#which might be part of the reason why he is the way he is now TBH but sadly dysfunctional family dynamics often leave people
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
trippinsorrows · 2 days ago
Text
looking through your eyes + twenty six
Tumblr media
authors note: this chapter almost entirely covers grief. be prepared.
cw/tw: angst (discussion of grief and loss)
song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes
chapter suggested listening: "i hope you dance" by gladys knight, "lift me up" by rihanna, and "dancing in the sky" by dani and izzy.
masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form
words: 9k
Solana still vividly remembers the moment she was told her mother was dead. Not the moment where Nina died, where she took her last breath. No, that devastating memory is forever attached and molded to Solana’s recollection, something to never escape her, despite her best efforts to dump it into the sea of the forgotten.
No, the moment she was told is something different, somehow colder and heavier. 
She can still recall the sound of beeping machines, blurry, amorphous figures melting into something less abstract and more corporeal. The smell of nothing, sterilization that was quickly permeated by the overwhelming scent of her father’s cologne.
For some reason, that was more prominent and noticeable than the tube down her throat, preventing her from clearly speaking. It didn’t stop her from trying though. Because even with her barely cognizant state, with the fact that she wasn’t still fully aware of where she was and what occurred, her focus was on one person.
Her mother.
That was the intended word, Solana’s muffled moans and groans, fighting against the tube. The pain that shot through her little body while trying to move it wasn’t enough to stop her from asking. 
Mommy
It’s something that’s always sat with her. Influenced her in many ways. 
It’s also something that helps her understand a fraction of what Roman is going through right now, the feelings he might be experiencing. Everyone is different. She knows this. But, she also knows the feeling of loss. Of feeling alone.
And she swore to him he would never be alone.
Fetu is gone, yes. But, he’ll always have her.
It's what she keeps in mind as she and Jimmy arrive at Fetu's place and move to enter.
Solana had a feeling she would be walking into a difficult scene, but she hadn’t the slightest clue the severity of said difficulty.
“Oh my God….”
It’s bedlam. 
Chaos and destruction all around her from the minute she and Jimmy open the front door and walk in. Furniture turned upside down, shattered shards of glass littering the floor all over, dents and scuffs on the wall, indicating objects being thrown.
Solana even spots a few holes she can tell weren’t caused by objects.
They were caused by fists. 
But while Jimmy stands beside her, face not hiding his shock and slight horror at what lies before them, Solana’s similar expression stems from a different space.
It stems from how devastated her husband must be right now to cause such destruction.
“I’ve gotta find him,” Solana says, swallowing and moving to maneuver past the glass when a cautious but firm hand grabs her arm.
“Solana, let me find him.”
She doesn’t need an explanation as to why this is being proposed. The answer is written in red lettered concern all over his face.
She shakes her head. “No.”
Jimmy sighs, dropping his hand to gesture to the wreckage around them. “Solana….look at what he did.” She has. Hard not to. “He’s clearly not in a good place right now.”
“Would you be?” She challenges. “Put yourself in his shoes, Jimmy. In my shoes.” Voice breaking, she discloses. “You don’t know what it’s like to unexpectedly lose the one person who meant the world to you….and to not be able to say goodbye.” Solana sniffles, forcing out a shaky breath. “I know what he’s feeling right now, which is how I know what he needs, and it’s not you.”
Jimmy is silent. A small part of her understands and appreciates his concern, but he has to understand her side of things too. 
Roman may be his cousin, lifelong friend, borderline brother.
But, Roman is her husband. Her person. Her better half.
Her soulmate.
“I’ll be fine,” she reassures, reaching for his hand. “What I need you to do is find Ava.” She motions to the destroyed room. "We don’t know if she was part of this as well.” Because despite only one meeting, Solana can tell that Ava has a strong personality just like Roman. Loved Fetu just as much as Roman.
She has to be just as distraught.
Jimmy counters, “let me try to clean some of this up first.”
“No.” Solana shakes her head. “I can handle that.” Because cleaning up after men following outbursts is something, sadly, she has plenty of experience with. Countless times her father and brother would destroy rooms and force her to clean up their mess. So, certainly, she can do the same for a man whose actions are fueled not by rage.
But pain.
Loss.
Grief.
Especially when that man is her husband. 
“Solana—”
“And I—I want you to leave after that.” His eyes double in size, prompting her to explain. “Roman…..he’s gonna need some time. I don’t….I don’t think he’s going to want to be around anyone, even you.” Maybe even me. “I want to give him what he needs.”
“Solana—”
“I’ll be fine, Jimmy.” There’s not an ounce of her that believes she won’t. “I just need you to find Ava. Help her. And get back home, because I need you to keep Dulce for us.” She swallows, adding in a small voice. “He’s gonna need a couple days.”
More than that. Much more. But for now, it’ll have to do.
Jimmy still looks unconvinced. 
But, he eventually agrees, leaving to find Ava who had sent a vague text saying she needed air.
Nothing more.
It's how both Jimmy and herself suspect she's gone for a walk in the surrounding woods.
And as soon as he's gone, Solana is on the move, instantly going up the stairs.
Each step taken feels like there’s a ton of bricks attached, weighing her down, pulling her back and trying to keep her from exactly where she needs to be. It’s all mental and emotional, but it’s not enough to keep her from pressing forward.
She passes Fetu’s room without sparing a glance, both for her own mental sake and knowing that’s the last place he’d probably be. His room would seem the most logical place to start to look, but she also knows that when one is deep in the throes of grief, there is no place for logic.
So, she goes through each room, bypassing the bathrooms and Ava’s bedroom. Again, another place she just can’t picture him being.
It eventually leaves her with two options: the last guest room and his room. Given the cracked door for the latter, that’s the route she chooses.
Solana’s heart is slamming repeatedly against her chest, her eyes watering prematurely at what she knows will be a heavy ass sight. But still, she powers through those emotions, bypasses her own personal sentiments and focuses on him.
A gentle knock followed up with, “Roman?” Nothing. She’s not surprised, but she at least would like him to know it’s her about to enter and not someone else. Something tells her his reaction would be different—very different—if anyone else was trying to “disturb” him right now. 
Solana gently turns the knob, partially unsurprised to also find the room in a slight state of disarray. Not nearly as bad as the living room and entrance but still indicative of turmoil.
A lamp lays shattered near the door to the bathroom, a picture knocked off the wall, the TV also down on the floor. Nothing major beyond that, but even if so, it wouldn’t capture much—or any—of her focus. No, that’s because it’s already spoken for. 
“Roman….”
She sees him. Slumped on the floor, one long leg outstretched, other leg up, extend arm resting on his knee. Closing the door behind her, she rushes over to him, again unsurprised by how he doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.
Instantly, those watery eyes are upgraded to silent tears streaming down her face. “Ro…..” Carefully leaning down beside him, she finds herself reaching to push back some of his hair that’s not neatly tucked into his everyday bun but instead wild, hanging, unruly. 
A perfect representation of what he must be feeling. 
She shakes her head, “I’m so so—”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
There’s not a part of her that’s taken back by his words: hollow, empty, stoic. If anything, it’s expected. 
She expected this kind of reaction to her presence.
Shaking her head, Solana keeps her voice leveled. “I’m exactly where I should be.” Her gaze travels to his hand, a small gasp leaving at the blusied, lacerated, bloody state of his knuckles. “Roman—”
“I want to be alone.” 
Another emotionless statement, forcing her to look back at him. He looks shattered, but in a way that makes sense for him. No red, teary, puffy eyes. No. Just an empty look that hides an abundance of emotions. 
Solana makes sure not to stutter, stammer, or anything of the sort as she calmly replies, “I’m not leaving you alone.”
He closes his eyes, his jaw ticking, a sign of growing anger. It doesn’t deter her. “Solana, I want to be alone.”
“Roman—”
“I said leave!”
Silence
There’s a burst of silence that washes over the room following his outburst: loud, frigid, pained.
It’s been some time since he’s raised his voice with her, and the last time, her reaction was typical for where she was at that point. Scared, frightened, terrified even.
None of that could even remotely describe what she’s feeling right now. 
Solana has no reaction to his outburst. No flinching, no cowering, no wincing. Nothing.
“No, you don’t.” A closed, sullen smile as she moves a lock of his hair back out of his face. “You just don’t want to feel what you’re feeling. You’re angry and hurt and sad and confused and so many things you probably don’t even understand, because….because that’s what grief is.”
He says nothing, offers not outward reaction to her words. 
“I’m gonna say this one time and one time only.” She’s never been more sure about something in her life. “You can yell at me, you can scream at me, you can throw shit in my presence, you can even flip over every piece of furniture in this house, but I am not leaving. You may want to be alone, but you don’t need to be alone.” Pushing back more of his hair, it’s not missed on her the way he clenches his jaw. Not from anger. Something else. Something vulnerable. “I’m gonna clean and wrap up your hand, then I’m going to clean up downstairs and cook. I won’t talk to you unless you initiate it, and I won’t force you to interact with me. You can ignore me all you want, but as long as you’re here, I’m here.”  Her voice cracks as she stresses, “I’m not leaving you.”
Roman continues to remain silent following her heartfelt explanation, but it doesn’t bother her. None of what he’s done, what he’s said or not said bothers her, because right now, whatever he’s feeling is valid. 
“I’ll be right back,” she murmurs. Solana walks over to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit from the cabinet, returning to her husband who hasn’t moved. Silently, she works to disinfect and tend to his injuries. It’s not horrifically bad, but it’s not good, either. She’s unsure if Roman flexes his fingers to show nothing is fractured, but regardless, it’s appreciated and checks off a box without her needing to ask any questions.
Once finished, she informs, “I’m gonna go start cleaning up. Afterwards, I’ll fix you something to eat. I’ll have your plate on the table and text you when it’s ready. I’ll eat elsewhere.”
Roman continues to offer no sign that he’s listening to a word she’s saying. Still, it does nothing to deter her. Kissing his forehead, she returns the first aid kit to where she found it and walks out the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.
Solana walks back downstairs and stops midway to survey the damage around her. A lot is ruined beyond repair, but her focus is less on what was broken and more on ridding the place of the hazards. Starting with the broken glass.
Remembering where the cleaning supplies are kept, Solana carefully maneuvers her way across the floor and grabs the broom and dust pan. Wordlessly, she moves to clear the floor, dumping the shards into the nearest trash can. For extra protection, she vacuums the floor twice to suck up any remaining pieces. 
Following that, she goes to put back unbroken items where they belong. Pillows back on the sofa. A sofa that she had to tip over. Books back on the shelf. Pictures that once belonged in now broken picture frames on the coffee table. And the items of irreparable damage dumped in both the kitchen bin as well as the big bin out back.
It’s about half an hour of work, significantly less time than most people would need, but this isn’t Solana’s first rodeo.
She’s seen this movie before. 
Is very familiar with how it plays out. 
She’s about to start on the food when the sound of a door opening pulls her from searching the fridge to see what she can put together. 
Turning and walking towards the front door, Solana is already moving towards a despondent Ava, pulling her into a comforting hug. 
Ava sniffles into her shoulder, Solana’s eyes closing as she feels Jimmy’s sad gaze on them.
“I’m so sorry,” Solana whispers, holding her tighter. This is such a devastating loss on all fronts, and while he heart breaks for Roman not being able to see Fetu before she passed, Ava was the one who probably sat with her as she took her last breath.
Solana also knows how equally devastating that can be as well.
“Thank you for being here,” Ava murmurs, eventually pulling back and wiping her eyes. “And for….cleaning up.” She lazily gestures to the room that’s still not together but much better than it was.
Solana nods, taking Ava’s hand. “I was going to cook. Why don’t you—”
“Thank you, but—” Ava offers a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t stay here.” Her lips press together as she shrugs with one shoulder. “Too many memories.” Solana also understands that. Understands it well. “I have an apartment out in town. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go stay there for a couple days, at least until–until the funeral.”
Funeral……
Solana doesn’t want to think about that.
“Of course,” she nods. “But, if you need anything—”
“I know.” Another smile. One that more so meets the eyes. Comes from a place of gratitude. She then gestures up the stairs. “But, he’s going to need you more.”
————
It’s difficult. 
For many different reasons. Solana trying to process her own grief while wanting to support and be there for Roman, while he works through his own. And while Solana logically knows that Roman icing her out, to some extent, should be expected, it doesn’t make it any easier.
Doesn’t hurt her any less to know he’s hurting but won’t let her help him.
But, she also knows she made that an option for him, and she doesn’t regret it. Nothing could stop her from being exactly where she is, even if Roman hasn’t said a word to her since her arrival almost three days prior.
Occasional glances and head nods, but nothing verbal. That also hurts, but she doesn’t take it personally. Knows that he’s just weighed down by everything that’s happened. 
She just continues to do what she can, prepare his meals that he eats alone, handles cleaning and laundry as he seems to spend the bulk of his days in the home gym or outside on ruins. A lot of avoidance behavior. But, she’s starting to see that’s maybe just how Roman copes.
He doesn’t. He just avoids shit until it “goes away.”
But this….this isn’t something to avoid, something that will go away.
He’s going to have to confront his emotions sooner or later.
Solana shifts on the bed in the guest room. The room where she’s been sleeping, already knowing that if Roman can’t even bring himself to interact with her, the likelihood of him wanting them to sleep in the same bed is slim to none. 
Another thing that’s hard. 
She’s just gotten so used to sleeping in his arms, but that’s a thought that’s much too self-focused. Her needs matter, but so do his, and right now, he’s not able to provide her that. 
And that’s okay, because he’s not okay.
She just wishes she could do something to help that. 
Her phone lighting up with Dr. Stratus smiling face is a nice distraction. “Solana.”
“Hi, doc,” she greets, shifting on the bed. “Thank you for—for making time for this.”
“It sounded important,” her psychiatrist's grin shifts into more of a frown. “And judging by how sad you look right now, I bet it is.” She directly asks, “what’s going on?”
So much. Too much to even fully unpack. “Roman’s…..had a loss in his family recently, and it’s….it’s hit us all pretty hard.” Him, arguably, the most, but also, her meeting and connecting with someone as much as she did with Fetu only to lose her so quickly…..it’s rough.
To say the least. 
Dr. Stratus frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Solana already knows the question before it’s asked. “You know I have to ask. Are you experiencing any type of ideation?”
“No.” An easy answer. “Not at all. Just….heavy emotions.” Extremely. “Part of that though…..is probably because I’m pregnant.”
A gasp. “Solana.” Again, Dr. Stratus is smiling, still not as deep as her initial grin. But filled with excitement. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Solana sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She’s unable to catch the tear that spills down her cheek. “I still haven’t told Roman, and—and now that this has happened, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to tell him.”
Because that’s the other noxious thing about all of this. How wonderful, life-changing news has been tabled by horrible, also life-changing news.
In no universe can Solana understand and come to terms with how telling Roman about her pregnancy is appropriate. How is he to celebrate life when he’s just lost it?
It’s just all so terribly cruel.
Solana clears her throat. “I went to Roman’s doctor to do the test for me, and it came back positive, but he’s also certain that we’re having twins.”
“Oh, wow,” Dr. Stratus sighs, sympathy written all over her face. “Solana, I can’t imagine how difficult and confusing this must be for you right now.”
Solana whispers, “very.”
“Have you….have you spoken to Gail about this?”
She shakes her head. “No, because…..because it feels wrong—it is wrong—to keep telling people when my own husband doesn’t even know.”
Because it does. Because in a perfect world, she would have come up with a sweet and sentimental manner in which to break said news to him. Instead, she’s having to hide it from everyone around her—including him—sans the medical professionals she needs to know for various medical reasons.
“I understand.” Her voice is kind and calm, a constant. So very much appreciated. “But, you know, like myself, Gail is bound to confidentiality. As your therapist, she can help support you through this on the clinical side.”
“I know, but….but, I signed that paper allowing her to speak to Roman.” A full release of information. Solana knew what it was when she consented and still does now. 
“That doesn’t matter,” she counters. “You can revoke it any time, or even if you want to discuss it and make it clear she’s not to share that with him, you can. You are her client. Not Roman. Her responsibility is to you.”
Solana sits on the helpful advice. She’d forgotten Gail had made that clear when explaining the ROI. That it wasn’t the end all, be all, allowing Roman to know anything and everything about her. 
She might have to keep that in mind.
“So, I take it, you’ve only told me because of your medication, correct?” Solana nods. “Well, I wanna keep you with the Sertraline and Hydroxyzine. We could probably keep you on the Wellbutrin as well, but with a multiples pregnancy, I don’t want any take any risks.” She goes on to explain the plan, the way Solana is to taper off one medication to start another. Solana takes notes to avoid missing anything and makes sure to let the other woman know she probably won’t be home for a couple days. Thus, the switch won’t be immediate. 
That’s another thing that alerts Solana to how low her husband must be feeling. He hasn’t realized or either maybe just feels too down to even be on top of her medication. She’s been giving it to herself, which is something she’d like to become a regular thing. But, Roman not being as strict about it is yet another telltale. 
A strong indication of his continuing mental decline.
Another thing for her to worry about, and God is she worried. 
————
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Sniffling, Solana pauses the music, unable to listen to anymore.
Fetu’s smiling voice and cheery voice suddenly fill the room, returning to her along with a bittersweet memory. 
“Such a beautiful song. One of my favorites,” she’d shared, guiding Solana through a traditional Samoan recipe. “You want to know my favorite line?”
Solana nodded, smiling as she continued to peel the potatoes. “Of course.”
She waited for Fetu to turn down the music before she recited the lines. “Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone. I hope you dance.” Solana watched the almost solemn look in her eyes before the older woman smiled warmly. “Life is such a precious thing. We all have such limited time here in the grand scheme of things. In the good and the bad, we must always dance and find something beautiful to look back at.” 
Solana’s tears intensify, still remembering, feeling the exact emotion she felt in that moment. So profound and moving.
She’d give anything to have just one more type of interaction or conversation with Fetu again.
Even if…..
Even if just to tell her about the pregnancy. 
That makes her cry harder.
It takes a good twenty minutes for Solana to gather herself, to feel ready enough to check on Roman, to see if he needs anything before she goes to bed. 
Day five of his grieving has arrived, and he’s still not spoken to her. It still hurts, but it’s not a major concern.
What is a concern is everything else. His isolation. His helplessness. His sadness.
Solana knows better than anyone else what a depressive episode looks like, and the last thing she wants is to see him slip into one of those.
But, if he doesn’t stop shoving his feelings away, shutting down and dissociating…..that might be where he’s headed. 
Solana bypasses knocking on his door as it’s partially ajar. She instead walks in only to find the balcony door also open, Roman, shirtless, sitting on the chair, staring at absolutely nothing.
She frowns. 
It kills her to see him like this. 
Walking over to him, she stands just close enough for him to hear. “Ro? I’m going to bed. Do—do you need anything?”
His response is as the rest have been. Nonverbal. He simply shakes his head no.
She’s grateful he can’t see the disappointment in her face. “Okay.” Dejected and deterred, Solana turns to leave and return to her room.
“I didn’t come see her enough.”
Solana stops dead in her tracks as his deep voice penetrates the silence. For a quick second, she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust her own hearing, because Roman hasn’t said a word to her in days. And yet…..
She turns toward him, realizing that her hearing isn’t needing testing when it happens again. He speaks. “I should have—I should have listened to you.” Solana walks so that she’s standing in front of him, where she’s partially eclipsed his view of the dark forest and sky that’s littered with a blanket of stars. “I should have—” He closes his eyes, as Solana kneels down in front of him. 
“Please don’t do that,” she begs, shaking her head, taking his hands in hers. His right hand has healed nicely following her tending to it at least once a day since he messed it up. “Please don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”
Studying him, Solana is realizing this is the most expressive Roman has been in days. She could feel his grief before, but she can actually see it now. “She knew you loved her, Roman. And she loved you, too.”
“It wasn’t fucking enough though.” The anger is rising again, but it doesn’t deter or scare her, just makes her heart ache. Because she knows it’s just a cover-up for an abundance of sadness. “Never enough.” Her heart fractures even more as he says in a pained, tortured voice. “I wasn’t enough for her….to stay. Not—not her. Not my parents. My uncle. My siblings. None of them.”
And it’s really not until this moment Solana has truly known what it means to see the person you love the most break down before you.
This is a completely different side of her husband. 
This is vulnerability. 
“Ro…..” Fingers raking through some of his hair, she does her best to find any words that could provide him some type of comfort, all while knowing nothing can ever really take away his pain. “Baby, you are enough.” More than enough. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” 
He looks away, clearly distraught. “I couldn’t save her this time.” Her eyes shut. This is heartbreaking. “I didn’t…..I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
Solana’s chest aches. Tears brimming in her eyes, she stands up. “Come here.” She doesn’t even have to try to embrace him. Roman already has his arms around her, tugging her closer as he lays his head against her stomach. 
It takes a second for it to register, for her to recognize there’s a slight tremble of his body against hers. For her to understand why his grip on her seems to tighten by the second. He’s holding her so tightly. 
And, it’s when she hears it that it registers.
It’s when she hears the quiet sniffles that it hits her like a ton of bricks. 
He’s crying. 
Another brief second of shock that’s quickly washed away by her natural instinct to nurture and protect. 
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, holding him, kissing the top of his head. “Baby, I am so so sorry.”
For one thing and one thing only. His loss. What Fetu’s death has done to him, how it has impacted him so deeply. What’s she’s not sorry for is this long awaited breakdown of sorts. Roman has needed this. Needed it for so long. To finally breakdown and feel his feelings, and while she knows better than anyone how uncomfortable and overwhelming that can be, it’s also inevitable.
This was bound to happen.
She’s just grateful she can be here to support him through this.
The way she always will. 
————
Roman’s breakdown proved to be the catalyst. The thing that helped progress him from this almost stoic state of dissociation to a state of feeling and being. He’s actually talked to and with her. More interaction that doesn’t feel forced, almost natural. What she’s used to. To some degree, because he’s still sad. Of course, he’s sad. Still grieving. All normal.
But, he’s no longer icing her out, and that’s all that matters to her. 
So much so that he’s continued to accept her nurturance and affection. Welcomes it. Craves it, almost. The way he’s welcomed her back into the bedroom, sleeps at night practically on top of her, head on her chest as she rakes her fingers through his hair. The way he pulls her onto his lap as they eat. It’s all so subtle but also loud. The kind of love and support he’s clearly needing, and she gives it all to him.
Whatever he needs, she’ll do.
Solana presses a kiss to his temple and runs her fingers along his broad shoulders as he lays back, almost relaxed against her, the bubbles surrounding them covering the majority of their bodies, warm water infused with lavender and chamomile contributing to the serene atmosphere she was aiming for.
A goal that seems to be working based upon how at ease he feels against her, the leaking of the tension from his big body. 
“I’m gonna drive tomorrow,” Solana informs. Because Roman’s emergence from his dark hole has also meant reintegration into reality and society. Over the past two days, she’s overheard him taking phone calls, some in English, some in Samoan. And from what she could make of these calls is that they were pertaining to funeral arrangements for Fetu.
Clearly, as the funeral is set to be held this upcoming Sunday. 
She has such mixed feelings on that. On how hard that’s going to be for her husband. 
But, one thing at a time.
“I can drive,” he answers, eyes still closed. 
Sighing quietly, she angles her head so that she has a better view of his face. “I said I’m gonna drive.” At that, Roman opens his eyes, clearly taken back by her calm but firm push back. Frowning, she strokes his beard. “I want you to rest.”
Because, she does. Because he’s going to need it. Because in this space for the past week, he’s been able to just be. Be angry. Be hurt. Be sad. Be anything he needs to just be a human freaking being.
But, once they’re back home, all of that has to be turned off. He won’t have the space to be anything but the Tribal Chief and not a man just grieving a very important person. 
So, she wants him to have as much time dwelling in this safe space as possible, and that includes being able to relax while she gets them back home. 
“Besides, I haven't done it in so long, I need to make sure I still remember.” Being chauffeured quite literally everywhere has entirely deprived Solana of the need to have a car of her own but also to actually, well, drive.
Roman scoffs quietly. “That’s reassuring.” 
Rolling her eyes, she flicks his shoulder and murmurs with a small smile, “shut up.”
He does, but it’s only in preparation for what comes next. “Thank you.”
She has a feeling what he’s referring to, but assumptions have rarely done society any good. “For?”
His reply is instant. “All of it.” 
Comfort. It’s something she’s clearly been providing him but something he’s always provided her. 
Solana moves her hands down his chest and across his shoulders, mouth against his temple. “I’d do anything for you…..” Because she would. Anything at all. “Anything you need, just tell me, I’ll do it.”
He’s done so much for her. Supported her through some of her darkest, lowest moments. The least she can do is return the favor. 
Solana watches him sit up, never takes her eyes off him as he adjusts himself so he’s facing her, gently pulling her so she’s almost straddling him. The movement creating a ripple of waves that brushes against their conjoined bodies. Her wet hands move to his face as his move up her damp back.
“I just need you.” It could mean a lot of things, could refer to many of the things she’s done with and for him over the past week. But, that look in his eyes, the way his still solemn gaze drops to her chest, how his hands are moving to her hips, she knows exactly just how he needs her right now. 
Solana reaches past him to turn the knob to start draining the tub before ghosting her lips over his, murmuring, “so take me.” 
————
Being back in their home is an experience. A bit of a tease, really. Because while it’s nice to be in her house, with Dulce who seems to stay by Roman’s side, clearly sensing his grief, it’s also bittersweet.
Because it doesn’t change what’s happened. Doesn’t make the feelings of sadness go away. 
Doesn’t stop Solana from thinking about the letter Fetu gave her, from trying to figure out if it’s the right time to give it to him.
A dilemma that haunts her in the days leading up to the funeral as she works to support and be there for her husband while also managing her own pregnancy symptoms that seem to pop up at the most inconvenient times.
It’s only by the grace of God that Roman hasn’t walked in on her hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach from any and all food consumed. An irritating occurrence that seems to happen when she’s trying to cook.
She's definitely noticed an increased sensitivity to certain smells. Spices and seasoning that have always been staples in her cooking shelved due to her literally unable to tolerate the nausea that they cause her to experience just from the aroma alone.
Irritating, to say the least.
But, it’s the morning of the actual funeral that has her anxiety spiked, her concern at a naturally high baseline level. All things considered, she just has to focus on being there for Roman. Whatever that looks like. 
Still, it’s heavy and sad and just gut-wrenching.
Just about ready, only needing to slide her sandals on after letting Dulce outside to relieve herself, Solana decides to check on Roman. 
She finds him sitting on the edge of their bed. Like herself, he’s already dressed. A white, short sleeved button up shirt accompanied by a skirt-like wrap with tribal designs. A lavalava, according to Ava with leather sandals. 
She’s certain he heard her walk in, but he remains sitting, head down, ula fala on the bed beside him. Gently closing the door behind her, Solana walks over, partially surprised by how he reaches for her. Hands on her hips, her eyes never leave him as he lifts his head, clearly taking in her outfit. There’s a moment of anxiety under his intense gaze.
It’s easily squashed, however, when he says in a low voice, “you look beautiful.”
His compliment is so appreciated, especially when she thinks about his ability to still balance his grief while also making her feel so special. “Thank you.”
Solana moves her hands to the back of his head as he holds onto her, resting his head against her stomach. “I don’t want to do this.” Her eyes shut. She knows he doesn’t. “But, I have to.”
And that’s the part that kills her. That so much of handling this falls on his shoulders, is his responsibility because of his title. It kills her because it deprives him of just being able to grieve.
“I know, baby,” she comforts, gently stroking the back of his neck. “But, you don’t have to do it alone.”
She feels it. The heavy sigh against her. A sign of a semblance of relief. She’ll take that. She’ll offer that in any way that she can.
Roman sits back up, Solana watching him stand before her. Reaching to his side, she’s careful in how she picks up the ula fala and holds it before him. “Can I…..”
He nods and dips his head, allowing her to place it upon him. Solana is mindful of the placement, remembering the exact place it’s always sat when she’s seen it on him. And when he straightens to his full height, she moves her hands to his chest and says, “I know that you have to be the Tribal Chief today, but when it’s all said and done, and everyone has left and it’s just you and me, all I want and need you to be is Roman….that’s it.”
Because Roman is a man grieving. Who needs to be able to freely feel his feelings.
Whether he wants to or not.
Solana nods and leans up to kiss his cheek before taking his hand in hers, reminding, “I’ve got you.”
He says nothing, only nods, but he doesn’t have to. She can see the appreciation—and love—in his gaze.
—-----
Solana has never actually attended a funeral before. By the time she woke up from her coma, Xavier already had her mother buried, depriving her of that formal goodbye.
So this is a first for her. Different. She quickly learns that death is something that is not necessarily seen as a bad thing in Samoan culture. Sad, yes, but the focus is on the celebration of life, which she started to figure based upon the white color scheme.
Given the nature of the situation, Solana is unsurprised by the small attendance. Roman’s preference, no doubt. Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi are all expected guests, along with the preacher who officiates. However, it’s Paul and Dwayne who take her by surprise.
There’s a sense of gratitude, however, when they both hug Roman and offer their condolences. And she’s especially moved by the extended time taken with the hug from Dwayne, the way she can feel the empathy emanating from his tall frame.
She appreciates it deeply, and she knows that Roman does, too. 
There are also a couple of other attendees that surprise her but not entirely, as they uphold what she would guess are Samoan traditions for funerals. Song and dance. Prayers. 
It’s a beautiful send-off, one fitting for Roman’s eccentric aunt.
And almost the entire time, Solana remains by his side. Holding his hand or his arm, and if not in physical proximity, she always finds him, watching him. He is her number one concern. 
All things considered, he holds himself together well, but that’s highly due to the mask he’s wearing. The strong resilience he’s displaying in terms of not giving away the true extent of his hurt. But, Solana feels it. Feels it deeply when it’s just the two of them standing in front of Fetu’s casket, the others already departed and readying to leave. She’s about to do the same, leave him to have some semblance of privacy, only for him to tighten his hand that’s tightly clasped with hers. 
“Stay.”
A single, simple word. But, enough.
Solana nods, moving to hold onto his arm, standing quietly but supportively beside him.
As she always will. 
It’s after that, unfortunately, that things go downhill.
Solana partially expected the twins to come over following the funeral. Ava as well. All three, however, expressed their desire to give Roman his space. And, it’s appreciated, because Solana also believes that to be the best.
For right now.
However, that sentiment is not shared by Dwayne, Paul, and Rikishi. And truly, the first of the three is no issue. He doesn’t ride in the limo, opting to drive himself back to the house. 
But, it’s during that ride, for the first time since learning of Fetu’s passing, Solana feels anger.
Not even as part of the grieving process. No, she feels anger towards the two men who sit across from herself and Roman. She feels anger toward them because they haven’t even driven off yet when they’re throwing a bunch of work questions and situations at her husband.
Her husband who may look present, but she knows him well enough to know he’s not. 
And given how long these two men have known Roman, she would have thought they could see the same.
Maybe they don’t.
Or, maybe they do and just don’t care. Either one pisses her off. Makes it hard for her to hold her tongue.
Shipments. Orders. Contracts. All logical things someone in Roman’s state shouldn’t be dealing with. 
But, it’s exactly what they’re throwing at him.
Even as they arrive at the house, Dwayne taking a call out back, Paul and Rikishi barely have Roman sat down at their dining room table when they’re back at it.
“Orton wants to speak with you regarding re-negotiating the RKO proposal.”
“Stocks are looking good, but we need to start thinking about next quarter.”
“The Cartel are still interested in meeting. You need to make that happen ASAP.”
A bunch of irrelevant shit. Solana partially wants to stay outside with Dulce to avoid having to overhear it, but it’s impossible to not want to be present. To not feel the need to be present. 
Just what more do they plan to throw at Roman?
Her husband is responding, being responsive, but she can see it, hear it. The difficulty he’s having. 
And it has her nearly bursting at the seams, trying to focus on moving around the kitchen, early preparation for dinner, but it’s hard.
She’s given a chance though when Roman clears his throat and says something about changing before he stands up from the chair and starts to walk away.
Just like that, Solana knows this is her opportunity, her chance, and she has to take it. 
Because, she’s disgusted.
It’s only when she’s certain that Roman is upstairs, fully out of hearing distance that she finds herself asking, “what is wrong with you two?”
Both men look at her with partially startled, mostly confused, expressions. Rikishi is the first to speak. “What?”
Solana scoffs and points toward the steps. “He just buried his aunt. Her body isn’t even cold in the ground, and you’re asking him about work?” She continues, throwing out almost angrily, “does he look like he needs to be working right now?”
There’s a bit of a standstill. Paul looks flustered, his cheeks turning red like a child being scolded by a parent. Rikishi, however, wears an almost blank expression. “You are not Samoan, therefore you do not understand our ways. We do not mourn like you do. We celebrate life.”
“Yeah, well he’s not in place to celeb—”
“Roman is the Tribal Chief. What he needs is irrelevant when it comes to the Bloodline.” Rikishi’s interruption—and his words—have her taken back. “He understands what his duty is.”
“His duty…..” It’s potentially a build up of things, sadness and grief, manifesting as anger. Regardless, it’s growing with each word that leaves this man’s mouth. “Has he not given enough? He does everything he’s supposed to do for the Bloodline—”
“Except provide an heir,” Rikishi’s voice is as icy as the cold look in his eyes. “Or would that be you failing at the one job you have?”
Paul’s eyes widen as looks at the man beside him. “Rikishi—”
It takes so much, so much for Solana to not shut him up, to not tell him that she’s pregnant, hoping that he spreads it to any and all who’ve given Roman a hard time about not having a child.
Because fuck them. 
The chubby man lifts up his hand as he stands from his seat, rounding the corner of the table. “You are not Bloodline, so I’m not surprised you don’t know your place—”
“My place–” There’s not a single ounce of her wanting or willing to back down in this moment. “–is beside my husband.”
“Do not forget, girl, who put you in that position.” There’s an almost hint of disgust in the way the word ‘girl’ leaves his mouth. “You were nothing before him. Nothing but a punching bag for that pathetic father and brother—”
Solana has never considered herself a violent person, especially not someone who responds with violence. But, it’s almost instinct. Because one minute her hand is at her side, the next it’s colliding with Rikishi’s cheek, with an intensity that sends his head to the side. 
And she doesn’t regret it one bit.
Finally aware of what’s just happened, Solana can only process the anger in his fat face and the way he lifts his hand toward her. Except instead of cowering, she prepares to block it.
But, she doesn’t have to.
Because someone else does.
Solana gasps quietly at Dwayne who stands beside, almost in front of her, protectively, holding Rikishi’s arm in an iron grip. 
“I don’t think you want to do that,” he says with the perfect balance of lightness and seriousness. “Unless you want me to lay your candy ass out for breaking Bloodlines rules for putting your hands on a woman.”
Rikishi hisses and snatches his arm away. “She put her hands on me. I am an Elder.”
“I don’t give a damn who you are. You will not disrespect me in my house,” Solana swears. Never again will she allow any man to harm her, physically or verbally. 
And that’s a promise. 
Dwayne shrugs. “Sounds fair to me.” He then smiles, but there’s no trace of humor. “And like you said, she’s not one of us, so she doesn’t know our ways.”
Solana is surprised at that. How long has he been listening?
Paul suddenly steps forward, looking like he’s about to have a damn panic attack. “Clearly, there’s been some—”
“Get out.”
Solana’s interruption earns a variety of expressions ranging from surprisement, amusement and indignation.
Paul stutters. “I’m s-s-”
“I want you both out of my house.” There’s no stuttering on her end. “Now.”
While Paul looks confused between his friend and Dwayne, the latter chuckles, expressing, “I believe the wife of the Tribal Chief has made herself clear.” And just like that the smirk drops into a straight line as he orders, “leave.”
Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, the obese man hurriedly grabbing his papers with trembling hands. It’s Rikishi, however, whose gaze is now focused on her with borderline amusement.
He holds her stare, and she doesn’t dare look away. He will not intimidate her. 
Paul is mumbling and murmuring to the other man about needing to leave, something about coming back later, but again, he’s silenced by Rikishi.
“Well played, girl. Well played.” 
Rikishi turns to walk away when Solana finds herself stepping past Dwayne. “My name is Solana. Solana Reigns. The wife of your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and you will address me as such.”
Paul looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s seconds away from pissing himself. Rikishi just stares with a cold smile, one that doesn’t prevent or scare her from continuing. 
“And if you ever raise your hand to me again.” she steps forward, invading his personal space the same way he invaded hers. “Just know that I don’t need my husband to kick your ass.” There’s an almost snarl to her lip as she vows, “I can do it myself.”
Because she can. Because if she can put her brother, someone who terrorized and literally tortured her for years in the ICU, she can certainly do it to the rotund man before her. 
He doesn’t say anything else, just turns on his heel and leaves out with Paul, but Solana knows better. Recognizes that look. Has seen it before. Knows what it means.
This isn’t over. 
And yet, there’s not a part of her that’s nervous, that feels scared or even upset with herself at how she responded.
Because she’s spent years being hurt and disrespected by men. No more.
Not for herself but also for the children growing in her stomach. Children that she strongly believes to be girls. Solana would soon rather die than have anyone treat her daughters the way she’s been treated.
And she knows Roman would and will feel the same.
So, it starts now. The demanding of respect that she’s always deserved.
Regardless of who her husband is.
Dwayne steps forward, gentle hand on her shoulder. “You alright?” Before she can answer, he informs, “I’ll make sure Roman knows about—”
“No,” she interrupts and shakes her head. “I mean, I’m okay, but I don’t want you telling him. He…..he has enough on his plate.” And the last thing she wants is anything else being added to it. 
Dwayne frowns. “I don’t disagree with you, but as the faletua—”
Now she’s the one frowning. “The what?”
“Faletua,” he says it slower, offering and explanation. “It means the wife of the Tribal Chief.”
Solana is temporarily taken back by that. She never knew there was a direct word for who she is to Roman. For what she is to the Bloodline. 
It’s…..surprising, to say the least. 
“Speaking to you the way he did was unacceptable, but going to hit you?” He shakes his head. “Thought he would have learned that shit don’t fly with us by now.”
Curious, Solana crosses her arms and finds herself asking, “what do you mean?”
Dwayne seems a bit reluctant at first, eventually lowering his voice and offering an explanation. “Look, I’m 13 years older than Roman and Rikishi’s twins, so they were too young or not even born to have been around Rikishi when he was a piece of fucking work. Hothead. Impulsive. Used to beat on his wife. Always felt like he should have been the Tribal Chief. Nakoa, Roman’s dad, eventually had to give him an ultimatum: he get some help and straighten the fuck out or he and his entire family would be ex-communicated from the Bloodline.”
Solana hears the word coming out of this man’s mouth, but it’s difficult for her to process said words. Everything seems so…..unbelievable, like it can’t be true. Like the biological father of Jimmy and Jey, who have become like brothers to her, could be the sons of someone so…..vile.
Someone abusive.
Dwayne continues, “he’d calmed down a lot by the time Roman and the twins were born, so they don’t really know much about it. How bad it was, at least.” He then adds over a dark chuckle, “that’s where Jey gets his temper from. His old man.”
Solana has a lot to think on, but she also has many questions, too. Obviously, Rikishi’s behavior hasn’t been a problem for some time. Yes, there was today’s incident, but Solana thinks she knows her husband well enough to know he wouldn’t put up with any bullshit. 
So perhaps today was just a one-off? Fetu was his relative as well, so there’s a good chance his grief is presenting as irritation similar to how Roman’s presented as anger.
And yet…..
There’s this small, nagging part of her that doesn’t believe that. Believes that there’s more at play than what meets the eye.
Is starting to wonder if she now knows who Fetu was talking about when she said she told her brother, Nakoa, not to trust him.
Shaking her head, Solana redirects her focus to the conversation at hand. “Thank you.” Because she’s grateful for this man that she doesn’t know very well but believes to be a good person. Someone who’s good for her husband. “I—I’ll talk to Roman about what happened.” And she will……just sans some details. 
He doesn’t need to know everything. 
It’ll only put more stress on him, and he doesn’t need that.
Dwayne seems unconvinced, but he doesn’t argue. “If that’s what you prefer.”
“It is,” she answers. Switching gears a bit, Solana lowers her voice, sharing, “and thank you for being here…..for him.”
It’s not missed upon her the sad countenance that appears on his handsome face. “Gotta be honest with you, when I got the call, I was shocked. If I had known she was still……” Dwayne sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I understand why he kept it a secret. She….she meant a lot to him.”
More than you could ever know. “I know,” Solana whispers. The realization that Roman should have been back by now causes her to clear her throat. “I should probably go check on him.”
Dwayne nods. “I should probably get going anyway.”
Solana goes to protest, not wanting him to feel uninvited. “Oh no, you don’t—”
“You were right to tell them to leave,” he interrupts, gesturing to the steps. “He does need time.”
Solana says nothing, though feels immensely grateful to have someone who also recognizes that Roman is just a human being who just needs to feel and grieve instead of this machine that can just keep moving like clockwork.
Solana again thanks him for attending and his overall support before seeing him out the door and moving up the steps to check on her husband.
“Ro?” Opening the door to their bedroom, she's partially surprised to find Roman still sitting on the edge of the bed, clothes unchanged outside of the ula fala that lays on the dresser. 
He turns to her as she closes the door behind her and walks over to him. “I just….I need a minute.”
Moving in between his legs, she informs, “it’s okay. They’re gone now.” 
At that, he looks at her with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”
“Dwayne left on his own, but I made Paul and Rikishi leave.” And before he can say anything, she’s explaining, “I understand there’s things you need to get done, get caught up on, but the Bloodline can survive another day without you taking charge.” She sighs and cups his face, reminding him, “today was a lot for you. The least you can do is take the rest of it to just….be.”
She’s partially expecting him to push back, maybe even some irritation for her “speaking” on his behalf only for him to ask, “how did they take it?”
Shit. She wants to lie, feels like it would be an easy short term thing and maybe it would. But, the fact that she’s already keeping this pregnancy from him is more than enough secrecy for her.
“Paul seemed more scared than anything. Rikishi….he didn’t like it, but Dwayne backed me, so it was fine.”
A flash of anger appears in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he likes it or not. If you say something, he needs to fucking do it.” And this is what she wanted to avoid. Him getting upset when he doesn’t need to. “I’ll handle it.”
Solana shakes her head. “That’s not important right now.” Because it really isn’t. Especially since she’s already handled it. “Why don’t you change? Lay down. I’ll fix you something to eat. If I start now, I can have it ready by—” 
She’s stopped by Roman reaching her for her, his hands on her waist as he says so quietly, “stay with me.”
It’s such a quiet, little thing, but it’s something he’s wanting.
Something he’s needing. Thus, the answer is obvious.
Solana nods and reaches for the middle of her skirt, hiking it up enough so that she can climb on top of his lap. Roman moves them back on the bed as she lays on top of him, snuggling herself into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, holding her. 
“Thank you,” he says after kissing the top of her head. The vulnerability in his voice is aligned what she’s seen and heard in him off and on all week. “I don’t…..I don’t know if I could have handled with this without you.”
His words cause chills to sprout up her spine. Another thing she can relate to. The loss of her mother was something she once thought she would never recover from, largely because she had to deal with it alone.
But, Roman isn’t alone.
And, he never will be again. 
Holding him a bit tighter, she promises, voice clear and firm, “you’re gonna be okay, Roman."
And, he is.
She’s going to make sure of it. 
141 notes · View notes
theoncomingchaos · 22 hours ago
Text
Who loves Rook: Spite or Lucanis
I've been seeing a lot of discourse about this, and I just want to add my thoughts.
I might be totally wrong about this, but here we go. When Spite was put into Lucanis, he was still Determination. The fact that he changed throughout the torture, forced insertion, and imprisonment suggests to me that they have been put into a speedrun of a similar situation to Anders and Justice/Vengeance where they have started to meld. (As Anders put it, you wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends). Just like Anders and Vengeance, Lucanis and Spite can have separate consciousnesses and even disagree about things, but their core values have started to influence one another and become a part of one another- heightening certain aspects.
Tumblr media
I think this melding is why we see some dialogues where Rook tells Lucanis that he sounds like Spite and similarly it's also the reason for the shared attraction- which I fully believe is coming originally from Lucanis.
I'll be honest my first time through I romanced Lucanis and was very disappointed. I didn't even see him and Neve ever flirt (she only ever encouraged us!) But still, it seemed to go from 0 to 60 with him. Now, I am on my second playthrough and I only just met him, but I am starting to see some really subtle looks and dialogues that suggest that Lucanis wasn't lying later when he said he was attracted to Rook from the beginning, but was afraid to really pursue anything or even acknowledge the possibility of being with them. With his fear of trusting people, ptsd from the prison, failed history in romance, and his new situation with Spite that he still hadn't worked out yet, he never thought anything would or could ever come of his feelings. We know Lucanis loves romance stories and likely longs for one of his own, but in such a situation it must have seemed truly impossible and terrifying to let someone else in. Especially someone you really care for and are starting to trust. So, he pushed it all down. Rook flirts? Maybe a small smile, but then quickly lock it all up with everything else he can't handle. Focus on work. Don't think about Spite, or Rook, or anything difficult.
However, if the melding has already happened as I suspect, then the feelings Spite is expressing are shared with (and likely sourced from) Lucanis, he's just better at expressing it directly- which makes sense for a spirit that was once Determination. When you first talk to Lucanis after the rescue, the thing Spite says about Rook changes accordingly to your tone, but to me the responses still sound like they come from Lucanis and are then echoed in Spite: "He doesn't want to hurt us." Even the "He's more fun than you" is something Lucanis seems to think about himself as he is fully aware that much of his life has not been his own and believes "all he knows is death."
Tumblr media
Leading back to the main point, Lucanis's trust and interest in Rook would be heightened by Spite the way Anders' anger towards the templars was heightened. Even though they are finally free from the prison, their is a sense of constant suffering from still feeling trapped by fear, regret, and pain- Spite feels that suffering too. The elements of determination are still within him the same way justice is another side to vengeance. Both spite and vengeance are the results of failing to achieve their goals of Justice and Determination. Spite sees Rook as a way to free them from pain and restraint, a glowing and beautiful key to the prison door, and he is determined to do what needs to be done to solve the problem. That's why he doesn't hesitate. He has no fear. He wants to talk to Rook. He wants Rook to come in and free them.
After Rook has freed them, they become a source of comfort and safety, once they encourage Lucanis and Spite to find a way to cohabit comfortably, the two continue to meld, and the need to protect Rook, to love Rook, to keep them, is very deeply shared. Now, IF Spite was somehow removed or even somehow restored (Both of which I think are impossible) that would likely change. Determination outside of Lucanis would likely become more like Compassion. He would likely forget the horrors he experienced to return to his original purpose.
So, that leaves some final questions, particularly one Hawke helpfully asked Anders- Is Spite an unwilling party in the threesome?
Tumblr media
That's up to everyone's own morality. While both Spite and Lucanis didn't have a choice to become like this, it is the situation they are in and the way they have to find a way to accept and live with because there really doesn't seem to be any real way to change it. Through their time together, Lucanis and Spite have influenced each other and grown into something new. Part of that is Spite also loving Rook. In that way, for those who are feeling (rightfully) underwhelmed by Lucanis's romance, Spite can almost be seen as a symbolic expression of Lucanis's love.
All that being said, I think there were some small things they could have done to make the romance more satisfying over all...but I'll save that for another post.
60 notes · View notes
machineheraldcommune · 2 days ago
Text
I Mindreader - Viktor x f! Reader
Synopsis: It would be an understatement if I said I just had a little crush on Viktor. Daydreaming was a cool escape from the harsh realities of the undercity- even after the war. If I had known he could mindread, I would have been a bit more careful with my thoughts.
Words: 1,172
Warnings: f! reader x Viktor, 18+ light SMUT, LoL lore (sort’ve), Arcane season 2 spoilers
Author's Notes: I don’t write scenes like this very often, so bear with me 😭😭!! Also somewhat inspired by the Roswell TV show hehe.
I had been working for Dr. Raveck and Viktor ever since I was caught stealing mechanical equipment for personal projects. I had no means to support myself, which is why when Dr. Raveck offered, I couldn’t refuse. Luckily, a shimmer project wasn’t what he needed me for. He was too busy with other experiments to devote all of his time to Viktor after his second resurrection.
“Viktor-“ A clang sounded as I knocked on his metal lab door before entering.
“I brought the liquid and metal you asked me to get- I have to say, it was quite a challenge…” The room was dark, but I could make out his silhouette lounging on a chair on the far side of the room. The lab was messy, spare parts and miscellaneous papers and schematics in piles all over the floor. I start to set the canisters down next to the wall nearest to me, but I swiftly turn as I hear him rise from his chair. Suddenly, and rapidly, he was the closest he had ever been to me. I felt a blush spread across my face.
He had began to become more metallic in the last few months. His once luminous black skin now had a golden hue. A machine-like armor and mask sat in the corner for whenever he went out sparingly for whatever reason. His face was still human.
“Viktor, what are you…” He suddenly grasped my chin with his cold fingers and pulled my face towards his. He was so close I could feel his long black hair brush my neck, and his breath on my face. My hands came to rest on his chest.
“Human emotion is a volatile thing-“ He starts to say before his other hand touches the wall next to my head. I was frozen in place. He then leans his head to one side and positions so that his next words are reverberated as a whisper directly into my ear.
“You suppress your thoughts in my lab so that it not be revealed on your face- but your thoughts linger like a scintillating light from the back of your mind.” I quickly process what he means, and I can feel my heartbeat start to pound against my chest.
“I don’t know w-what you-“ I then feel his breath travel down to my neck.
“As soon as you entered this lab you had a failed attempt at scrubbing your mind of the thought of my lips on your skin.” I let out an audible gasp as I felt his lips graze my skin, and I uncontrollably imagined what I had been earlier in the day.
He repositions his face in front of mine and pulls my chin once more so that I’m looking directly into his iridescent eyes. I noticed his breath become slightly uneven.
“I-“ As soon as I started to speak he replaced his hand on my chin with his lips on my mouth, and tingles spread through my entire body. I felt as if I might melt onto the floor.
He broke the kiss after a few seconds, and glanced from my lips and into my eyes. “I haven’t healed you, so the question is- why can I feel your emotions as if they were my own?” Both of his hands then trail down from the wall to my sides. I was comfortable with Viktor and the others in the lab, so I was just wearing loungewear- a short-sleeved shirt and loose pants. I had never thought they may not be thick enough that I could feel Viktor’s hands directly on my skin through the cloth. I began to imagine where else his hands may explore before my thoughts were interrupted, by them sneaking under the hem of my shirt. They begin to wander, as his lips find its way back to mine once more. This time- his kisses felt more deep and urgent.
My mind was a mess- it felt scrambled like eggs. The more we kissed, the more I couldn’t believe this situation was even happening.
Slowly one of his hands trailed further down to the hem of my pants, and then my underwear, leaving small vibrations in its wake. He stopped a few inches below my belly-button when I released his kiss and started to speak.
“Viktor-“ I managed, before my imagination was let loose once more- I wanted him in any way possible.
“I must warn you that I might not be able to hold back-“ I thought quickly of what he meant by that, we couldn’t go much further than this could we? He didn’t have certain human organs anymore- but my mind agreed to his terms before my mouth.
His hand trailed further down, and as soon as he started to touch- my body felt as if it was ignited in flames. It was different than I had ever felt before with any other partner, and the feeling was instant.
I felt as if time was incoherent. Immediately I felt a release, and I couldn’t remember when we had began kissing again. I opened my eyes for a second to look into his, and I could’ve swore I saw them glowing for a second.
Soon, he slipped his hand from my pants and placed it near my hip. In an effort to catch his breath, we both sank to the floor, he laid his head to rest on my shoulder.
“It will be more enjoyable with the proper equipment next time.” He says after a few minutes. I didn’t know what that meant, but he was incredible.
“Next time?”
Eventually, I managed to find my way back to my room. Immediately I threw myself onto my bed and hid my face in a pillow. I still couldn’t believe all that had happened. After a few minutes, I decided that I should probably change clothes for bed.
I gathered my pajamas from my dresser, and caught a glimpse of my reflection in an old cracked mirror in the corner of my room. I looked like a disheveled mess. My hair was tangled somehow, and my clothes were in a disarray even though they never had been removed. I then caught a glimpse of something.
“What is-“ I peeled off the top layer of my clothes. I widened my eyes as I looked at where Viktor had touched.
He had left a subtle, slightly noticeable, glowing handprint.
122 notes · View notes
spidey-555 · 3 days ago
Text
Interesting analysis, but there are some things I'd like to point out
The Lamb is non-binary and goes by they/them pronouns. (This one's not as important as my other points)
Now onto my actual points
Sure, Narinder never promised the Lamb eternal life, but the fact that he kept reviving the Lamb and outright said that they wouldn't die as long as he still needs them (sidenote: which could be seen as cruel to some) kind of implies it. I do agree on this point though, he never said they'd live forever.
Depending on the playthrough, the Lamb never sacrifices anyone unless they absolutely have to (those stupid doors), so that argument kind of doesn't work in that scenario.
I'd also like to mention that Narinder forced the Lamb to start a cult in his name, and doesn't let them die or pass on until they succeed. And when they do succeed he "rewards" them by breaking all of their limbs while laughing. So sure, you could make the speculation that Narinder had to kill the Lamb in order to escape (in which case, why didn't he tell them that?), but that doesn't justify sadistically breaking all their limbs.
And about that advice and the fact that the game is designed to make you more cruel (these two points have more to do with each other than you think), the advice Narinder gives you is to be more evil and treacherous to your followers, and he even congratulates you if you betray Ratau. So if anything, the entire reason the Lamb "betrays" Narinder in the end is because Narinder essentially manipulated them to be more that way.
You could say that Narinder just wanted to resurrect his followers, but given what we see happens to said followers in the new update and the fact that it's implied he kept doing it... yeah. And about the jealousy and fear from his siblings, sure that was part of the motive, but the other part was because it's implied that they would've died had people ceased to worship them. Still doesn't justify their actions, though.
I'd also like to mention that Aym and Baal were with him as well, so you can't say that he was alone all these years. Not that you make that excuse in your post, but I'm just preemptively saying this to make sure you don't.
And also, I'd wager to say that sacrificing Ratau or putting a follower in a gold statue is more cruel that denying Narinder, but to each their own.
I might add more to this? I don't know.
Just a thought
I keep seeing fanfics or comics where Lamb is angry at Narinder for betraying him by asking him to sacrifice himself to free him.
But who really betrayed the other?
Narinder never promised Lamb eternal life.
He saved him from death and lent (and I emphasize lent) him the Red Crown so that Lamb could avenge them both by killing the Bishops.
Throughout the whole process, Narinder always helped Lamb by resurrecting him whenever he died and giving him advice.
Lamb is no stranger to sacrifice. He himself sacrificed several of his followers to Narinder to gain more power. He also saw the Bishops’ followers sacrifice themselves before a fight to give the Bishop more power.
Narinder has been imprisoned for thousands of years by his own brothers and sisters out of jealousy (as mentioned in the new DLC).
His chains were broken, but he likely needed more power to escape the afterlife as a god.
As a result, he had no choice but to ask Lamb to sacrifice himself for him. After thousands of years chained, anyone would do anything they could to escape that hell.
All Narinder wanted was to resurrect his followers, and that attracted the jealousy and fear of his brothers and sisters.
I keep thinking about how the game developers said that the game is designed to make Lamb become cruel without the player realizing it.
(Sacrificing followers for trivial things like new fleeces)
And I think that refusing to free Narinder (after everything he did for Lamb) is the single most cruel act.
97 notes · View notes
yourloveaton · 3 days ago
Note
Hi! I saw all your AU art just recently and noticed you were saying we can ask you about it! (ITS SUCH AWESOME ART BTW I ADORE IT THE WAY YOU DRAW THEM IS AKAKAKKDMSMAMD!!!!)
I don’t have a specific question, but I do want to know more about it.
So can you just tell me anything about it?
Ahhh THANK YOU SO MUCH !!! I’m so happy that you liked my au art and wanna know more about it !! You have no idea how much joy that makes me feel 🥹💖
Well I can tell you some info and facts about the au, how I’m planning to develop it and all that !! It’s still fairly new and I did it out of nowhere at 3 am in the morning because I thought of my old ideas that I had years ago when undertale was on it’s prime but I was too young to bring ideas to life properly HAHAHA I hope my writing doesn’t bore you!
The au is pretty much founded on the idea of what if Sans also used to be a royal guard when he was younger? Boom. That’s where it spiralled and now I don’t know how revert back to who I was before because I ended up doodling a lot of undertale stuff along with the au, it didn’t help with the fact that my very good beloved friend kept encouraging me and feeding my inner demons of my undertale brainrot HAHAHA
I’m planning to develop the au into 2 parts: Before Undertale and after Undertale.
Before undertale is basically the events that happened before the plot of Undertale took place while after undertale is when they’re finally on the surface and the events that will happen on there! Sounds very generic and common I know, that’s why I’m going to try and develop it to be a bit different and hope that the au is not boring or developed horribly :’D It will take some time though since I know developing an au with a unique plot is gonna be very challenging, there are so many ways to mess it up and aghhh I really don’t wanna mess it up TT
Tumblr media
Here are the main cast of the before undertale, this is a very OLD sketch that I made to figure out who’s there and how old they would be before I proceed to develop on the characters. So their heights might not be as accurate as it is in the sketch.
Also DISCLAIMER, Alphys and Undyne never met in before Undertale, so just know there’s no weird agenda going on here! They first met during Undertale plot when they’re both adults (Alphys 29, Undyne 23) so it’s all good!! I thought I needed to point that out because the age gap might seem alarming at first glance knowing they’re officially a couple 🙏 The before undertale plot begins at the age displayed on the sketch, and it ends after uhh.. 10 years? Yeah it’s ten years of events before the main undertale story starts!
Tumblr media
I do want to portray the skele family with wholesome moments and you know, how great they are! Well that is before the downfall but we ain’t talking about that for now !! They’re just so beloved to me and I know they were such a sweet family AND WOULD HAVE VERY FUNNY MOMENTS IN WHICH I WANNA DRAW IT OUT!! So yeah, stay tuned for silly mini comics of them eheh
Tumblr media
At first, I wanted Trickster (yes I’m calling his royal guard nickname, it’s like a whole different persona of his (alter ego???) where he’s energetic and acts very silly, whimsical, presenting puzzles and quizzes to his opponents sometimes but also can be very intimidating and prove that yeah, there’s a reason why he can be like that cuz it’s HIM) to be nothing more than a mischievous silly royal guard that wanted to keep causing trouble for Gaster but then it grew to be a bigger thing where he unintentionally became the symbol of hope and an entertainer for the whole underground before Trickster disappeared without a trace(?)
I’m still working on this whole concept so not everything is settled yet!! Well what I can also say about Trickster is that Alphys might be involved with the whole Trickster business too eheh
Tumblr media
I’ve been practicing on drawing the characters so that I can draw better for this little au project of mine, I hope I can share my progress with you guys as things go on !!!
That’s the general stuff I’ve thought of so far, I hope you enjoy reading ! Thank you for reading and do feel free to ask whenever you have questions about the au or anything else :D✨✨✨✨
39 notes · View notes
meowdy-all · 10 hours ago
Text
I HATE PPL SAYING EDDIES GONNA MOVE BACK TO TEXAS, I HATE IT. My man JUST had a plot about experiencing joy, why the fuck would he punish himself by moving back to texas, if he moves, thats his whole found family torn away from him.
Eddie moving back to texas to be with chris means he has NO support system, no friends, just his son and his parents, eddies roots arent there anymore its be like trying to put a tree in sandy soil. Yeah that tree grew up in hot climate and sandy soil, but then the tree got the right type of soil, a proper watering schedule, and is now FLOURISHING why would you take it out of its new pot to put it back in its old one? The old one that stunted its growth and suffocated it?Just because it grew there doesnt mean it THRIVED
Eddie moved away from his parents for a reason, and putting himself back in that position of being critisized for every parenting move, of being told hes not good enough, that hell drag chris down with him, and this time he wont be able to leave. I think the only good part about that would be chris seeing how shitty hus grandparents treat his dad
Also you thunk buck is letting eddie go anywhere? Buck? Mr. Abandonment issues galore? He MIGHT let eddie go to texas to get chris and bring him home without him. But move there? Permanently? Not a chance.
Im sorry but having no support system whatsoever, and tyen being forced to live in the place he left for a reason, with parents who dont act like they love him and a son hes convinced hates him does not sound like the recipe for a postive mental mindset, or having and experiencing joy. It sounds like a place depression and self-doubt can thrive, and no one there on his side seems like a way to get yourself a trip to grippy sock prison.
Im getting so passionate about it because this is a popular theory, and imo it seems like smth the show could do, which is what has me so scared. But to me, it makes no sense character wise. Let chris come HOME
28 notes · View notes
blueishspace · 1 day ago
Text
Hero, Villain God 12
(Prev) (Next) (First)
*Grian's pov*
In the end it is not vigilantism or villainy that ends up being the hardest part of this act you have created.
It isn't even music production as even though Ariana's youtube's channel takes a lot of effort and skill you did not expect to need it is still not that big of an hassle once Mumbo decided to help you.
No, the biggest challenge yet is mundanity, Grian was only a being you created as a civilian identity to stand behind the other more interesting personan... You put thought into the other but you never thought too much about how to be a civilian.
You have created yourself an identity but you never prepared yourself for living with it and you are slowly realising that knowing from an outside perspective how to do something is much different from actually doing it...Also as the god of chaos the rules of reality tend to slightly bend around you which makes doing menial tasks paricularly complex...
...Case in point: Cooking. You thought it would be easy, you have seen others do it in the past so it shouldn't have been hard.
And yet, "shouldn't" is the key word.
"Mumbo? You are back...sooner then I expected"
"This...this is the time I normally come home"
"Oh ..."
"Grian, what?"
"Did your hair...lose...weight?"
"Grian? Are you cooking something?"
"Yeah ... You could say that"
"W-well mate, what do you mean by that?"
"I was cooking...before"
"Y-yeah? So? Did something happen? Did something break? 'Cause that's fine, mistakes happen."
"I uh...I might have burnt the water"
"What... ... How? That's uh... not possibile?????"
"The water just caught on fire"
"That's not- what??????"
Of course then he hears the clucking, great timing, this is humiliating.
"Is that... A chicken in the kitchen?"
"Nooo, why would there be chicken in the kitchen? That would be weird."
"... There is a chicken in the kitchen, why? How??"
"I tried to break an egg and a chicken popped put"
"... Was there something in my coffee? This just isn't...ok whatever, I'm done. We have a chicken now I guess, sure why not?"
"Uh... are you going to name it?"
"You birthed it, It's your responsability now. I'm going to bed and reconsidering my life now"
...You ended up calling the chicken Cluck, hardly original but you have never been good at creating very original names.
*Mumbo pov*
Grian is an... Interesting roomate. He's exceptionally smart sometimes, he knows a lot of the natural world and hystory... He says very specific scientific facts like they are common knowledge...
He's also extremely talented at singing, which is especially impressive since he's doing so at an higher pitch then his speaking voice... It's almost like he changes vocal cords... And his drag persona? Ariana? It's stunning. You can't believe how good it is.
...
...He's also, and you mean it in the nicest way possible, a weirdo. He's not creepy or anything like that but he's extremely bad at being a normal person. You wonder about his past sometimes but you refuse to bother him about it, you of all people should know why someone would like to keep their past a secret... still you do wonder, for a man who says to have no powers he sure acts like he does.
Despite everything though...you can't deny you are getting used to his presence, he was supposed to be an alibi for you to hide your villainy behind but... Ugh, you spoon! You shouldn't have gotten this attached to this guy and you are probably going to get more attached as time passes.
It's fine, you can deal with this, hiding behind him has always been plan z and plan a has yet to fail, your project will be a success.
And if anyone does try anything... There is a reason you are called the Boogeyman.
36 notes · View notes
acesandocs · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Some of the different phases in Åse's life.
3-6 Like most are at that age he's a curious but shy kid. He has at that point started to pick up on how a lot of people seem to dislike him but he doesn't know why. His mom and grandparents try to shield him from most of it but he still gets teased and bullied by a lot of the other kids though since he was so little at that point he couldn't do much about it. (theme)
6-9 This is the point he gets big enough to actually defend herself. This period is marked by a lot of visits from angry neighbors about whatever new fight he had gotten into with their kids. His mom usually didn't punish him for this though as even she knew nine times out of ten he was just defending himself. And while he didn't actively start exploring her gender identity until after she moved to America, she did start asking a lot of question about why certain things were only for boys or girls, like having short hair. He ended up cutting it himself after getting into an argument with his mom about it and it was mostly a decision made out of spite and just to see what would happen. (theme)
9-14 When he came into his preteens he had proven to be more trouble that he was worth so most left him alone at this point and just judged him from a distance. She also started making her own clothes and expressing herself though her fashion, taking a lot of inspiration from the fairy tale illustration in her favorite books. She also made her closest childhood friend when she was nine. And maybe she also wanted to look lovingly into her eyes and kiss her but all girls want to do that with their friends right? They stayed friends up until Åse had to move which was also her first heartbreak. (theme)
14-18 Maybe the worst part of her life if you asked her, not that she really want to talk about it anyway. Moving took a big toll on her and after a falling out with her mom she ran away from home. She fell in with a bad person who was very controlling and made her dress more to his liking than what she actually felt comfortable in. She wore a lot of dark colors and she felt and looked the least like herself. (theme)
18-19 After some questionable decisions and a short incarceration she officially became a fugitive from the law and thus started traveling west to escape the heat. He presented fully male at this point as well as starting to bind his chest. Traveling was ok enough and in some ways he got to fulfill a childhood dream of traveling the country. But the stress of not having a stable and safe place to sleep at night and not knowing if one bad run in with a cop could land her back in jail took a toll on her. So did all the back alley fighting matches he took part in to make money, its a miracle he still has all his teeth. (theme)
19-21 after getting scouted at a match in st Louis a subordinate of Atlas got him in touch with her and he offered her a job, to which she agreed. She was a bit of an outsider at first but eventually found her footing. He kept presenting male but did open up about his assigned gender to a few people. (theme)
21-22 while she wasn't all that close to Atlas his death still affected her through the shock waves it sent though the Lackadaisy. She might be the person with the most reason to pack up and leave other than maybe Horatio. Still she stays, because even if he doesn't want admit it she cares about these people. It took me a few tries to land on his default design but I feel he started to come together when I gave him the neckerchief. Its kind of a signature item and I try to include it in most of his designs now. He inherited it from his mom and thus didn't have it as a child. It kind of represent him stepping into being an independent adult. While the general style and length of his hair has stayed the same how I draw it is something I have and still struggle with. This is probably the closest Ive come to being happy with it. I struggled similarly with her pants as well for some reason. They have ended up looking more like bell bottoms than suit pants which isn't all that historically accurate but its ultimately what I think looks best. (theme)
27 notes · View notes
Text
Adam vs Mammon
Based on the rp blog @fanofstuff01
Adam: Do I have to go to this meeting? You always complain about how boring and what a waste of time they are.
Lucifer: Well, as Hell's newest King it's only a matter of time before you'd meet all the sins anyway. Might as well get it out of the way before Sinsmas.
Adam and Lucifer were currently riding in the limo down to the other side of Pride where the Sins meeting was going to take place. Since recently getting married and with twins on the way it was important that Adam get well acquainted with the sins.
But that also meant dealing with that loud mouth Mammon.
Adam: Yeah I guess so.
He placed his hand on his belly and gently rubbed they were so excited to be having kids together at long last.
They pulled up to the building and got out of the limo, Luicfer helped Adam out and they went inside. They sat on the thrones at the high end of the table. Since Adam was crowned King now he had to start attending these meetings at least before the twins came.
Adam sat beside Lucifer holding his hand and the other on his belly. It was like the damn thing grew overnight. He's four months or 17 weeks along.
The sins started to pile into the room and Adam tried not to give Mammon the stink eye. Fucking fat bastard thinks he can just step on Lucifer like he's a bug under his god damned shoe? At least Satan apologized when he broke Lucifer's thumb accidentally.
Lucifer: Good, everyone is here so-
Mammon: Why the fuck is he here?
Lucifer clenched his jaw, they haven't even been here five minutes and already this shit show was acting up. Adam glared at him.
Lucifer: Don't start. Adam is here to-
Mammon: To be an eye sore? Because honestly Lu you-
Adam didn't hear the rest of what he said because his temper flared, something hot inside his core ignited and it wanted out. It wanted out now.
Adam slammed both hands on the table, he felt like a man possessed as he stared down the sin of Greed on the other end of the meeting table.
Adam: The only eye sore in this room is you, you fat ugly piece of Christmas jester garbage. STOP interrupting him!
Luicfer's eyes went wide, what the Hell had gotten into Adam? Sure Mammon was a rude sack of shit but Lucifer could handle him. This little outburst where the other sins were stunned, made Mammon burst out laughing.
Mammon: Oh please!
He got up from his seat and circled the table until he was right by Adam, Lucifer was ready to snap him in half in case he tried anything. Mammon stuck his finger out pointing at Adam..
Mammon: Really Lu? This? You really ought to get your bitch in lin- INE!!
Adam felt that heat only got stronger and he grabbed Mammons finger and with strength he didn't know he possessed, snapped his pointer finger like a twing. He shoved the sin of Greed so hard he landed on his fat ass making the meeting room quake.
Lucifer: .... Adam?
He peered around to look at his husband and was shocked to see his eyes were wholly red, no other color there. His face pinched in a snarl as he glared at Mammon.
Mammon: Why you little bitch!!
He got up and was about to charge at Adam, but Adam held out his hand and in a burst of Hell's flame his guitar axe appeared and he used it to smack Mammon directly in the face making him stumble back before Adam came down and embedded it into Mammons foot.
Step on his fucking husband.
Mammon howled in pain, that shouldn't hurt!? What the fuck?
Mammon: The fuck is that made of angelic steel!?
Adam: Yes actually.
He twisted the blade more, black blood pooled and gushed onto the floor.
Adam: Or did you forget who the fuck I am? I was a commander for a fucking reason you cunt, so I suggest you sit down, stop interrupting my fucking husband or the next place this axe will go is in your fucking skull!!
That last part came out more demonic, flames escaped Adams mouth and the lights flickered.
Mammon actually looked nervous.
Lucifer went over and placed a hand on Adams shoulder, which made Adam relax.
Lucifer: I think he's had enough for now, Addie.
Adam blinked, his eyes going back to that beautiful golden shade Lucifer loved so much. He turned and pulled his guitar out of Mammons foot. Lucifer guided Adam back to his seat as Mammon limped away to his own.
He kept an arm around Adams waist for the rest of the meeting, more so to keep his husband in place. And to feel his lovely curves.
Lucifer: Anyone else? No? Good, let's get this meeting underway.
33 notes · View notes
gege-wondering-around · 3 days ago
Text
WIP Whenever
@dontcallpanic tagged me for this and im so happy to participate! here's another sneak peek into the fia au i'm writing - maybe it's not the most exciting part, but i can't spoiler too much, can i now? (but i'm sure @patolemus may enjoy - this is your lucky week my friend, so mcuh is coming out about this work!)
∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾
“Stiles.”   The man had been calling by his first name in the past few months, the boy didn’t really mind it happening, it felt refreshing to be respected and not called whatever name passed by the mobsters’ minds while in the training arena; with body turning around to face him, putting on a shirt long enough to reach the end of the boxers, he let out some words: “yeah, master?” He had been using that little name they’ve told him to say; not a fan. Nothing escaped the sealed lips of a stone still judge scanning the slim figure of a doll in waiting; the Hale’s underground cave of processing trainees seemed too humble for its owner and purpose, empty and naked; yet fit for how everyone who actually knew the man within described him as: a man of simple life. Stiles had never been more tempted to test people’s opinions, however something disturbed the articulated thoughts a clever mind was already forming; “why don’t you come here for a moment?”  Nothing other than oblige, bare feet made no sound of steps on the hard floor; at least he wasn’t just out the shower, with nothing on if not a towel wrapped around his hips; he knew Derek wouldn’t mind that. In a few long movements he was standing patiently with the elegance of a ballerina on stage, where was the first note of start for the dance? “Sit by my side, won’t you?”  So many questions at which Stiles couldn't actually disagree without setting back the plan… Somehow the man was never of a threatening imposition, so calm of demeanor and even more gentle in gestures; it was strange but welcomed by the boy, glad to not have to deal with a barbaric man any more than he had to during training; he had broken so many bones on that concrete pavement, a few drops of opponents’ blood were sewed in it each time after his passing. He did as he was asked, mimicking the man’s way without appearing disrespectful, and did so much willingly despite the tense posture he sporadically had whenever Derek asked him to come so close; it never felt quite right, but he accepted the hardship of endurance to avenge the caring father he had lost. He could deny the man, but denial could never fit into a full grave. “I have a question for you.” It was expected, the man had been asking many in the last week; Stiles hoped it could be about an answer that would speed up the undying plan that was eating his heart. “What’s it about?” Never once an answer of his was longer than necessary, with an everlasting flat tone with no emotion in it, and somehow the man picked him for such a molecular characteristic; there was no need to chit chat with Derek Hale about the weather. A calluses hand caressed a pale tigh, Stiles didn’t move it away but the muscles flexed in memorized response, unwillingly sharing his truest thoughts; Derek never did more than that, for a reason the boy didn’t mind digging up. He was fine, any price was manageable by the poor, as he was so even in his heart; nothing to lose. Why the man seemed to never be able to avert his eyes from Stiles’, he could never tell though; yet the hand, the touch, the feeling… Everything was never a gesture that could ever feel as threat, Derek didn’t seem to be a man of harmful pleasure, whatever enjoyment he might search from the few dolls he kept close; they were four or five, each so peculiar and deemed worthy by the wolf, yet none was ever enough to be his favorite.
Besides, it was his role to fill, he just needed to be patient and let the man open a way for him to slither into; Stiles could mold into anything and a cast just came his way to take a step further. “Would you like to be one of my personal dolls?” His words were accompanied by another sentence, much useless as Stiles would’ve said ‘yes’ without a need for anything more; “no more market training, just a bed and a stable role for you, wouldn't that be nice?”  Lips perked in a smile, fists tightened and a long exhale left rosy nostrils; Derek collected everything, stored it well and secured in the depths of a sophisticated mind, waiting patiently for an answer he already knew from the start of the day.  “Would love to if you want me.” Another part of the plan sailed for good, he achieved another inch of closure to the woman he wanted to bring down to the misery he was in, hidden so well beneath all the scheduling that the cold nights have provided him before putting his name in the list of possible dolls.  A hand held his waist in place to stick close by the man’s side; something had escaped his crafted figure of immovable doll. “Ah, here it is that smirk of yours,” Derek promptly remarked; Stiles tried to make it fall, “don’t.” He listened.
∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾∾
ahh, i will add more to the chapter this comes from cause this was a big chunk of it and i feel like there wouldn't be much more in the chapter if you read this, anyway i hope you'll enjoy and i'm tagging my usuals @dontcallpanic (yep tagging you back, feel free to post more or not🩵) @patolemus @hellameyers @seaweed-water @jadezdominion @demonicfaerie
if they are interested @sterekloverforever @oldefashioned (miss you buddy)
23 notes · View notes
lanawinterscigarettes · 2 days ago
Note
also had a joe goldberg x reader x love quinn idea where reader accidentally murders somebody and has to call both of them to help clean up the body? like you probably know that they’re murderers anyway so you really need their help to get rid of any evidence.
I love this idea so much! I hope you like what I did with it <3
Safe Haven (Joe Goldberg x fem reader x Love Quinn)
Warnings: there's a creepy guy/brief implied attempted assualt (nothing actually happens don't worry), murder/violence/gore, some hurt/comfort
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Goddamn it. This wasn't supposed to happen, was what immediately popped into your head as you watched the blood trickle down from the cracked skull onto the pristine marble flooring.
You'd been at the bakery, getting things all closed up for the evening. Usually Love did it, but you offered to do it for her since you knew how hard she'd been working lately. The woman needed a break.
She thanked you with a kiss and a hug, telling you to not take too long before leaving you to lock up. You'd been wiping down the counters when you heard the bell over the door start to go off, signaling that someone had come in.
That's odd, you thought, a frown pulling at your lips. Most people in town knew what the bakery's schedule was, so why would they come in right before closing?
And then you saw the guy, and your heart dropped, sinking to the bottom of your stomach like a stone in a lake. You didn't know his name or anything like that, but he'd been showing up every day for the past week trying to hit on you, even after you'd politely declined his advances.
Why would you need him, after all, when you already had Joe and Love in your life?
"Hey, pretty thing," he greeted with an overly charming smile that made you want to hurl. Pretty thing. He didn't get to call you that.
The only people who had the privilege of calling you pretty were Joe and Love. "Good job, pretty girl," they'd coo when you completed a task or behaved good for them, the way you were supposed to.
Your hand instinctively went to clutch at the rolling pin Love always kept behind the counter. It wasn't unusual, as she did work at a bakery, but you knew full well the real reason it was kept back there: for times like these.
"What, not even a hello?" He joked, though you could tell just from the look in his eyes he was offended by your lack of a greeting.
"We're closed," you tried to state firmly in the most even tone you could muster despite how your heart was racing in your chest. You weren't stupid, that much was sure. You knew what men could be like, and you didn't trust this guy as far as you could throw him.
"The door was unlocked," he said with a casual shrug, as if that made any difference. Oh, how you wish your partners were here right now. Love would have no shame in getting all up in his face and telling him off, and while Joe might not be as assertive as she was he wouldn't hesitate to protect you either.
"We're still closed. You'll have to come back in tomorrow." Even if your voice did waver slightly, you knew you were brave for standing up for yourself.
The guy, however, merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. "C'mon, don't tell me you're still playing hard to get."
"I'm not playing hard to get," you snapped back in turn, your anger starting to take control over your fear. I mean, just who did this guy think he was? "I'm married, thank you very much."
Okay, maybe that part was a bit of a lie. You and your partners hadn't officially tied the knot yet, but that was only because you weren't sure that marriage with a throuple was technically legal. They had, however, given you a small ring to symbolize how they hoped to marry you someday, which you kept on a chain around your neck so people wouldn't question it as much as if it were on your finger.
Still, the guy seemed to buy it, even if the information didn't faze him much. "So what? I'm married, but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun every now and then."
If you didn't like him before, you certainly hated him now. It was hard to hide the look of disgust on your face as you replied. "No, thank you. I'm repulsed by your offer."
That certainly got his attention. "The fuck did you just say to me?" He spat out in response to your words as he approached the side of the counter.
"Y- You're not allowed back here," you protested weakly, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly stalked closer.
"You think you're better than me, huh? You think you're better than me just because you're faithful and I'm not?"
So desperately did you want to retort with a snarky yes, but now really wasn't the time. "Stay back," you warned while picking up the rolling pin and holding it up defensively in front of you, your entire body seeming to be made of rubber as you cowered in fear. "Or I'll- I'll-"
He let out mocking laughter as he moved even closer, now standing less than a foot away. "Or you'll what? What are you going to d-"
You didn't even let him finish the sentence before you tightened your grip on the rolling pin and swung it hard, smacking him upside the head. There was a loud thud, and you saw the blood on your makeshift weapon before you saw it on him.
Not daring to take the chance that he was only mildly wounded, you kept at it, hitting him again and again and again, over and over until his body laid crumpled on the floor beneath you, no longer moving. Your hands were shaking as you dropped the rolling pin, instantly reaching into the pocket of your apron so you could pull out your phone. You'd need help getting rid of the body, and you knew exactly who to call.
Love was most likely busy making dinner, despite all of your protests and insistence that she needed to take a break and let someone else handle it for once. Your assumption was soon confirmed when Joe ended up being the one who picked up the phone.
"J- Joe," you choked out his name, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes as you sunk down onto the floor. "S- Something happened. Something bad. I- I need you and Love to come help me, please."
That was all you had to say for his casual demeanor to drop as he instantly went into protective mode. "Of course, baby. Where are you at? Are you still at the bakery?"
You nodded your head before realizing he couldn't see you. "Y- Yeah. There was this guy, and- and I did something bad to him."
He was quiet for a moment when you heard talking in the background, Love asking what was wrong and him responding accordingly before he spoke to you again. "Okay, just stay where you are, alright? Take a few deep breaths and try to remain calm. We'll be there soon."
It was hard for you to even imagine staying calm right now when you were so freaked out, but you knew you had to try anyway. "O- Okay. I love you."
"I love you, too." With that, he hung up, and you filled the silence of the room with a long, agonizing wail of disbelief at what had just happened.
You killed a man. Like, actually killed him. And now he was laying there, dead, in the middle of the floor at your partners' bakery.
It didn't take very long for them to arrive. Love immediately rushed over to where you were still curled up on the floor while Joe checked to make sure the guy was really dead.
"Hey, baby, hey," Love murmured in a low and soothing tone as soon as she saw you were crying. "Don't cry, don't cry, baby, it's alright. Me and Joe are here now, and we've got you, alright? We're not going to let anything happen to you."
You sniffled and nodded your head, allowing her to pull you in for a warm hug. She smelled like a mix of spices and baby powder. She smelled like safety, like home.
"What happened?" Joe asked a moment or so later, once you'd calmed down enough to give them a coherent reply.
"He- he came it right before I was about to close up," you began in a shaky voice, your hands trembling. Love gently grabbed them in hopes of helping to calm you, giving them a reassuring squeeze that said it was okay for you to continue. "And- and he was, like, flirting with me, I guess. But in a really weird, 'I don't care what your boundaries are' sort of way."
Love's grip on your hands tightened, her eyes flashing with a look of quiet rage. "Oh, really? Is that so?"
Joe knelt down next to you and shot his wife a look that said not now, signaling that her anger would only make you more upset. "What else happened, hm?" He questioned in a soft tone, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder in an act of quiet comfort. He was just as upset as Love was, but unlike her, he was much better at hiding his emotions.
"He- he tried to ask me out, and I said no thank you, that I was already married-" If you'd been less shaken up, perhaps you might've noticed the look of possessive affection that flickered across both of their eyes when you spoke. "-but he didn't- didn't care, and I told him the offer alone repulsed me when he said that it didn't matter because he was married himself, and-"
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to blink back the fresh tears that were welling up in your eyes. They spilled down onto your cheeks regardless, and Love reached a hand out, gently wiping them away. "Go on," she muttered quietly while Joe's hand moved from your shoulder down to your back, rubbing it in circular motions to help keep you calm.
"He got really mad when I said that, so he started to come behind the counter, even though I told him that he couldn't, and I was- I was really worried that he was going to try to- to do something to me, so I-" You shut your eyes, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as you recalled the events that previously happened. "I hit him with the rolling pin that's kept back here until he stopped."
"Oh, honey..." Love cooed sympathetically as she pulled you back in for another hug, Joe's hand still resting somewhat protectively on your back as she did. "You know, I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself. We both are."
"Yeah, this wasn't your fault, sweetie. If you hadn't of stopped him, who knows what would've happened?" Joe chimed in, both of them doing their best to make sure you didn't feel too bad about the situation. "Tell you what, we'll get this all cleaned up for you, and afterwards we can go home and cuddle while we watch one of your favorite movies."
"And I can make you your favorite snack for you," Love added while pulling away enough for her to look into your eyes. "How does that sound?"
"S- Sounds good." Your voice was quiet and the smile you gave them was weak, but at least you weren't hysterical like earlier.
"We just need to get rid of the body first," Love said while standing, Joe still crouched down on the floor next to you. "Okay, you get started on that while I make them something hot to drink." She instructed to her husband, who immediately got up to do as she said.
They never worked better together than when you were in some kind of trouble. It was one of the rare times they could boss each other around and it wouldn't lead to some kind of argument between the two.
You simply watched from your spot where you were huddled up on the floor, trying not to become nauseous at the thought of how exactly they planned on getting rid of him. You hadn't even looked directly at the guy's body the whole time since it happened, too afraid to, as if you were worried at any second now he might spring back to life.
"Here, sweetie, don't look over there at what he's doing." Love's gentle voice cut through your thoughts, making you focus on her instead. She knelt down next to you as she spoke, turning you away from the body as she wrapped a blanket around your shoulders before handing you a steaming mug full of your favorite warm drink. "Careful, it's hot." The loving smile she had on her face made it difficult for you to think about anything else. "You stay here for now, okay? Don't go anywhere. We'll come get you once we're done."
"Okay," you said simply at her orders. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your face before getting back up and going to help Joe. You blew on the hot drink before taking a tiny sip. The temperature was so hot, it was almost scalding, but you found that the burning sensation it left behind on your tongue only helped to make you feel better.
You weren't sure how long it took them to get the mess cleaned up, but by the time they were finally done your mug was empty and you were starting to fall asleep. "Hey," the quiet voice of Joe spoke, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "We're done now, baby. Let's go home, okay?"
It was hard to tell if you were so tired because of how late it was or because of the excitement of what happened, or if maybe Love had slipped something into your drink to help you calm down some. You wouldn't put it past her. Regardless of the reason, it was difficult for you to stand because of your sudden drowsiness, which he gladly helped you with.
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur to you. All you could remember was falling asleep in the car ride home, and one of them carrying you inside before laying you down in bed. The next morning when you woke up, you were being cradled between the two of them, their arms wrapped around you in an embrace that was both warm and safe.
Although you were certain of the events that had happened the night before, it was all beginning to feel like nothing but a bad dream, one you hoped wouldn't plague you ever again. Part of you knew just how unlikely it was that either Love or Joe would ever leave you alone again after that, but you couldn't find it in you to be bothered much by it or to even care. You were much safer around them, anyway.
Tumblr media
End notes: I really loved writing this 💕💕
Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open
Main masterlist | You masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?
🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @samcvrpenters
25 notes · View notes
sweetbunpura · 1 day ago
Note
This is just my personal thoughts but, I think the reason why Skully seems to be the most popular and liked Halloween Event character so far is probably due to ..a few things.
Out of the three, the character he was twisted from is the least controversial. A lot of people love Jack! ...Can't really say the same of Frollo and Honest John.
Out of the three, Skully's event probably had the lowest stakes. Rollo was trying to removed magic from the world (a fundamental part of Twisted Wonderland, which would not doubt break a lot of things and do a lot of unforseen damage to a lot of innocent people) and Fellow and Gidel were human traffickers turning people into literal puppets. Skully was just a teenager throwing a tantrum over the fact his idol didn't want to do his favorite holiday his way. While he did do some ..morally questionable things, compared to what Rollo and Fellow did, it was kinda small potatoes.
His appearance has a much wider general appeal than Rollo and Fellow. Pretty privilege is a thing that exists.
Skully had actual, tangible character growth over the course of the event and managed to.. somewhat(?) befriend the boys after his meltdown, while Rollo remained stuck in his ways and Fellow and Gidel kinda just.. fucked off after they nuked the park, which was understandable. He even enjoyed himself so much he wanted to celebrate Halloween with us next year! ..Which just made the ending feel even more like a gut-punch. Here we were making a new friend on Halloween and we'll neither remember him nor see him ever again. 😢
Skully had a lot more one-on-one interactions with the player character than either Rollo or Fellow, which also probably helped increase attachment. I mean.. we woke up in his arms at the start of the event for Christ sake...
Mystery. We know why Rollo and Fellow did the things they did and why they hold the views they do. That is not fully the case with Skully. While we know why he wanted to what he did (he wanted to prove that his Halloween was the right way to celebrate), we have zero clue as to why he holds the views on Halloween that he does. Why did he think the only correct way to celebrate Halloween was to sit alone in a dark room in complete silence with no candy or decorations or anything? We just don't know and we will probably never know. Which just makes his character so intriguing. They do say that less can be more after all.
He's still new-ish, people love new things! So maybe some of his popularity might wane over time, but not anytime soon, I think.
There might be more that I'm not remembering at the moment or too tired to see, but that's all I have for now. Thanks for coming to my Skully TedTalk 😋
Oooo~ Analysts of Skully.
Well, just by seeing the picture of him caused everyone to cling to him and I was like "Whose this dweeb?" Then I saw his eyes.
Tumblr media
THE BOY GOT THEM SPIRALS
AND SKULLY'S JUST A DWEEB AND A DORK AND A-
Tumblr media
Skully is the one I do wanna know more about the most. Cause I just fell in love with what I saw from the JPN screenshots
AND HE'S SUCH A NERD!
17 notes · View notes
irasceris · 3 days ago
Text
Signals do not get any more mixed than this, he's sure. Further confirmed when he's sent a half stumble backward, forcibly reacquainted with supporting his own weight on the floorboards. He blinks, slow and stupid, trying and failing to figure out how the path from Point A to Point 7 had been a direct one, but Alaric's already halfway across the room when he has the bearings again to just ask. Or, wait. He did that already, and lost out on a real answer and then some. This is Damon's fault, because it usually is, and maybe the push for a magical crash course speed run was a step too far. Many steps too far, the way Ric's shaking an addict, creating as much distance between them like Damon had been the one moving like a man possessed. He opens his mouth and shuts it again twice, wonders when the hell this got so complicated and what could have possibly gone wrong first.
The witch thing might be the tipping point, but it's not the truth. Damon knows that the second it ghosts over his lips. Technically several seconds after, since his mind tends to blank on signs of trouble anytime he's got a warm body pressed over his, but that's beside the point. What he doesn't know is which of his latest attempts at being comforting were entirely the wrong move, or why he's so mind bogglingly bad at this. No need for an extensive play by play of everything going on in Ric's head, even if every flash in his eyes is as tortured and unreadable as the last. Unlike some other very important people in their lives, Damon doesn't carry the inclination to hold him down and force that kind of soul bearing to the surface. He'd sort of like to now, since apparently Ric doesn't trust him enough to get it off his chest even prompted. That's the part that's not sitting well. That's the part that stings.
For the good of the team, he tries to reckon what might actually be justified. It's been a very long time since he was human. Doesn't remember what it's like to very suddenly have immeasurable power coursing under his skin, or how he managed to level it out. Inextricably horny? Maybe. He doesn't appreciate getting jerked around, even if the extraction was entirely necessary, because again, they're. They're working on something. Growth or whatever stupid reason. Ric's the one that planted the idea for Damon to get situated without being so careless about who he's touching on, and here he is unable to contain himself. Should be vindicating - the instant rejection makes it anything but. Paired with his inability to be honest, Damon's seeing a little red. And sure, there's a chance he's overthinking it, but clearly he's been under-thinking everything else, so this seems like the right time to play it safe. Whatever game this is, he's losing. Bad. So. He'll oblige before hurt develops into a really pissy mood like it tends to, and he decides he ought to screw things up on purpose. That he's really good at, but there's two heartbeats pounding horribly out of sync in his ears, and he has no interest in setting the human one off and accidentally killing his best (read, only) friend because he needs to have the last word.
"Sure thing, Ric. Take your time." Curt, flat, and to the point, because he's been trying his damnedest here to be good about, frankly, everything, from the witch stuff to the werewolf stuff to the semblance of human decency stuff, and it's still somehow biting him in the ass. At a certain point this has to be a talent. He doesn't wait for Ric to respond, breezes back down the main way and out the door. Slams it shut for good measure, rattling the frame hard enough to echo a message that he has zero intention of coming back inside. Maybe most of that's the witches' doing. A reminder he's not welcome here, there, or anywhere. Whatever, man. Not his kind of party anyway.
He only gets as far as Ric's car when he remembers he can't vamp speed out of here, which is just more bullshit he's not in the mood to figure out. Breaking something might help, and for a brief moment the windshield is an appealing option. Driving off and leaving Ric to walk would also feel good. For a moment. The combination of both sounds like a recipe for bugs in his mouth, though, so he abandons that pretty immediately. Mostly because he doesn't actually want to do any of those things, just can't temper what part of this is psycho wolf brain and what part is regular grade, psycho Damon brain. Neither are trustworthy. And you know what, neither is Ric. Dawns on him then that his impulse control has found some check, which is a very dim bright side. Does it still count if he doesn’t have an audience? Back to a tree falling in the forest. Might be easier to just burn it down.
He takes a minute, maybe five, trying to sort out what Ric - not present Ric, because that guy's not handling anything well - would do. What he might need to unscrew this particular setback. Maybe he had a point in there. The air outside is clean of any morbid witchy tension, and that helps calm his nerves enough to think of action beyond destruction. There's a couple things he can try. Booze might be the problem but booze is also the solution, where Alaric is generally concerned, so he sighs, fishes the emergency bottle out of the trunk and figures that's a long enough break. He can be cool again. Probably. The front door is heavier this time (for crying out loud, can they get over themselves?) but Damon doesn't bother to step over the threshold. "Hey, asshole," he calls inside, scanning what he can make out under the magic light show, "If you're not jerking off or dead yet, I got something for you. Consider it a grand prize for being a worse liar than Jeremy." And maybe that's sort of an apology, too. Depends on Ric's attitude.
Tumblr media
just when he's really wishing damon would say something already, fill the too-tense silence between them with something light and witty and easy to come back from, he finally does. except it's nothing like that. it's nowhere near what he should be giving him right now. nothing anywhere close to enough to distract from the hand brushing down his side, effortlessly summoning a trail of goosebumps in its wake. no, it's so much worse; it's a streak of compassion that ignites something brighter in ric that shouldn't still be burning. never should've started, even. ric can't look at him. he can't even fucking look at him, because the second he does, with damon this close to him, he's going to lose it. every last microscopic shred of his self control, his dignity. gone. "you really don't want me to talk about it," comes his eventual reply, and it should be firm, mechanical, final, but it's actually more like he just sucked on a very violent lemon and he's ready to spit it out at damon's face. "trust me." an unfriendly smile he doesn't mean, aimed at no one in particular. it's getting old, feeling this bitter. he's thirty-three and might as well be going on seventeen for all the ridiculous high school jealousy he's swimming in, no life vest, somebody call the lifeguard already.
and damon. damon, to his endless credit, knows something's terribly wrong here. isn't even pressing the witch issue right now, when he really should be, when ric needs him to so badly that it's almost a tremor in his hands. is a tremor in his hands, fuck. the realization prompts his next mistake: he looks at damon. and damon, god help him, studies him back. ric's gaze traces blue eyes gone wide with something like worry, full lips parted in too familiar a way. maintains just enough presence of mind to turn his own lean-in into something less out of control, ends up pressing his forehead down against damon's in something that feels like it's either more innocent or more obscene than what the alternative could've been. drags in an inhale like an asthmatic who's been running low on oxygen all night. curses damon's freakish ability to pick the worst times to showcase every single lovable part of himself that's normally kept under more careful lock and key. "just coping with this," he releases on the exhale, hot breath on damon's mouth and a dare he won't deliver sitting right on the tip of his tongue. makes them both more comfortable by sliding in a lie: "with the witch thing."
he's too worked up. he pushes away from damon, takes several steps away, down to the other end of the room, searching for a paranormal cold spot to act as a stand-in for a spontaneous cold shower. contemplates everything wrong with himself in the cobwebs running along a filthy baseboard. waits for his pulse to settle down, or for the heart attack to find him, or for damon to point out that he can hear it all, actually, with his wolf senses. isobel, he also thinks absurdly and out of nowhere, would have a field day with where he's ended up. "jesus, man, i'm losing it. sorry. it's the drinks, or all the old witch energy." flattens a knuckle against the middle of his forehead, a pisspoor effort to fend off the miniature headache building there. "why don't you go? i'll just stick around, meditate, see what i can dig up myself. they're probably not showing because they're a bunch of crazy cat ladies, and you're killing the atmosphere."
Tumblr media
17 notes · View notes
13eyond13 · 8 months ago
Text
.
#here's some of the classics on that list i have beef with btw:#i have tried to read A Confederacy of Dunces several times and it's funny but it's also so cringe and Ignatius is so obnoxious#that i find it too difficult to finish like i just feel depressed and bad for everybody around him too much#i tried reading Infinite Jest like a decade ago and i got like 200 pages in and i remember thinking it felt like#such a slog the entire time because he's just so gd wordy and also i stopped liking DFW after i heard the abuse allegations against him#frankenstein i didnt read that long ago but i just remember finding it so boring for some reason?? i feel i might need to read it again#dracula ngl i feel like im cheating a bit saying ive completely read it because i loved the beginning and then HATED so much of the rest#the characters were just so boring and melodramatic hahaha i just liked the part where jonathan was doing a travel diary#and trapped in the castle tbh and after that i skimmed quite a bit#i almost flipped my shit when i saw ender's game on there because I ALWAYS mix it up with ready player one by ernest cline#which i bought the audiobook of a while back and hated every minute of it i dont think its good at all#but it wasnt that so phew my faith in this list is somewhat restored#i read most of the first game of thrones book and was disappointed tbh maybe because id seen the show already#so i was like 'this feels almost exactly the same except worse?' because i'd been expecting it to give me more depth and insight#into the characters but instead it felt exactly the same and i still didnt love any of the characters enough to feel attached to them#also i am fully aware me not personally liking or vibing with a book doesnt mean it doesnt deserve to be considered great btw#but i think if youre gonna be like me and force yourself to go through a bunch of lists like this very seriously then you also need to just#let yourself be like 'yeah not for me' without feeling too bad about it sometimes too#often times i dont particularly love the classics or 'important books' but at the same time#i still feel like im getting more out of reading them than just grabbing the newest hyped up books that also dont do anything for me#maybe not in a 'wow i loved reading this' way but in like a#'i now have first-hand knowledge of this thing that is so influential / so frequently referenced'#or 'this challenged me and i feel like i did a mental/emotional workout or gave me some new food for thought'#or 'made me more aware of what gaps in my knowledge and reading skills and what my tastes are too'#sort of way...#it really just depends on what you're reading for and why and what you're hoping to get out of it a lot of the time maybe#it's like the homework i give myself to go through these lists that i also intersperse with the stuff i read more just for fun#p
3 notes · View notes
arolesbianism · 2 months ago
Text
Sometimes I just look at Isabeau and just know that if isat came out and I got into it when I was like 16 he would be my favorite character and I would've gone absolutely buck wild over this man and feel like he was laser targeting me. But alas Odile has a grip of steel on me rn due to her virtue of being a middle aged woman
#rat rambles#stars posting#I feel like the biggest change in my taste in characters as the years have gone by is Im now far more biased towards old ppl lol#although tbf I was also the one person in 2016 who actually liked asgore so maybe Ive always liked parhetic old ppl#but yeah the reason isa is past me bait is because hes an exploration and subversion of the sort of tropes I Hated as a kid#and I still dont like them so isa still appeals to me its just not as much as he would have to a younger me#I do genuinely love all the party very dearly tho theyre all soooo good#I think my favorite part of isabeau is how like. of everyone we get to see the least facets of him but like in a very good way#this is a man who hides and bottles shit hes so fun to rotate#his self image is so carefully controlled compared to everyone else which makes him an incredibly interesting character to analyze#and I love that despite him seeming like the most emotionally stable person here on the surface he still clearly has like. hashtag issues.#like he's in that beautiful zone where its so so fun imagining what it would look like to truly break him#<- normal things that normal ppl say. like me.#I may have my very light beef with alt looping aus as a concept but hes probably the most interesting alternate looper to me#also my light beef exclusively relates to king quest stuff which is why Im a big fan of duo looper aus with sif#but honestly. isa might be the only one that I genuinely think works better as a solo looper even with taking king quest into account#although bonnie comes close. I <3 looper bonnie I <3 seeing fictional children go through the horrors#I think theres a lot of fun to be had with any alt looper au tho I just am a huge king quest fan so I like it when my favorite elements of#it dont have to be handwaved#but yeah the real question is how would younger me feel about mirabelle#because on the one hand: acearo character#but on the other hand: I have always been a little hater abt romance so idk if younger me would rly be able to follow her character well#I wasnt exactly good at character analysis back then lol#except for the instances in which I was but I dont have that sort of faith in my younger self#yknow Im thinking abt my history of favorite characters now and I think me being one of few 2016 alphys enjoyers might have been a prophecy#she was my quote unquote third favorite but in reality she was second#I think she chara and peridot su teamed up to define my taste in fictional characters for the next several years#and somehow that lead to olivia becoming one of my favorite fictional characters of all time#I say somehow as if that isnt a very natural conclusion
1 note · View note
nomairuins · 3 months ago
Text
i do need 2 work on rewiring my brain so that my immediate very first thought whenever i dont do a small task (like brushing ny teeth taking a shower picking up my room etc) isnt 'We Should Kill Connor ." this would be pretty good for me to do. putting this on the list
#its difficult. i used to be rly good abt not doing kms type jokes bc i did when i was younger and then i stopped bc of um . stuff#nd i think it rly was good for me nd then ykw started making them a LOT and now i do them constantly and ik itis bad for me like. as a guy#whos been suicidal since i was 7. yk. ik itisnt good for me but its hard#idk. i need 2 try 2 stop making them again. like idt ppl who make them r evil I personally dont tend to use them very seriously#it rly is judt a like. Ugh something annoying happened i should kms. but like. witht he we should kill connor joke its Less and less a joke#and more just feeding into ummmmm. the bad parts of my thing that i have to be vague abt so ppl dont worry.#Im not planning anything its not that. its just a belief i have that is ummm concerning to many but very comforting to me and keeps me sane#but i dont like 2 talk abt it . bc ppl tend to get worried its rly not anything that bad its judt likeee. I know that thing is true and#there isnt anything i can do to stop it from happening so i made peace with it ages ago and its comforting that i dont have 2 like. worry#abt whatll happen bc ik whatll happen#sry im being vague ive like. i think ive mentioned it a couple times and ppl get very concerned (my old psych literally told me verbatim#That sounds so terrifying.) and likeee. there have been times its scared me a lot like i can remember a few times i woke up having a panic#attack bc i didnt want to do it but i know thats whatll happen and its fine. but it wont be any time soon#it keeps me from doing anything honestly bc like. why rush FJFNFJNFNik itll happen eventually no matter what i do so even when it gets bad#enough i think abt it im like. yk. it helps. i kind of lost a bit of vagueness. please dont worry abt it fr like. it keeps me sane it keeps#me calm. but anyways i say all this to sayyyy that like. idk it might be a while b4 i commit to trying to stop making jokes like that just#bc like. i have a lot of other stuff abt me i need 2 fix first but i think it would probably be good for me if i stopped. sigh. which suck#bc like its been said time and time again that like. Im going to kms is just like. it encapsulates feelings very well there r like no other#exclamations that fit. aside from the like. Krill my shellfish type things but thats the reason i slipped back into just saying kms in rhe#first place so. UGH. and theres so many fucking stupid tjmblr ones. like no im not going to sub Kys for Go step on a lego >_< bc like... im#not 1. 5 or 2. 27. the 2 ages i think ppl would say shit like that.#sry my vendetta against 27 year olds is neverending idk i just dont like whatever happens to tumblr users of dhat age. ive mentioned it#several times inwont go into it and im probably near out of tags anyway#ive got 7 more spend em wisely one supposes. idk. its just difficult. ik its judt words and shit and im sure i cn come up with good#alternatives. theres judt like not any rhat r like the same vibe without also reinforcing My stuff in an unhealthy way. idk. idkk#like not that making kms jokes is gonna make me do it anytime soon but like yk . ik i cant blame my self loathing spike on this alone#bc ive like. Beeeeeeeen going through some stuff thats contributing way more#but i do think before i started making these jokes again my self loathing and like. rhe amt of time i thought abt it was less . idk#sui ment#<- jic i tried not to be like. too much. but you know
0 notes