#but something that does help is remembering those moments where i have good intentions and put my foot in my mouth

[marsixm]

i guess the answer is youre not “supposed” to have bad emotions. if you do thats your fault. even if you dont want them and cant control their existence. even if you dont act on them. even if you actively dont act on them. if you cant either be normal or pretend to be normal convincingly, you get shafted

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.” 

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it. 

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly. 

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely. 

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read. 

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted. 

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.” 

Roman….

He confuses her. 

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly. 

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears. 

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space. 

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different. 

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation.  “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?” 

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly. 

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate. 

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.” 

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical.  “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer. 

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me. 

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me. 

I’ve never had a man be nice to me. 

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them. 

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins. 

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began. 

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins. 

This is one of those moments. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night. 

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman. 

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing. 

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins. 

She has no idea where Solo is. 

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.” 

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains. 

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot. 

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi. 

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word. 

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment. 

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable. 

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected. 

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.  

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman. 

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line. 

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she’s not going to like this advice. 

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body. 

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name. 

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia. 

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on. 

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions. 

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks. 

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.” 

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat. 

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now. 

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information. 

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.  

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman. 

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her. 

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is. 

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister. 

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul. 

Roman simply states, “talk.” 

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome.  Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health. 

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her. 

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage. 

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her. 

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can. 

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.” 

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand. 

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two. 

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him. 

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised. 

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him. 

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination. 

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard. 

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room. 

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop. 

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood. 

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage. 

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from. 

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed. 

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, “we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough. 

“Make it 20.” 

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.” 

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way. 

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck! 

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack. 

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head. 

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands,  “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate. 

That only pisses him off even more. 

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt. 

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves. 

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red. 

He knew something happened to her. 

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped. 

Beaten. 

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom. 

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall. 

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana. 

He’s fucking breathing rage. 

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better. 

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault. 

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket. 

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get. 

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps. 

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before. 

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety. 

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost. 

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic. 

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is. 

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did. 

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?” 

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable. 

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

[kydrogendragon]

"I simply said I believed he was lonely. And that was the reason for the games he had played with me back in Port Townsend," Edwin says, sitting with one leg resting on the knee of his other.

It's late in the New Inn and Hob just finished cleaning up the lobby. The Dead Boy Detective group—or as Hob joked, the Scooby Gang—have taken up a near permanent residence here now, given that Hob doesn't mind their presence and lets Crystal stay with them rent-free. In return, she helps out with designing the chalkboard ads he keeps outside the inn.

"And how'd his royal highness take that?" Charles laughs.

"Quite well, actually," Edwin replies. "I do believe we parted on good terms, given everything that happened. He gifted me that lily and parted amicably."

"Huh, weird. Figured he'd be the kind to get grumpy about being called lonely," Crystal says, circling the rim of the glass in front of her with her finger.

"Oooh, maybe he really is lonely and by you saying that, and him giving you that flower, that was his shy way of agreeing with you and wishing you would stay so he could be un-lonely!" Niko chimes.

"You do remember him, right? Same Cat King? That man does nothing shyly. Man? Cat? Whatever." Crystal says.

"Well, I think it's romantic," Niko replies. She whips her head back to Edwin, clapping her hands together. "You should have said you were lonely too, Edwin! Then it would have been the perfect moment to lean in for a kiss cause you both could be lonely together!"

Edwin clears his throat. "Well. I did, perhaps, say something along those lines, but I assure you there was no kissing nor being 'lonely together'."

"Yo Gad-man? Everything alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost," Charles says with a smirk. Hob realizes, in that moment, he's stopped stacking chairs half-way. His mind, lost both in the kid's conversation but also playing his meeting from 1889 on loop.

It's not often, he imagines, that one calls a supernatural being lonely, with the intent of telling them you're lonely as well, but clearly it went much better for Edwin than it had Hob. He's trying not to feel jealous over it. It's an irrational emotion. And it was clearly a different situation to him and Dream.

But still.

He shakes his head and stacks the chair back on the table, where it should have been minutes ago. "Fine, fine! Just running low on steam. Long week."

The kids shrug and return to their conversation, drifting away from the Cat King and onto their latest mystery. Hob retreats to the back and sighs. He never did get to explain himself properly to Dream, who also happens to be a king. What is with this weird amount of similarities? Maybe that's just guaranteed to happen if you live so long. Regardless, they never did talk much of that meeting. Or much of before, honestly. Hob wonders if Dream even knew what he had been trying to say back then. It certainly wasn't to accuse him of being lonely or to somehow gloat that Hob wasn't. Because he was. He was lonely, too.

Now, unlike Edwin's story, he'd have loved if his conversation had ended with that kiss like Niko said. Course that would never happen but he would have taken a smile. Or parting amicably. Literally anything else than storming out into the rain.

Hob rests his head against the cool metal of the fridge and sighs. Maybe one day he can try and redo that day with Dream, though he'll probably make the man swear he won't storm out again first.

[jasmineoolongtea]

Hi!!! How are you? I really like your blog and I saw you're taking requests rn? I have a little request, with either Gojo, Yuuta or Megumi, whoever you'd like to write it for/whoever fits better.

Basically, I just had a really big exam recently and the results came out and I didn't make it. It's hurt me a lot but I'm trying to be okay, I hadn't got a lot of time to study for it honestly, so I was like 50/50 confident but it still hurts seeing my efforts go to waste. And my parents are trying to be understanding, they really are, but it's not the kind of understanding I need right now. They're like, "Oh darling it's okay, you did your best even though we were confident you'd crack it easily," when all I need is to be held and told it's fine and that I'm worth more than just an exam. So I was thinking something where the reader gets off a call with her parents and is crying quietly in the bedroom because their attempts to make her feel better only made her feel worse and then the character (whoever you choose!) notices and it's just cute cuddles and reassurances?

a/n: hiii, i'm doing alright!! i'm so sorry to hear that and i've gone through the same things before. it does suck when that happens and it's gonna suck for a while but remember at the end of the day, it's just one exam and this one exam won't determine everything, plus i'm sure you'll bounce back even stronger in the future!! instead of just doing one i'll do all three of them and i hope that you feel better soon anon + sending a virtual hug your way ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

gojo satoru knows eavesdropping is bad, more so when it's deliberate. but in his defence, he only had good intentions when he approached your room with a mountain of treats and gifts practically ready to burst out of his arms the minute he saw your face.

well, at least that was the initial plan. that is, until he heard an unfamiliar and frankly terrifying sound originating from behind your door.

maybe he should have had more tact when opening your door, possibly even knocking beforehand as a way of announcing his presence to you, but in that moment, thoughts like those were the least of satoru's worries when he met your tear-streaked face peering up at him from your curled up position on your bed.

a loud thud echoes within the walls of your room, various objects suddenly falling from his grip as he makes his way towards you. you don't look at him though, curling further inwards into yourself as if in an attempt to hide your swollen eyes and flushed face away from him. you can't hear it, but satoru's heart cracks slightly at the mere sight of you like this.

"hey, sweets." his voice is soft, possibly the softest you've ever heard him speak. you're still turned away from his, your sobs dying down as you attempt to trap them in your throat. the bed frame creaks slightly with the new addition of his weight.

it doesn't take a genius to tell that you're clearly not in the mood for talking or jokes or any of the typical antics that he would pull out of his arsenal to see that smile of yours that he loves so much. it also doesn't take a genius to see that things like your phone aren't doing much to alleviate your pain since you keep glancing anxiously at it every 2 or more seconds.

he takes it upon himself to flip your phone screen upside down and place it inside your bedside cabinet, out of sight, and this earns him a shaky sigh of relief from you. the grip you have on your knees relaxes ever so slightly more but he knows that this isn't going to solve everything.

you don't react any further, it's as if you're frozen in your position, lost in whatever dark recesses of your mind you're trapped in. featherlike touches dance across your skin before being replaced by a much more solid, palpable feeling of his arms wrapping around your figure and suddenly there's a glimpse of light peaking through all of the gloominess.

the moment you register that it's satoru that's pulling you into him, you can't help but just let yourself go and sink into his steady grip as you bury your face into the expanses of his chest. finally just succumbing to the sheer exhaustion of just trying to hold everything in, you start sobbing unabashedly, letting all of the emotion pour out of you with satoru being more than ready to be the one to soak it up all for you.

a gentle hand caresses your back with drawn-out strokes as you allow yourself to be comforted by the steady beat of his heart, a reminder of his presence right next to you. "it'll be alright." he murmurs quietly, his words of comfort only audible to you, the only audience he cares about right now. you feel a soft kiss being placed on your forehead as his lips linger there for a moment longer.

satoru might not know why you're feeling so down but at least he knows that he can be the person to make whatever burden you're dealing with just a little bit lighter and sometimes, that's enough for the both of you.

there's a lot that fushiguro megumi is known for being good at such as studying, handling pets and wild animals, being quiet and brooding (according to everyone else except himself).

there's also a handful of things that megumi is known for being bad at such as conversations, getting his hair to stay down and comforting people in most scenarios.

maybe it's just him but he always finds himself tongue-tied at the worst times and is secretly so busy with being worried over the idea of him putting his foot in his mouth and saying the wrong thing that might make things worse to the point where he just chooses to say nothing, not realising that this also doesn't help the situation.

so when he stumbles into your room, after hearing the tail end of your conversation with your parents over your phone that only resulted in you breaking out into tears and is now faced with a deeply upset you, safe to say that he's very unsure on what he should do.

carefully, he makes his way into the room and sits on the opposite end of the bed from you. as he gets closer towards you, you feebly attempt to wipe off the tears streaming down your face in an attempt to downplay how you're feeling, lest you worry him.

that should be the least of your worries, he thinks silently to himself.

the room is largely silent, both of you avoiding looking directly at the other, that is until megumi suddenly speaks up. "...do you wanna talk?" he asks, his voice slightly hesitant. the same old fears of potentially saying the wrong things, especially in such a delicate situation like this, are swirling around in his mind again and he can't help but listen to them.

you shake your head, glumly. he so wishes that he could take away your pain and sadness in an instant, even if he were the one to bear it instead if it meant that you would stop hurting, but unfortunately, the world doesn't work like that.

"okay." he pauses for a moment, as if pondering on what next he should say or do, in this case. he reaches out his hand and gently grasps your wrist, pulling you towards him and into his chest. like waves caught up in a current, you let yourself sink into his grip and fall into his comforting embrace.

for some reason, when all you can feel is the warmth of his body radiating off of him and onto you with the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, you can feel most of the sadness that previously flooded all of your senses start to melt away, like ice thawing when the sun comes out. you wrap your arms around him and in return, he rubs tender circles upon your back.

you whisper a "thank you" under your breath and he nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck.

megumi may be bad at talking or using his words to express what he's feeling or even to communicate with others, however, when it comes down to it, it seems that he doesn't need to rely on words to be there for the ones who truly matter to him.

some people might think that okkotsu yuuta is being dramatic when he says that one of his worst fears is seeing you sad but to him, this fear and worry of his is very much a real one and it breaks his heart when he notices your once joyful expression has now morphed into something much more melancholic.

he's on his way to your room after seeing how downcast your mood was today, compared to your typically more cheery demeanour when he suddenly stops in his tracks after he picks up on another female voice coming from your room.

your mum's voice rings out from over the crackly speaker of your phone. "oh sweetie, i'm sure that was just a silly mistake and it'll-"

you cut her off bluntly, "i'm sorry, mum. i just think i need some alone time right now." and with that, you quickly hang up your phone in dejection, throwing it slightly off to the side as a deep sigh escapes your lips.

yuuta clears his throat awkwardly from his place in the doorway and you're suddenly now aware of his newfound presence in your bedroom. his tone is clearly apologetic as he speaks, "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to overhear your conversation, i was just on my way to check up on you after noticing how down you were today."

"i-it's fine, yuu." you reassure him, well as best as you can in your current state as you hastily try to hide any traces of your crying from him. "i'm just not really in much of the mood to talk right now." you don't dare to say more, afraid of the sobs that you've been choking down up to this point might break out.

he nods solemnly to himself.

"then do you mind if i come in?" he asks tentatively and you shakily nod back in response. he walks into your room and takes a seat next to you on the bed, though leaving a slight space in between you two as if he knows that sudden proximity to someone else, especially when you're in a state like this, might just be too much for you.

he raises his hand, stopping at a short distance away from your face and tilts his head at you, as if asking for permission. slightly confused you nod, thinking that he's going to cup your cheek or something, but instead, he brings his finger to your cheek and starts wiping away the tear streaks running down your face. his touch is so gentle, and the care and love he has for you is so evident through how delicately he's taking the time to caress your face as well at the same time.

you can't help but feel your lip wobble slightly with how tender he's being with you. the corner of your eyes start to burn a little bit as you attempt to hold your tears back though you feel your resolve wavering ever so slightly with each brush of his fingertips.

yuuta slowly moves his other arms around you and pulls you towards him into his embrace. you take that as him allowing you to latch on to him and so you do as you burrow your face into his shoulder, sinking into the comfort of his touch. he hums softly under his breath as he whispers words of gentle reassurance. it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders as quiet sobs escape from you.

he pays them no mind though, only seeking to soothe you with his touch and reassuring affirmations. you squeeze his hand twice as a silent 'thank you' and he presses a fleeting kiss against yours in return.

to yuuta, this is nothing worthy of a thanks from you as this is merely a drop in the ocean if it means that your heart is just a little less heavy.

[akookminsupporter]

ARE YOU SURE?!: FITH EPISODE

MY IMPRESSIONS

Preface: This is not an analysis post, and honestly, I don’t want to overanalyse their interactions or everything they said and did—many others are already doing that. My intention with this post is simply to share my thoughts on the episodes, my impressions, and perhaps my conclusions.

I’m writing this as I watch the episodes for the second time.

Jimin should definitely wear more shirts like that because they look incredibly good on him. Honestly, everything he wears looks great, but his outfits in this last episode in Jeju were perfect.

When the maknae line is together, it's easy to see who the oldest is between them hahaha.

One of the main reasons I'd like to go to Korea is for the food, but I've realised they love pork, and I’m not a fan of pork hahaha.

Jungkook really loves eating and cooking. He and I would get along so well.

Jimin and Jungkook really get each other. Like, they understand each other's silly side.

Oh god, Jimin looked incredible. His hair and that shirt, oh god!

All the photos that will be in the photobook coming out are the ones they took with those disposable cameras, right? At least most of them.

Jimin really likes Soju hahaha.

Tae spent almost the whole episode on his phone; I wonder if that was the day his friends arrived in Jeju? He seemed distracted and a bit out of the conversation in general. Or at least that's how it seemed by the way the episode was edited.

Jimin and Jungkook are the kind of... couple who, at a gathering with friends, are in their own little world. When Jungkook started explaining how he finally learned to properly grill pork, his attention was on Jimin, even though Tae was right beside him and was the one who initially congratulated him for it. Jimin, though teasing him, was also encouraging him to keep talking about it, and he was looking at him so fondly, really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying. That reminded me of VB4 when they were walking together, talking about Jungkook’s shoes or something. Something similar happened in VB2, I think.

I love hearing Jungkook speak in satori.

Jimin looks hot drinking beer.

Them caring for the staff will never stop being adorable.

Okay, my tinhat moment of this episode. We all remember Jungkook’s stance on the perilla leaf issue, right? When Jimin said they should give the staff a bite, and he grabbed a perilla leaf, explaining that it already had ssamjang why his expression seemed like he was telling Jungkook, like, “Look, this one’s almost ready, that’s why I’m using it.” I mean, why explain to Jungkook why he chose that perilla leaf? And Jungkook's response... Look, I know being delulu isn’t the solulu, but they don’t help sometimes.

Jimin and Jungkook having this whole conversation while Tae is just there listening is hilarious to watch. That’s why I always say they operate on different frequencies, and that’s what made these episodes so interesting to watch.

Jimin is so funny without even trying.

Wait, did Tae disappear? Where did he go? Oh, AYS editors...

OH, Tae’s back. Where did he go, and when did he come back? Oh, BigHit editors...

It definitely makes sense why Jimin and Jungkook almost always seem to choose to sit across from each other instead of side by side. That way, they can clearly see the silly things the other does to make them laugh and they can talk directly to each other.

Tae asking Jimin if he taught Jungkook the trick—I guess you could call it that—with Soju is kind of interesting. We know Jimin loves Soju, so in part, it makes sense, but I suppose Jimin and Jungkook are known within the group for drinking a lot together, and I imagine they drink a lot of Soju hahaha.

Jimin’s face denying Tae’s question was hilarious and totally contradicted his response hahaha.

They really click.

I don’t know if Jimin says he’s not handsome because he knows he is and is fishing for compliments or if he really believes he’s not, which is a huge lie. Like, someone give that man a mirror!

Jin will always be the WWH of the group hahaha.

It’s curious that even though Jimin and Jungkook aren’t alone, they usually direct themselves or look at each other when they’re talking. It’s like they subconsciously know the other will pay attention no matter what. And I really think they do this unconsciously because there’ve been moments when they say something and another member responds, and they’re surprised as if they just remembered they’re not alone.

Jimin and Jungkook casually talking about enlisting together is so frustratingly so them. It’s even more frustrating that the editors seem to cut certain parts of the conversation and the reactions of the other members. I’d love to know when the other members found out that Jimin and Jungkook were enlisting together. It’s interesting how at the beginning of that conversation, all three of them were involved, but then it was just Jimin and Jungkook talking about it. Even though Tae was there, he was focused on his phone.

I love how Jimin and Jungkook said that, even though it’s common for best friends to end up fighting when they enlist together, that won’t happen to them. They sounded so sure of it, and that says a lot about the level of trust and compatibility between them.

I think they’ve had that conversation more than once. And it makes sense, obviously. Hopefully, they had it in Japan too.

Jimin was traumatised by the hit to his nose that Jungkook gave him while they were sleeping hahaha.

Jimin, I agree, you guys should do another show. You can name it whatever you want; it doesn’t matter hahaha.

Jimin with cats is the cutest thing ever.

Jungkook with dogs is the most energetic thing ever hahaha. Poor cameraman hahaha.

Oh right, they’re singers! Hahahaha

God, these men are handsome.

Jimin, the ladder was right next to you...

I LOVE Jimin’s tattoos, LOVE them.

I’m still impressed by how long they can stay underwater without breathing.

And Jungkook underwater took my breath away.

Okay, the way Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s hair and pulled him to the surface was hot. Not just what he did, but the way it looked. His tattooed arm came out of nowhere, grabbed him, and lifted him to the surface. Christian Grey would be proud of our imagination because we ALL thought the same thing hahaha.

Jungkook is forever teasing Jimin. And Jimin loves that he does it.

Jimin, could you share with the class what 5412 means? Thanks. Jungkook’s wink! They’re too cute.

Jimin and Jungkook are always the last to go to bed.

And its moments like these -them hitting each other with their towels- that remind me they’re men hahaha.

Jungkook waiting by the door for Jimin and immediately saying he should take the bed is so sweet. Jimin immediately refuting that no, he should take the bed is so them. Then Jungkook saying he doesn’t like soft beds, and Jimin comparing the beds to check what Jungkook said is so...

And Tae?

Jimin immediately telling Jungkook he’s hungry after waking up is a MOOD hahaha.

Jimin is so hilariously dramatic.

Morning cuddles!

Bro, after hearing the “alarm” Jimin set for Jungkook, that scene is even funnier. Why are they like this? And you know what’s even funnier? I can totally see Jungkook actually using that alarm.

Did Tae go to exercise? I don’t know, Rick, it seems fake hahaha.

I LOVE Jimin’s tattoos. Especially the ones on his back.

Jungkook is just as dramatic as Jimin hahaha.

Jungkook, babe, you’re not a plant?

Someone give Jimin a YouTube career, please!

Jimin is so gorgeous, oh my god!

I guess Jimin and Jungkook are a bit predictable to the other members hahaha.

Jimin and Jungkook know everything the other is doing even if they’re... asleep hahaha.

Someone tell Jimin he should wear glasses more often and always have that haircut!

Again, it makes sense why Jimin and Jungkook seem to prefer sitting across from each other rather than next to each other. And also, it’s funny how they talk like they’re alone.

Jungkook genuinely loves eating hahaha.

Jungkook sounding so sure it wasn’t ham when Tae said it was, but immediately doubting himself when Jimin said it was, is so funny.

Okay, this part has been discussed quite a bit from what I’ve seen but from a different perspective. Jungkook doesn’t act like a donsaeng with Jimin, and Jimin doesn’t mind. Tae was the one who initially said it was ham they were eating, but Jungkook only reacted to Jimin when they confirmed it wasn’t ham as he said. He didn’t do the same gesture with Tae, only with Jimin. And that’s already common between them. And it says A LOT.

Jimin immediately asking for more food because Jungkook said he wanted more is so sweet. He didn’t question Jungkook about it; he just said, “Do you want more food? Bring more food!” Besides reassuring Jungkook that as long as he was happy eating, everything was fine. Ahh, why have I never had a Jimin in my life?

The way Jimin watched Jungkook eat so fondly...

Jungkook is definitely Gen Z.

The little conversations Jimin and Jungkook have sometimes are so cute. They can talk about anything together, but they almost always tell each other even the smallest things, no matter how simple or impressive, knowing the other will give their full attention no matter what.

MY CONCLUSION ON THE FIFTH EPISODE

Ahh, I enjoyed this episode too. I think it was a bit more balanced, but Jimin and Jungkook really do live in their own world.

It’s obvious how the group’s dynamic changed once Jimin started feeling better. Once that happened, we saw more of what we had seen in the U.S.—the dynamic between Jimin and Jungkook. At times, it was like they were alone, and although I know how that sounds, it’s something typical with them. I remember in my post about the third episode, I mentioned that Jimin and Jungkook sometimes seem to adjust their relationship dynamic when another member is present, but after watching episodes 4 and 5, I think that initial adjustment was because Jimin wasn’t feeling his best. Once he was, they went back to their usual selves.

Tae seemed a bit more absent in this episode, even when he was there. We often saw him engrossed in his phone, and I suppose his friends were in Jeju that day too, so he was a bit distracted by that.

This episode felt like the slowest-paced one in the show so far, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. One thing I love about AYS is how real it feels. In general, what we’ve seen is what you’d expect or do on a typical holiday with friends. Some days are more exciting than others, but each day has its charm, and each day leaves something to remember for tomorrow. It’s nice that they were able to rest and be lazy at that point in their lives—they deserved it.

Once again, it was clear how similar Jimin and Jungkook are and how well they understand each other. Tae was right; they are twins, though not in the genetic sense—jikookphobics, don’t get too excited.

I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s a bit frustrating how casually Jimin and Jungkook talked about enlisting in the army together, though it was nice that they mentioned being happy to have each other for support.

The episode itself was sweet. It was a calm way to end this part of the series.

I can’t wait for Japan! I thought we’d get the trailer of Sapporo today, but we didn’t—it makes me wonder why. What happened in Japan that they seem to be guarding it so carefully?

If you’ve made it this far, I’m sorry and thank you—I just couldn’t stop writing ajajajajaja.

[herballwitch]

Spirit Work Basics

Hello, My name is Alva Tauri! I am an herbalist, spirit worker, tarot and oracle reader, and lunar and herbal witch dedicated to closing the education gap when it comes to herbalism and witch practices!

Today I thought I would get online and compile my own personal journal entries and rituals about spirit work here for anyone interested in getting into spirit work, soest how you can begin to understand the basics behind working with spirits.

Below you will find everything you need to begin your journey...

with that being said, let's begin~

꩜ "How do I start speaking with spirits?"

The answer to this is simple: meditation and intention.

Meditation is the perfect way to open up to the spirits and say to them, "I am interested in talking to you." It also is a fantastic way to get in touch with yourself and your own energy, which can be extremely helpful when it comes to spirit work,as it can help you gauge when something has changed or shifted in energy around you.

How do you feel your own energy? This can be done in many different ways. For example, you can listen to your own heartbeat, you can listen to the calming sounds around you (water, nature, birds, etc.), or you can do visualization practices (you can find some examples in my post here).

Once you've connected with your energy, try visualizing a door opening and imagine your hand reaching out through the doorway. This is to signify to the spirit around you that you are willing to speak with them.

NOTE: You may not get a response. This does not mean you are failing or doing anything wrong. Keep trying. Sometimes spirits are simply unwilling to speak at the moment, just like we often times need a break away from people. Do not take it personally and remember to remain respectful of them in these moments.

Struggling with meditation? This is a common problem for anyone who is new to the practice, especially those of us who live with mental or physical illness. Remember this: A) meditation takes practice and practice shows dedication to the craft. having to try multiple times before grasping a concept does not mean you have failed, it means you care. B) the literal definition of meditation is "to engage in mental exercise (such as concentration on one's breathing or repetition of a mantra) for the purpose of reaching a heightened level of spiritual awareness." No where in that definition does it say you have to be sitting, with your legs cross, and your hands on your knees. You can mediate in a chair, on the couch...hell you can even meditate laying down in your bed.

Before you give up on meditation remember why you are doing it and ask yourself "have I tried every method or position that I can?" you can meditate. anyone can. I believe in you and so do the spirits!

꩜ "How do I know if spirits are attempting to communicate with me?"

Some signs are common and will make it relatively easy to tell, while others may be a bit harder to decern. Here are some of the more common signs you may hear people discuss when it comes to spirit work:

hearing voices or echoes (possibly thinking you heard someone say your name when no one is around)

hearing random knocks and bangs that seemingly came from nothing

random works or phrases popping up in your head (especially common when doing some sort of divination work with spirits)

having strange dreams or strange visions while meditating

phantom touches

experiencing the feeling of being watched

These answer may seem a bit vague and, if you think so, that is because they are, unfortunately, vague. This is where the real challenge of spirit work comes in. Your ability to decern whether or not something was a spirit or simply your house settling or you having a rough day that causes rough dreams is paramount in being a good spirit worker and is a skill that comes with time.

Having trouble learning how to decern between the two worlds? Keep practicing meditation, keep doing visualization practices, get to know your own spiritual energy, and be honest with yourself. Once you understand yourself and your environment it will be easy to decipher, but you have to give yourself time, patience, and honesty. This will help you in your journey.

꩜ "Should I use any tools? If so, what should I use?"

While ensuring your energy is in a good place and making attempts to reach out to the spirits via meditation is important, you do not have to use energies exclusively. A great way to help you better connect to spirits in spirit work is the use of tools.

Naturally, the tools I list below are not the only ones to exist. There are hundreds of great spirit work tools out there. However, I am only going to discuss the ones I have used and have experience with today. If you don't see anything below that catches your eye, feel free to do your own research to learn more about spirit works tools!

Let's talk about the tools I use:

Tarot Cards: 78 cards with different meanings you can use to ask the spirits questions and connect with them

Pendulum: a crystal tied to a sting or chain you use by swinging over a board with a variety of different text options, so that when you speak to the spirits they can swing the pendulum in the direction of the word they'd like to say.

Cartomancy: a regular deck of playing cards used to talk to the spirits

In addition to these methods that I use, you may also want to look into:

Ouija Boards

Crystal Balls

Mirror/Water Scrying

Remember, what tools work for me or your friend or someone you know online may not work for you. Find what speaks to you and test it out and, if you don't like it, it's okay to move on a try something else. You need to feel connected to your form of divination for the spirits to feel connected to you.

Remember, it's also okay to get creative, too. I have heard some people say they do divination practices with food or different elements of nature, or runes, or even music (which I usually have on while i'm working). Reach out to what calls to you, whatever that may be.

꩜ "How do I talk to the spirits once they've connected with me?"

That's easy. Just talk to them.

You can do this in a multitude of different ways. You can write letters and burn them, you can sing, you can pray, or you can just talk outloud.

Remember, different places may call for different etiquette. For example, if you are at a graveyard visiting a love one and are attempting to connect with them, you may not want to communicate in any way that is going to be loud or is going to cause harm to the grave or the grave site (take a look at my post about graveyard etiquette here for more information on that). Simply be aware of your surroundings and use common sense. Remember, if you have to question whether or not something is appropriate to do then it probably isn't.

꩜ THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND

Ward Yourself and/or Use Protection Magic Beforehand: it would be nice to believe that all spirits are friendly and have good intentions. however, that is not always the case. be safe and take care of yourself. you may even consider bringing a knife.

Practice Patience and Respect: as I said, not even spirit is friendly and not every spirit is open to speaking. be patient and wait for them and if you do not get the response you want, don't be disrespectful unless you feel that a spirit is threatening you.

You Aren't Weak For Using Tools: don't let anyone tell you that the use of tools means you are weak in your craft. this is not something I have personally experienced, but I have heard some witches, spirit workers, and pagans say that they have experienced this from others in the community. if you do experience this, ignore it. tools are meant to help strengthen your connection. they are not a sign of weakness.

You Do Not Have to Communicate Alone: if you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable, feel free to bring a friend or family member in to help you out and comfort you! and, if you don't have someone IRL to help you, remember there is a wonderful community here on tumblr that would love to help you in your journey!

That's all for spirit work basics! I hope that you found this helpful in your spiritual journey and I hope that you are able to apply this information to your practice.

if you have any questions regarding anything discussed here or if you'd like to make a request to be added to the list, please send an ask to my ask box! I appreciate all comments and questions!

For more information on my practice, witchcraft, herbalism, spirit work, and divination please check out the guide on my page (linked here)! Everything I have ever posted can be found there!

I wish you all a blessed day filled with peace, endless wealth, and eternal health! Until the next time we meet!

[greenfiend]

Will Byers the Love Guru

In Stranger Things 3, he’s the one who’s “not gonna fall in love”, yet he’s out there fixing every one else’s relationship problems…

Lucas/Max

Jonathan/Nancy

Dustin/Suzie

Hopper/Joyce

and even…

Mike/Eleven…

So come along on this wild journey with me as I explain Will’s influence on those pairings…

Before I begin, I must remind you that everything is intentional within this show. If Will suddenly appears within a shot or someone says or does something that doesn’t seem relevant… it is still relevant but just not in the way you might initially think.

I’m going to start with the more simple “fixes” and end with the most complicated.

Lucas/Max

Their relationship in ST3 was fairly low key. Their “breakups” were not serious and were always temporary. Lucas does mess up at times though.

Oops! Code red! Code red! Lucas needs some help asap!

Well that was a close call! Thanks to Will of course, who magically appeared in this shot and clearly influenced Lucas.

Will understands the mysteries of the female species better than these guys clearly. Not sure what they’d do without him.

Jonathan/Nancy

Jonathan and Nancy had a major fight in ST3, and Will is having none of his big bro’s BS! He instantly calls him out for not being there for Nancy.

Will strikes again! Thank goodness for his influence. What a good little bro!

Dustin/Suzie

Okay, things are getting stranger now.

No one believes Dustin has a girlfriend… except for our dear lil Will! But I can’t really blame the others, she did seem unbelievable. I mean she did come from “Camp Know Where”. Sounds pretty made up to me.

Did Will conjure her up? Well… let’s just say it’s interesting that the first ever shot we see of her involves her holding up a book about a wizard… I’m not ruling this out as a possibility… 🧙🏻‍♂️

Hopper/Joyce

Oh Will… sweet sweet Will. He’s worried about his mother, and doesn’t want her to be alone anymore… so what does he do, you ask? Well…

He Marty Mcflys it! He influences Hopper by “flaying” him and pushes him together with his mom!

Things get a tad awkward though. But his intentions were pure!

Mike/Eleven

So… this one is the most complicated one because Will is very biased here obviously. He’s hopelessly in love with Mike. In the beginning, he had a hand in Mike and El’s breakup as he was pulling the strings behind Hopper’s intervention. Hopper “threatened” Mike due to Will’s influence. Now, don’t worry, Will didn’t actually threaten to kill Mike, Mike made that very clear.

Mike and Will have their epic rain fight and things are tense.

Until… Will has a change of heart.

Notice how Will is clearly in the shot here? Well it’s because he is wanting to give his “olive branch” to Mike. He’s tried of the tension between them and wants to make things right.

Look at the words here! These are not Mike’s words. They’re Will’s words to Mike!

Both of these moments are Will putting words into Mike’s mouth, just as he did to Lucas, Jonathan, and Hopper! But he’s not as successful.

The first moment was just bad timing as El was not even present. The second time, the connection was poor, that’s why Mike was literally drawing blanks and unable to complete his sentences. We know this because the walkie talkie call from Dustin provided the subtext for it.

Mike actually doesn’t even remember saying the words because Will said them for him…

In conclusion, Will is a great love guru, but still cannot fix Mike and El’s problems. Dunno if even the most powerful wizard could successfully fix their problems…

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I remember Oda did this thing where everyone was 40 then 60 Years Old, and I thought it would be cool to see that for Eri!Reader (But it’s when she’s 20 and 40 years old instead) When Something Goes Wrong vs Good Ending

When Something Goes Wrong (Bad Ending)

20 Year old Eri: Emotionless, Lifeless and a Hollow Shell of herself, doesn’t see the point in trying to have hope (Or she takes a path similar to ‘That Man’ and is wearing an oddly familiar Plague Doctor’s mask)

40 Year Old Eri: Unknown, MIA (Presumed Deceased) all records and information about her don’t seem to exist (All information about her was burned and destroyed by order of the Five Elders) as well as any intent to try and find out about her results in immediate execution

Where Everything goes right (Good Ending)

20 Year Old Eri: Beautiful on the inside and out, with the kindness that rivals a Nun, travels around to help those she can, very optimistic and enjoys trying and learning new things (Her beauty rivals that of Hancock and Shirahoshi)

40 Year Old Eri: Content with her life, still kind, sweet and gentle, she’s happily married to Momonosuke (They’re currently expecting a child *Her Brothers are currently chasing Momo in pure rage that he touched her*) she still helps others, but she’s starting to settle down since she’ll become a Mother (Her brothers are crying because Momo ‘Stole’ their little sister) 😂

Ooh I love all of this!! And I can see it fitting!

Bad Ending- 20 Years- She's like a doll, emotionless and does nothing unless if she's ordered to. Only certain high-level officials know of her, and they are the only ones that are able to give her orders, and she only listens to them. Sometimes, she remembers the sea.

Bad Ending 40 Years- She has been declared deceased many years ago, but only those highest in power, the Five Elders, know the truth, and she is there little doll, working for only them now, following their orders. She is considered the worst kind of taboo to talk about, and anyone who does, risks being immediately executed.

Good Ending 20 Years- She still lives with her family, but she is regarded as a saint, who helps others with her abilities, much like how Marco helps out as a doctor. She would definitely have Chopper teach her how to be a doctor and her family adores her!

Good Ending 40 Years- there are many who want to marry Eri, but they have several challenges between them, mainly in the form of her family members, with the final challenge being Luffy and Ace (and Sabo too ;) ) but if they prove they are worthy, they will let Eri marry. Jokes on them, because she ends off sneaking off to marry Momonosuke, as he makes her happy. Her family does accept it, but the moment they find out that she's pregnant, everyone except Chopper, Nami, and Robin are chasing him down, going to kill him for touching her.

[matan4il]

911 ep 709 first watch reactions

The way this ep starts with giving us a clear shot focused on the front, solely on Buck sitting between the man he's dating and the man he's been married to for the past six years, and only on them. XD I'm here for it.

Oh, Bobby. :( Feeling unworthy of his medal, and remembering his dad, and how everything went wrong after he got it. </3

Aaaah. Man, IDK. The openly and explicitly homophobic and racist captain cartoon just feels like an easy target now. Prejudice doesn't seem like it mostly gets expressed that way anymore, and when we only teach people to reject that kind, we not only fail to teach them to recognize subtler forms, we may be misleading them to think those more nuanced ones don't count.

Love Athena trying to "save" Bobby by contacting Amir. I'm always a sucker for a couple where they both save each other.

I enjoyed the little play with "Mother Hen," and I know it's not specifically about Buddie, but it is damn funny that when she's told she's raising more kids, they're the ones the camera focuses on. lol Raising a kid together for 6 years, still a couple of morons in desperate need of parenting from their colleagues. Even when Bobby's "wordless goodbye" moment with Buck is letting him cook for the 118, Eddie's by his side and they're doing it together. I swear, 911 said, "Take note, this is what a marriage looks like" and then just kept hammering the point for 6 seasons now.

Okay, I am pretty sure that, while Bobby's acceptance of Buck's first relationship with a guy, is really lovely, "Because we haven't had to talk about it" is not an actual good criterion for discerning whether someone is good for their partner or not. People whose spouses are abusive don't talk about it, either. :/ I am NOT saying that's Buck and Tommy, because it obviously isn't, it just feels like a line thrown in there to be cutesy, but which isn't actually helpful to people, who might take it too seriously.

I AM GONNA LOL FOREVER. So, just like Buck's bi awakening was all about Eddie, now Eddie's messed up whatever he has with Kim is gonna involve Buck, too? Gotcha. Battlefield boyfriends being off-battlefield boyfriends once more.

So... Buck was going to see Tommy, in an ep where TPTB have already paid for Lou in the role, so might as well use him as much as possible, but instead a non-emergency run in with Eddie's current whatever-Kim-is makes Buck ditch Tommy, and run straight over to Eddie's to help him? Look, I'm obviously a One True Pairing kind of shipper, so Buddie are it for me, as much as I can enjoy and see the value of Buck and Tommy as a stepping stone, and nothing will make me stop shipping Buddie (especially not after the tsunami eps), but 911 is feeding me way too well with how it frames these scenes and stories, I don't think the show's trying to get me to stop.

Man, if anyone's ever had a doubt that Eddie is the world champion at denial, this kitchen scene will def cure that.

"I'm worried about you." "Yeah, I'm worried about me, too." And then Buck, the one person who can ALWAYS penetrate through Eddie's denial wall, no matter how thick it is.

Eh, IDK how much the part where they try to re-define Shannon as the love of Eddie's life works, or how much it just serves to show he's still in denial, just a different kind than before, when Buck got through to him that he can't go on like this with Kim. For one thing, in his little retelling of their dysfunctional r/s, Eddie doesn't mention that Shannon was leaving him a second time, even before she died. Literal denial and repression.

So I'm gonna choose to believe Hen and Karen will get Mara back, because I can't deal with that particular storyline otherwise.

Kim's reaction is too deranged for me. Who does something like that, even if we assume the kindest of intentions? And then Marisol and Christopher's timing... I didn't sign on to watch a soap opera, but I guess I'm getting one free of charge?

"Now you gotta save yourself." If that ain't a painful summary of what growing up means, IDK what is. the conversation with Bobby's dad in his sleep was a good, painful scene, built right, leading to him hopefully getting his closure through saving his wife from a fire, and leaving us with just the right amount of suspension for next week and the season finale, where we'll see if he can let go of his past mistakes without a doppelganger dressing up like his dead wife...

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[wheredafandomat]

“What’s a DILF?”

Dad! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut

A/N: Just a random little thing I wrote because I haven’t written in ages and had this random idea 😂

“W-what?” You stuttered, brows knitting in confusion at Loki’s question; it had caught you off guard. You turned the tap off after filling the vause before making your way to Loki who then put the bouquet of flowers he had bought you inside.

“What’s a dilf?” He repeated, bewildered by your expression.

“Where did you hear that?” You began to giggle at Loki’s innocence.

“I was picking Ivy up and I overheard her friends saying I was a dilf.” He explained, recalling when he had picked your daughter up from her friend's house the other day.

“What exactly did they say, Loki?” You queried.

“Your dads such a dilf.” He quoted making you laugh harder. “She was clearly embarrassed, I could tell, and I’d hate to think I had done something to warrant her feeling that way. It’s been playing on my mind ever since so I thought I’d ask.” He sighed. “Stop laughing.”

“Oh Loki, she’s definitely embarrassed.” You grinned, placing the vause down before facing Loki again and seeing his saddened expression. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, garnering his attention back.

“What is so funny? What does it mean?” He practically whined, placing his hands on your hips as he looked down at you. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his, silencing his questioning. Breaking the kiss but barely pulling apart, you spoke against his lips.

“A dilf is a dad I’d like to—” you paused, waiting for him to catch on which he eventually did, eyes widening.

“Oh—OH—oh no.” He gasped as you laughed at his horrored expression.

“It’s normal Loki, you’re a good looking guy or dad should I say” you consoled him, running one of your hands through the back of his hair “they’re just teenagers, I remember what it was like being a hormonal teenager. It’s no big deal.” You shrugged.

“No big deal? Ivy must be so emb—” Loki began before you kissed him again.

“Stop worrying.” You insisted. “How about you let me have a ride on the dilf.” You teased, Loki’s hands moving from your waist to the curve of your ass.

“You are naughty.” He finally smiled.

“Well then spank me daddy.” You exhorted before the both of you began to laugh, Loki spinning you before guiding you to the stairs, thankful that Ivy wasn’t due home until a lot later.

“Up those stairs woman!” He ordered, slapping your ass as he followed behind.

Once you reached the bedroom, your lips were gliding across one another’s, hands roaming each other's bodies. Loki rid you of your top, the kiss ending for a brief moment before it resumed. His lips traveled lower, exploring your neck before heading to the valley of your breasts. Intent on a quickie, you guided his head back up so that his lips were on yours again as you unbuttoned his shirt. He let you do that, exciting you before he paused, laying you against the bed. You obliged, helping Loki rid you of your skirt before his lips were roaming your thighs. You widened your legs, half expecting him to fuck you but instead, he pulled your panties to the side before you felt his tongue licking through your folds. It was pleasurable, everything Loki did was pleasurable and yet you sighed inwardly at his incessant need to taste you despite your pleas to just fuck. It turned him on, that was his excuse. You’d be begging for a bit of quick fun and Loki would insist on going down on you. Glancing down, it was evident how much Loki enjoyed it judging by how his hips were grinding down into the bed no doubt trying to alleviate the strain he felt in his trousers. Rolling your eyes, you decided to enjoy the feeling of Loki sucking your pussy whilst he humped the bed.

“Fuckk Loki.” You began to moan, forgetting why you’d even protest against this as his tongue circled your clit. He hummed against you approvingly sending vibrations to ripple through your core. Using one of his fingers, he began pumping in and out of you, tongue still teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves as your hips lifted from the bed slightly.

“You taste so good.” He praised, licking his lips as he looked up at you, eyes hooded in bliss. “Are you going to cum for me?” He cooed, still thrusting in and out of you with his finger.

“Yesss Loki.” You mewled. Instead of replying, a devilish smirk painted his lips before he lowered his head again, sucking your clit gently as he increased his pace until you were a writhing mess, cursing his name as you reached your climax.

You were panting, catching your breath as Loki stood, freeing his cock. He didn’t even bother to take his trousers off before you felt his hand around your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You gasped, your shock turning into a grin as he stroked his length, hungrily eyeing you. Your legs were on either side of his providing him with the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You hooked your thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties before Loki took over, pulling them off of you as you lifted your legs until your ankles were touching his shoulders. You bit your lip feeling Loki’s cock gliding through your folds as he coated himself in your arousal. You eventually angled your hips up, beckoning him inside but he pushed them back down continuing this pleasured torture. It felt good but not enough. You needed him evading you.

“Pleasee Loki” you begged as he entered you slowly with the tip of his cock before pulling out “I need more.”

“Take it then.” He prompted. Dropping your legs back down, you widened them before reaching down between you and guiding his length to your entrance. He pushed inside, both of you moaning as he did so. Before long, he was slamming into you, already leaking precum. A mixture of your arousal trickled out of you, staining his dress pants as they rubbed against your skin with every thrust. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked you, almost doubling over as he approached his orgasm. There were no pleasant words exchanged between you, just a plethora of moans and grunts. You opened the eyes you hadn’t realised were screwed tightly shut to be met by Loki who was baring his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat beading on his forehead as he entered you. This was carnal, both of you chasing your highs as you closed your eyes again, reaching your peak followed along by Loki who thrusted harder a few more times before stilling inside of you.

You both caught your breaths back in silence, blown away by your orgasms. You both always did have great sex but occasionally it left you speechless. This was one of those times. You unclasped your legs from around Loki as he pulled out of you before turning around.

“Wait, what are you doing?” You questioned breathlessly.

“Grabbing a towel.” He answered just as knackered.

“No, I haven’t even had a turn on top yet.” You giggled with a newfound lease of energy.

“Okay.” Loki agreed, trying to bite down his smile as he undone his trousers, stepping out of them before getting into the bed. You kissed him deeply, still tasting yourself on him as he pulled you above him to straddle him. His tongue explored your mouth before you sucked on it feeling his cock harden beneath you. Moments later he was entering you as he helped guide your movements on top of him. This time you were both a lot more vocal.

“Fuck Lokii yesss.” You moaned lewdly, the palms of your hands pressed against his chest.

“You feel so good, so fucking good.” Loki spoke between breaths, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Yesss, daddy, just like thattt.” You almost screamed.

Meanwhile, Ivy followed by her friends had just walked into the house, coming back early to study together.

“Feel free to help yourse—” she began before her eyes widened looking at her friends who were all smiling “OUT! ALL OF US OUT!” She yelled, ushering everyone out before slamming the door.

“See, dilf.” One of them winked, high-fiving the other one.

Random writing because tumblr usually deletes the last few lines of my work so hopefully they delete this instead of my actual work. Randddommmm wordssssss. Yeahhhhhh. Heloooooo. Goodbyeeeee.

[ashraintarot]

Pick a Photo Tarot Reading - What does October hold for me?

Photo 1

The main themes that will be highlighted in October for you are passion, desire, sensuality and will-power. The first thing coming up has to do with how you view and connect to cycles in life. There are things trying to die away, to let you move past them and embrace a new, better future, but it feels like you’re grasping onto these things for dear life. This could be a romantic interest, a friend, a not so good habit, a job, anything that isn’t serving you anymore. It feels very ‘lost in the sauce’. If there’s not a toxic attachment there’s just a sense of holding onto life as it is too tightly. You’re so lost in whats going on and the emotions you’re feeling that you can’t see the way out. But it’s there. You might be often seeking answers in readings like this which I realize is ironic to tell you mid reading, but you’re meant to look within to find the answers you’re seeking. Spirit is really telling you you’re guaranteed to success eventually, but you have to trust yourself and take a damn risk! If you’re sick of where you are, make a change. I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to take a step, even if it’s a small one. For many this is a reassessing your dedication to your craft. I see you getting back to the drawing board this month, putting in the hours of practice you need to improve. It’s important to remember our taste is always better than our talent in the present moment. That’s because you’re always evolving, learning and improving, so keep that in mind when you might be hating what you’ve created. It’s just proof you’re getting better, but it doesn’t mean what you made isn’t good too! Give it love, be thankful for it for what it’s taught you. There might be some times this month you need to stick up for yourself or your fellow man. If it’s safe, be sure to stand up for what’s right. Use your voice, be a champion for those less fortunate than you are.

Photo 2

Things might feel like they aren’t working out fast enough. You’ve planted a lot of seed and intentions recently and during October you might start to feel a little impatient. This is your reminder that things are falling into place behind the scenes. Let yourself breathe and relax for now. Focus on being present and enjoying yourself this month. I feel like you might be at risk of taking on more than you can handle, so really be honest with yourself when it comes to saying yes to things you don’t have the capacity or maybe even simply don’t want to do. It’s okay to say no! You’re also being reminded that you don’t have to go through this time alone. It’s okay to ask for help, to share the load. You’re not weak for not being able to handle something, humans need community, we were made for it. In that vein, there’s an emphasis on community this month as well. Whether it’s hanging out with a group, with family, or even just one person, surround yourself with those who make you feel loved, heard and understood. I see some fun times just in the living room watching movies with a friend. Don’t lock yourself away. I think some of you are going through quite a big spiritual upgrade and it’s easy to go into that hermit mode. If you need to recharge, by all means do so, but make sure you come back up for air and connect with loved ones. Your guides are also sccrreeeaming at me to tell y’all to meditate.

Photo 3

October is all about self love and compassion for the self, especially regarding how you view yourself and the things you do/create. If you’re someone that’s always talking down to yourself as a reflex, this is for you. It’s important for you to remember that you still have so much learning and growing to do left. I get the vibe of ya’ll being worried about being “cringe” or awkward and saying the wrong thing. October is all about stepping into who you are and your power. There’s a feeling of scattered-ness and frantic energy here. It would behoove you to work on getting organized, trying out new ways to keep yourself accountable for self care routines and just routines in general that help you to feel better about yourself, physically and mentally. It feels like you’ve been trying to manifest and do spiritual work and there’s a sense of something being stuck. I really think it has to do with this self image. I really recommend taking time everyday to work with affirmations to solidify a better perspective of yourself. Play around and see what works for you, maybe writing them in a journal, or listening to a meditation on self love, maybe if you write your own you can record yourself reading them and listen first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. Put time for self love and reprogramming that image into your routine we were talking about before. You’re someone who has big dreams, some of which you haven’t even fully realized yet, but this is a reminder you’re building a solid foundation. You’re still becoming who you’re meant to be to make these dreams work out. Let yourself be a student of life. Let yourself make mistakes without beating yourself up for it.

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Cuddle

Summary: you and the tabaxi have a nice talk and then cuddle

A/N: aw guys!! ☺️ I'm so happy that you liked Meeting Carnivàl Lecroux and wanted more! I already have a few things in the works but I got the request for one with Morning Frost and I was half way done so here it is!! I hope you like it and if anyone has any other requests please feel free to ask!

"Ah, hello, (Y/N).”

You open your eyes and see an upside down Frost as he looms over you. It was the evening and everyone was just relaxing and staying in. Kremy and Gideon in their room together. Gricko, Torbek, and Twig were playing children's games and drinking hot coco together. Hootsie was cuddle up on the couch with you when Frost entered the common room.

You stretch and yawn as Hootsie lets out a quiet hoot before jumping off the couch and heading toward her dad, stoping to rub against Frost and walking away.

Frost let put a chuckle as Hootsie rubbed against him before moving to where Hootsie was taking up the couch. He sat in the vacant spot, crossing his long legs as he does, adjusting his cloak and robe over his frame. He speaks in a monotone manner and a dry, sarcastic tone that may come off as uncaring to those who do not know his personality. Luckily, you have been getting to know Frost lately over your shared passion for knowledge and books. His yellow eyes land on you as he sits down, a neutral expression on his furry face.

"So, how are you faring, my dear? Enjoying yourself?”

You hum with a small smile on your face as you sit up, "I am. It's been nice getting to relax and just take some time for ourselves. How are you Frost? Enjoying any new books?"

Frost tilted his head back against the couch and shrugged. He crossed his arms and tapped his clawed fingers against his bicep. He seems to think for a moment before looking back at you, his ears twitch as he thinks of an answer.

"I've been working through a book of poetry, actually. Not exactly my style, but I find it quite relaxing to read to myself."

His neutral, aloof expression softens a bit more as he speaks. He is, as usual, calm and collected, but you can see small hints of emotion in his eyes and mannerisms.

You sit up a little as he mentions reading poetry and nod your head.

"I do love a bit of poetry myself. But I get how it's not everyone's style. I think you have to find the right words to really give the reader the right emotions and once it does." You put your hands up and make a little explosion noise. "Magic happens.”

Frost's eyebrows rise slightly, probably surprised by the unexpected enthusiasm in your voice. He hums and nods in agreement, his long, pointed ears twitching once again.

"Hm, perhaps that is the problem. The poetry I'm reading is rather bland and lacks that... 'oomph' you speak of."

Hiis expression became a little more amused, a slight smirk crossing his face. He crosses one leg over the other and looks at you properly.

"Maybe you have some suggestions.”

You blink in surprise but nod your head as you lean a little closer.

"Oh I think I could help. What are you wanting exactly? What are you trying to give the reader in your poetry? Happiness, sadness, maybe a little romance?”

As you lean in towards him, a smile appears on Frost's face. He leans forward a bit as well, his eyes locked on yours intently. He lets out a thoughtful sigh and hums for a moment, contemplating the question.

"I suppose I'm looking for those... feelings which are difficult to put into words. Feelings of melancholy, perhaps, but not quite. Almost as if you are missing something in your life, but can't remember what."

He pauses for a moment and lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Or maybe I'm looking too hard.”

"Naw you're just thinking too hard. Just got to say what comes to mind."

You pause and look away for a second before turning back to him and clear your throat; "here let me try a little something. Don't laugh if it doesn't sound good, alright?”

Frost tilted his head to the side, his yellow eyes studying you intently. He nods and clasps his hands together in his lap, giving you his full attention.

"Alright, I will do my best to refrain from laughing... No promises there."

His smile becomes a little more bemused, as he leans back against the couch and waits for you to begin.

"Ok maybe something like,

‘There’s a whisper in the wind tonight,

A gentle sigh I can’t quite hear,

A yearning wrapped in twilight’s light,

For something lost, yet ever near.’"

As you mutter the last words you blush and look away from Frost. You twist your hands in your lap and awkwardly chuckle as you shake my head.

"It's probably not very good but maybe something a little like that could work?”

Frost looks almost taken aback for a moment by the words you spoke. He looks at you as you look away, but notice his eyes lock on your hands as you twist and rub them together. He could tell you are nervous by the gesture and the blush on your cheek. However, he is more preoccupied on the words themselves.

You sit in silence as Frost stares intently at your hands before you laugh and hide your face in your hands.

"Oh that was bad wasn't it? Sorry I've never really written or spoke poetry before.”

Frost shakes his head and lets out a little sigh, smiling fondly.

"Nonsense, that was beautiful. You painted such a clear picture with your words, even a 'non-poetry enjoyer' such as myself could see it."

*He chuckles a litte, "I was more surprised that you spoke the words in such a... captivating manner. You really seemed to be able to convey the emotion of the words. Where did you learn to do that?”

You peek out from under your hands and shrug as you place them in your lap again. You lean back into the couch as you stare up at the ceiling.

"I don't know. I've always liked lovely words and listening to people speak or sing. I actually listen to a lot of music and just hearing the way people put there emotions in songs, is just like poetry in a way.”

Frost nods and hums as he listens to your explanation, watching you intently as you speak and stare up at the ceiling. He can most likely sense the underlying anxiety in your voice as you speak and the way your hands twitch together and occasionally rub your comfy pants.

"I see. Well, it certainly shows. Even if you have not written or spoken much poetry in the past, what little I heard makes me believe you have a very good grasp on what good poetry sounds like.”

You smile and turn your head to Frost, "thanks Frost. Maybe I'll try and take up poetry whenever we have time."

You hear loud footsteps as Gideon walks through the room, heading toward the kitchen with a yawn. He looks like he just woke up from a nap as he glances over and waves, "sup lovebirds. What are you two talking about?”

You and Frost turn heads as Gideon walks into the room. Frost glances at the back of Gideon's head as he walks towards the kitchen. He shakes his head with a sigh and refocuses on you.

"We're simply discussing poetry, Gideon. Apparently our little friend is a bit of a poet herself, as it turns out.”

"Oh," you blush and shoot a hand out to lightly tap Frosty's arm as it sounds like he's teasing. "I'm not that good. Apparently I need the right inspiration to be able to do it."

At that comment you wink at Frosty in a teasing manner, the gesture causing Frosty to break out into a bemused grin as Gideon lumbers back out with a glass of water. You chuckle as he stumbles a bit as he slumbers back to his room.

"Heading back to bed?"

"Yeah," he mumbles and waves a hand again, "no loud noises you two."

You blush at his comment and throw a pillow at his back as he laughs. Frost shifts in his seat but yells at Gideon.

"You know, you shouldn't say those things. It gives us ideas!”

You bust out laughing as you get up to grab the pillow you just threw before sitting back on the couch, a little closer to Frosty.

"What ideas does that give you?”

Frost shrugs and feigns innocence as a sly smile forms on his face. He looks over you, and places an arm behind you on the couch.

"Oh, you know. A good idea leads to another idea, which could lead to more bad ideas. Which then leads to even... more ideas. It can become a bit of a chain reaction, hm?"

He chuckles and gives you a wink, his ears flicking once again, almost teasingly this time. You giggle at his ears, flicking and nod as you try to think of what he's saying.

"So what's a good idea that leads to a bad idea? An example is what I need."

You sit up, criss-cross on the couch facing Frosty as he chuckles at your question and sits up straighter, shifting to face you. His ears remained perked and upright, listening to your words intently. He hums as he lifts his hand to his chin, tapping against it as he seems to contemplate on an answer. He smirks as he speaks, and winks at you again.

"Hmmm... How about I show you?”

Your eyes widen as your breath catches for a moment at how he speaks.

"Show me? I guess you can show me.”

Frost continues to smirk but moves forward with whatever he has planned. His eyes remain fixed on your face, watching your reactions carefully as he uncrosses his legs.

“Hmm, perfect.”

He lifts his hand and places it on the side of your face as he leans in a little as his ears twitch and his tail flicks out as he brushes his lips against yours. You shudder but lean in closer as you place a hand on his knees to stabilize yourself as Frost fully pulls you into a kiss.

It is different but feels like a beard tickling your nose with his whiskers and you giggle a little as you pull back as you scratch your nose.

“Sorry, it was tickling me.”

Frost nods as he brushes a strand of hair that fell against your cheek.

“That's alright. I know this must be different for you.”

“Oh yes,” you nod but sit up onto your knees to sit a little taller than Frost on the couch. “But it's not unpleasant.”

You lean in as one hand grips the couch next to you and strokes down his fur on his cheek, scratching his chin as Frost goes ridged at first but then melts with a sudden and loud purr erupting from his chest as he melts. As you process what you were hearing, Frost leans against you to the point of pushing you back on the couch as you continue to scratch his chin.

You huff as the tabaxi flops his weight on you but smile as First cuddles into you. You move your hand to the tip of his head and give him a little scratch which makes his ears twitch even more.

You both lay there completely relaxed and honestly at the mercy of Frost. You smile as you close your eyes and continue to pet Frost as he purrs against you.

“Are you lovebirds alright?”

You peek an eye open to see Kremy now standing in the doorway. Looking at the two of you with a raised brow but a smile on his face. Frost slightly moves but only to make himself more comfortable and wrap you up in his arms as you close your eyes with a smile and do the same to Frost. Being intertwined together makes you feel warm and cozy, ready to fall asleep again.

“Hmm, we're fine Kremy,” Frost says as he starts to purr again.

You just hear a little sigh and a snap as a blanket covers the two of you and the lights dim. You and Frost cuddled together and slipping into a cozy dream.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

This is a Crystal Palace appreciation post because I cannot believe the weird amount of stuff I’ve seen said about her in the past few days.

Dear Crystal: I love you. Even when you did not have your memories, you somehow managed to stay put together. I would have been walking around in pajama pants and a T-Shirt everywhere. You, on the other hand, knew that you were someone. You just needed to remember who. Look at this fit. I wish I was that stylish on my worst days.

Even when you and Edwin were bickering, you managed to be kind. You told him he mattered. He does matter. I think you meant it. This moment proves you can have sharp edges and a kind heart at the same time. Never lose that. Those edges are what will keep your heart safe.

You actually know what you want, and you’re not afraid to say it. You know you just got out of a long term, destructive relationship and you weren’t looking for another one right away. You state it multiple times. You’re looking for a cute distraction, or maybe an easy fling. You want something safe and easy. You state clearly when things get too overwhelming and you need to step back. Maybe this is why people think you’re “mean”. I won’t. I promise you I don’t. This is a gift, to be able to know yourself and to use your voice. Never lose that, either, no matter how much the world tells you to be quieter. Silence is the first step towards death.

It is so noble that you try and protect others. Perhaps there are moments where you have done this in ways that are flawed (I mean, making a guy walk in front of traffic was very extreme, but in your mind you were avenging the girls he harmed I guess?). But I am sure you thought your intentions were good. And each time you stepped up to help, you got a little better at taking on the role of the protector. You did. It’s been in you all along, you just needed to refine it (and I am so here for each attempt).

I love you Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft. The brilliant psychic you are.

[suguwuus]

Could you write a connor x daughter of Athena. Where she has been at camp for a year, but they have known each other for about two weeks and he flirts a little too much in training and she thinks he is being mean. but in the end they make up.

★ nice

oh em gee my first req i feel like spongebob on his first day with his shiny lil spatula and squeaky shoes

p.s. so sorry this took so long i was so very sick when you sent it in and then exam week left me bruised and broken and so sleepy 😭

wc: 2.4k words

Who the Hades is this guy? Or more like, who the hell does this guy think he is?

You stared at the hunched-over figure wiping your bronze weapon down with a cloth, whistling as he went. It was too casual for someone like him to be doing something like that, especially with your weapon.

You recognized him as one of those Stoll brothers. They had been at camp for almost as long as you had, yet it seems that he's been popping up and about into your business these past few days. And he had been doing it a lot. Offering to carry your things, greeting you good morning and good night, even going so far as to try and make your bed for you. It was strange. Suspiciously strange. And you didn't trust him. From what you've heard and seen around camp, he was a prankster, an awfully resourceful two-faced troublemaker who could ruin your day with two paperclips and a cup of orange juice.

You thought he was no match for you, though. After all, you were equally crafty and clever as well, if not more than him. You thanked your mother, Athena, for both those skills and the grace to notice the signs this early on.

Gods, what was the purpose of all of this? You couldn't figure him out. You had some ideas, some guesses, but you couldn't pinpoint anything exactly. You needed direct contact with him; you needed to observe him up close so you could finally see his true intentions. Did he get bored and were you his new target? Was he doing this for a bet? Did you do something recently to catch his attention?

So, it was strange. Strange that you two have been skirting around each other for the past few years, not talking unless forced to and if you did, you only exchanged small talk. Why was he now all up in your business? Was he plotting something? You remembered when he put a tarantula in your half-sister Annabeth's bunk. You thought that was the last time you'd see those two boys.

"You look like you're plotting to kill him."

You jumped. Said Annabeth stood behind you, holding a plastic bag full of something you could only guess was your cabin's deposit of trash. Every other morning someone would do this to keep the cabin clean—and every morning Connor would greet you. Today, he added an offer to wipe your weapon down. You reluctantly agreed, vulnerable at 7 in the morning.

You knew you shouldn't be driven by rumors and gossip, shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But your overly paranoid self just refused to try and get to know the boy.

You pursed your lips and turned to Annabeth, sucking in a breath. "What's he like?" You asked.

"A little shit," Annabeth replied, and your heart sank. "But," she continued. "He's a reliable little shit. He's not evil or anything like that. He just has a talent for getting on people's nerves, him and Travis. It's a Hermes kid thing. Why?"

You glanced nervously to the side. "He's been doing the absolute most for me recently. Asking if I need help with anything, greeting me every time we see each other. We're not close. We're not even close to being close."

Annabeth took a few moments looking over at him as well, a small smile on her face. "Hmm. Well, I can't say anything for sure. But there's a very low chance he's doing this out of malice."

You cringed. "So..."

"Just wait and see where this goes," She advised, swinging the plastic bag. "If he hurts you, beat him up." Then she went away.

You scratched your head, starting to walk away from your cabin. That was...sort of helpful? No worries. You could handle this. It wasn't everyday you dealt with someone with the first name Connor and last name Stoll, but it wasn't everyday that you climbed the lava tower, either, no? And you survived that. So how hard could a boy be?

Quite hard, as it turned out to be.

You watched him stand up, stuffing the dirty cloth in his pocket. He then looked around the camp, walking in circles as if searching for someone. You knew he was looking for you, so when he turned in your direction you reluctantly waved a hand, but not enough to be obvious or easily noticed in the bustle of the camp.

When he spotted you, he jogged up to you like an excited dog, haphazardly swinging your weapon. He held it out with calloused hands. "Here!"

"Thanks. Erm, Connor." You added his name for good measure and took your weapon back. You inspected it quickly. No tampering, as far as you could see. It was clean, too. You looked back up at him and nodded. He had done a decent job. An honest, decent job?

"Did you just wake up?" He blurted out, sporting a smile that made you feel...what, self conscious? His words didn't help.

"No, I've been doing errands while waiting for you." You kept your answer plain and simple. "Why?" Without realizing it, you smoothed out your shirt.

He saw where your hands were going and chuckled, his eyes crinkling as if you just cracked a joke that amused him twice as much as the average pun did. "Don't worry, sunshine, you're not the ugliest thing I've seen in my life."

And the he walked away whistling, probably going off to tie someone's shoelaces together to trip them up. What the fuck? You thought, still processing what had just happened. What was that all about? Don't worry, sunshine?

You bet Apollo was laughing at you from Mount Olympus with the way the sunlight was shining right onto your face as Connor walked away, blinding you as you stood there in confusion.

You eyes searched the assortment of campers for Annabeth, some tiny bit of support you could anchor yourself to. She wasn't there. No striking grey eyes of hers among the orange shirts. You grit your teeth, accepting your defeat.

Well, not exactly your defeat. Not yet, at least. Hopefully not.

You gave Connor your best glare as he walked up to you in the middle of the arena. He swung his sword in his hand back and forth as if this was a game to him. Luckily for you, you also saw it as a game. A fun game to try and get to learn a thing or two about him. You wanted to observe him, close up? Here was your chance.

Sword practice. Sparring. Percy as the instructor overseeing the match. Perfect.

"Shake hands, guys," He said, standing between you and Connor. He then nodded at the boy. "No cheating, alright? No extra tricks."

"Yeah, yeah," He said, tapping his foot. You saw how he seemed almost giddy, but when he met your eyes, his smile melted and he cleared his throat.

You held a hand out. He shook it, not taking his eyes off you. He had a serious expression on, devoid of all humor or teases. "Nice shirt," he mumbled. And then he was off, stepping backwards until he was a reasonable distance away from you.

Shaking the confusion out of your head, you got into position, holding your weapon as you adjusted your stance.

Percy gave the signal and you two were off, celestial bronze clashing against one another. Your ears rung and you tried to not let the sun blind you.

Frustratingly enough, you couldn't observe much except for his physical traits (a light spray of freckles across his nose bridge, a nasty looking scar on his knee and a bruise on the other one, a hand with only one fingernail painted cherry red; unsurprisingly enough for a son of Hermes, he seemed to be ambidextrous) and that he was awfully talkative.

"I might have trouble focusing, but I'm multitasking right now, see? Your face is distracting, but I can handle it." "You're nice to look at when you're cornered like this, you know? Cute and mad, I should piss you off more!" "I really like your lack of enthusiasm all the time!"

Parry. Strike. Slash. Clang! The tip of his sword grazed your jaw and you swiped at his shins. Contrary to his blabber, you stayed silent except for grunts and the like, determined to finish him off.

Someone in the audience of campers yelled for Connor to focus. Instead he laughed. Soon you ended up with your weapons pressed against each other, screeching as the material of each grinded against one another. You were face to face with him now.

"You seem a little rusty, maybe you should consider practicing with me—"

That was your last straw. You pushed him back, so hard that you ended a few feet away from him, and charged, but at the last second swung to disarm him from his waiting sword instead of striking. With your momentum, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pushing his head upward, and stepped behind him, holding your weapon to his throat.

Victory.

"You know, I'd say something, but I don't think it's very audience friendly, I think it should be reserved for someplace without overbearing coordinators or nine year olds," He giggled.

You released him after Percy gave you the signal. Of course, you had to be somewhat polite. So you maneuvered his body so he was facing you, standing properly now. You took his clammy hand and shook it, looking him straight in the eye.

"Good duel," You said, nodding, chest still rising and falling from the intense practice match.

"Yeah, yeah, good duel," Connor replied, stumbling over his words. "Percy didn't...didn't have any comments for us, y-yeah, that's...that's good, right?"

You nodded again, and he let go of your hand, swallowing and glancing at the floor. He wet his lips, as if there was something he was itching to say, something stuck in his throat.

"You...you have nice eyes." He walked away with something you might have called a scurry.

Tilting your head in utter confusion, you heard a voice and felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned around to see a little girl of about 12 years old. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her chubby cheeks from sweat. "Return the compliment. That's pamahiin, you know." She shot a cautious glance at Connor's turned back.

"It's what?"

"Superstition where someone curses you in the form of a compliment. He's been saying all kinds of things since the start of your match!"

"That doesn't sound like a Greek superstition to me. Where'd you hear that?" The girl left before you could finish. You shook your head. Silly kids.

You decided you had some business to attend to, so you jogged after Connor, following him down the path to the archery range.

"Hey," you called. "Connor!"

He slowly turned around, looking anxious. "...Yes?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You're being strange. You kept talking during sword practice—you never do it that much, and you keep offering to do things for me. Are you following me around? Why did you compliment my shirt out of the blue right before we started?"

His brain seemed to load. And then he smiled. "You watch me during sword practice?"

"Sometimes, when there's nothing else to watch. The point is, you're acting off!"

He cleared his throat. "Well, erm, you know, I've just been seeing you around and I wanted to get to know you more. Wait, I complimented your shirt? We're all wearing the same ones."

You stepped closer. "No, are you up to something? Trying to get under my skin? Everything you say is somewhat backhanded and it feels like you're planning to get me in trouble, or both of us in trouble. If you don't like me, just say it straight to my face." You clenched your fists as you finished.

His expression morphed and looked horrified. "Oh, my Gods. No, I'm sorry."

You stared hard, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Shit, Y/N. That, uh...that wasn't...oh man, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I mean, I am mouthy all the time, but I didn't want you to think of it like that! I do, I'm complimenting you, I guess we just don't match up in terms of what's a 'nice' gesture or not.

"I'll say it straight, then. I'm being nice to you, trying to say nice things. Because I think you're nice."

You raised a brow. "...Nice?"

"Yes, nice. And I really liked practicing with you. And greeting you in the morning and at night. And you. I like being nice to you even if you don't understand my little pickup lines sometimes."

"So you weren't trying to be mean?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Ah...okay. I see. That's...fair. I guess I was just paranoid." You slowly nodded, understanding his defense. You could see him nervously putting his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Mhm." He looked to the side. "Oh, and by the way, maybe the thing I said this morning was confusing, you're not ugly at all, I think you—everything about you, is very, pleasing to the eye."

You chuckled. "—Is nice."

He let out a relieved laugh at how you had caught on. "Yes, exactly that. Oh," He perked up, looking behind your shoulder. When you followed his gaze you saw some campers walking towards him, and they did not look very happy. He put his sword back into his scabbard and tied his shoelaces, which had come undone.

So he was a prankster. Obviously. But he wasn't as bad as you thought. Not mean, just a little mischievous at times. You definitely were just paranoid. It's not everyday you got that many compliments. Puzzling ones that needed comprehension, yet still compliments. And he was easy to talk to. Not mean at all. Come to think of it, you hadn't fallen victim to his or Travis's pranks lately, not in a long while—

"That's my cue," he reached over and awkwardly patted your shoulder, averting your gaze. Despite that, he was smiling ear-to-ear. "See you sometime, okay? Bye!"

"Bye...!" And he dashed away, leaving you beaming in amusement. Wait, pickup lines? Those were pickup lines to him?

Nice? Nice as in flirting?

[ladysarai]

happy writing! :D

....I cannot believe this fic happened. Sorry not sorry.

~*~

“What’s wrong with him?” Ariadne asks, irritation and hurt in her voice, watching Arthur stalk out of the hotel room they’re using as a base.

“It’s not us, pet,” Eames tells her, calm and patient and utterly unperturbed by the explosion of temper they’d just witnessed.

She huffs, returning to her drafts with vicious intent, feeling like her emotions are boiling under her skin. “Well, something crawled up his ass today,” she finally snaps, unable to keep herself in check. “And if it’s not us, then it’s not okay for him to take it out on us.”

Eames doesn’t say anything at first, and when she finally can’t take his silence anymore, she looks at him and finds him watching her contemplatively. He holds up a hand before she can snap at him, and she swallows it back, scowling instead. Finally, he says, “Today is Mal’s birthday. Was.”

Ariadne blinks at that, and she remembers Arthur’s face, during the Fischer job, the surprise and hurt when he said “she’s dead,” and the look in his eyes, the deep sadness of “she was lovely.” She thinks of the only other time she’s ever seen Arthur lose his temper like he had today, and realizes it was with Cobb, during the Fischer job–”what, with Mal? ‘Cause that worked so good?”

“Oh,” she says finally. Eames is still watching her, reading her reaction, watching her assemble the puzzle pieces. “I didn’t–I know he knew her. I didn’t know they were close.”

There’s a strange, unreadable expression that crosses Eames’s face at that, and a long moment before he speaks. When he does, Ariadne feels a little like the world has tilted on its axis.

“She was his sister.”

~*~

It doesn’t make sense. The puzzle pieces don’t slide together neatly, and Ariadne can’t find a way to manipulate them in a way that works.

Once she gets past the initial hurt feelings and indignation over the fact that no one said one thing during the entirety of the Fischer job (or after), she has to acknowledge that she actually doesn’t know all that much about Arthur’s personal life.

She knows even less about Mallorie Cobb (nee Miles; she only knows that because she went to see Dr. Miles after she returned from LA and saw a picture of her in his office along with children’s drawings for “Grampa” on the bulletin board). She knows what happened to her. She knows about Cobb’s guilt, and what his mind twisted her into, and she knows that what she knows is all filtered through him and his memories, and it isn’t enough.

Ariadne remembers insisting, over and over, that Cobb needed to tell Arthur about Mal, about what he was burying, and now she thinks–of course. Of course Cobb wouldn’t want to tell Arthur what he’d done to Mal, what he was then doing to his memories of her. She thought she was seeing more than anyone else, but maybe she was looking right into the sun and not seeing it.

She promised Eames that she wouldn’t bother Arthur about this–not now, not yet. But she never promised not to try to find out what she can. Google is only so helpful; Arthur is a lost cause. She tried looking him up after they first met, but the name she knows for him is clearly an alias, and no matter how hard she’s tried, she hasn’t been able to find any records or trace of him. (She knows now that he, along with Eames, were involved in those early military experiments he once told her about. She can only imagine that being part of a top secret military experiment must contribute to having an ungoogleable past, and she really isn’t keen on getting herself on some Homeland Security watch list.) She tries googling “Arthur Miles” now, but it’s useless.

She looks up Dr. Miles instead; Stephen Miles, professor of architecture at a long list of prestigious universities. She finds lists of his books and published articles, and reads about how he lives in Paris with his wife Marie, where they raised their daughter, Mallorie.

So Ariadne looks up Mal, using both names, Miles and Cobb. She discovers that Mal had a doctorate–a Ph.D. in neuropsychology, which is not something she ever would have been able to guess based on Cobb’s memories of her. There are lists of her own published articles, most of them related to dreams and dreaming. This was Mal; this was the kind of woman who would marry Dominic Cobb, who would experiment on dream levels with him and follow him to Limbo, who would stay there with him for over fifty years.

Ariadne reads several of her articles, and wishes she could have met the real woman, the one who wrote them.

No matter how much she researches, how much she reads, Ariadne still can’t find the missing piece to her puzzle. She can’t figure out how Arthur fits into the puzzle of Mal, of Mal and Cobb. She can’t fit “ah, so you’ve met Mrs.Cobb” and “she was lovely” with sister and brother.

~*~

Ariadne sets the mystery aside, but she doesn’t forget. She thinks about calling Cobb and asking him, but something stops her. She would rather ask Arthur, but for some reason, she doesn’t. They finish that job (Arthur apologizes the next day for his outburst, and no one says anything about why–and she doesn’t ask), and they keep in touch via email and texts until they work on another job together. She doesn’t ask about it at that job, either.

It’s a good seven months and two jobs later that Ariadne finds herself alone in a rented office space with Arthur and Eames. She’s building a 3-D model of the dream layout, carving into cardboard with an x-acto knife, when Eames announces that he’s going to go pick up lunch. He asks if she wants to come with, but she declines and gives him her sandwich order.

It isn’t until he’s closing the door behind him that she realizes two things. First, he never asks Arthur what he wants; he just always seems to know what to bring him. And second–that Arthur is still sleeping, hooked up to the PASIV, testing out their chemist's newest batch of somnacin. She looks over at him, sprawled out bonelessly on the couch, his face relaxed like she never sees it when he’s awake, and a tiny voice in the back of her mind wonders if she’s ever going to learn her lesson.

Not today, apparently.

She’s across the room and hooking herself up to the PASIV before she fully allows herself to think of the potential consequences.

Arthur’s dreams are usually her favorites. He’s the most stable dreamer she knows of–according to Eames, he’s the most stable dreamer there is–and no one is better at mazes and paradoxes than Arthur.

What she falls into this time is different. There’s no crisp architecture or modern designs, no mazes, no fancy hotels or office buildings. Instead, she finds herself in the middle of a quiet city side street. There’s snow on the ground and the sky is a gunmetal gray that promises more snow in the near future. Ariadne shivers and dreams herself up a warmer coat and some gloves, looking around to try to place herself and figure out where Arthur might be.

She begins slowly walking down the block, keeping an eye out for projections. The ones she passes aren’t bothered by her, and don’t even seem to register her presence. She spots Massachusetts license plates on the cars, and the occasional Red Sox or Bruins flags on the houses she passes. Boston, maybe, or somewhere just outside–this certainly isn’t the downtown touristy part of the city she’s used to seeing on television or in movies, but there’s a realness to it that tells her this is something more than just some random dreamscape.

She sees some figures in the street and hears voices up ahead, and recognizes Arthur’s. She ducks into the alley between two houses, sneaking through a back yard or two until she can creep along the side of a house and kneel down next to a porch, keeping herself mostly hidden behind a bush.

They’re there, standing in the street, looking up at the house behind her. Arthur, hands in his coat pockets, standing next to Mal. Looking at them standing there, both in their dark clothing, matching frowns on their faces… Ariadne sees it, now. The missing piece of the puzzle slides into place neatly. She was his sister.

“Why are we here, Mal?” Arthur asks, eyes still on the house.

Mal glances over at him and gives him an enigmatic little smile. This Mal is subtly different from the Mal Ariadne remembers from Cobb’s dreams; warmer, less threatening, but her accent is the same. “You tell me, mon cher. This is your dream, remember?”

The corner of his mouth twitches in something almost a smile. “You know I hate when you get all self-aware on me.”

She puts a hand on his arm. “Ah, but you never have been good at lying to yourself, now have you, Arthur?” She begins walking toward the house, and Ariadne shrinks back against the building, huddling further behind the bush. She hears Mal walk up the porch steps and stop and after a moment, Arthur follows.

For a moment Ariadne isn’t sure what to do; she thinks that if they went inside the house, she would have heard the door, but if they’re on the porch, she doesn’t dare move in case Arthur sees her. Then she hears Arthur’s voice, and thinks maybe they’ve sat on the porch steps. “I miss you.”

“I know,” Mal says. “But this isn’t about me.”

“Sure, it is.” There’s a teasing note to Arthur’s voice that Ariadne recognizes. “You know, for a memory, you’re really not playing along very well.”

“This is not one of our happier memories. You could have picked something nicer. Certainly something warmer than Dorchester in March.”

He snorts. “I’m testing a compound. I didn’t exactly plan on a trip down this end of Memory Lane.”

“What did you plan on?”

Arthur doesn’t answer for a long time, and when he does, it doesn’t make sense to Ariadne. “I’m glad you grew up in France.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t. We should have been together.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda.” Ariadne has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way Arthur says it.

“I could have protected you.”

Arthur laughs at that, not unkindly. “Mal, I was fine. You were there when I really needed you. Besides, you and Dad would have been like oil and water. I’m pretty sure none of us would have survived.”

“Dom and I will have beautiful children,” Mal announces, and there’s something about her cadence that tells Ariadne that this is Memory!Mal. “And if we ever divorce, I will make sure the children stay together and have the chance to know both of their parents. Even if Dominic does not deserve my benevolence.”

“Fuck, I forgot you said that,” Arthur sighs.

Mal laughs, bright and cheerful, and Ariadne’s heart aches for reasons she can’t name. She thinks she’s heard enough, so she creeps carefully back the way she came and waits until she’s far from Arthur’s childhood home before she kicks herself out of his dream.

Ariadne never tells anyone what she saw, and decides she would rather wait for Arthur to confide in her than go poking about in any more dream memories.