a while to meet up with some friends, will you be alright here?" What came after their question was nothing but silence that was cut by Blade's answer "... No, I'll be fine." He said with an unsure tone. "... Alright then, please rest while I'm away...!" [Name] said as they took their bag and left from the hotel room door.

"Yes, I'm very sure, March." While looking for her friends in the now crowded lobby she heard the voice of her closest friend, Dan heng. "Hey! You guys! Over here!" [Name] shouted to grab the attention of her dear friends who instantly turned their heads in [Name]'s direction as soon as they heard her voice. "There you are, you idiot!" March angrily said as she ran in [Name]'s direction followed by Dan heng and Stelle who shook her head at March's childish antics. "Whoa there, calm down, March." [Name] sweatdropped. "Do you know how much you scared us? Don't do that again, you hear?!" She said as she lectured [Name]. "Did I really...?" They asked in denial. "Yes, yes you did." Dan heng sighed. "What were you even doing, [Name]?" Stelle asked. "Huh? Oh, I found someone who was injured and helped him." They answered. "Oh. Alright. Wait.... WHAA?!" March exclaimed. "Is he here?" Stelle asked pushing March out of the way affectionately. "Yeah, why?" [Name] responded making Dan heng face palm. "Why didn't you take him to a hospital or clinic?" He sternly asked with a glare that made March snap out of her dazed state. "Ooh girl you're in trouble now...~" She teased making you glare at her to which she sticked out her tongue. "Uhm... Well you see... Uh... the hospital is... too far and I thought he wouldn't make it..." they answered in defeat. Dan heng sighed. "Alright, let me check up on him. You two can go ahead and we'll catch up later." He said to March and Stelle to which they responded with a nod and walked off. "Come on, [Name]. We're going." Dan heng stated as he walked towards the elevator "R-right!" [Name] said before following him, unaware of the pair of eyes that have been staring at their figure for a while leaving the hotel building.

When they arrived at [Name]'s room the stranger was no longer in their bed which made [Name] shocked. "Huh?! Where is he...? I could've sworn I told him to stay here... The wounds wouldn't have healed properly if he walked too much..." The [HairColor]ette panicked. "Hm... It seems that our injured stranger has left a note before leaving." He said pointing out the piece of paper on their bed before picking it up. "H-huh? what does it say?" They asked in curiousity. "It reads; thanks for the jacket, glasses, masker, and help, sleeping beauty. I'll probably visit the astral express in the future to return those, but maybe not. If you're ever in danger call me. -Blade..." A loud silence engulfed the duo. "You... You meet Blade...?" Dan heng broke the silence with his question and wide eyes. "Uhm... Yes? What's wrong...? are you mad...?" [Name] said in worry. "It's-... just-... I'm not mad, just please don't get anywhere near him. He's... dangerous. Alright?"

3. Having a fellow member protect you, even if you aren't aware!

Lately, you have been feeling watched but there wasn't any evidence to your claims. You tried to tell March and Stelle, but they only said "Huh? Really? You sure it isn't just your imagination or something?" and "Maybe it's the angry ghost haunting you for eating my ice cream." You had also thought about telling Himeko and Welt but decided against it afraid that they'll overthink things and make the situation more complicated than it actually is. So as a last resort, you told your best friend for his suggestion and prayed to whatever god that he'll help you out. "And that's it..." You explained to Dan heng who has been listening to you rambling about feeling watched and the chill you feel whenever you leave the astral express for the past hour or so while he sorted out some information on the traditions of different planet that you had collected from your latest solo adventure to a new planet. "Hm... I'm not able to do much, but if it makes you feel better then I'll look out for any watching eyes and unwanted visitors." He hummed. "Really?! You're the best!" [Name] chirped happily. "yes yes, now go to sleep or else you'll be tired for your expedition tomorrow." He ordered which you complied with. Happily skipping down the halls, [Name] has started feeling a bit safer thanks to the previous conversation they had with Dan heng but one thing has been bothering them for a while... "Don't get anywhere near him. He's... dangerous."

On your next exploration trip, Dan heng had advised a plan to help you with your (not so little) little problem the troublesome part is the fact that he didn't give any info or told you about it. As you happily walk around the planet that the astral express had stopped by to gather supplies to find some snacks for March, Stelle, and Pompom while also stocking up on perishables and blankets thanks to Stelle who built a pillow fort during a blackout and accidentally trowing them all away after she was no longer using them since the lights had turned back on. While looking around you had stumbled upon many happy couples out on dates while looking into each others eyes that are full of love, kids happily playing with each other laughing and smiling together as they all ran to hide while playing hide 'n seek, a mother and her son who was helping her carry their groceries as he told her what had happened at school today, and much more. You contently stared at them from afar not noticing the small genuine smile that was appearing on your face, but deep down inside you admit you felt a bit jealous of the happy people spending time with each other wishing you could be like them one day where you don't feel alone. Snapping out of your trance you continue to find what you came here for, the reason you came here in the first place, to help out your mentor, Miss Himeko and your close friends on the astral express. Once again, walking around in search of the items needed, you had started to feel that cold chill and watching eyes once again but when you looked back, there was only two kids playing soccer with each other in the far distance. Brushing off the feeling of being watched as being paranoid, you continued to walk around unbeknownst to you that there was some drama happening not too far from where you were...

"I'm not letting you get anywhere near [Name], and that's final." A familiar stern and serious masculine voice stated, judging by the tone, he must be angry at the person he's talking to. That person being none other than Dan heng. "Is that so?" Another voice chuckled in amusement at his statement. "Do you really think you're strong enough to defeat me? No matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to defeat me. I will get them, and you won't stop me, Imbibitor Lunae." The other voice said, knowing well that all he said was true.

Cons:

1.Getting Injured During Missions, Whether It Be A Small or Big Injury

"Ooh! Look over there! Isn't that Mrs. May's purse?" March happily exclaimed while pointing in the direction of a small purse covered in snow. Today [Name], March, and Stelle had gone to look around Belobog as the other members of the astral express went to stock up on supplies once again. While travelling, the group had stumbled across Mrs. May, a very nice elderly lady who lived in a nursing home along with her cats, searching for something. It turns out that one of her pet cats had taken a liking to her purse and would play with it, but then one afternoon the said cat had taken the purse outside without her knowing and returned home without it. Worried, Mrs. May has been searching for it since yesterday without any progress thus she ended up asking the group to search for it. After a few hours of searching all over Belobog, and stopping Stelle from digging through random trashcans on the side of the road, you had found a few signs of the purse such as a strand of light pink silk sticking out in the snow along with some other stuff like money, coins, and a grocery list. "I think it is, at least from the descriptions Mrs. May had given us before we left." [Name] explained as the group went to investigate the purse. "I wonder how it ended up here though... This place is quite far from the nursing home, and I highly doubt a cat would travel this far in this extreme weather..." March voiced out her concern. "I think you're overthinking again, March. It has been days since the purse first went missing, the weather must've been warmer that day." Stelle turned down her thoughts. "Well whatever... As long as we found it it's time to return the purse to Mrs. May now!" March exclaimed. "A-ah... How about you two go first, I'll stay behind for a while. There are some things I want to check out to put in the archives back in the astral express." [Name] explained as the other two nodded their heads at their friends words and turned around towards the direction of where they came from. "Alright then, see ya later, [Name]." Stelle said already walking away. "Bye! Don't forget to call me if anything happens!" March happily said as she too left and tried to catch up with Stelle.

As soon as the duo was no longer in sight, [Name] let out a loud sigh that they were holding in for a while. 'This feels off...' They thought as they started to look around the area for some clues and crouched near a tree to take a short break. 'I swear I felt something off... My mind is playing tricks on me again...' Just as they stood back up, an unexpected force forced them to get blown away into the snow and landed on their hand to stop. 'A... Voidranger...? Wait a minute... What is it doing here?!' [Name] panicked. It's unusual to see a Voidranger in Jarilo VI of all places, after all. Looking at their hand [Name] realized that they were bleeding... sighing then taking out their weapon of choice, [Name] went into a defensive stand. Facing the enemy, [Name] closed their eyes for a second and when they opened them, the Voidranger had already been taken out. Right behind the Voidranger is a familiar figure with long black-ish hair, Blade. "It's you..." [Name] whispered softly, but Blade was still able to hear what they had said but all he gave them was a small nod and said; "If anything happens, just call my name." before disappearing leaving [Name] alone.

2.Getting Lost During An Exploration Trip.

"Aaaaaah....! I hate these types of expedition trips... Why are we even doing this in the first place?!" March groaned as she dragged her feet to follow her fellow comrades who were looking around in some abandoned ruins. "There's some treasures here that we need to retrieve. So just hang in there for a while longer, we're almost there." [Name] explained to their tired friend as March pouted in return. "Well can you please carry my bag? My back is starting to hurt... I mean, why did we even bring these bags in the first place?" March complained yet again as she handed her bag to [Name] who is now carrying it. "And can you believe how-" All of March's words didn't register in [Name]'s mind as everything she says starts to sound like gibberish along with everything else. Soon, [Name] finds themselves zoning out and when they have snapped out of it, they realize that they're now lost. They were in a room with a lot of dust and some... weird purple gas around the room. Looking at their surroundings, [Name] isn't able to find or hear the group. After a while, [Name] had decided to walk around in search of their friends. After a few hours, they were still lost. Hell, it felt like every hallway was the same! Not to mention how [Name] had started to feel dizzy after walking for a while, and this dizziness has not gone away. Frustrated, [Name] plopped themselves down a wall and hugged their legs. "I wish Dan heng was here... or March... or Stelle... or anyone else..." [Name] whispered to no one in particular as they start to sob. "Hic... maybe not Miss Himeko... or Welt... they will definitely be disappointed or tease me..." They tried to calm down. "Alright, [Name]... focus... calm down. What do I do..." they said the theirself and placed a hand on their chin. '... Help... Dan heng... Blade...!' They thought as their vision becomes fuzzy due to their dizziness from before, drowsiness takes over them.

"B-.... Blade...!"

Just as [Name] whispered that, a mysterious figure and fog appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The figure soon became more clear, long black hair that fades to a reddish color, a lean body build, and broad shoulders. Without a doubt, that is the one and only Blade. "You called?" He asked. But unable to keep their eyes open, [Name] had fainted right in front of Blade. "Huh, guess the gas worked better than I thought." Blade mumbled as he crouched down to reach [Name], carefully playing with their hair while enjoying looking at their delicate features. After a while of silence, Blade had placed his hands around [Name]'s body, and slowly picked them up in a princess carry and walked away not noticing the small bag that was left behind.

3.Getting Kidnapped By Your Friend?

When [Name] had woken up, they were no longer in the abandoned ruins that they were in before. Sitting up from the bed, [Name] looked around and realized that they were in an unfamiliar surrounding just as they were about to get up, something was stopping them from doing so. It was a chain on their foot that was locked on both their foot and the bed. Seeing this, [Name] panicked. Not long after, Blade had entered the room. "Blade...?! Great timing! Now come and help me get this chain off my foot-" they said before getting cut off "That won't be necessary. Why would I do that if this is everything I've ever wanted? Having you in my arms, your full attention, your everything!" He exclaimed. "What...? Blade... You're crazy...!" [Name] shrieked as Blade only grinned in response. "Maybe I am. But just know this, I'm only this crazy for you, dear [Name]." He said as [Name] could only widen their eyes in response, afraid of him and his obsession with them.

"You'll be mine, and mine only. Why would you want to separate us?"

END.

Extra HCs:

Whenever you and Blade cuddle he would hug you so tight that you'll barely be able to breath.

You and March would paint each other's nails whenever you have the time.

Himeko can be super strict sometimes when teaching. (Welt having war flashbacks.)

Stelle got scratched by one of Mrs. May's cats

The group was searching for [Name] but only found your small bag and March's bag.

Blade didn't tell Kafka or Silver Wolf cause they would tease the living daylight out of him.

Authors note: I got so lazy at the end... BUT thank God my exams are finished! I'll start accepting requests again. This has been rotting in my drafts since December... I finally finished it!

[spellsword177]

Thoughts and Predictions on Agatha All Along After "Death's Hand in Mine"

Rewatching episode 7 today sparked some thoughts in me in what we will face in the last two episodes next week. Naturally, some of the pieces are still missing and it probably won't pan out exactly as I expect. It's always fun either way.

I still suspect Agatha either lied about previously travelling the road relying on her mother's stories or she cheated the last time letting her fellow travelers take the risks.

I get this feeling Wiccan is incomplete. He has no memory from either Billy Maximoff or William Kaplan from before the crash. The only vague notion he clings to is his brother Tommy. In earlier posts I predicted he might be sucked dry and later restored by Agatha, though the possibility she restores his lost memories is about as equally possible.

I love the dynamic between Billy and Agatha. Billy holds a reverence for all forms of witchcraft while Agatha dismisses large portions of it as con games. Billy generally likes to follow the established rules, but Agatha prefers to blaze her own trail.

I find it interesting the Salem Seven were not only walking backwards, but also away from the Divination/Air Trial. It was almost like they were being rewound, possibly by Rio or the Witches' Road itself.

We only heard five thumps when the Salem Seven witches were impaled on the swords. It's possible one or two survived, but we'll see next week.

I love the reveal of Rio Vidal as Lady Death. Though she hasn't yet openly attacked anyone but Agatha, I have a feeling that may not be the case as the remaining three members seem to be pulling together as a cohesive group especially after Lilia's sacrifice.

I think part of Lilia went back in time, but part of her is still in the present and will join at least Alice in whatever Death has in store for her captured bodies. It will be interesting if the Salem Seven also take part.

[coopigeoncoo]

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: Teen+

Tags: Reader-Insert, Stalking, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Psychological Torture (There is a plot for a character to get kidnapped and assaulted, but it doesn't actually happen), Sex Toys, Happy Ending

---

A late night meal delivery to Pro Hero Shouto goes terribly wrong, leaving you trapped in a room together with no obvious means of escape. You find yourself holding out hope not just for a rescue, but also for Shouto to somehow stay oblivious to the massive crush you've had on him for months now.

With the outlook for you future growing increasingly hazy, one thing becomes pointedly clear:

You can't keep things bottled up forever.

---

"It's true we don't know what might happen to us," Shouto admitted, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours; intense and mesmerizing. "But we'll face it together, okay?"

"Okay," you swallowed thickly. "But I think you definitely pulled the short straw as far as teammates go."

"Really?" Shouto asked, his eyes shining as he stared at you. "I don't think I could have chosen anyone better if I tried."

---

Continue reading below or follow the link to Ao3!

Society is built on a series of white lies, little untruths we tell ourselves to make life seem more bearable. Things like how good will always prevail over evil, that hard work equates to success, and that your Quirk didn't dictate the direction your life took.

You had some increasingly strong suspicions about those first two platitudes, but the fact that you had a teleportation Quirk and had only ever been hired for courier work left you feeling very certain that the last one was absolute bullshit.  

Last month your boss had commemorated your third year of employment at Über Munch, a meal delivery service for Heroes, with a mesh bag half-full of dollar store candy and a keychain with the company logo on it in lieu of something you would actually appreciate.  

Like a raise. Or a day off once and a while.  

So you were feeling pretty unenthusiastic about work these days now that you knew how little your effort was actually valued by the suits down at the corporate office. You had never been this tempted to quit before and knew it would likely be a smart move to start sending out resumes and have something else lined up for when you eventually snapped, but it was hard to actually put forth the effort when you didn't totally hate your job most days.  

Your Quirk, Revisit, allows you to instantaneously travel to anywhere you've walked before. It made some aspects of your job easier, like quickly delivering meals directly to Hero agencies in the major metropolitan area; but it didn't make it effortless. Some orders were just more difficult to fulfill than others.  

A call from Fat Gum always requires multiple trips from a handful of different restaurants to fulfill, a task that left you winded and lightheaded from both the quantity of food you had to carry and overusing your Quirk. But he always tipped generously, which was more than you could say for other Heroes. Accepting an order from Vine would guarantee that you would end up dumped on the edge of some overgrown forest with a bag of vegetable samosas in one hand and a compass in the other, rewarded for all your trouble with an evangelical comic tract once you'd actually managed to track her down. 

But then there were the clients you didn't mind getting calls from. Mt. Lady never ordered meals, she just wanted someone to drop off a bottle of her favorite bargain brand rosé on her days off so she could focus on relaxing. She'd answer the door in an old pair of sweatpants with a clay mask pasted thickly across her face, a rom-com blaring in the background as she accepted her delivery. It was a charmingly domestic view of a woman most often seen splashed across the covers of beauty magazines.  

And then there was your favorite client of all, Todoroki Shouto. Every Tuesday and Thursday the same request would ping across the screen of your work phone: cold soba with extra ginger to be delivered to his agency precisely at eight thirty, which was when he took a break from his nightly paperwork. You'd started to become friendly over the course of your routine interactions, sharing courteous greetings and anecdotes from your respective work weeks. Shouto's stories were always more engaging than yours, but he was polite enough to laugh and offer commiseration at the appropriate points as he unpacked his dinner.

You tried to appreciate Shoto's companionship without interpreting his gentle smiles and welcoming demeanor as anything other than what they were; a show of kindness from a good man. But every time Shouto gifted you with a glimpse of his pearly whites you couldn't stop the sudden hitching of your breath, mind racing with snippets of impossible dreams you couldn't help but crave.  

It was easy to let yourself imagine being with him; waking up in a tangle of limbs as early morning light streamed across your bedspread from between the too-wide gaps in your blinds. Knowing your breath was sour from sleeping but kissing him anyway, too needy for his attention to wait until after you'd brushed your teeth.   

But you know life isn't like it is in the fairy tales. Princes don't marry peasants and pedigree Heroes don't end up with minimum wage service workers. You'd keep on delivering Shouto's noodles twice a week until inevitably, a year or two down the road, the tabloids would be saturated with news of his engagement to some super model or socialite. That was what was expected; what he deserved.  

But you could, and would, fantasize about what could have been if things were just a little bit different. If you were richer or more successful. If you hadn't been too scared to take the entrance exams for placement at a Hero School. If you existed in the same social stratosphere as each other.  

They were nice, those little flights of fancy you allowed yourself; the small sprinkles of sweetness that made the bitter taste of reality more palatable. You made time for one more brief daydream; a vision of gentle sighs and entwined fingers, before you dug your phone out of your pocket. Thumb swiping across the screen, you bring up your work app and see a new notification light up your screen: a request for cold soba with extra ginger.  

With a weary sigh, you clutched your phone to your chest, screwed your eyes shut, and disappeared in a shower of sparks. 

You'd become a regular feature around Shouto's agency, recognized on sight by the security guards and night cleaning crew. So the sudden appearance of a new receptionist next to the doors to Shouto's office was a jarring change in an otherwise predictable delivery routine. A sharp looking woman had replaced his usual assistant, the round-faced and rounder-bellied Mrs. Yamori; a devastatingly friendly and heavily pregnant woman with a heteromorphic gecko Quirk. 

Customer service smile firmly in place, you approached the desk, checking the gleaming name plaque set in front of her.  

"Hello, Ms. Yokubou!" You greeted cheerily, startling the receptionist who had been focused on sorting through a small pile of mail. "Did Mrs. Yamori go on maternity leave already?" 

"How am I supposed to know?" The woman snapped, carefully placing a small box at the top of the stack. "I'm here to help Shouto, not spread office gossip."

"Right," you coughed nervously in the face of her hostility. "Well, I have his dinner. So I'll just go ahead and knock."

"Dinner?" She hissed, swiveling her chair to face the monitor on the left side of the desk. "There isn't any mention of dinner on his schedule and I certainly didn't call you."

"I don't know what to tell you. I deliver Mr. Todoroki's dinner every Tuesday and Thursday at this time," you sighed, pleasant demeanor slipping as this conversation eroded what little was left of your patience after a long day.  

"Well, not today you don't," Yokubou sniffed, waving you away with a dismissive hand. "Shouto is simply too busy this evening. You may go."

"Listen, even if I wanted to go, Über Munch guarantees delivery to Heroes. That's sort of their entire business plan."

"I told you that your services won't be necessary!" Yokubou screeched, reaching her hand towards the receiver on her desk. "Don't make me call security!"

"Would you, actually? They know me down there and it seems like getting a third party involved might help speed things up a bit."

Yokubou's brow twisted as she pulled the desk phone up to her ear, but whatever sort of retort she had poised on the tip of her tongue evaporated the moment Shouto's office door opened and he stuck his head out curiously.  

"Shouto!" She crooned, rolling her shoulders back to push her chest further out, the top buttons on her fitted blouse struggling under the added pressure. "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you! But I have everything under control and-"

"There you are," Shouto sighed in relief as his gaze landed on you, pointedly ignoring the antics of his receptionist. "I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry I'm late," you said, holding the bag out for him to take. "This is normally the part where I would apologize for your food getting cold, but it was already cold to start with, so I'm just going to skip that bit."

Shouto accepted his dinner with an amused huff, fingers brushing yours as the bag changed hands.  

"Would you like to come in?" Shouto asked, pushing the door to his office open wider. "I need some help on today's crossword puzzle. There's a lot of pop culture questions that I don't know the answers to."

"You can't, Shouto! Not tonight! You're far too busy!" His receptionist said, shooting to a standing position and grabbing the pile of mail into her arms. "There's something important here that needs your immediate attention."

"Is there, now?" Shouto hummed thoughtfully, shifting the bag with his soba into the crook of his arm so he could accept the towering stack of mail.  

"And I'm sure you need privacy to open classified mail," Yokubou insisted, squeezing herself into the space between you and Shouto.  

"It'll be fine," Shouto assured her with a tight smile. "I'll just save all the top secret letters until I'm alone."

"But-!"

"That will be all for today, Ms. Yokubou," Shouto dismissed, reaching around her to place a palm between your shoulder blades and guide you into his office. 

"No! You don't understand!" Yokubou wailed, clawing at the stack of mail Shouto held securely to his chest, trying to pry the missives away from him.

"I understand that it has been a very long day and you must be exhausted. Go home and rest and we'll talk about your lack of professionalism first thing in the morning," Shouto said sternly, shutting the door quickly behind him and engaging the lock with one swift motion. He ignored the pounding knocks that shook the door in its frame and the repeated frantic cries of 'Shouto!' as he made his way across the room, depositing the contents of his arms down onto his desk before collapsing into his office chair with a bone weary sigh.  

"Well she sure is…something," you offer diplomatically.  

"Fired is what she is," Shouto laughed dryly, scrubbing his hands furiously across his face. "That woman has been an absolute menace since day one. I tried to give her a chance to settle in, but it's beyond obvious that this job isn't a good fit for her."

"She only started on what? Friday?"

"Saturday," Shouto corrected, prying the lid off of his dinner and happily sniffing the ginger-covered noodles. "And since then she's thrown away all my fanmail, canceled a joint interview I had with Creati, and she keeps finding excuses to barge into my office. I've had to start locking my door."  

"Yikes," you said, wincing in sympathy and a fair amount of second hand embarrassment. "How long is Mrs. Yamori supposed to be gone?"

"Too long," Shouto groaned, pulling out a set of disposable chopsticks and snapping them neatly in half. "Do you think I could convince her to come back to work early if I hire her baby too?"

"I'm fairly certain that's illegal. Child labor and all that," you laughed, pulling one of the guest chairs up to the front of Shouto's desk and spinning the abandoned crossword around to glance at the clue columns. "Plus, babies cry a lot. It would probably be pretty disruptive."

"It couldn't be worse than my current situation," Shouto grumbled, the faint sounds of Yokubou's wailing still audible in the background.  

"I suppose the dental coverage for a baby would be pretty cheap," you muse, penciling in the answer for number thirty-two down. "They don't have any teeth."

"I wonder what's in that mail pile that had Ms. Yokubou so wound up," you pondered, tapping the pencil eraser against your cheek thoughtfully. 

"Good question," Shouto said, using the cheap paper napkin to dab primly at his lips even though you were fairly certain he didn't get a single particle of food on his face with how carefully he ate. "I thought she had slipped a confession letter into the stack, but all that's here is official mail and a couple of packages."

"Maybe one of those then?"

"Maybe," Shouto mused, separating out the parcels in question. "But I am expecting some deliveries. My Mother's birthday is coming up and I'm having her gifts shipped here so she doesn't stumble upon them when she visits my apartment."

"I guess the only way to know for sure is to open them," you say, tossing your pencil down in defeat and refocusing your attention onto Shouto as he picked up an envelope mailer and ripped open the tab. Reaching into the envelope, Shouto pulled out a small paperback novel.  

"It's the next volume in her favorite book series," he explained, setting the book aside with a smile. "I pulled some strings and got her an advanced copy."

"The ladies in her book club are going to be so jealous!"

"I know," Shouto grinned fiendishly in delight, the mischievous glint in his eye making your stomach muscles clench wickedly.

"And uh, what's in the last box?" You ask, trying to focus on anything other than your misplaced desire for the man in front of you.  

"Let's see, shall we?" Shouto said, slicing open the packing tape with a large set of shears from his desk drawer. Carefully reaching in through the layers of tissue paper, Shouto pulls out a long glass bottle. It's overly ornate, with pink tinted glass and gilded edges, the sort of thing your grandmother would have proudly displayed on her vanity while smacking your small hand away for trying to touch it without permission.  

"It's lovely," you say, only half-lying as you watched the golden tassel tied around the middle sway back and forth. "What's it for?"

"Perfume, I think?" Shouto guessed, face scrunched up as he examined the bottle closely. "I ordered the type Fuyumi told me to, but I don't remember it looking like this on the webpage?"

"Maybe it's a limited edition?" You suggest. "Or they noticed who was ordering and upgraded you to the deluxe version with like, extra ambergris or something?"

"I hope not. That would throw the fragrance completely off balance," Shouto winced, viscerally imagining the perfume you described. "Better check and make sure this isn't the deluxe edition."

And with those words, Shouto grasped the stopper on the bottle and pulled; a plume of thick yellow smoke billowing out from the mouth of the bottle. Gasping in surprise, you accidentally inhaled the spreading vapor; skin prickling painfully as you lost control of your limbs and tumbled to the floor. The last thing you saw before your vision blurred and unconsciousness claimed you was Shouto reaching out across the floor towards your prone body; shirt pulled over his nose and mouth in an effort to filter out the unknown gas.  

Untold minutes passed before the smoke finally dissipated. And when it did, there was no trace of you or Shouto left. Just a shiny pink bottle with it's stopper wedged firmly in place, glimmering cheerily in the warm light of Shouto's office.  

You woke up suddenly, contorted into an uncomfortable position on the floor with your clothes clinging to your clammy skin. Head pounding and stomach churning, you take in a deep breath and then promptly regret it as you inhale a lung-full of incredibly potent incense smoke.  

"Ugh," you coughed, nose twitching as you got hit by another low-hanging cloud of patchouli. With one last sputter you shifted your focus to examine the room around you. The walls were an eye watering bright pink and every horizontal surface, from the tables to the numerous book shelves mounted to the walls, were stuffed full of flickering candles and arrangements of waxy-petaled lilies. 

"Are you okay?" Shouto asked, voice calling out from behind the other side of the circular bed frame you were laying next to. 

"I dunno'," you mumble, pausing to let out a tiny belch that seemed to help settle your stomach. "I think so?"

"Good," Shouto stated, voice still commanding despite its breathy quality. "Can you walk?"

"Let me try," you said as you went to roll over onto your side, only to discover that your body wasn't responding the way it should; your limbs dragging and heavy. Panic flooded your body, blood thrumming hotly in your ears as you once again tried, and failed, to roll. Exerting more concentrated effort than you ever had before in your life, you managed to slowly rock over onto your shoulder; body now facing towards the bed.

Whatever gratification you felt from your accomplishment was quickly forgotten as you realized that your heaving gasps of exhaustion were slowly pushing you off balance, sending you toppling face first into the shiny wooden bedframe. Your forehead landed with a dull thunk; the shock of the impact intensified by the headache throbbing sharply behind your eyes. 

"Ouch," you hissed through your teeth, sucking up the pain as best you could. "Moving appears to be beyond me at the moment."

"That's okay," Shouto said, his voice dropping a decibel or two into a more comforting timbre. "Wait there. I'll come to you."

The one good thing about your fall was that it positioned your head closer to the foot of the bed, so you could watch as Shouto grasped handfuls of the carpet in his fists, pulling himself slowly into view with great heaving breaths. His strength finally gave out an arms length away from you, his fingers creeping along the floor until they collided with yours.  

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes, the embarrassing result of too many big feelings fighting against each other to be felt first- sadness and frustration and fear and utter relief when Shouto's fingers curled around your own. 

"You don't need to cry," Shouto soothed, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand.  

"I don't think I can stop," you sobbed, sucking in huge lungfuls of the incense-spiked air.

"That's okay, too."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," Shouto hummed. "I'm told that crying can be very therapeutic. Do you feel any better?"

"No," you snorted, trying to downplay the telltale blubber of mucus collecting in the back of your throat.  

"Do you need to cry some more then?"

You nodded as emphatically as you could with the feeble muscles in your neck, and then opened your mouth and let out a piercing wail; tears streaming down your face and soaking quickly into the plush carpet fibers.

"Can you use your Quirk?" You sniffed, tears dried and tacky on your skin. You'd tried to wipe them away but only managed to poke yourself in the eye instead. "Because mine isn't working."

"No," Shouto growled in frustration, eyes narrowed at his hands as though they had personally betrayed him. "I'm hoping we'll regain control of them once our bodies recover."

"If we recover," you mutter dismally, shifting your gaze reluctantly towards Shouto when you felt him squeeze your hand tightly to gain your attention. 

"It's true we don't know what might happen to us," Shouto admitted, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours; intense and mesmerizing. "But we'll face it together, okay?"

"Okay," you swallowed thickly. "But I think you definitely pulled the short straw as far as teammates go."

"Really?" Shouto asked, his eyes shining as he stared at you. "I don't think I could have chosen anyone better if I tried."

At Shouto's insistence, you began doing little exercises in an attempt to kick start your muscles back into working order. You started small, with toe curls and rotating your arms in little circles. Everything was slightly numb and hard to control, a little like how your cheeks felt after you had a cavity filled at the dentist.  

"I'm scared, Shouto," you whispered as you lifted your forearm a paltry couple inches off of the floor. Shouto had already graduated to doing floppy bicep curls, but that was the difference in athletic ability between a Pro Hero and someone who's preferred marathon experience involved popcorn and a handful of movies. "Where do you think we are?"

"I don't know," he grunted from exertion, sweat beading at his temples. "But I have a couple of theories about how we got here."

"What're you thinking?"

"It's obviously some sort of Quirk at work," he gasped. "You're a Teleporter, right? Could it be something like that, do you think?"

"No. It's not teleportation," you groaned, arms collapsing limply onto the floor as you burned through the last of your energy. "I'm in an online chat group with a bunch of other Teleporters and we all have the same basic experience. And this is not it."

"Really?" Shouto said, pausing in his exercises to join your brief respite. "That's fascinating."

"Yeah. I guess rearranging all your atoms is a complex enough process there's just one way it works correctly."

Shouto huffed, staring up at your reflections in the large mirror that covered the entire ceiling. "What's it like? Teleporting, I mean?"

"I- it's sort of hard to explain," you say, wrinkling up your nose in thought. "So, like, imagine if people were made entirely out of sand."

"That sounds awful," Shouto grimaced. "Can you imagine what it would feel like if your tongue was made out of sand? Everything would taste gritty."

"It isn't literal," you huff. "You can imagine anything small. Rocks, sugar-"

"Rice," Shouto interrupted, nodding resolutely.  

"Yeah, sure. Rice. Imagine people are made out of rice. Teleporting is like, if every single one of those grains just scattered," you try to wave your hand around for emphasis but only succeed in making it flop on the ground like a dying fish. "But they aren't lost. I know where every single last one is, no matter how far away it wandered. And I can just pull them all back together again, wherever I choose."

"And it doesn't make you feel like all your muscles have atrophied?"

"No, not at all," you say, letting your head loll from side to side in an exaggerated shake. "I'm just- letting myself fall apart. I'm like ice when it starts to melt; shifting and warm."

"Oh," Shouto said, a sudden ring of clarity in his tone. "That's a nice feeling."

"Yeah, it is."

Eventually, you and Shouto progressed to being able to move around on the carpet. Shouto had worked himself up into a crawling position while you had adopted the much less elegant solution of wiggling around like a worm. You could tell by his puffed up cheeks and pointedly averted stare that he was barely holding back laughing at your expense. 

"Don't you dare laugh at me," you warned him, butt stuck up in the air as you wiggled your shoulders from side to side to achieve forward momentum.

"I'm- I'm not," Shouto lied, wheezing with every inch he crawled towards a distant dresser.

"Please," you scoffed. "I went to middle school. I know what it looks like to be laughed at. You could at least have the decency to do it to my face."

"Right, sorry," Shouto apologized, turning his head to look at you and promptly losing all composure; crashing to the ground as his laughter wracked his body and threw him off balance. He landed hard on his shoulder, still too uncoordinated to break his fall well.

"Ow!" He snorted out between guffaws, body shaking as he rubbed at his shoulder with limp fingers. "That- that hurt."

"Serves you right," you mutter peevishly, pushing your derriere further into the air to power your next creep forward. "I'm going to beat you to the dresser. That'll teach you to laugh at me."

"No," Shouto gasped, stumbling back onto his hands and feet. "I'm gonna- gonna get there first."

"Oh yeah?" You countered, summoning up your go-to school yard taunt like the paragon of maturity you were.

"Yeah," he shot back, the call of competition doing a lot to sober his demeanor as he rocked on his hands and took a shaky shuffle forward.

"Hey, Shouto!" You called, waiting until he was looking at you before you wiggled your butt from side-to-side as much as you could without toppling over. Shouto, not anticipating your underhanded maneuver, collapsed face first into the shag rug, the long fibers muffling his delirious cackling.  

"Cheater!" He cried out.

"Winner!" You laughed, sliding forward onto your belly and making a good headway towards the dresser, steadfastly ignoring Shouto's calls for a do-over.  

Shouto had predictably rallied and beaten you to the dresser like the finely tuned muscle machine he was, but you were proud to say you had given him a run for his money. The two of you now sat propped up against the dresser, bodies slumped against each other for an additional layer of support. You'd passed a fair bit of time by guessing how many flowers were crammed into each vase and then counting to see who came the closest.  

"Aaaaaand that's another round to me!" You proclaimed, nudging Shouto sharply. with your elbow when you heard him grumble discontentedly.

Todoroki Shouto, it turned out, was a very sore loser.

"One more time," he pouted, looking around the room for another cluster of lilies to tabulate. "Best fourteen out of twenty-seven."

"Yeah, I can agree to that. Because I've already won fourteen times," you reminded him smugly.  

"This game is silly," Shouto grumbled, managing to cross his arms across his chest petulantly on the second try. "I don't want to play anymore."

"Fine by me," you yawned, only slapping yourself in the face a little as you tried to cover your mouth. "I'm getting tired anyway."

"Go ahead and sleep," Shouto said, nudging your shoulder with his own until your head slid down into the cradle of his neck. It was wildly uncomfortable and far too intimate for your level of acquaintance, but you'd sooner eat your shirt than complain about it. "I'll take first watch."

"Watch for what?" You grumble, already well on your way to being unconscious. "There aren't even any doors."

"Or windows," Shouto added with a frustrated sigh as he dropped his head down onto yours, smushing your cheek into the hard edge of his clavicle.  

"Righ'," you mumble as your eyelids droop shut. "No win'ows."

"And I suppose if anyone was going to come in and kill us, they would have done that while we were lying defenseless on the floor."

Your eyes shoot open, all traces of exhaustion banished as you pry yourself away from Shouto and scramble into a more upright position.

"What's wrong?" He asked with genuine concern. "I thought you were tired?"

"I was, until someone started talking about us being killed," you laughed dryly, eyes darting around the room suspiciously, cataloging all the places a person could be laying in wait. There weren't a lot, but the privacy screen next to the chaise lounge was looking a little too sinister for your liking.  

"No, I specifically said that we likely wouldn't be murdered."

"Yeah, but you still mentioned the killing part! And now I can't stop thinking about it!" You babbled anxiously, trying to calm your rabbit-fast heartbeat with a couple of deep breaths. "This is probably the closest I've ever been to being murdered before, so a little bit of panic feels justified!"

"There is a strong correlation between kidnapping and murder," Shouto nodded.

"Do you- do you think that's comforting?" You screech, hysteria ratcheting up another few notches.  

"I- no?" Shouto said, voice pitching high in uncertainty. "But it is statistically significant!"

With a pitiful whine, you drop your head down into your mostly stable hands, doing your best to hold back another round of water works. Shouto, at a loss about what to say, drops his hand onto your back.

"There, there," he says, rubbing his palm slowly down your spine

"Now this- this is comforting," you sigh, arching your spine against his trailing hand.

"I'm glad," Shouto smiled. "This is how I pet stray cats, too. It's good to finally get some feedback on my technique."

"Now that we're back on our feet-," Shouto began, watching anxiously as you stumbled and were forced to grab onto a floor lamp for support. "-mostly, anyway. I think it would be a good idea for us to look around the room more thoroughly."

"Sounds good," you say, glancing at the lamp cord and wondering how far you explore while keeping your makeshift crutch plugged in. "Is there anything in particular we're looking for?"

"I'm not sure," Shouto said, setting his sights on the dresser drawers. "We know so little about our current situation that any information at all would be helpful."

"Right," you said, still unsure about what exactly to do, but not wanting to hinder Shouto's progress any further. You decided to inspect behind the privacy screen that had made you uneasy earlier. It was a tall thing that stretched far over your head, white wicker edges nearly scraping the mirrored ceiling. 

"Finding anything interesting," you panted over your shoulder as you took another baby step towards the screen, dragging your support lamp along with you.

"No!" Shouto yelped, slamming the top drawer he'd been staring into shut. "I mean, yes. There are things. But they aren't important. They're uh-," he paused to cough uneasily into a loose fist. "They're- intimacy supplies."

"Ah, sex toys," you nod, turning back to face your destination and give Shouto what little privacy you could to work through his embarrassment. "Say no more."

"I- yes. Thank you."

"But that opens up an entirely new realm of possible explanations," you grunt, tired but excited by your continued progress across the room. "Like, did we get knocked out by the gas from that bottle and dropped into a love hotel or something? As a joke?"

"A love hotel?" Shouto screeched.

"Yeah. They're normally all schmaltzy and themed like this," you explain, gesturing vaguely to the abundance of bright pink decor. "Normally that theme isn't Barbie Escape Room, but I'm not here to kink shame."

"I think you maybe should have taken on the dresser inspection. I'm completely out of my element here," Shouto lamented, holding up a large paddle for you to see. "I can't even begin to imagine why there's a cutting board in here."

"Oh, that's not-"

"Actually," Shouto interrupted, holding up a hand to halt your explanation. "I don't think I want to know."

Shouto continues to rifle through the drawers, utterly befuddled and horrified in equal turns when you finally reach your destination.  

"Alright," you said, mustering up the courage to peer behind the screen. "Let's see what's going on behind here."

You push the right side of the screen back slowly with your still weak arms, panels buckling at the hinges as it folded itself up like an accordion.  

"Any murderers tucked away back there," Shouto teases, weighing a comically large steel buttplug in his hand.

"Not a murderer, no," your voice trembling with mounting horror as you step out of the way, allowing Shouto to see around you for the first time. The wall behind the screen was full of pictures of Shouto, hundreds of them pieced together into a collage of obsession. Magazine covers, promo pictures, and selfies from Shouto's official social media accounts were all present in the mashup; but far more distressing were the inclusions of what had to be candid shots of the Hero.  

Blurry and over processed snapshots of Shouto shirtless that had been taken through his apartment window, spoon hanging from his mouth as he ate a cup of yogurt.

A far away street shot with him and a friend- you couldn't tell who it was exactly because they had been scribbled over with a pen so many times they had worn a hole in the paper; the bright pink of the walls visible through the missing space where a person should be.  

Classified photographs detailing the injuries sustained in the line of duty that had been copied from official Commission files; terrible, gruesome things of Shouto bruised and bloodied and at his most vulnerable.  

"You have a stalker, Shouto," you whispered.

"Oh," Shouto said numbly, the butt plug falling from between his fingers and hitting the top of the dresser with a loud thud. "Then this isn't a love hotel then," he paused and swallowed thickly, eyes glazed with an emotion you couldn't recognize as he stared at the wall behind you. "This is supposed to be my prison."

Things had only gotten worse from there. Now that you realized the purpose of the room, you were unable to unearth all sorts of hidden features that made your skin crawl. Hooks carved into the delicate filigree on the bed frame that were obviously made for handcuffs, a box of truffles with tiny syringe marks poked into the bottom, and a set of menacingly sharp sewing scissors tucked away in the bedside table drawer.  

Your stomach was churning painfully, but you couldn't tell if it was from hunger or fear.  

Not really knowing what else to do, you fumbled over towards the bed and collapsed onto it, nearly sliding off the slick satin duvet cover. A frantic scramble had kept you from dropping onto the floor, but it was a near thing. You watched as Shouto slid down onto the ground, a blank look on his face as he positioned his hands by his ears and began doing crunches.

"Are you- are you okay?" You ask from your sprawled out position on the bed. You'd tried to make eye contact with him through the mirror ceiling, but his gaze remained stubbornly averted to a blank spot on the wall you couldn't understand his interest in.

"I'm fine," he grunted through clenched teeth, forcing his shoulders up off the floor.

"You don't have to be."

"Yes I do!" Shouto bellowed, startling you as he threw himself down onto the floor, hands fisting in his hair in frustration. "You're trapped in here because of me!  It's my responsibility to get you out safely and I can't do it if I'm like this!" He said, waving a hand down at his sluggish body.  

"None of this is your fault," you assure Shouto, sliding to the edge of the bed and peering down towards him. "You're just as much a victim here as I am."

"You shouldn't even be a victim in the first place."

"Yeah, me being here obviously wasn't what your stalker had planned," you said, suppressing a shudder as you stared briefly at the collage of photos before reaching down and taking Shouto's hand into your own. "But I'm glad. I'm glad that it's me here with you, instead of- instead of them."

"I'm glad it's you, too," Shouto whispered, squeezing your hand tightly. "And not just because you don't have any plans to torture me."

"Being trapped in a room with me is torture enough," you joke, lazily swinging your interlocked hands back and forth in the air.  "There's no need to overdo it."

There are faint memories of some long ago humanities class echoing in the back of your brain; something about needing to have your basic needs met before you're able to consider any other, arguably more important, matters. So while you understood that you were likely waist-deep in mortal peril and should be very worried about your long term health and wellbeing, you were far more concerned about the fact that you really had to pee.

Like, right now.

"Hey, Shouto?" You clear your throat nervously, not entirely sure how to broach the subject of bodily fluids with the top-ranked Hero laying on the bed next to you. "I, uh- have something I need to say. But it's sort of embarrassing?"

"Oh?" Shouto asked curiously, turning his head to face you, your noses nearly brushing. "What is it?"

"Well, I just- I know that a lot is happening right now, and I don't want to burden you anymore than I already am, but I just don't think I can hold it in any longer."

"Tell me," Shouto whispered breathlessly, his eyes wide as he watched you nibble on your lower lip nervously.

"I-"

"Yes?" He said imploringly, face inching closer to yours.

"I really need to pee!" You cry out loudly, sending Shouto reeling back from the force of your sudden screech.

"Oh- uh," he stammers. "That's, hmm."

"God," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Shouto rushed to assure you, grasping your wrists gently to pull them away from your face. "I'm sorry, I should have reacted better."

"It's fine," you mutter sheepishly as you peer up at him from under your lashes. "It's gross and uncomfortable and I shouldn't have just blurted it out like that."

"No, it's not that- I was just caught a bit off guard. I thought you were going to say something different," Shouto admits with a wistful sigh.

"Like what? That I need to poop?"

"No," he snorts, pushing himself to the edge of the bed and standing with relative ease. "Don't worry about it right now. Let's just focus on finding a place for you to relieve yourself."

"I'd suggest just picking a corner like animals do, but that doesn't seem like a viable option in a round room."

"We'll just have to get creative then, won't we?" Shouto smiled, lifting up one of the largest vases of lilies and flipping it upside down; water and flowers spilling onto the floor at his feet in a soggy clump.  

Shouto had originally set up your makeshift chamber pot behind the creepy stalker screen to give you some semblance of privacy, which was incredibly thoughtful of him. But the idea of peeing in front of one Shouto was hard enough, there was no way you could ever possibly bring yourself to pee in front of hundreds of little Shoutos pasted onto the wall. So the two of you combined your minimal strength together and managed to pull one side of the tall dresser away from the wall, creating a triangular little hidey-hole you hurriedly wedged yourself into.

"Don't look!" You called out over your shoulder, already pulling your zipper down before he could spin around fully.

"I won't," Shouto promised, staring dutifully across the room. With nothing more engaging to stare at, you join him in spectating the wall you were squeezed against. The pink paint had some sort of iridescent sparkles mixed into it that caught every flickering candle flame and created a hazy sort of glow that did nothing to help alleviate the headache you'd been nursing since you first woke up. The effect wasn't any less assaulting up close, so you were in the process of averting your eyes when the light behind you suddenly shifted; Shouto's dark shadow passing over you and catching on some strange divots on the otherwise smooth surface of the wall.  

Hesitantly, you raise your hand and run your fingers across the wall, watching the route your fingertips take as they follow the nearly invisible grooves.  

"Letters!" You gasp in excitement. "Shouto! There are letters on the wall!"

"Where?" Shouto demands, appearing over your shoulder in a flash, heedless of the fact that you were still mid-piss.  

"Ahhh! No peeking! NO PEEKING!"

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

After you had emerged from your commode and dunked your hands into a bowl full of lily water to cleanse them, you and Shouto set about moving the dresser further from the wall to accommodate both your bodies as you squinted thoughtfully at the letters.  

"They're really hard to make out through the shimmery paint," you grumble, waving a candle around to see if a different light position would make it any easier to read.

It didn't. 

"I think that's the point," Shouto hummed thoughtfully. "They used paint and a dresser to hide the message, so they really didn't want us to discover what's written here."

You both stared at the shimmery wall for a moment longer before inspiration suddenly struck. 

"I have an idea," you said, wobbling away to the other side of the room on stiff legs and returning moments later, the box of drugged chocolates tucked underneath your arm.

"Take one," you instructed Shouto as you pulled the lid off the box; selecting a dark chocolate truffle for yourself.  

"I know things seem bad, but poisoning ourselves isn't the answer. Yet," Shouto added grimly, staring down into the box with a deep frown.  

"I'm not gonna- ugh! Just watch!" You huff, placing your truffle onto the wall and smearing it over the letters with firm strokes. The chocolate transferred easily onto the wall, leaving brown streaks across the pink paint but skipping over the recessed grooves of the letters.  

"Clever," Shouto smirked proudly, a sight that you stared at for longer than was strictly appropriate; permanently etching every last detail of this moment into your memory.

Chocolates in hand, you and Shouto began scribbling across the wall like two poorly supervised toddlers, the message slowly coming into focus as the number of truffles in the box quickly dwindled. The message was much larger than you had originally anticipated and you were a bit worried that you were going to run out of chocolates before the message was fully revealed. But in the end you were left with half a truffle and a bit of doggerel poetry outlined in cocoa:  

A love confession you must tell, 

If you wish to break the bottle's spell.

Sweet nothings alone just will not do,

You're trapped until your words are true.

"Well, I don't know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't rhyming couplets," you admit, rubbing your sticky hands onto a nearby tufted throw pillow.  

"The bottle," Shouto stated confidently, following your lead and wiping his hands on a decorative curtain. "The one I opened in my office earlier. The poem leads me to believe that we're inside of it."

"I- I suppose that makes sense," you admit, thinking back on the bottle you'd briefly seen. "You opening that bottle is the last thing I remember before waking up here."

"Removing the stopper must have been the trigger for the Quirk that trapped us to activate."

"That's why Ms. Yokubou was so insistent about getting into your office! She knew about the bottle!" You gasped, spinning to face Shouto. He didn't look too surprised by the revelation.

"She knew what the bottle did and likely intended to be here in your place," he nodded somberly. "Ms. Yokubou is definitely the most likely suspect."

"Really?" You scoff incredulously. "'The most likely suspect?' It's blatantly obvious that she's the one behind all of this."

"I took an oath to uphold the presumption of innocence. Ms. Yokubou isn't guilty unless she's proven so in a court of law," Shouto insisted with a sour look on his face, his morals at war with what he knew was true.  

"Well, I didn't take an oath," you informed him proudly, puffing out your chest and resting your hands on your hips. "So I'm free to say that she's a creepy, rotten, low-down, guilty, bitch."

"Yes, you certainly can say that," Shouto grinned brilliantly. You tried to return a smile with similar intensity, but considering how rough you looked in the ceiling mirror after a full day of work and captivity you're positive it's no match for Shouto's natural radiance. But from the small sparkle you saw appear in the corner of his eye, it seemed that Shouto appreciated your efforts just the same.  

"Are your hands starting to tingle?" You ask worriedly, staring down at the sharply prickling skin on your fingers.

"We need to wash the remaining chocolate off.  Now," Shouto ordered, shoving the vase you had rinsed your hands off earlier into your lap; dunking his hands into the water after yours.  

"I wonder what was in those truffles," you mutter in concern as Shouto's fingers worked defly over your skin, doing his best to scrub the chocolate residue off with firm strokes. You tried to return the favor, poking at the back of his hand with your clumsy digits, but it was growing increasingly difficult to will your fingers to bend.  

"Likely just a tranquilizer," Shouto assured you, pulling one of your hands out of the water to check on how clean it was before lowering it back into the vase with a frown. "Whoever put me in here-"

"Ms. Yokubou," you filled in.

"-seems to have wanted me docile, not dead."

You tried to focus on the muted feeling of Shouto's hand on yours instead of the red hot anger roiling in your belly. It was a testament to the strength of your ire that you barely registered Shouto's gentle caresses.  

Shouto had taken it upon himself to push the dresser out of the way so you could more clearly see the poem on the wall from a more comfortable position on the bed. The dresser had tipped in the process, drawers falling open and spilling their contents out across the ground; shiny new dental tools and lacy-edged corsets mixing together in a heap on the carpet. You had thought it had been an accident at first, Shouto simply underestimating his returning strength, but then you had seen the malicious glee spread thickly across his face and understood it had been a calculated act of wanton destruction. He dropped down onto the bed beside you, glaring at the mess he had made on the floor.

"Oops," he said unapologetically, kicking the pile of lingerie with a sneer. In a show of solidarity, you swept your arm across one of the bedside tables, sending an oil diffuser and a copy of the Kama Sutra crashing to the floor.

"Oh nooo," you said flatly, swiping at a teetering wine glass that escaped your first attack. "Clumsy me!"

Shouto's smile was a forced thing, too-fast and insincere compared to his normal grins. You watched as his shoulders slumped, head hanging down towards his chest as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  

"I hate it here," he admits after a long moment of quiet. "I can't stop thinking about what could- what would have been happening to me. And I- I just-"

His foot jostled one of the hooked dental probes laying on the carpet, both your and Shouto's eyes locked onto it as it skittered across the floor and hit the baseboard with a tinny clang.

"We need to get out of here," you swallow thickly, hand blindly reaching out for Shouto's across the bed. He squeezed your fingers too tightly, your joints aching in protest; but you didn't tell him to stop.  

"So, if we're interpreting this poem correctly then Ms. Yokubou-"

"The unconfirmed suspect," Shouto corrected.

"-the suspect intended keep you trapped in here and torture you until you were convinced you loved them."

"That seems to be the case, yes."

"That's so fucking awful, Shouto." 

He didn't respond, staring thoughtfully at the words on the wall with a furrowed brow instead.  

"Ms. Yoku- I mean, whoever did this obviously has some sort of feelings for you, but not really? They want you, but not the actual you," you ranted, the bubble of rage you had kept pushed down inside had finally built up enough pressure that it was spilling out against your will as you stomped around the room. You took a special sort of pleasure in grinding the discarded lilies down into mush with every lap you took.  

"They don't care about what you think or- or feel, they just care that they get what they want, even if it destroys you. I just- I don't understand? How can they believe that they love you when they're so willing to hurt you?" you whispered brokenly, furious and devastated on Shouto's behalf.  

"And I know that is an emotionally charged situation for you, but could you please say something?" You beg, sagging down onto the bed beside him, exhausted from your outburst. "If you don't, I'm pretty sure I'm just going to keep talking until I drive us both crazy. Which, admittedly, doesn't seem like it would be a very long trip at this point-"

"It can't be that simple," Shouto suddenly blurts out, putting an end to your rambling.

"What's not simple? Driving you crazy? Because I have some high school teachers with stories you wouldn't believe."

"No, not that," Shouto said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm talking about the poem."

"What about it?" you asked, squinting at the rhyme inquisitively.

"It says that only a true love confession will break the bottle's spell and, presumably, set us free."

"Yeah, and that's sort of a huge issue? A forced love confession is just coercion," you explain. "You can't create genuine affection like that."

"Exactly," Shouto agreed, "And that would be a problem if the kidnapper was the one stuck in here with me. But instead, by some incredible stroke of luck or karma or kismet; I'm in here with you."

Between your persistent headache, bone-deep exhaustion, and the thick fog of panic blanketing your mind there was no possible way that you were interpreting Shouto's words correctly. 

"What do you mean?" you said, swallowing thickly as you braced your heart for the let down you knew was coming; the walking back of his words, the incredulous laughter once he realized what he was mistakenly insinuating.  

"I had a plan for this," Shouto sighed, a melancholy sort of sound. "There was supposed to be dinner. And music. And flowers. Not lilies, though," he rushed to assure you.  

"Thank goodness. I don't think I ever want to see another lily again for as long as I live."

"Same here," he laughed dryly. "But we would have had a good evening together. Better than this one, at least. And at the end of the night I would take your hand in mine, just like this," Shouto said, cradling your hand between both of his. "And I'd finally tell you what I've been too scared to tell you for weeks now."

"Which is what?" you whisper breathlessly, precariously hanging on his every word by your fingertips; moments away from slipping and plummeting down into something- some feeling that couldn't possibly be real. You weren't that lucky. You weren't that anything, really.  

"I'd tell you the truth," Shouto promised, his eyes shining with a soft sincerity that made your chest ache with longing. "That I am totally, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with you."

You opened your mouth to respond- how exactly, you weren't entirely sure. Cheer, maybe? Cry? Ask him if he was serious? But the actual sound that came out was a prolonged scream as every muscle in your body twisted and burned.  

And then, all you saw was darkness.

You woke up suddenly, contorted into an uncomfortable position on the floor again. But there was one immediately noticeable difference between waking up in the bottle and now, and that was the fact that your limbs were hopelessly tangled up with Shouto's; the two of you twisted together like a fleshy pretzel.  

"We have to stop meeting like this," Shouto smiles down at where your head is pillowed on his chest, his heart thumping quickly beneath your ear.

"Nope, not allowed," you mumble in complaint, trying to push yourself off of his chest. You weren't able to make much protest with how loudly your muscles were protesting, so you just settled back down and tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat when you felt his arm squeeze you tightly into his side. "I'm the funny one here. You're not allowed to have better one-liners than me."

"Apologies," Shouto said, your body rocking gently along with the quiet laughter that shook his chest. "I did have a bit of time to think of it though. It's taken you a little while to come around."

"You didn't move me?"

"No? Why would I?" Shouto asked, tilting his head to the side easily; obviously less inhibited by the soreness of his muscles than you were.  

"Well, we're out of the bottle now so I thought…" you trailed off uneasily, unsure of what words you could put together to push this conversation along. It wasn't like you really wanted to talk about what happened; to pop the bubble of happiness that was filled to almost bursting inside of your chest. But you knew that the longer you drew it out the harder it would be to face reality; to acknowledge that Shouto discovered a loophole, a convenient lie he could believe just enough to free you both from that bottle.  

Maybe he just loved you like a friend? Or worse, like a sister? Maybe that kind of affection was enough to have met the nebulous requirements for the Quirk to deactivate? The poem didn't have any footnotes that you could see, so maybe it wasn't quite as strict as you and Shouto had theorized. Maybe you could have gotten away with professing your love of Rock and Roll or sleeping in on the weekend?  

You wish you would have experimented a bit more inside of the bottle and maybe saved yourself the devastating experience you were currently thrust into: staring literal heartbreak in the face as you gazed helplessly up at Todoroki Shouto.  

"Thought what?" Shouto asked, the edges of his sweet grin slowly dipping down into the start of a frown.

"Well, we're out of the bottle now. So I don't expect- I won't hold you to anything you said. I know it was to just get us out. So, uh- thank you for that. But you don't have to keep pretending. It's okay," you assure him with a watery smile. You'd never been particularly skilled at lying and were even worse at it when you were emotional, and right now you were feeling very emotional.

But instead of looking relieved like you had expected him to be, Shouto looked positively exasperated; his face creased into a deep scowl.  

"You don't believe that I have feelings for you?"

"Well, I mean, not like you said- not romantically," you explain, panicking internally as his expression grew even more displeased. "Just- like a friend?"

"I see," Shouto huffed. You could practically feel yourself withering under the intensity of his disappointed stare. "Is that how you see me? As just a friend?"

"I mean, we are friends, right?" You laugh nervously, growing increasingly concerned that this conversation might just torpedo your entire relationship into smithereens.  

"Yes, of course. Very good ones I think," Shouto said, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your jaw gently to keep your attention firmly on him. "But is that all we are?"

"I wasn't aware there was any other option," you whisper honestly, your gaze jumping between each of his eyes, trying to see if one color was less intimidating than the other. But both gray and green burned with a deep intensity you couldn't fully comprehend.

"Really?" Shouto deadpanned. "I've been inviting you to stay with me in my office alone, after hours, for months now, and you didn't take that as a hint that I was interested in you?"

"I just thought you wanted some company while you ate," you admit quietly, still staring at Shouto much like a deer caught in a set of headlights. "And that you were like, really bad at crossword puzzles."

Shouto groaned miserably, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the floor with a loud thunk.

"I didn't want just anyone's company," he sighed. "I wanted yours, specifically."

"Oh," you replied, stunned. "Then why didn't you, you know? Ask me out? Let me know that you were interested?"

"I thought about taking a more direct approach," Shouto says, staring up at the ceiling despondently. "But my friends told me it was inappropriate to ask someone out while they're working."

"That's true," you conceded. "So what was your plan then, exactly?" 

"I was trying to make you relaxed enough in my presence where you would feel comfortable asking me out," 

Shouto said, shifting uncomfortably at your incredulous expression.  

"You could have waited one thousand years and I still wouldn't have been able to muster up enough courage to ask you out," you laugh dryly. "But even if your plan had worked, I still signed an employee code of conduct when I started working at Über Munch. I'm not allowed to flirt with customers."

Shouto hummed thoughtfully, tightening his arm around you once more. "I guess maybe it's a good thing we got stuck in that bottle together then, huh?"

"Too soon," you chastised him immediately, eyes wide as you shook your head quickly from side-to-side.

"Right. Of course. Sorry."

Once you were able to move without crying in pain, you and Shouto had reluctantly pried your bodies apart and started acting like responsible adults. Shouto did his official Hero thing and reported your bungled kidnapping attempt to the police while you called in to work.

You'd ended up needing to use one of the Personal Victim Leave days you'd been accruing, which was fine. This was the exact sort of scenario you were supposed to use them for, but you still felt a little bitter because you had been hoping to cash all of them out at the end of the year to pay for holiday gifts for your family.  

The next few hours were a blur of commotion as you were interrogated by so many detectives you were pretty sure they had to be bussing them in from the surrounding precincts just to have the opportunity to interview Shouto. But the attempted kidnapping of a high-profile hero was likely a large enough case to elevate someone's career into the big leagues, so you couldn't fault them for their efforts; as self serving as they likely were.  

Eventually, you and Shouto had been escorted out of his office so they could start photographing the crime scene; officers delivering you down to a line of ambulances waiting to take you to the hospital for an After Quirk Exposure check-up. All you really wanted to do was go home and sleep for a week, but everyone had a story about some second cousin's friend who skipped the routine examinations and ended up turning inside out or something hours later.

Most of those stories were probably urban legends or some sort of Hero Commission propaganda, but either way they made you just wary enough to agree to climb onto the gurney and accept a juice box and pack of cookies from the paramedic without raising a fuss.   

You and Shouto were separated at the hospital, the attending physicians swiveling your gurneys off into separate wings. Shouto was whisked away to the private Hero section of the hospital while you were shuffled into the ER with the rest of the civilians, shoved into a curtained off nook and left to your own devices with a small cup of ice water and a dwindling phone battery.  

It was a testament to your exhaustion that you were able to fall asleep even with the cacophony of sounds from the ER filtering in behind your privacy curtain, waking only when the nurses arrived to wheel you around the hospital for one screening or another.  

You were on your way back from your third exam, some sort of organ scanning thing you had never bothered to learn the name of, when you noticed that the nurse had pushed you past the corridor that led back to your shrouded nook in the emergency department and towards the elevators.

"Am I going for another test?" You asked in confusion, watching as she swiped her key card across a scanner mounted next to the elevator control panel, selecting one of the numerous unmarked buttons after the scanner accepted her ID with a high-pitched beep.

"No, you're all done for now. We're just waiting for final results to come in," the nurse explained, pushing you out of the elevator doors the moment they opened far enough. "It's been requested that you be moved into a room for security reasons."

"I don't understand. Am I in danger-," your query was cut off as you were pushed into your new hospital room where Shouto was awaiting your arrival, neatly tucked into his own hospital bed. You could tell from the overcrowded cluster of monitoring equipment that they had shoved his bed closer to the far wall to make room for your gurney to be positioned next to his.  

"Ah, there you are," Shouto smiled in relief as the nurse engaged the locks on your bed wheels. "Thank you so much for your assistance, Nurse Yamamoto."

The nurse blushed tomato red under Shouto's direct attention, doing her best to hide her burning cheeks behind her clipboard. 

"It- ah, it was nothing. Just um, ring the buzzer if you need anything and I'll be back to check on you in an hour?" She stammered nervously, the end of her sentence pitching up into a questioning tone.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you again," Shouto beamed, flashing his teeth in a wide grin that stunned the poor dear so severely she attempted to exit the room by pushing on a door that had to be pulled to open. You grimaced internally in sympathy for her, knowing full well that she would replay that fumbled exit over in her mind every night before she fell asleep.  

Once the nurse was safely down the hallway, the squeak of her rubber soled shoes far enough away that you knew she wouldn't overhear, you spun to Shouto with a disbelieving look carved deeply into your face. 

"Did you just charm a nurse into letting us be roomies?"

"Please. I didn't just charm a nurse," Shouto scoffed, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. "I also lied a little."

"I can't believe you're this big of a menace," you laugh, flopping back as far as the stiff hospital pillows would allow. "Your PR team must be incredible."

"They better be, for how much I pay them."

You hummed in acknowledgement, looking around his room with a critical eye, noting the immaculate condition of all of the decor and medical equipment, as well as the humongous TV mounted on the wall opposite you; a muted nature documentary flashing across the screen. A large bouquet of blue and yellow flowers were laid next to Shouto's bedside, as well as a carafe of some hot beverage; likely coffee based on the small mountain of tiny creamer tubs stacked up next to it.  

"So there's no actual security risk then?" You mumble quietly, fiddling with the edge of your thin knit blanket, doing your best to swallow down the worried lump in your throat. "No sign of Ms. Yokubou or anything?"

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid," Shouto admitted, his face pinching tight with guilt as he examined your anxiously twisting hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you unnecessarily."

"It's alright. I've just never been someone's potential target before. It's got me feeling sort of jumpy."

"Understandably," Shouto was quick to assure you. "I guess I'm so accustomed to this sort of thing I didn't really stop to think of how scary it might seem to someone less used to it."

Shouto averted his gaze to the TV for a few moments, flipping to the programming guide channel to allow you the illusion of privacy to collect yourself while you discreetly dabbed the tears pricking the corner of your eyes with the edge of your top sheet.  

"So, uh- what was your motivation for moving me in with you then?" You ask, trying to set the conversation back on track after your emotional derailment. "Did you already miss being stuck in a room with me that much?"

"Not quite," Shouto huffed in amusement. "I came to the realization that this was the first time that you and I were both off the clock in the same building. I thought it would be a shame to not make the most of this opportunity to legally fraternize."

"I'm…not sure I'm entirely following your line of thought here," you say, brow furrowed. "You want to what, exactly? Have a date in the hospital?"

"That was my intention, yes," Shouto admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. "But hearing you say it out loud makes me realize how silly it sounds."

"No!" You say quickly, shooting up stalk straight in bed, startling you both with the ferocity of your cry. "It's not silly at all! It's kind of sweet, actually. That you can't wait to spend time with me."

"It's just- things are going to get really busy for the both of us now that we're tangled up in a criminal investigation. And I'm not sure when we'll eventually get the chance to be together again," 

"You're right. We should make the best of the time we have together," you nod, rolling onto your side to face Shouto more directly. "And I can say with full confidence that this is the nicest place you've ever taken me. There's a bathroom here and everything!"

"There is!" Shouto laughed excitedly, reaching over to pull the flowers at his bedside into his arms. "And I got these for you, too."

"Really? They're beautiful, thank you," You beam, tugging the collection of blue blossoms into your arms, running a finger softly across a fuzzy green leaf. You notice a card tucked in amongst the blooms and pull it with a quick tug; snorting in amusement at the cartoon stork carrying a blue-bundled baby printed on the front.

"Ughhhhh," Shouto groaned when you showed him the card, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "I asked the gift shop for any bouquet without pink flowers or lillies and this is what they sent. Give it to me and I'll throw it away."

"No!" You cry, pressing the card against your chest away from Shouto's wiggling fingers. "It's mine now, you gave it to me. I'm going to scrapbook it."

"Please don't," he begged, leaning over the rail of his bed to make a closer swipe at the card.

"Or maybe I'll laminate it. Keep it in my wallet for good luck," you muse with a hum. "Would you sign it for me? That would really increase its sentimental value."  

"You want my autograph?" Shouto asked, arm paused mid-grab as he stared at you searchingly- for what, you weren't entirely sure.

"No. I want you to sign the card you gave me," you clarify, pulling the card away from your chest and sliding it into his hand. "That's just good manners."

Shouto pulled his hand back, eyes softer than they were just a moment ago as he opened up the side table drawer and pulled out a hospital issue pen.  

"You're right. I apologize for my oversight," he said, quickly scrawling on the inside of the card with a speed born from years of practice. You snatched the card back from him as soon as he held it out, excited to see the message he wrote.

'Congratulations, it's a boy!  

(The boy is me)

Love, Shouto'

"I'm definitely laminating this," you whisper to yourself, cheeks aching from the force of your smile as you tuck the card safely back into the bouquet and clutch it to your chest protectively.  

"So, what else do you have planned for our date?"

Dinner was up next, not because you were necessarily very hungry with the swarm of nervous butterflies you had fluttering around in your stomach; but because a member of the kitchen staff had let themselves into your room to take your meal requests.  

"You know, I sort of thought by how much fancier the Hero rooms are that you guys would get better food too," you say, spooning another mouthful of the thin vegetable broth into your mouth.

"All the hospital food comes from the same kitchen. The meals for Heroes aren't any better in quality, but we are permitted to have as much as we want," Shouto explained, prying the lid off of a pudding cup and giving it a tentative sniff. You decide to follow his lead and shift your focus to your dessert, a parfait that was mostly yogurt with a bit of granola sprinkled on top.  

"This is actually turning out to be a pretty good date," you say when the TV starts showing a commercial for a local refrigerator repair service.  

"You think so?"

"I do," you assure him. "We've even hit two of the major date features you mentioned before. We're having dinner together and you got me flowers. The only thing missing is the music."

"I can fix that," Shouto says as he reaches for the TV remote and punches in the code for a music channel. A music video starts playing; starring a man with bright green skin wearing sunglasses on the beach, flanked by a line of women in bikinis.

"Girl, I think your Quirk must be Twerkin', because your booty really knows how to work it-," The man sang, slapping the right buttcheek of the dancer closest to him.

"So romantic," you sigh, holding a hand to your chest dramatically.

"I'm changing the channel," Shouto grimaced as the camera panned away from the singer and zoomed in on the background dancer's wobbling butts.

"You can't! 'Twerkin' Quirk' is officially our song now, Shouto!" You laugh in delight, soaking in his misery like sunbeams on the first warm day of Spring.

"Everytime I think something else couldn't possibly go wrong, it does," Shouto lamented, a pained look on his face as they began spraying the bikini dancers with champagne while they gyrated next to a sports car with spinning neon rims.  

"It sure does seem that way," you agree, fishing out the lone blueberry from the bottom of your parfait. "I'm probably going to have to reevaluate my opinion of this date now."

"Has it finally sunk low enough to earn the 'Worst Date Ever' award?" He sulked, flinging the remote down onto the end of his bed irritability.  

"It's definitely cinched the nomination for 'Most Memorable'," you tell him with a smirk, putting your dessert cup down so you could reach across the space between your beds to offer him your hand. The feel of his hand in yours was already a familiar thing; your fingers at home twined together. "But I don't think any date could be bad, so long as you're with me."

"I think you're giving me too much credit, but I'll take it," Shouto grunts softly, deflating down into his pillows to watch the finale of the music video.  

"I'll let you take as much credit as you want so long as you take me on another date."

"Agreed," Shouto replied instantly. "And I promise, it'll be better than this."

"I don't think you'll ever be able to top this," you laugh brightly, heart thumping happily as you bury your nose into your flowers and watch as the singer on screen smears oil across his chest while a confetti cannon fires behind him.  

"But I can't wait to see you try."

[brandwhorestarscream]

Ah :⁠-⁠\

I mean, I don't deny that a TFP x SG TFP can be good, i guess

I don't know where to start with, although

I gotchu fam. Transcribed from discord

TFP, during the hunt for the relics. The ones they've found are split pretty evenly between the bots and cons, and there's been yet another located. It's unclear exactly what it does, the discovered data corrupted, but if the previous ones are any indication, it's surely important. Both teams are in the same scene, vying for control of their new find and desperate to make off with it to secure the upper hand. Its a pretty balanced battle until someone, idk who, lands a blaster shot way too close to the relic and it promptly goes nuclear. Massive explosion of sound and impossibly bright light, shockwaves travelling out in a ring and throwing everyone back. It stuns pretty much everyone, with the smaller mecha (vehicons, Arcee, maybe Starscream) being more heavily effected.

Imagine their surprise as they're peeling themselves off the ground, audials ringing and internals rattling... and there's suddenly double the amount of bodies as before. We'll focus on Arcee for the sake of clarity: she sits up with all sensors trying to recalibrate and groans, muttering to herself, "What the slag was that?"

Another voice, her voice, utters it at exactly the same time and she sobers up quick, finding herself nose-to-nose with a perfect, carbon copy. They're perfect mirrors of each other, each leaping up with weapons primed in a defensive stance in perfectly identical movements, and flinching back in surprise when they find their doppelganger doing the same thing. Everything, doen to the tiniest detail, even when they blink, it's the same.

It's not just Arcee either, it's everyone. Two Bumblebees, two Arcees, two Soundwave, two Starscreams, two of everyone! The relic is nowhere to be seen, none of their sensors can pick up on it, and everyone is so caught up in the confusion of sudden doppelgangers the battlefield disperses. They all evcuate back to their respective bases

The only autobot not at the fight was Ratchet, and he has no idea what to make of it. They appear to be perfect clones, similar to the Starscream incident. That's his leading theory until Arcee, one of the Arcees, mentions that she is not a clone, thank you very much, and even if she was there's no way she'd wear blue and pink paint. The newcomers insist that they're not copies, and this is definitely not where they're supposed to be.

They're from another dimension >:3

Without the relic there's no way to reverse engineer what happened to them, and the most the team here has ever done with different realities is the bit with the shadow zone. But this is much more advanced than that, and trying to return them is, uhhhh. Not gonna be easy.

Things seem ok for the first few hours. The new autobots keep to themselves, clustering around their Prime and speaking in hushed whispers. The native bots try to give them privacy--they've just been through a crazy, impossible situation and are stranded in another dimension. It makes sense they'd be stressed, and if the way hands are waving and faces are frowning while they argue quietly in the corner is any indication, they're not too happy about being stuck here.

They try to make the newcomers feel welcome, and Bumblebee + Smokescreen are especially delighted. Smokey declared that he's, "Always wanted to have a twin!" and promptly invites them to go for a joyride. Offering to let them come pick up the kids from school, they'll lose their minds when they see!

To which the new BB and SS look at them completely befuddled. They have sparklings here?

To which they're told no, definitely not! Our human children, silly. Every single new autobot turns to look at them so fast it's a little uncanny, expressions ranging from unreadable to downright shocked.

"...human children?" The new Prime asks, his tone quizzical, optics slightly narrow as if he's suspicious of their claim. "You employ human children?"

"Wha- no no no, they don't work for us!" They wouldn't use child labor, after all! They explain that the kids, mostly, just hang out with them. They're more for companionship than anything, and the new Optimus looks even more baffled.

"You... keep them as... pets?"

No, definitely not!!

As it turns out, these autobots don't have human companions. At all. No kiddos to look after, no government contacts, nothing. It's a bit odd, but hey, they come from another dimension, and if Jack hadn't gotten handsy with Arcee on that random afternoon, they likely wouldn't have humans around, either. Other-Arcee just wasn't at the right place at the right time, that's all.

New Prime doesn't say anything further, just kind of nods and goes back to quietly conversing with Ultra Magnus.

It's weird, when the kids arrive, the new autobots almost seem skittish of them. Reluctant to touch them, giving them a wide berth and taking comically large steps over them. Poor things must be afraid of hurting them 🤭

The trio is very excited to meet the newcomers, as predicted. They try to make friends but they really aren't interested. The closest they get to being even acquaintances is an offer of paint to make them easier to distinguish, and the newcomers are aaall over it. Other Arcee paints herself deep purple and silver, Bumblebee is now silver and green, Optimus himself is purple and black.

There's little tells that seem a bit odd--when the new Prime walks into a room, his soldiers don't stand at attention but instead fold their servos and lower their helms. They seem vaguely put off by human squishiness, thinly veiled distaste. And they're very eager to fight decepticons, moreso than usual, but wartime grudges can make anyone a little overly enthusiastic, right? Nothing that really strikes them as wrong, though. Not yet. Lord Prime's orders are to maintain cover until they can get their Ratchet to produce a means to travel home--then, wipe all life off the face of this planet and conquer it in the name of the Dynasty of Optronix Prime

They manage to keep their cover right up until Optronix lays eyes on this universe's Megatron 🤭

[the-mic-drop]

Building Link in BG3- Ranger

Ok, this Link is more thematically fitting, but as a recreation of him it's less accurate. Also I don't have as good a grasp of the Ranger class, so this one is likely more flawed.

Hero of the Wild

This is the Link we play as, the wild child, the serial arsonist, the pun maestro. The amnesiac that saved Hyrule on instinct.

Background

Race: Half Elf (Wood Half Elf)

Background: Outlander

Race stays the same, but this Link is no knight, this is him in his second life. Living in the wilderness, exploring the countryside, traveling the land.

Abilities

Strength: 17 (+3)

Dexterity: 16 (+3)

Constitution: 13 (+1)

Intelligence: 8 (-1)

Wisdom: 10 (0)

Charisma: 10 (0)

Str, Dex, Con, and Wis stay the same, but we switch Int and Cha because this Link is the more animated and less... bright version.

Class & Levels

Class: Ranger

Proficiencies: Nature, Animal Handling, Perception

Favored Enemy: Ranger Knight

Natural Explorer: Wasteland Wanderer: Cold

Nature because duh, Animal Handling because he can ride anything with a natural seat, and Perception because he's used to being on the lookout for danger. Ranger Knight because that's really what he is. You get proficiency in History which makes no sense, but you also gain proficiency in heavy armor which makes plenty of sense, so it evens out. Wasteland Wanderer: Cold because freezing temperatures is the most common environmental danger you can come across in Hyrule.

Level 2

Fighting Style: Archery

Spells: Hunter's Mark, Goodberry

Archery because it's the most appropriate choice, Hunter's Mark because of BotW's targeting mechanic, and Goodberry because of the metric tons of apples Link tends to carry with him at all times. The fact that this Link can use spells at all is a big reason as to why this build doesn't sit right with me, but I digress.

Level 3

Subclass: Hunter

Spell: Ensnaring Strike (Ranged)

Hunter's Prey: Any

Hunter fits because whenever we play as Link, he's always searching for something and usually has to fight something big and legendary before getting it. Unless the big legendary thing is what he was looking for. Ensnaring Strike is an equivalent to stun locking in my mind. As for Hunter's Prey, you have three choices and they're all equally fine for Link. Colossus Slayer gives you extra damage to enemies not at full health. Giant Killer lets you use a reaction to attack an attacking creature that's large or larger. Horde Breaker lets you attack multiple targets if they're standing close enough to each other. They all make sense and I leave this one to you.

Level 4

Feat: Shield Master

Although the Ranger class is typically Dex-focused and Link is a capable archer, our hero is more likely to get up close and personal. So we'll go with the same policy as the Fighter build; max out Str with Ethel and Oblodra so you don't need to use a feat on Ability Improvement. Unlike the Fighter class we only get 3 feats, so we can't give him all the weapon-type feats, so take Shield Master and keep this Link with a classic sword & shield kit. With a longbow for range, of course.

Level 5

Spell: Cure Wounds

This one is just a stand-in for Link's meals and that one(?) time he cured a group with his competent cooking.

Level 6

Favored Enemy: Sanctified Stalker

Natural Explorer: Wasteland Wanderer: Hot

Sanctified Stalker doesn't make much sense outside of how he's always going on quests with god-level involvement. Another Wasteland Wanderer for the Gerudo Desert and Death Mountain.

Level 7

Spell: Lesser Restoration

Defensive Tactics: Multiattack Defense

Lesser Restoration has the same rationale as Cure Wounds. Multiattack Defense is because Link only takes hits one at a time. Enemies can't just wail on you, and now Faerun's dastards have the same issue now.

Level 8

Feat: Durable

Another returning feat from his Fighter build. Link doesn't need much time to recover. Except that one time it took a century, but that's an outlier.

Level 9

Spell: Lightning Arrow

Shock arrows.

Level 10

Favored Enemy: Bounty Hunter

Natural Explorer: Wasteland Wanderer: Poison

Bounty Hunter is just the last remaining choice that makes any sense for Link. This Wasteland Wanderer doesn't make a ton of sense because of how relatively scarce wetlands are in Hyrule, but all the eldritch goop that's been sapping his vitality over the years must make normal poison a cakewalk.

Level 11

Spell: Conjure Barrage

There's... I had a reason for this right? Oh yeah! The bows that let you shoot 3 or 5 arrows at once. Sidenote, Level 11 gives you Whirlwind Attack which is essentially a spin attack. If for no other reason, this makes Ranger Link make sense.

Level 12

Feat: Sharpshooter/Great Weapon Master

We've all had to shoot at something way above us, right? And aiming your bow is tougher than swinging a sword around, so Sharpshooter works on both levels! If that doesn't gel with you, GWM is a classic.

Ultimately, while Fighter Link is easier to play, Ranger Link is more accurate to the Link we know and gives him a couple signature Link things that can make it a unique challenge.

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde

Sam se está asegurando de que sepamos que está trabajando no de vacaciones. Todas sus etiquetas lo dejan bien claro, esas etiquetas empezando por las de Austria, Canarias no cuenta porque el fic lo escribió el famdom, tal como la de la productora de Love Again y ahora con Alex, implican trabajo, está vez Mordor se va a tener que esmerar mucho para conectarlo con la siguiente rubia del abecedario. Sam esta últimamente poco colaborativo con ellas.

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Totalmente de acuerdo, hagamos esa traducción primero, mantiene mi español en forma, gracias:

'Sam made sure we're aware he is working, not on a holiday. All his tags clearly point to it, starting with Austria (the Canary Islands are out of this, because in that case, it was the fandom that wrote the fic), then with the Love Again producer and now with Alex. This means work and this time Mordor would have to work hard in order to connect him to the next Alphabet Blonde. Sam hasn't really been very cooperative with them, lately.'

Well, this reminds me of Beauchamp Fraser /Eight Weeks Anon: traveling on a vacation ALONE for eight weeks for various appointments.

Vacation... appointments... as I said in a comment, the Ultimate Dream. People howled in DMs, with good reason.

On a broader scale, I can't ignore the notable increase in hysteria every single time he travels to the United States of A., the Mordor assigned Fuck Lounge. It must be really terrible for a 43 year old and good looking man, to have to travel thousands of miles in order to get in touch with his testosterone. But what do I know, I am just a stupid shipper, after all. And so are you, my dear Anon Rebelde, with your very inconvenient conclusions.

I might (I should) draw a SRH World Map according to this Fandom. We'll laugh for days, mark me.

No matter how many logical arguments we'd bring along, you can be sure that across the street they will find many alt explanations for his American Seasonal Tour. Each and every one of them not involving work. Or (😱😱😱) C - just because they imagine we think she must be there 24/7 or a neglected housewife (or something). And riding a bike in the rain, cue in the banshee shrieks (RECKLESS RIDING! INSURANCE PEOPLE WILL BE MORTIFIED! BAD EXAMPLE FOR GEN Z!) in 4, 3, 2, 1...

I am tired as hell and shall retire to sleep. Thanking you for this Anon, as always. And definitely thinking about a map: it's better than counting sheep, anyways.

[kamehamehamlet]

Heading on hiatus

Hey all, it's uplifting to see such a positive response to our Spirit Bomb Rally campaign, and I have no doubts we will hit our final goal before or during our final June stream this Saturday! These goals were set to track the viability of this project, and now that we've said hello and established ourselves again, our next priority is writing the script.

That means pausing our posts and streams as I dedicate my energy to the rewrite.

As a freelance artist, I rarely work on just one thing, and I’m excited to head into a Summer of creative firsts. In July, I’ll be finishing up work on a video game I’m making with friends while planning our next one, and I’ll be traveling to California for my first-ever San Diego Comic-Con. I’ll arrive back home just in time for the release of my two new kid-lit horror graphic novels on August 1st.

A development screenshot of my game More Than You Can Chew and covers for Pop-Up Peril and Nameless Notebook. If you’re curious about any of these projects, I’ll likely post about them on my personal tumblr, @writepictures

Our biggest update, however, is that Shalee will be heading to Boston in August to pursue a two-year MFA in Directing! I wouldn’t be the artist I am today without the lessons, practice, and community I built in my program. Meanwhile, Shalee has been directing for over a decade, so I can’t wait to see how this takes her further in her abilities. And with Shalee busy earning her master's degree, my introverted self is looking forward to a cozy fall of writing KamehameHamlet : Waiting for Goku. If you're reading this before 6/29, you can hop into our final Rally Stream of the summer, where we'll chat about this decision at length. If you can't make the stream, you can leave a question below or in our asks. After the 29th, you can watch the VOD, and our asks are always open, and I’ll be keeping an eye on them this summer. Thank you all again for your continued enthusiasm for silly and serious independent theatre, and if you see your mutuals sharing the big post this summer and wishing it was true, don’t hesitate to point them our way. See you on the other side!

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Smash or Pass

Thank you for the tags @topazadine and @paeliae-occasionally!

Even though I was tagged twice I can only do one poll on those post so I'll stick to one character. Since this is the first time doing one of these I'll do my MC, Narul.

Funnily enough my partner and I have discussed this very topic before.

Since this is about "smashing" there are some minor "adult" things referenced.

Narul

(Art is by @veggiebr0th! I love this commission so much!)

Narul is a 23-year-old spiritblood, originally born in the mountain city of Syshlum, he now serves as a curiosity and slave in the palace of King Hutbari of Labisa. Standing at an imposing 9ft, Narul's immense size and supernatural strength make it impossible to mistake him for a human. His strength has always been a source of anxiety for him, these anxieties fed and exacerbated by his upbringing, making him careful and timid around others. Born to a priestess of the moon deity Sonma, Narul lost his biological mother shortly after his birth and has never known his father, though he is presumed to be a Great Spirit of some sort. He was adopted by Bira and her son Suru, at the time part of the wares of a traveling slave caravan. Ultimately the trio would be purchased by the Palace of Labisa. Narul endures regular bloodlettings, supposedly to control the mutating effects of magic within him. Despite his intimidating appearance, Narul is ultimately a big softly and has a fondness theatre, sweets, and for the color orange, reminiscent of the hasir flowers which bloom close to the time of the fall festivals. He is bisexual, though entirely inexperienced (his imposing form and insecurities have ultimately stopped him from making any romantic connections). While he can count, he is illiterate, as is the case for most peasants in Kishetal. Narul longs for someone who can see past his physical form and understand the person he is inside, he has a love for romantic poetry, and can often be eavesdropping on the palatial bards and poets, hoping to catch the newest songs and poems.

Pros:

Kind

Caring

Humble

A Good Cuddler

Big Hugs

Handsome if you're into the Bear Aesthetic (Beard, body-hair, burly, etc., though by the opinions of his own time and era, he's considered to be somewhat unattractive)

Protective

Loyal

Hardworking

Cons:

No self-esteem

Shy

Horribly Awkward

No Experience with Romance, might cry if you show him too much affection

Mumbler

BIG HUGS

Indecisive

HE IS LARGE. BIG. HUGE.

Is constantly being followed around by an opinionated child

It Depends? (bit NSFW here):

He sort of teeters on the edge of "monsterf*cker" territory, both in terms of his appearance, his size, and his "size." It perhaps shouldn't come as surprise that a 9ft tall, 1000+ lb person would be a lot to handle, more than could be expected of a normal human. I guess depending on who you are that could be a positive or a negative.

That supernatural strength and stamina might complicate things.

We'll just say you bump into him on the road or around the palace, and whatcha doing?

Softly tagging @illarian-rambling, @roach-pizza, @the-golden-comet, and leaving it open!

[tubbypeddle]

May I request a platonic/queerplatonic matchup for JJBA and One Piece? (No Dio, Kira Part 4, or Doflamingo please)

I am 26 years old, autistic, and schizoaffective, I am on meds that allow me to function from day to day and am living my best life. 

I’m a feminine presenting nonbinary person and I go by they/them pronouns. I’m 5’7 ft, have tan skin, dark brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. I have a curvy body type with stretch marks on my hips and stomach I lovingly call my “tiger stripes”. My default outfits consist of hoodies/sweaters, basketball shorts, joggers, and graphic tees or something of equal comfort. 

I am aromantic allosexual with a preference for individuals that are masculine. 

Personalitywise, I’m an introverted leaning ambivert, I do my best to push myself to be a better person than I was yesterday. I am very emotionally open and vulnerable to those I trust, but said trust is hard earned and some trust is reserved only for specific individuals (i.e what I trust my Mum with is different than what I would trust my siblings/best friend with). I love learning new things and always remain curious with the world around me. I am creative and imaginative; I have lots of ideas swirling in my head though I do my best to work and finish one at a time. I have a hard time with small talk but could talk people's ears off about and exchange special interests.I also love teaching and being taught and am patient. It takes quite a bit to get me mad, but when my threshold is reached it’s “take no prisoners”. 

I despise willfully ignorant/vulgar/bigoted people. Yelling, loud cars, and motorcycles feel like an attack on my nervous system and a way to bypass my patience and tick me off is teasing someone about their appearance or things they can’t biologically control (past bullying trauma), I don’t care if it was “just a joke” Brad, get a better sense of humor or I’ll run you over with my electric bike. 

I’m scared of my friends leaving me behind, treating me like a second class friend, or otherwise losing interest in me in favour of a romantic partner (no hate on the partner, my usual thought process is two friends for the price of one but what pans out is usually not the case 🙁) and of course heights. 

My hobbies include writing, reading, drawing, swimming, travel, baking, karaoke, and crafting.

I love gifting my loved ones with things that pertain to their interests and coming up with fun things that I could do with them (Taking them to a carnival, comic con, waterparks, baking together, etc.). I am also very affectionate and I love, love, love cuddles, the deeper the pressure the better. Kisses are Very Noice™ too. 

Sunshowers and flurries are my favourite types of weather, I love anime/animated shows/movies, raspberries and rain are my favourite scents, and I have collections ranging from plushies to enamel pins to ita bags to action figures.  I would prefer someone who can be my rock when I’m not doing my best and is patient with and does their best to understand me. In return, I will be their companion, their friend, their confidante. I will accept their authentic self as they do me and be the one they can always come back to, who will always put in the effort, me, their dear platonic partner. 💛

Hello!! I'm so sorry for the ridiculously long wait! And thank you for sending this in! I'm going through a horrible a burnout right now, so I worked on this as much as I could without breaking down ;-;

Now, while I had the time, I thought long and hard about who would be your ideal friend! And maybe partner for life, queerplatonic or not, if you're up for it.

(author's note: I apologize if they're out of character ☹ I feel out of character myself. I hope you enjoy it anyway 🫂 and as always, credits to gif owners, gifs are not mine)

We'll start off with this one.

You find yourself in a world of Stand users. Of Hamon and vampires and devils whose evil is beyond our comprehension.

There's one man who's perfect for you. Your perfect friend.

Mohammed Avdol

Starting off with that which is most obvious, he does not seem to care much about your physical body. Not in a way that he finds you ugly, or that he doesn't like it.

He just never comments anything negative about it.

In the most positive way possible, Avdol does not care what you look like.

If you're looking for compliments from him, he'll dish them out happily. He does not mind showering you with affection and compliments if you want it. But what you look like isn't the first thing that comes to his mind when he thinks of you.

Since you're so personality driven, he's very happy to help you as much as he's able. He wants to see you at your best, and he wants to accompany you on your journey to that version of yourself.

You wouldn't have to worry about him making insensitive jokes. He's rather proud of how much effort he puts into being as inclusive and as inoffensive as possible.

He enjoys listening to your ideas, about anything that comes to your mind. Avdol is happy to listen, and even give some of his own ideas and suggestions for your infodumps, perhaps. If you're willing to hear.

He's also quite fond of your very curious personality. He enjoys learning, and will make time in his day to just sit and learn anything you want with you. To keep your company, and to make you happy.

Avdol, despite being very easy to become heated, is a very steady and stable man. He will be your comfort, your rock when you need someone to keep you grounded. Just as fire can be wild and uncontrollable, it can also be tame and warm and comforting. The hearth in your home.

You want patience? This man is made of that stuff. I mean, if he can deal with Polnareff and Joseph on that adventure? I'm sure he can handle someone as comparably docile as you.

Every single gift that you give him, he keeps it. Anywhere he can think of. If he's able to, he'll even display them in his home. There's something about your gifts being presented in his most intimate spaces that's so special. He wants reminders of you when he's most comfortable. As an assurance, perhaps. Or a comfort.

Cuddles are the best with him. He runs warm because of his Stand and his abilities, so they hit especially harder on colder nights. His favorite cuddling position is him just plopped on top of you, like he's a big weighted blanket.

He understands trust is a very tricky thing to balance with people. He's okay with not knowing every single little thing about you, if you so wished to keep some things from you. He just wants you to be comfortable around him, and if that means keeping some things from him, that's fine with him.

honorable mentions! Part 6 Jotaro

You're so charming to him. Captivating in a way he hasn't seen since his wife. He finds himself a little too attached to you, which may scare you off.

That's Jojo's done!

Onto One Piece.

You find yourself sailing across the sea. Or maybe you're on an island, made of candy, or made of ice and lava. Of rock and sand.

Wherever you are, there's one man who finds himself particularly interested in you.

Trafalgar Law

He's a loyal loyal man. Once he's decided you're his friend, you're his friend forever.

Post time skip is probably the best era of Law for you. Post time skip, he smiles and laughs less, but it's not impossible for him to be amused at all. His favorite activities with you tend to be

He finds you very charming, similar to how Jotaro does. You're short (compared to him, at least), and feisty, and know yourself well enough to be clear about your boundaries. He appreciates that. He likes when people are clear about themselves and their intentions. It's why he's such good friends with Luffy.

Hi friendship with you isn't the same as it is with Kidd and Luffy though.

With them, he's competitive. Dangerous. Downright vicious with them, in the most affectionate way possible. (You know, as is the One Piece way)

With you, he's a little bit softer. A little bit more physically affectionate. His only examples of showing love that he can bring himself to remember are his parents, and how Corazon treated him. He doesn't remember much of his parents' tendencies anymore, it's been so long. But he could never forget how Corazon treated him.

He often finds himself repeating Corazon's actions to you.

Maybe he's a little mean sometimes, a little firm with you. But it comes out of the softness of his heart.

He wants you to be safe. He doesn't want you to get hurt because of him and his pirate lifestyle.

Should you find yourself insisting to come with him aboard the Polar Tang, he'll be very against it. He appreciates and even likes that you want to prove your strength, and stay by his side. But he just cannot risk losing you. He's lost too many people already.

He might be a bit tense when it comes to any sort of soft physical affection, initially. It doesn't take long for him to soften, though. He melts with your touch, honestly.

Trust also doesn't come easily to him, so it comes as a surprise to him when you open up to him so easily. (To him, at least, it seems easy. because he has issues up the wizzow)

He's careful to keep your trust in him, cradling it as if it were the most precious gem in the world. He opens up to you slowly, and it's easy to scare him off. He's like a stray.

Just as he's patient with you, please be patient with him.

He's damaged, and lost a little too much in his life to know how to open up so easily.

He takes your gifts easily. He loves being gifted things, even if it flusters him beyond belief. He hasn't been gifted things very often throughout his life, so he'd forgotten it was a thing that people did.

honorable mentions!! Luffy

Luffy is easy to be friends with, because he will just straight up take you hostage if you refuse the first time. He sees you and immediately thinks, "I must be their friend."

I am so sorry this came out so so late. I don't feel very good, I think it's a depression episode, but I DID IT!!!!!

I hope you enjoyed this one 🫂

[valentina-arrington]

Te amo con todo mi corazón.

It was only supposed to be a temporary job, something to do to pass the time before heading off to Oxford University. But travelling to Mallorca the summer after graduation, fate had other plans for me.

It was that very summer where I met my soulmate.

Like a good rom-com, he was that guy. Handsome, kind and funnier than anyone I've ever met. He had just finished his first year of university, and like me, he was putting his summer to good use. Employed as the chef in the very same hotel restaurant I'd gotten a job as a waitress, my busy days never felt tiring. He always had jokes that kept everyone in a good mood. And I always had something more special to look forward to when I clock out for the day.

And like any good rom-com, we fell in love. We fell in love like we've never loved before...

Nine years have passed, and I didn't think anything could be as painful as having to be without him. But seeing nine years' worth of memories all boxed up, it was, and still is, harder than I'm willing to admit. Moving to Marbella is supposed to be a good change. This is the mantra I've had to keep repeating to myself, or I'd never leave. I mean, why would I?

This was his home. Our home.

It was out there on the balcony, on a beautiful summer's night, where he promised me forever with a ring so beautiful that I still wear it on my finger. It was in that backyard where we were going to get married. Nothing big, nothing fancy. Just a day to celebrate our love and share it with our loved ones. It was in that room where I gave birth to our son, Diego, just a year after we met. It was in these halls where our baby boy learned to take his first steps and filled our walls with laughter. It was in that kitchen where I'd make their favourite food, just like my mother taught me. And it was in this bedroom where he and I would retire after a long day to connect, to make love, and to make plans of a future we always thought would come.

But it was also in this home where we decided to put off our dream wedding as the financial responsibility came down harder and harder with every chemotherapy he had to take. It was here where I had to say goodbye to the love of my life, where I've had to be strong for our son and where we'd honoured his loving memory by living each day to the fullest, just like I know he'd have wanted for us.

David was only 21 years old when he passed. Diego was barely 2. Our boy is almost 8 now. And this move is for him. He needs to be in a better school, in a better environment, and with actual family around. He needs more than what I can give him all by myself. So, as brutally as this move tears me apart, I know I can't be selfish much longer, living a half-life for my son, buried in my grief. None of it will ever bring my David back, no matter how tightly I hold on. I have to live in the present if I ever want my son to have a better future.

But we'll be back, mi amor. We'll never forget.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Servitude pt 1 (yandere Jonathan Joestar X female reader)

Warnings: implied non con

Jonathan was one of the most prestigious students at your university. He was a major in archeology, the same major you'd chosen. He had a great passion for the topic, which led you to befriend him.

He was a great study partner and a wonderful person in general. He was always so polite. He'd always opened the door for you and pulled out your chair for you to sit on.

He was a great friend, and even when he had asked for a relationship and you had declined, he had remained indifferent. You were not interested in a relationship despite how much your family insisted on it. You wanted to become an archeologist and travel the world. Jonathan was a lovely man, though, and you two were close enough that rumors around campus would spread of a possible relationship.

The university year was almost finished when the attacks in London began, and word had reached you that the Joestar mansion had been burnt to the ground. You had visited that very day you found out. You felt horrible seeing him severely injured and knowing he'd lost both his father and brother. You kept coming back with flowers daily and talked to him to help pass the time.

"Oh no, I completely lost track of time!" You gasped as you looked at your watch. It was nearly seven o clock.

You stood up and grabbed your bag before leaning toward Jonathan to give him a light hug.

"I'm sorry to leave, but I'll be in trouble if I'm out any longer."

"It's fine (Y/n); if you want, I can try to walk you to the carriage," he offered.

"No, the nurses said you weren't allowed out of the room. I don't want you to get in trouble because of my tardiness," you said.

"I'll be back again tomorrow, don't worry yourself," you continued before waving him goodbye and leaving.

You opened the front door of the hospital and felt the icy winter wind, making you pull your coat closer to your body. You looked around for your carriage, but you couldn't find it. Perhaps your driver had parked a little further away. So you walked away from the hospital, searching for the carriage, completely losing track of time. Only when you looked at your watch again did you find another hour had passed. You felt uneasy about being out this late in London. So you decided it would be best to find an inn to stay at for the night and trek home tomorrow.

You saw two men walking by and decided to ask them.

"Umm, excuse me, but do you know a nearby inn? I can't find my carriage, and it's far too late for me to walk home," you asked.

"Sure, there's one just over that way. We could guide you there if you want. It's far too dangerous for a lady like you to be out at this time of night by herself," one of the men replied.

You thought for a moment. They seemed like nice men, so you trusted them.

"Yes, please, that would be greatly appreciated," you replied and let them lead the way. Everything seemed fine until they led you to a dark ally and told you the inn was on the other side.

"I think I know where it is now. I'll take the long way around," you told them.

"Don't be silly. It'll take you forever to walk around," the other man stated.

"It's fine. We'll make sure nothing happens to you" the first man said as he grabbed your hand.

"No-no thanks," you stuttered as you tried to pull away from him but to no avail.

"Let go of me!" You yelled before the second man pulled out a knife.

"Shut up, or I'll slit your throat," he threatened. A meek squeak escaped your mouth in response. He put the knife to your neck and led you into the alleyway while the first man grabbed your purse and began to go through it.

He began to toss out your belongings before he counted the money in it under his breath before he let out a disappointed sigh.

"Is that all the money you have?" He asked you.

"Yes- yes, it is," you replied almost instantly.

"Well, that wasn't even worth the time it took to get you here," he huffed.

"Perhaps you have another way of making it up to us?" He snickered as a smile grew on his face. At the same time, the second man wrapped his arm around your waist.

"No, you can keep the money… I won't tell the police," you begged. You were pushed to the wall with a loud thud, and you fell to the snowy cobblestone. The world spun around you for a few seconds as you lay on the ground before you realized they had begun removing your clothes.

"Stop! please!" you pleaded as you tried to fight off your two attackers with little success.

You felt a lump in your throat form as your hope of escape seemed less and less likely. Tears started rolling down your face, and your body began to shiver as your coat was removed.

The first man's hand began to trail up your calf and to your thigh. Your stomach felt sick as he laughed at how pathetic you were. You closed your eyes and prayed that someone would help you. Or that they would have the mercy to let you live.

Then something warm splashed across your face and the second man let out a garbled scream. You dared to open your eyes and were met with the bloody sight of your attackers' brutalized corpses.

You looked up to see the tall shrouded figure above you, their amber eyes piercing into you. You wanted to run, but fear paralyzed you.

"Ah, miss (L/n)," they chuckled, their voice instantly recognizable.

"Dio!" You gasped. He only chuckled more.

"But Jonathan said you died in the fire."

"Is that what he thinks?" He said, very amused by your words.

"You know what (Y/n)? It's perfect that I found you here" he knelt to you and held your chin in his hand. A strong gust of wind blew and caught the cloth he used to obscure himself. Most of his body was covered in third-degree burns. He should not have been alive or able to move around as if it were nothing.

"Yes, I think you'll be a perfect piece for my revenge on Jonathan."

"Revenge?" You asked shakily.

🩸🩸🩸

Jonathan grew worried when you hadn't visited the next day but assumed that maybe your parents had grounded you after being late. Only after a few more days had passed did he know something was wrong.

Even during his quest to stop Dio, you still lingered in the back of his mind. The possibility of what happened made him sick to the stomach. Only when one of Dio's minions held your embroidered purse did he know what happened, and it was worse than anything he had imagined.

[nancypullen]

Back to Reality

I've always been a homebody, a nester. Few things make me happier than a cozy, sweet home and a pot of soup bubbling on the stove. After ten wonderful days in France we flew home (well, that took an extra day) and slipped back into our daily routine. After a good night's sleep I made a grocery run, came home and tossed in travel laundry, then got busy on a pot of vegetable soup. Not gonna' lie, France is better. Denton stinks. One positive note, when we arrived home and turned onto our little cul-de-sac the autumn color was bursting into its glory.

It's like lifting the lid of a treasure chest full of jewels. Oh, I love it! I'm stuffing myself with salads, trying to cleanse my body of all of the gloriously rich French food. There's not one bite I regret. I do regret not bringing home a variety of butters. There are actual butter stores in France where you can buy butters infused with any flavor you can imagine. French butter is already vastly more delicious than our supermarket stuff, but imagine it combined with your favorite herbs, spices, or sweet flavors. They'll vacuum seal it for you if you're traveling. I talked myself out of hauling a suitcase full of butter home, but I'm still thinking about it. Shallot butter, vanilla butter, chili butter, smoked salt butter, citrus butter, truffle butter, I can't even remember the hundreds of flavors.

Their butter has more fat and less water than our American butter, and I'm sure there's some other magic involved, and I'm convinced that if it was distributed worldwide we would finally have peace. Everyone would be happy. *sigh* That said, now that I am back in the land of instant everything, I am not enjoying a buttery quiche for breakfast. The French would cry if they saw my morning "meal".

Yep, a protein shake with an extra scoop of collagen powder. Reality sucks. I'm just going to mention that life expectancy in the U.S. is 77.5 and in France it's 82.3. Maybe we should eat the butter.

In other news, Mickey has a cold. Thoughts and prayers are appreciated. If he doesn't make it I'll post the funeral info here. I should probably shop for a black dress. I've threatened him with bodily harm if he keeps coughing and breathing on me. Halloween is just days away and I intend to enjoy it with my grandgirl. So there you have it, we're back and everything is normal (ish). The kitties were thrilled to see us and are still in our faces 24/7, reminding us that we abandoned them. The cat sitter babies them, talks to them, lets them choose their own dinner, and they still act as if we left them to waste away. Drama queens. I have a dental check-up tomorrow and I never expect anything good to come of that. I brush and floss constantly, yet they always find enough work in my mouth to send their kids to college. I'm dreading it. After that it's mammogram time. The fun never ends.

I received our Xmas cards in the mail and realized that it's just 63 days until Santa comes. Good grief. Election day is just 13 days away, and that's terrifying. The day after the election I'm flying to Florida to visit my mom. My sister will meet me there and we'll have some girl time. I'm hoping we all feel relieved and not gut punched. Do I dare hope? I'm a silver lining seeker, a lifeboat singer, an eternal optimist - but I have to admit the last couple of years have stomped on that. Hard. I keep begging the universe to show me just how good things can be, trying to manifest the good. It does feel like there's a wave of positive energy, of goodness, sweeping the country - but I felt that once before and we ended up with an orange con man in the Oval Office. He's a liar, a grifter, a narcissist, an adjudicated rapist, a pervert, a 34 times convicted felon, he tried to steal a free and fair election, and there are still idiots who say, "That's my guy!" Even if you can ignore his criminal history and his lies, he's not a smart man. He doesn't even understand how our government operates. He can't grasp basic science. It's absolutely beyond me how anyone thinks he's in any way fit to lead. If you're one of those people, this blog is not for you. Move on. I've always been a promoter of unity, finding our similarities rather than our differences, respecting the beliefs and views of others even if I feel the opposite. Not anymore. This is not remotely about liberal vs conservative or Republican vs Democrat, this is not about policy at all. This is about decency. If, after everything he has done, you're still a Trumper, then I see who you are at your core. You may play nice in public or move through your days doing good acts, but at the end of the day you're okay with racism, misogyny, and cruelty. Deep down you truly think that someone who has a different skin tone, loves a same sex partner, or immigrated here seeking the American dream, is somehow LESS than you. That they deserve fewer rights and unfair treatment, the opposite of what this country is supposed to stand for. I'm so tired of the mean-spirited and ugly rhetoric being paraded around as patriotism. It's the opposite. Okay, okay. Getting off my soap box. I hope that you're making an educated choice in the voting booth. I hope that you're thinking of daughters who have fewer rights than their mothers did, grandparents who rely on Social Security, and what our future will look like if an ignorant wanna-be dictator with selfish, cruel intent regains power.

Think I'm being dramatic? These are photos of women in Iran in the 1970's - studying at university and window shopping, wearing the fashions of the day.

Here's the women of Iran now. In 1979 it became the law that all women must wear the hijab or face arrests and beatings. That was just the beginning.

All it takes is one mad man and his minions. Don't let that happen. From French butter to human rights, that sounds about right for this blog. I sit down at the laptop, crack open my brain, and shake everything out. Take what you want, leave the rest for the crows.

I think I'll sit at my desk and address Xmas cards. I'm cursing myself by getting an early start, aren't I ? Just asking for trouble. Maybe I'll make art instead. I'm in the mood to paint something. I hope that your day is sunny and positive. Treat yourself today, whether that's a cookie or a new nail polish - just a little bit of happy goes a long way. Sending out lots of love, I hope you feel it. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy