#will I suffer from a nervous breakdown?

[mariocki]

Susannah: Yes. Yes, he did risk himself. We all did. A lot of it... OK, a bit half-assed but at least... some of it will stick! You have to try. It's not going to work any more, running for the same old burrows... we're rafting off into space - God! Frank sees it. He said to me one day, 'Suse... you know what's going to do for us all? Not the failure of intellect, moral, muscle - but the failure of imagination! They're all too busy with their snouts in the trough to smell the fire.'

Crystal: Yeah, he says some really daft things.

-

Pam Gems, Loving Women (1984)

[the-acid-pear]

I really don't know if i have a fever or if I'm just having symptoms related to being a silly guy

[plutolovesyou]

heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..

sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster

TEMPTATION WAITS

before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.

“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.

She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.

In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.

Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.

For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.

Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.

She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.

Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.

You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.

“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.

Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.

Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.

“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.

“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”

You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.

You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.

You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.

But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.

It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.

The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.

Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.

“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.

Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.

You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”

She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.

It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?

When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.

But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.

Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.

The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.

She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.

And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.

When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.

When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.

Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.

The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.

She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.

You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.

You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.

“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.

You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.

“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.

"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.

She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”

She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?

She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.

You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”

Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.

She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.

Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”

The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.

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[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's Number 1 Fan Part 3

John Constantine calls a joint Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It's not something he wants to do. He barely works with the LJD, but at least that lot understands his work and knows what to do and where to go.

The JL members always ask questions and forget proper manners when working with the paranormal- John isn't the most well-mannered bloke around, but even he knows to permanently say goodbye to ghosts so that they don't follow him home- and it's like trying to teach an intern while dodging bullets.

He prefers to avoid the whole origination, especially since Bruce's death; everyone has been walking on eggshells, and there is a sense of disorganization drenched in grief that John breaks into hives just thinking about, but this is big.

Bigger than he can handle it on his own or with just the JLD. Even if the whole group gives the bats not-so-stable glances as they filter in.

John notices that one of Batman's brats is missing- the smart one- but he has heard that the kid suffered some kind of psychotic break from his father's death. It's sad, really, mainly because John used to believe that the third Robin was the one with the good head on his shoulders.

What's worse is that the Third Robin up and ran off, having gone off the grid when he refused to accept Batman's death. The boy hadn't said anything besides, "The portraits told me!" after having a miniature breakdown in his home.

It didn't help that around this time, the boy teammates had all dropped like flies except for one. So yes, John knows it wasn't a big surprise that he lost it, but it was still sad to see. Kid is only seventeen.

He hopes they find him soon to give him the help he needs. John would offer a spell to try and find him, but he needs to learn about the kid better, which means his spell can only point in a general direction.

Nightwing looked downright ragged, but losing a father on the battlefield and a younger brother to his grief did a number on anyone.

John hates himself just a little for dragging the grieving family here. He does, but again, this is bigger than all of them. This is a matter of life and death- literally.

"Listen up. We have a bloody level ten on its way to Earth if it's not already here." His words cut through the muttering crowd, shutting everyone up. A level ten makes even the big, lousy Superman sweat. He snaps his fingers, allowing his magic to shift into the image of a King Phantom sitting on his throne- painted in the early 1200s and the picture that can be used to identify him.

The art style would have been almost modern if it wasn't for the unease that the painting could cause due to the glowing green from his majesty's portrait. They say the green was ectoplasm from the king himself- and that alone should warn others to not mess with him.

Everyone Justice League Dark member hissed through their teeth, sitting up straighter and a few even pale. John is once again grateful that they understand just how deep in shit they genuinely are.

"This is the Ghost King. He is not to be confused with a god or king of gods. He's something else entirely because he makes gods nervous. He is on his way here to kill whoever is dumb enough to threaten his pregnant fiancee, and I fear the rest of Earth will be collateral if we don't prepare-"

"That's Danny Phantom," A young voice cuts John off. He is surprised someone would talk over him in a level ten briefing. All eyes turn to Robin- er, the new Robin.

The kid is frowning at the image, his signature scowl already deeper than usual. He's also heard the new Robin was a spoiled boy who was not a team player.

"You know King Phantom?" John asks.

Robin nods. "Placeholder is obsessed with him. Half his room is covered with King Phantom's heroics."

"Do not call him that.," Nightwing hisses a second later. He frowned when Robin ignored him but returned to the room without further comment on the boy's cheek. "Danny Phantom is a low-level search and rescue hero. He pops up around the world but only sometimes interacts with people. Robin- Young Justice Robin- was obsessed with him."

The room gains an awkward weight as no one is willing to bring up the mentally unsound MIA teenager.

It's too bad for them. John has never cared about making anyone comfortable. "You said his room is covered in images of King Phantom?"

From the corner of his eyes, John catches sight of Zatanna's face. She's pale white, with a horrified expression as if though she was standing before the grim itself. Every other member of the Justice League Dark is in a similar state.

"Yes, he has a whole wall of posters and stuff." Nightwing conforms, and shit John knows who Phantom's after now.

The thing is, one just doesn't have pictures of King Phantom. No one knows why, but the Ghost King can not be documented. Not without having some kind of connection to the King.

Throughout history, the only ones who have ever had even one solid picture of the king- John's magic doesn't count cause he can't well hold the thing up forever- usually meant that the King would appear before them at one point.

There is also a myth if one could beat a member of the royal ghost family, then one wish is granted to them. If one can kill a royal ghost member, death can be overturned.

It's not true, obviously, for death is not easily beaten like that, but John knows that as an expert, would a mentally unwell teenager know the same?

It was also known that if the King appeared before you, something terrible would happen. The sighting of King Phantom often came as an omen and usually right before a terrible disaster.

In the last disaster, they lost Batman, and if King Phantom had shown up, where the Third Robin have spotted him? Where the Third Robin have thought the King could return the dead?

Not to mention the rumors!

King Phantom was hunting down a group of humans known as "The Bats." John hadn't put that much stock in that rumor simply because it could have been anyone- hell, when he looked up the bats seven different groups appeared, varying from boy bands to zoologists.

But if he placed the name "The Bats" next to the Third Robin's psychotic break, his obsession with King Phantom, and his intertwined fates...well, shit.

There is a slight chance that the Third Robin's fate could be intertwined with the Ghost King in a positive light, but John has learned to not be optimistic in his line of work.

"I think the Third Robin is gunning after the Ghost King's fiancee and unborn child in a misguided attempt to bring Batman back to life. He may have kicked started a war that humanity can not win," He announces. He hates to say. hates to even suggest it, but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few. "We have to find the Third Robin and attempt to stop him. If we can't reason with him, we must put him down."

Wonder Girl gasps a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John hates himself a little more as she sobs; a few rushes to confront her, but no one is unaffected by the news.

"I'm ordering a hunt for the Third Robin," Wonderwoman speaks up to her steady leadership, returning everyone from their despair. "Every available hero will help. Do not use lethal force unless there is no other choice. We may be able to find him before King Phantom's armies arrive."

John just hopes they are not too late.

Meanwhile, across the plane of existence, unaware of the manhunt for his head, Tim Drake is trying to stare down a Yeti, attempting to put him in silk clothes that are just fabrics held together by strings.

"No."

"But-But- but you have such a flattering figure! You must flaunt it! The Great One will barely be able to contain himself if he sees you in this!"

"No. It looks like something you wear on a honeymoon to seduce your spouse. I'm not walking around in that."

"Well, you don't need to bewitch his majesty. You already have a child on the way." The Yeit mutters, considering the fabric in his claws with a frown. He is Frostbite's royal tailor and has been attempting to dress Tim for over an hour. Everything he's suggested so far looks like it came from those romantic fantasy games.

It's like they want to make him a sexy consort or something.

Tim's teeth grind against each other. He hates how often his role is reminded, how casually the yetis mention that Ra's expects a child from Tim.

He doesn't even know how that child will come to be, and it makes him sick. He's been bidding his time, waiting for his wounds to heal and to find a weakness in the frozen fortress, but so far, he is unsure how he will escape.

And Bruce is still out there, waiting for Tim to get him. He can't waste any more time here.

"How about this cloak?" The Yeti offers, holding up a dark metallic fabric that reminds TIm of his Robin cape. "If we are going for a more conservative look, something that screams power is just the way to make the masses wild!"

Ugh, he really needs to think of a plan soon.

[izzystizzys]

The war doesn’t end with a bang, strictly speaking. It doesn’t even end with a political forum, or peace talks, or a slow, wheezing death of the Banking Clan’s pockets running dry, even though all of those are valid possibilities. Some more than others, Cody has to admit.

No, the war ends with an article in the Galaxy’s least reputable news source, Coruscant Rotational. Splashed on the front page for all to see is Cody’s little brother, next to the Chancellor.

CLONE MEWS CHANCELLOR TO DEATH IN MOGGING MOVE FOR THE AGES - LOOKSMAXXING TAKEN TOO FAR?

“What”, says Obi-Wan, eye twitching, fingers massaging over the bridge of his nose at double their usual speed, a real sign of an impending nervous breakdown if Cody’s ever seen one, “the kriff does that even mean?!”

Rex shrugs helplessly with one shoulder, other arm raised aimlessly. “No idea, General. I only understand about half those words. Maybe we’re all having a collective stroke? Maybe Fox is having a stroke? Whatever he’s doing with his jaw in that picture can’t be healthy.”

“Well, not for the late Chancellor, anyways”, says Cody flatly, in the long-suffering tone of one who’s seen too much Jedi banthashit in too little time. He screws his eyes tightly shut, scrubbing the backs of his knuckles in hard enough to see galaxies explode. Nope, still the same words on that datapad.

“It can’t be true”, says Skywalker, who’d gone white as a shitty military-issue sheet and has been steadily pacing the room ever since the equivalent of a sonic bomb hit the room. “I mean - think about it, this could just as well be a Separatist ploy, it would play right into their hands, and Coruscant Rotational isn’t exactly the most reputable source -“

“True enough”, says Obi-Wan, thoughtfully. “They do like getting their facts mixed up. In fact, I’ve seen about six articles just this month proclaiming our dear friend Senator Amidala’s super secret pregnancy. They even falsified hospital records, can you imagine?!”

Somehow, Skywalker loses another shade of colour, gulping soundlessly, and resumes his pacing more frenetically than before. Weird guy, that.

It’s Rex who breaks the awkward stillness of the room, perking up suddenly. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we call in Commander Tano?! She’s about the right age to understand some of this dribble, right?”

“I was going to suggest calling Corrie HQ, but sure, let’s ask the teenage soldier from the space monk order who spends all her spare time hunting your legion for sport”, says Cody, dryly. Rex deflates, and Thorn’s tinny voice sounds through Cody’s comm before he can make his reply. “Marshall Commander, I assume this is about the News.” Ominous capitalisation, ooooh, mouths Rex, and receives the nearest datapad Cody can reach to the face for his troubles with a squawk. The fact that he can read that sentence off his lips means their legions have spent far too much time together, and also that Cody’s grown soft in his old age.

“Good to hear you too, Thorn, and yes, we do have some questions concerning why the kriff my vod’ika is accused of murdering the chancellor through what I can only assume is some secret Sith magic?!”

“Oh, you mean when he defeated the actual Sith on the Senate through the power of his superior mog and made the kriffer explode in a thousand wrinkly pieces? You’re welcome, by the way”, says Thorn, instead of literally anything sane.

“Commander”, begs Cody’s General, with something glistening that might actually be tears in his eyes. “Commander, please. I do not understand any of those words. I am begging you to put me out of my misery.”

PALPATINE??? SITH?????!!!, screams Skywalker in battlesign, somehow spelling out each individual question and exclamation mark.

“It’s a game we’ve started playing in the Guard, sir, to pass time on patrol”, says Thorn, sheepishly, cowed by nearly driving the High General Kenobi to tears. “We’d do stupid faces we found the holonet, and, uh - well Fox is so high on black-market morphine most of the time cause we don’t get bacta that he sleepwalks on assignment sometimes, and, uh, he started making them at the Chancellor during a holocall meeting with Count Dooku and then the Chancellor tried to electrocute him again but accidentally blew himself up-“

“Breathe, Commander”, says Obi-Wan, and then - “That is SO much information I don’t know what to do with, Force preserve me. Why is Commander Fox on black-market morphine, or sleepwalking, or making faces at-“

“He signs reports in his sleep too, sometimes”, Thorn interrupts the General. “It’s actually kind of impressive if, y’know, it didn’t make Stabby bust another capillary in pure rage.”

“Who’s Stabby?”, asks Obi-Wan, confused.

“Meeting with Count Dooku?!”, bursts out Skywalker.

“Congratulations on Amidala’s pregnancy, General Skywalker”, says Thorn, like a man who wants to see the world burn.

[tozettastone]

AKATSUKI RANKED BY PARENTING SKILLS

First, an honourable mention goes to Orochimaru, who would win this ranking effortlessly but who is no longer part of the Akatsuki.

10. Zetsu is more or less disqualified because he reproduces by creating exact clones of himself. You are his clone, and you are the parent and the parented, the sibling, the self; sometimes all of the above all at once. Don't worry about it.

9. Hidan finds his kid fascinating and funny as fuck. Irrational tantrums about being handed an object they desperately wanted 3 minutes ago? He's laughing. Cute questions about the nature of society that Hidan has never once contemplated the answers to? So funny! Breaking their arm for the sixth time? Absolutely hilarious. The problem with Hidan is that being charmed and amused, and indeed feeling genuine affection, will in no way prevent him from exploring the outer limits of your capacity for suffering, and this only gets worse the more responsible for you he is. He loves you a lot and you will not survive to adulthood.

8. Sasori is adequate at servicing a child's basic needs for care and keeping. He is not a demonstrative parent but he is surprisingly receptive to a child's displays of affection and rarely turns them away. They remind him of his own relationship with his parents — his first foray into his craft, in which he preserved their bodies and made them embrace him as he imagined parents ought to. He understands the emotional component to development with his current, synthetic detachment. He is not very patient, and he's prone to just intervening in your brain chemistry when you frustrate him, which is not a great way to live. The other problem with Sasori as a parent, of course, is that at every moment he feels a sliver of affection for you, he contemplates whether it would be worth it to preserve that "you" forever. Eventually, the clockwork in his head will tick over, and you'll become the most beloved puppet in his collection.

7. Kakuzu swings between strict and angry at some times, and flatly indifferent at others; he's strict and angry when his emotions are engaged, which he hates, and combats with icy apathy. Sometimes he will be angry and indifferent about exactly the same topics on different days. This is a man who will hit a kid for not magically knowing something that he, their only parent, should have been the one to teach them about. He is at his best when he can be a mostly-benign acquaintance in his child's life. The single saving grace with Kakuzu is that you can just leave and he will take months to come after you, if he ever does. Don't expect a birthday card.

6. Itachi is utterly unprepared to be the carer for a child but approaches it with the same steady and dubiously-deserved self confidence with which he approaches everything. He is sometimes affectionate, but he is also relentlessly critical and he will use genjutsu torments as a "harmless" parenting tool, because they are obviously less damaging than corporeal punishment. (It has not occurred to him that a zero-violence approach to child rearing might be, theoretically, possible.) His expectations will only rise over time as he comes to like you better, and his treatment of you will become correspondingly harsher. Expect to jump at shadows until you're 39 and sobbing into your therapist's rug. On this list, you could do worse, but I can't help but feel that regularly obliterating a child's trust in the basic tenets of reality is courting a really severe mental illness.

5. Tobi will have a nervous breakdown about his fitness for interpersonal attachments, which he won't acknowledge as a nervous breakdown. He will then respond with complete mental and emotional detachment from his child, strap them to him in a sling and carry them through Akatsuki missions. Their crying will cause a stealth-based plan to fail, multiple times. Tobi will performatively panic every time they cry, and he will play with them any time they like — all the better if it annoys everyone around him. The problems start when you get older and can speak, which is about when it becomes steadily less convenient for him to treat you as a prop in his bizarre fantasy theatre. The more articulate you become, the less interested Tobi is. Where did his cute baby go? :( Expect a relatively physically safe but unstable childhood, oscillating between overwhelming, intense, nonsensical and occasionally cruel parental attention and complete absence. You will learn not to rely on other people for anything, and to tense up whenever someone says they love you.

4. Deidara has absolutely no desire to be responsible for ANY human being, including, often, himself. He resents every second of time your existence steals away from himself and his own projects, and although he intellectually understands that a child can't help needing stuff, he really does regard it as stealing from him. You're a gross, hooked little knife in his side, tugging him away from thoughts of himself and his art. He can't wait until you're old enough to leave on your own for long periods of time, and as he's a shinobi, he thinks "old enough," is, like, maybe five. Expect a short, disrupted childhood full of terse lessons in how not to get blown up today, followed by trying very, very hard to avoid daddy's attention. On the other hand, this is a parent who does not want to give you any attention, which, on this list, can only be an advantage. I can't believe this is number 4.

3. Nagato tries his best but childhood is where the trauma lives, and so every childhood milestone hits him with a rush of agonising memories like a lightning strike. You will become a proxy for him in his haphazard efforts to reparent himself, and he will be equally upset if you're exactly like him OR if you're totally different to him. You will never fully understand his relationship with himself and he will never understand that he's meant to be cultivating a relationship with you. Still, you could do worse.

2. Konan is a composed parent. She manages her own fears and anxieties with icy repression, and that's also her approach to the loving attachments of parenthood. Her child will be clean, educated, fed and sheltered appropriately at all times, but there has never once been an emotional need Konan has indulged. You will develop a deeply anxious attachment style and become a serial monogamist who is furious that nobody can live up to your expectations and terrified that the problem is you. (It is.)

1. Kisame does not wait until six months to give his baby water and he has a worryingly permissive approach to child safety in general. He puts up with pretty much any behavioural problem with steady I've-seen-it-all equanimity — except when his child is lying to his face, which is basically his single, glowing berserk button as an authority figure. He cares about his kid and will generally view them as a person and not as some kind of psychosocial manifestation of his own mental illness at least 50% of the time, which is why he wins the top spot on this cursed list. Kisame will tell you stories about how you must have eaten all your siblings in the womb to be born at all, and that means you're already the strongest possible kid he could have had. This is intended to be encouraging. Roll with it, dude. You could have got Hidan.

[emelinstriker]

Starscream ♡ Kiss The Spark

He may be in denial over certain things, but his spark says otherwise. Also I know this ain't a canon way of humans bonding with cybertronians, but eh, this is how I always saw it as a possible headcanon. Btw, "Kiss The Spark" was supposed to be a little one-shot series for each Decepticon, which is why there's more than one.

[TL;DR] A simple examination of the spark chamber turns into a sparkbond with a human.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"Will he be okay?" You asked the cherry red medic, worried about your lover's current state. The seeker was lying on Knockout's operation table because he took a heavy blow from an Autobot.

"Well, his physical state isn't instable or anything, but he did receive quite the blow to his chassis. His spark might be damaged. And this is why I asked for your assistance", Knockout responded as he brought some potential tools over to the table. You gave him a puzzled look and he raised an optic ridge at you. "You two are Conjunx Endura, right?"

You tilted your head at that question. Humans couldn't physically become a Cybetronian's Conjunx... right? You crossed your arms, avoiding eye contact. "...Not exactly. We agreed on our relationship verbally, but we don't think a sparkbond is possible."

He hummed in thought before returning to check his tools. "Well, either way, you're the closest he has to a Conjunx Endura. Therefore I'm asking you to be the one to examine his spark and spark chamber." Your mouth hung agape at his request. But... wasn't the spark a Cybetronian's most sacred possession? Their entire life essence? Their heart and soul?

"I-I don't think he-" "Oh please, he wouldn't mind being touched like that by you. He most certainly would shoot my own if I accidentally touched his spark." You gulped and he noticed your uneasy posture. "Don't worry, doll. The procedure will not be taking up a lot of your time and he most likely won't suffer from any further injuries. Just follow my instructions as best as you can. Best case scenario would just turn this into a simple examination."

Letting out a nervous sigh, you reluctantly agreed to his request and climbed your way up to the seeker's chassis. Giving the medic one last glance, you lightly held your hands on top of the grey mech's Decepticon insignia. His spark chamber opened up to you with ease as if his spark was awaiting you.

And there it was- a brightly glowing sphere.

"Alright, doll," the red mech started, "check around his spark chamber for any possible dents or even leaks. We do not know if any of his most inner energon spill. The opening shouldn't have any dents either." You grabbed ahold of the edge of his spark chamber, making sure to not touch his spark as you got closer to examine the insides of his chamber. Squinting your eyes at the brightness, you tried looking around the walls.

"...I don't see any energon. Although, I believe there's a potential dent on the right side of the opening, but none in- WOAH-" Suddenly you were interrupted by his spark reaching out towards you with some strange bright rays, acting like little tendrils. Startled, you backed away from his chassis while the tendrils seemed to retreat as you went further away.

"Uh- Knockout?!" You really needed an explanation for this. The medic just started laughing at both the discovery and your awkward misery. "Knockout, this isn't funny, you jerk!"

"Oh my! He really does want to sparkbond with you, even while in stasis!" He was now clutching his tank at the irony. "Breakdown owes me an energon cube!"

"W-Wait, what-"

He wiped an imaginary tear from his optic before he slowly started to calm down. "You know what? I think you can deal with his spark chamber without my instructions. I don't want to interrupt your sparkbonding experience with your Conjunx, doll. Simply write down any possible damages and we'll fix it afterwards."

And with that he casually walked out of the room, smirking. What a prick.

Now surrounded by silence, not counting the slight energy sound Starscream's spark was giving off, you decided to just get it over with. You mustered up your courage and got a little closer to his spark. Again, trying to avoid touching it while attempting to get a good angle to see if there was any damage further to the top of the chamber. And yet again, the tendrils reached out to you once more. They gently wrapped themselves around your head and pulled you closer to the spark. The spark and its tendrils started giving you the feeling of comfort as you let yourself be lead even closer towards your lover. You closed your eyes due to the intense light as your lips touched his warm spark in a kiss. You stayed like this until it started making weird sounds, startling you.

Suddenly, you were able to feel what seemed to be Starscream's memories or present feelings while in stasis. His anger towards the Autobots, his fear of Megatron and Predaking, his sadness over his insecurities, his love for you... You felt it all in one big wave of emotions. After it was over, finally you felt like you could breathe again. You gasped as you swiftly retracted from his spark. However, you then noticed that you now had your hands on it instead.

"Uh-" You were about to call Knockout for his knowledgeable advice, when Starscream's optics onlined. You looked up at him in worry, frozen in fear of him now hating you for touching his spark. But you didn't expect his optics to look so... out of it. His facial expression held a mix between confusion and what you could only describe as having a hangover. And that's when his optics looked down, staring at you. You suddenly panicked as you swiftly retracted your hands. "Oh my gosh, I'm so, so, sorry! I-I don't know what-" Starscream simply interrupted you by using his talons to gently push you towards his spark once more. Confused, you stared him in the optics.

"Please, hold my spark again..." His voice sounded desperate to have you this close to him. Reluctantly, you lightly layed your hands on it. The seeker seemed satisfied, but something was still missing...

"Put your chassis over it...", he added. You stared at him, surprised by his request, but did as he asked. You took off your shirt, as to not have it bother his most vulnerable part, and placed it on the side of the table while you were slowly starting to get cold. It wasn't cold for long however. You climbed a bit further up his chassis so you could lie down over his spark chamber, with your chest making slight contact with his warm spark. Now you certainly weren't cold anymore.

Not the most comfortable position to be lying in but hey, you got to be closer to your love. The tendrils emerged once more, and this time they seemed to hug you by wrapping around you, securely holding you against Starscream. Said seeker used one servo to trail a digit up and down your back, seemingly content to finally have you be this close.

The comforting heat and emotions his spark was giving off suddenly got you very tired. So you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep in your Conjunx Endura's embrace.

Bonus:

"Wow, Starscream..." That voice. That unnerving voice. "I only asked them to check your spark chamber for any dents, and you want to suddenly try sparkbonding instead in a rather desperate way", Knockout said as he walked closer to the table the seeker was lying on. He then added, "And here I thought you couldn't sparkbond with a human. Guess Shockwave will have something new to examine."

The seeker glared at the direction of the red mech, scoffing at the medic. "If either one of you tries to touch them, there will be dire consequences, Knockout." He snapped back, slightly tightened his grip on you as you kind of curled around his spark.

The red mech smirked at your Conjunx's sudden protectiveness. "I didn't say I would touch them. Although, I do hope you two are done soon. I'll still be needing that table to fix you up, after all."

[ Masterlist ]

[fataldrum]

So I was looking into the Magnus Protocol Episode Hard Reset, and I am losing my shit for so many reasons.

1. The statement giver is Robert Hooke, one of the first people to publish research on microscopy. He was the person who coined the word "cell" in biology, because he thought they looked like the cells where monks lived.

2. The statement takes place in 1694. Hook references using the Protocol on London to stop a plague. Between 1665 and 1666, the Great Plague killed about 20% of the British population. In 1666, the Great Fire of London destroyed 60% of the city.

3. You know who made a ton of money from the fire? Robert Hooke. He made his fortune as a surveyor and architect in the aftermath of the fire, performing over half the property surveys. How fortunate for him.

4. Incidentally, there are no confirmed surviving portraits of Robert Hooke, only ones that may be him. This is rumored to be Isaac Newton's fault, because after Newton took over the Royal Society, they moved to a new location, and Hooke's portrait was "lost." No other portraits went missing.

5. The statement is addressed to Robert Boyle, who you may recognize for Boyle's Law in chemistry. There's a sculpture in Dublin of a young boy who is thought to be Boyle, and it's horrific.

6. This time period is significant for Isaac Newton, because between 1692 and 1693, he suffered "a breakdown of nervous functioning," with insomnia, poor digestion, and "signs of irrationality" in his letters. Incidentally, hair samples from Newton's body later contained high levels of mercury, lead, arsenic, and antimony. Probably because he was literally tasting mercury samples as part of his research.

7. During the statement, I was picturing a scrappy little terrier. It occurred to me that we probably know what kind of dog Isaac Newton had. His favorite dog was a pomeranian. A fucking. Pomeranian. Just picture this little guy developing sentience and sprouting branches.

8. The dog's name was Diamond, and he has his own Wikipedia page. Why? Because (likely apocryphal) stories claim Diamond knocked over a candle and burned over a year's worth of Newton's notes. The fire appears to be real, but blaming Diamond is unfair. Here's an engraving of the alleged incident.

9. After the fire, Newton was said to have exclaimed, "O Diamond, Diamond, thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done." But Diamond would know if he ate from the Tree of Knowledge.

10. Remember Flamsteed from the Maxwell Raynor statement? He and Newton were bitter enemies.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + five

authors note: soooo, i both hate and love this one. can't tell if i'm just being super hard on myself, but it feels flat and a bit boring, but i also know if i keep messing with it, i'll never feel wholly satisfied, so here is the best version i could come up with!

it does include more of roman's background though so....there's that at least lmao

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

cw/tw: sexual harassment, language, violence, ptsd episode (dissociation, avoidance, breakdown), torture

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

words: 8k

Solana has come to the realization that training isn’t entirely awful.

Or maybe it’s the fact that along with training, she’s allowed the chance to socialize, to be around other people and learn to not be so nervous all of the time. Naomi is a great person for that, bubbly and naturally personable. She’s created such a welcoming space that has left Solana feeling less and less nervous.

A couple weeks into training, Solana also feels like she’s growing more comfortable in her learning. It’s still the very basics, a lot of focus on flexibility, but it feels good. It feels almost relieving to be able to learn certain skills and tips that she can use to maybe one day defend herself. 

To maybe one day be able to take care of herself.

Or maybe some dreams are just too big to wish for.

It’s the end of her session with Naomi, and Solana is in the women’s locker rooms, having just finished her shower. She’s in her head a bit, mentally going over what she’s going to make Roman for dinner.

He’s been gone more often than not the past couple weeks, and she’s torn on that. On one hand, it’s nice not to be around a man who she’s supposed to be figuring out a way to kill, a man whose presence alone creates an additional layer of anxiety on top of the pre-existing baseline that is her everyday anxiety 

But…..

But, there’s also a part of her that….that wouldn’t be too opposed if he was around more. Being alone in the big house also creates a space of anxiety. If…if he was present more, maybe she could learn how to interact with him.

Could learn him.

It’s this strange thought process that’s so confusing and almost overwhelming for her that it keeps her from noticing the pending danger lurking just steps away.

“Hey, Solana.”

Solana gasps loudly, spinning around, her eyes widening at Austin Theory who stands before her with that same predatory smile. She opens her mouth to scream, but she’s too slow. 

Austin backs her against the lockers and slaps his hand over her mouth. His other hand moves to pin her hands over her hand. Instantly, her heart is beating out her fucking chest, an intense weight of dread anchoring her down. 

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed. 

“Always so damn jumpy. All we wanna do is get to know you....”

It’s almost perfect timing when another man appears, Grayson. But, it’s when he sees Austin and Solana that he frowns, walking over, “man, what the hell are you doing?”

Austin rolls his eyes, laughing. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch. It’s just a little fun.”

“This isn’t funny, Austin. If Reigns finds out—”

“What the fuck is he gonna do, huh?” Austin scoffs, gaze returning back on Solana who has her eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re not going to say anything to him anyway, are you?” 

Solana gasps, breathing uneven as Austin lowers his hand to tug on the knot of her towel just enough to loosen it but not enough to undo it. Regardless, it’s that one act that truly immobilizes her because she’s no longer standing before this man as a grown woman.

She’s that 12 year old little girl completely unaware of what night of horrors is about to be unleashed on her, the way an unspeakable act of evil perpetrated on an innocent child is going to lead her down a dark, depressing path.

And she’s frozen, frozen in time, forever stuck in that state of suffering. 

Grayson’s eyes fall on Solana, seeing that she’s almost no longer present, dissociating, and that seemingly freaks him out even more. He tugs on Austin’s shoulder. “You had your fun, mate. Let’s fucking go.”

Austin has never been one to listen to others. Ever. But in a testament to his cruelty, Solana’s lack of reaction, lack of struggling and displaying helplessness in front of him wanes the enjoyment. He doesn’t get off as much, doesn’t feel as empowered as he does by making people feel small.

So with a scoff and not an ounce of influence from Grayson in his ear, he releases her, stepping back with a smirk as she instantly moves her arms over her chest. 

“Relax, Mrs. Reigns.” She’s anything but, and it brings a smile to his face. It’s so fucking easy to get her unnerved. “Just messing with ya, that’s all.”

There’s more distant talking, snickering and combatting with someone speaking quietly but urgently. Solana can make out part of that as she gradually returns to a state of awareness. Enough to where she’s eventually cognizant of the fact that they’ve left, that she’s alone, that they no longer pose an immediate threat.

But, they do. They do, because what if they come back?

Chest still tightening, breathing still erratic, Solana rushes over to the door, shaking hands managing to shut it closed and locked. But, it’s not enough to just be alone, to know that no one can come in and try to hurt her. 

Because she still feels it.

Still feels hands on her, restricting her, bounding her, and it makes her sick.

Hand over her mouth, Solana does her best to push back the nausea, rushing over to the showers, turning the knob so that it’s at full strength. 

And heat too.

Shoving the towel off her body, she steps under the scalding water and grabs the soap, immediately scrubbing at her body. It’s unnecessary force, unnecessary heat, unnecessary altogether, but it’s the only thing that gives her a faux sense of comfort. She needs to wash the feeling of them off of her, scrub until her skin starts to look wrinkled and raw, her complexion tinging with redness from the heat of the water.

Eventually, the scrubbing stops feeling like enough. Nothing feels like enough, and she falls back against the wall of the shower, sliding down as she pulls her knees to her chest.

And she cries, the water blending seamlessly with the tears that filter out the drain in a way she wishes the heavy feelings wrecking her body would melt away.

Safe.....

It's a dream that she'll never achieve.

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.” 

“But not good enough.” Roman’s dismissal is swift and to the point. “I want 75% of all profits.”

Rikishi presses his lips together, calmly reminding, “that’s gonna be a hard sell.” 

“Orton is desperate. He’s an imbecile who uses more products than he moves and is running Bob’s legacy into the ground.” Roman is a man who prides himself on always being on the up and up. He makes it his business to know what’s going on with all competitors and even partnerships. “He should consider my offer fucking mercy. 75% or nothing.”

Rikishi sits back in his chair, a proud smile growing on his face. “I’ve taught you well, Uce”

There’s a modicum of truth to his cousin’s words, but for the most part, Roman has learned more on his own than anything anyone could have ever taught him.

“What’s the status of the imports from Columbia?”

Jey leans forward, answering without pause. “Scheduled to arrive just on time, assuming nothing goes awry.”

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

Roman nods. “It’ll be fine.” His distant cousin, Tama Tonga is a bit on the……eccentric side, but he’s never failed to see a successful shipment through from beginning to end.

“If…..” Paul’s low but firm voice enters the conversation, Roman’s lazy gaze falling on the man. “If I may, my Tribal Chief?” With the nod of approval from the Head of the Table, Paul clears his throat. “By my calculations, there’s a way for us to improve on the total time it currently takes for us to move product by over 40% with some minor….changes.”

Jimmy, who sits almost bored at the other side of the table, feet propped up, asks in a suspicion tone. “What kind of changes?”

Paul clears his throat. “If we were to have access to the Eastern harbor—”

At that, both Jimmy and Jey land eyes on their cousins head counsel. Jey is the first to speak though. “You know that’s Nightmare territory, correct?”

Paul’s voice is surprisingly calm. “I do.” A nervous set of blue eyes settle on the man who sits at the head of the table, the primary one who needs to be convinced of the possible benefits of what he’s about to suggest. “If we would just consider—”

“No.” Roman’s rejection is loud and echoes throughout the conference room. “How could you even fucking suggest that shit?”

“My Tribal Chief, if you could please hear out my—”

Roman’s fist banging against the table sends an alert to all members of this current meeting that the Tribal Chief word is final and unchanging. “I said…..no.” 

Rikishi shakes his head, thankful that a stern rejection is the extent of his cousin’s reaction. He can’t believe Paul could even be stupid enough to even suggest such a thing to Roman. Perhaps he could be swayed over to see the business and financial benefits, but Roman…..no, that history runs too deep and bleeds too much red for Roman Reigns to ever consider some sort of ceasefire or let alone alliance with The Nightmare Factory. 

“Well, that shit got awkward real fast,” Jey mutters, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Even if it makes all the sense in the world. “How about that marriage life?

Roman shuts his eyes. It’s jumping from one annoying topic to another. “What?”

“Man, Big Dog living good over there,” Jimmy’s smile is wide as he rubs his hands together. “Lil Soso can cook her ass off!”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

This is why Roman didn’t want to get on this subject, because he knew where it would lead to, another road he’s not trying to go down right now.

Rikishi chimes in, “their delivery is trash, but the question is still fair. Is there a chance she’s pregnant?” A sly smile falls on his face as he teases, “I know you well enough, Uce, that I don’t need to remind you of the importance of trying.”

Jey snorts. “That ain’t never been a problem for any of us. Especially Roman. Man, I still don’t know how you don’t have a gaggle of lil mean mugging ass kids running around here.”

The answer is simple, and Roman expresses as such. “Because I know how to fucking use a condom unlike you idiots.”

“Hey. I don’t know what you talking about. All my kids by Nicki.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

At that, Jey jumps out the chair, Jimmy rolling his eyes as Paul shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Ayo, you the Tribal Chief and everything, but you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife like that, aight?”

“Where did you sleep last night, Jey?” Roman’s tone is both bored and knowing, especially as Jey’s gaze drops the same way his ass does right back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”

“Just…” Rikishi’s voice is louder, allowing him to realign the conversation. “Keep us updated, Roman. When she does get pregnant, you’ll need to up her security.”

“I’m aware.” Just like he’s aware of the fact that unless this girl is the virgin fucking Mary and will have an immaculate conception, there’s no need to worry about that right now.

Or ever. 

His business phone lighting up with a familiar name across the screen is both a welcomed surprise as well as distraction for Roman. Without hesitation, he answers, watching the TV anchored on the wall light up.

Roman’s shoulder straightens as he leans back further into the soft Italian leather of his chair. “Dwayne.”

“Roman.” Dwayne removes the stereotypical dark glasses Roman always grew accustomed to seeing his cousin wear in any interaction. His smile beams. “Long time no fucking see, cousin.”

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.” 

“I saw that. Congratulations on the marriage. An invite would have been fucking nice.”

At that, Roman chuckles, calling out his bluff. “Like you would have come.”

Dwayne’s laughter echoes through the office. “Fair.” He then greets the rest of the men present, though it’s a surprise to no one that his initial exchange is solely with Roman. They’ve always had a great bond, even better business partnership, hence the position Roman has placed him in. “You know why I’m calling though”

And there goes the ‘fun’ while it lasted. Straight into business with his big cousin. He respects it immensely though. Dwayne is all about profit and efficiency and ensuring the smoothness of operations. “The same reason you always reach out, cause it’s not that often.”

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.” 

And he is. 

6 years, to be precise. 

“You need to fly out here.” Dwayne isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know, hasn’t already heard. “They need to see your face.”

“They have you.”

Dwayne snorts. “They hate me almost as much as they hate you.” They being that other side of Roman’s family, the side that he could go on with the rest of his life without seeing or speaking to. The side that probably feels the same about him and his Tribal tattoos, long hair, and skin that is not like theirs. 

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

“Hell no.” The answer is surprising, unlike Dwayne’s next statement. “But, I do care when shit starts to get more openly disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re becoming bolder with questioning your leadership. Less subtle. More direct.”

At that, Roman’s attention is fully captured. He sits up in his seat. “Is that so?”

The twins, Rikishi, and Paul all exchange knowing glances, having been wisely quiet to allow the Head of the Table to conduct business as he sees fit. But this, they all know where this is going.

“Maybe it is time I remind them who the fuck is in charge here.” As much as Roman loathes the idea of having to be around and interact with these fuckers, nothing vexes him more than having his authority challenged. 

Like he’s not the one, the two, and the three they’ve been looking for. 

“I’ll see about flying out within the next week.” 

Jey speaks up for the first time. “I can’t just leave on that short notice—”

“Did I say I needed you to come with me?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question. “I can handle this on my own.”

As is his preference with most things, because in Roman’s opinion, most things are handled better and in the way that most pleases him when he does it himself. His expectations can only be set and maintained or exceeded by him.

“At least take Paul with you, Uce.” Rikishi suggests, and in the moment, it’s last thing he wants. Paul’s already pissed him off enough for the day. “They need to be straightened out, not taken out. Paul can help you keep that balance.”

Roman isn’t obstinate enough to disagree with that. Paul does have his uses, one of which being his ability to talk Roman down when the preference is to just kill motherfuckers the second he deems them annoying. 

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Wise Man and I will go.” There are far too many other things on Roman’s plate for him to push back on a plus one. This is immaterial to the larger picture. “Dwayne, start the preparations.”

“You got it, brotha’. I’ll keep in touch.” 

The screen goes dark as Dwayne ends the call. Roman reclines back in his chair, a mixture of muddy, dark, bleak emotions. The idea of having to be around his maternal family is quite literally sickening to him. He hates those sons of bitches almost as much as they hate and despise him.

But on another hand, the idea of getting away from all this, from this Solana dilemma, there could be some benefits. He’d be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps even a month. Maybe in that space he’ll come back to a different kind of woman. A woman who knows how to fucking stand up for herself instead of being so scared all the time.

And as if reading his cousin’s mind, Jimmy breaks the silence, asking, “Ayo, Roman, you sure you should be leaving—”

A knock on the door seems to only exacerbate the tension as Roman snaps. “What?”

Alicia, his secretary, easy on the eyes and effective in what she does, opens the door just enough to stick her head through. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Reigns—”

“So why are you?” It’s well known that Roman is a man who hates interruptions, especially when he’s in the middle of a briefing meeting, and she knows this well. Might be time for a new secretary.

Alicia swallows and calmly explains, “your cousin, Nia, is on line one. She says she needs to speak to you immediately.”

“She can wait.”

“With….all due respect, sir, it sounds like an emergency. She’s been blowing up the lines all morning.”

Curious, Roman turns his personal phone over and sees his lock screen littered with missed calls, texts, and a voicemail all from one person. 

Nia. 

With a heavy sigh, Roman dismisses Alicia. “I’ll handle it.”

Quietly, she closes the door and he unlocks his phone to return the call. Nia never makes such an effort to get in contact with him. Some shit must have went down, though his mind still wonders what level of bullshit could have occurred that even she can’t handle. 

Phone laid on the table, he dials and places it on speaker.

“It’s about fucking time, you asshole!” Her introduction is unsurprising. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour.”

Roman is already tempted to hang up the phone and block her until further notice. “What do you want, Nia?”

“You need to get down here now.” He’s still not hearing anything that would warrant him moving an inch. “Your fucking Princess Peach wife—”

But at that, Roman’s interest is piqued. He sits forward in his chair. “What about her?” 

“I don’t know, she had a mental breakdown or something and has locked herself in the locker rooms. We can’t get her to come out—”

Right away, Roman gets to blaming and accusing. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Nia can’t respond before he asks the next important question. “Where the fuck was Solo!”

“I didn’t do anything, Roman! And Solo can’t be with her in the fucking women’s locker room!” Nia’s defense is as sharp as his imputation. “I told you that girl isn’t made for this life. She’s a fucking problem! Come get her now, or I’m going to blow the damn doors off myself.”

Highly vexed with Nia’s smart ass mouth as well as the nature of the situation, Roman slams his finger on the end button and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Fucking hell.”

Jey, just as confused as everyone else, decides to be the sacrificial lamb, asking, “Roman, what was that—”

“You two come with me. Wise Man. Rikishi. Finish and send out the response to Orton’s proposal.” Roman issues out indisputable commands as he marches out of the room, the twins not hesitating to hop up and follow suit. Confused or not, they know better than to question their cousin when he’s in one of these moods.

They don’t even say anything for the beginning portion of the ride to the Warehouse, a rarity for them considering they always have something to say. But this time, they wait for Roman to break the silence, and he eventually does, still just as angry. 

“I don’t have time to be dealing with this shit!” To say Roman is pissed would be an understatement. He’s livid. For a lot of different reasons, really, maybe even mostly at the fact that his head counsel had the unmitigated gall to even utter Rhodes name around him.

Roman would see the entire empire go up in smoke and flames before he’d ever agree to any sort of alliance with that son of a bitch.

That only adds on top of the fact that the Italian faction of his empire seems to be questioning his ability to lead, as if the data doesn’t clearly support that business has never been better. The cash flow is endless. Numbers don’t lie.

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination. 

It’s because of his father, the Samoan blood that runs through his veins. His being afakasi. Mixed. They believe that following that night, the alliance between the Bloodline and the Guild, an alliance sealed by the marriage of his father and mother, should have been dissolved. That someone from his mother’s side, a full blooded Italian, should sit on that metaphorical throne.

But, that’s not the case.

Roman assumed power because it is his by birthright, and he’ll be damned if he lets some ignorant fucks try to take it from him.

So yes….there are a lot of different reasons for his anger.

But, it’s a lot easier to blame it on the reason he’s in an SUV now, heading to a place he didn’t even plan to attend today.

“I’m not going to keep dealing with this shit with her.” He’s not even entirely sure who he’s speaking to at this point, or if he’s directing his statements to anyone in particular. Just needing to vent and get it out.

“What do you mean keep dealing?” Jimmy is the first to pick up on his cousin’s wording. “Something like this happen before?” 

The twins look between each other and then back at Roman who runs his hand over his face, realizing that if there’s anyone he can trust to keep this between them, it’s the twins. Annoying and sometimes dimwitted, they’re notoriously loyal and can sometimes provide sage advice.

“She had a complete meltdown on the wedding night. Panic attack, wouldn’t stop crying.” Roman conveniently leaves out the part of him talking her down from a panic attack. They don’t need to know that. 

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

“No.” He answers, honestly. “We didn’t even do it. She was too hysterical.”

“Wait a minute.” It doesn’t surprise Roman that Jimmy is the first to put two and two together. “So you ain’t even fucked her yet? But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He doesn’t need to be reminded of anything. Roman’s memory is long and sharp. “I also know what I do and don’t feel like dealing with right now.”

“Uce, the only reason you even married this girl was so that she could give you an heir. How the hell is that supposed to happen if she won’t even let you touch her?” As much as Roman wants to snap at his cousins, he can’t. He can’t because they’re right. It’s something he’s thought about on and off since the wedding night.

It’s painfully evident to him that Solana’s mental state is….fragile, to stay the least.

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

“Maybe you need to just annul the shit and cut your losses while it’s still early.” Jey suggests, and Roman can’t deny the idea has a level of appeal to it. Until the next part leaves his cousin’s mouth. “Send her back to her family.”

“No.” That’s an easy no. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea of annulment, but what’s not an option is sending her back to that house of horrors. The only way he can see himself doing that is if he’s put a bullet in both her brother and father’s head, which technically, is the plan anyway.

He would just be making some…..timeline adjustments.

“I won’t send her back there. That’s a death wish.”

Maybe set her up with some money and a house. Let her live out her days with her damn writing, reading, and cooking, the only three things she seems capable of doing without fear. But even thinking that, Roman wonders just how capable she is of living on her own.

Xavier kept the girl so damn sheltered. He’d have to keep a security detail on her at all times. Maybe keep Solo with her. She seems to have grown somewhat comfortable with him. 

The same with Naomi.

Or, so he thought. People who are moving in the right direction don’t lock themselves in public fucking locker rooms.

Jimmy also points out, validly, “well, you obviously can’t keep her around if she literally can’t do the one job she has.”

“Let’s not be irrational, alright?” Jey, in a twist of faith, tries to be the voice of reason. “That girl can cook.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Sure enough, he switches his tune. “Man, Soso ain’t even that bad, uce. You just gotta be patient with her.”

The change of tune doesn’t surprise Roman, but his suggestion is almost comical. If not for the fact that he’s already in a sour ass mood. “Do I look like a patient man?”

“No, but you do look like a man who could benefit from learning how to be patient,” Jimmy’s rebuff is quick and sharp. “That’s why you and Jey on high blood pressure medication right now. Both ya’ll hotheaded asses be getting yourselves all upset over nothing. Probably why you’re going gray too.”

There may be some element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s also irrelevant to the issue at hand.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, and it’s the truth, because that’s what Roman does. He figures shit out. 

He always figures shit out.

The SUV is barely parked when Roman flings the door open, slamming it shut behind him, not knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“What happened?” Roman’s demand is accompanied by his powerful stride into the Warehouse, Nia immediately rolling her eyes and pointing to Naomi.

“Ask her. She was the last one to interact with her.”

Naomi is unsurprised by both Nia throwing her under the bus as well as Roman directing his fury in her direction.

“What the fuck happened?”

As someone who’s been involved with the Bloodline and their family members for over a decade, she’s used to both Roman’s anger as well as being on the receiving end of said anger. So, her response is calm and to the point. “Like I told Nia, we trained, and she was fine. She actually did well today. I had another training session after her, so we agreed on the next date, and she left for the locker rooms. That’s it.”

Naomi’s answer is unhelpful, but he believes her. Knows she’s being honest. It’s just that her honesty doesn’t do shit for him.

“Clear the place.” It’s directed to Nia even if his focus is still on Naomi.

Nia steps forward, irritation undeniable. “Roman, seriously? We have matches lined up—”

“I don’t care. I want it cleared now, Nia.” She’s about to protest again, but he lifts his hand, warning, “I’m not in the mood, so don’t fucking test me.” 

Nia isn’t stupid. She might be able to teeter the lines some days with her cousin, but this clearly isn’t one of those days. Grumbled protests stay within the confines of her inner dialogue as she turns on the edge of her heel to start emptying the Warehouse.

The twins step forward, asking, “what you need us to do?”

Nothing. He doesn’t want anyone to do anything aside from leaving him the hell alone, but that’s not an option. So, he moves quick to find a task for them. Naomi as well. “Check the cameras. Something happened, and I want to know what.”

“What if—”

“Check the cameras.” At this point, Roman’s about to kick them all out if people keep questioning him like he isn’t the fucking Tribal Chief. 

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

When one doesn’t have much, or any, as a child, they overcompensate, and then some, as an adult.

He recognizes that fully. 

As all parties move to follow through on his orders, Roman heads toward the locker rooms, ignoring the complaining of the gym goers having to prematurely leave against their own volition. He’s not focused on that, just on the panel near the doors, a panel he’s never had to use until this day.

A panel only he can operate and use as its his biometrics and only his. Again, a man who likes control.

It takes less than a minute for him to gain access, the door automatically opening. Roman steps in and closes it behind him. 

“Solana.” He’s certain she won’t answer him, won’t magically do a 180 and feel well enough to step out, but he does feel like at least making his presence known to her will minimize her fear and surprise. 

Because one of the first things he notices and hones in on is sound, listening for any and all sounds that could lead him in her direction, and it’s a bit on the easy side considering there’s only the sound of running water coming from one area. And if he had to guess, one specific shower stall. 

Carefully, his steps take him from one end of the room to the other, moving in the direction of the woman he needs to find.

And he does find her. 

He finds her sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, enclosed in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring like she’s in a state of shock, like she’s not aware of where she is or what she’s doing. Like she’s not aware of the heat of the water bearing down on her body.

“What the hell?” Roman’s first reaction is a modicum of shock, the heat from the steam alone almost instantly suffocating him. Naturally, he moves toward her, to cut it off, but her scream of terror stops him prematurely. 

“No!” It’s been a while since Roman has heard that level and depth of fear in someone’s voice, in the hefty depth of their sorrow. She’s petrified. “P–please don’t.”

It’s for that he actually hesitates, doing his best not to shout at her because that’s clearly the last thing she needs. “Solana, I’m not gonna fucking touch you, but you’re burning yourself!”

While he does his best to keep his eyes focused on non–inappropriate areas, he can already see the reddening of her arms and back. If she already hasn’t burned herself.

Again, he tries to reason with her, which is such a strange experience. Roman doesn’t negotiate with people. He does whatever the fuck he wants and cuts down anyone who has something to say about it. But this, this is a completely different experience he’s not entirely sure he knows how to navigate in a way that won’t fuck this girl up even more than she already is. 

“I’m just going to shut the water off.” Announcing his intentions seems like the next best thing, even if it seems to do little to calm her. So, he bites the bullet and moves fast enough to where she can’t protest until it’s already done.

Which is exactly what happens. 

“No! I—I need—I need to get clean. I need—” She starts crying again, hugging her legs closer to her body. “I can still feel—their hands—”

“Did someone touch you?” Interrupting her isn’t a good idea, especially with the way anger naturally floats into his tone. It’s almost impossible for it not to. If someone fucking touched her….“ Solana….what happened?”

She gasps, shaking her head, pleading almost. “Please….please don’t m–make me t–t–talk about it.”

There’s a distant look in her eyes, one that’s both uncomfortably but extremely familiar to Roman. He knows what it looks like for someone to be physically present but mentally elsewhere. That’s what Solana is right now. 

She’s not talking about today but something else, something much darker that whatever happened today only triggered. 

Roman slowly starts to crouch down in front of her but she jerks back. “I’m not going to touch you, Solana,” he again reiterates. “But you can’t stay in here.” He starts to remove his jacket, reaching it over to her. “We have to go back to the house.”

Again, she’s panicking, protesting. “I can’t—I can’t go out t–t–there.”

“I had the place cleared,” he explains. “There’s no one out there except for the twins, Naomi, and Nia.” Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if he should have asked them to leave too. He didn’t know she'd be this frazzled. 

“Come on," he encourages.

Eventually, she accepts his jacket, and Roman stands back up to his full height, turning around and allowing her the privacy he’s sure she’d want. She steps forward, Roman seeing she’s hugging herself keeping his jacket covering her body. 

She keeps her head down, obviously still shaken up, still messed up from a lot of things. He honestly doesn’t know where the trauma stops and ends with this girl.

Roman directs her. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.” He looks down at her, needing some level of acknowledgement. “Okay?”

Solana surprises him by glancing up, nodding softly, walking away to what he would guess is the locker where her clothes are. 

Pleased that she’s at least well enough to be left alone to follow through on a simple task, Roman exits the locker room. He approaches the desk, the twins immediately standing up. It’s not lost upon him that Naomi and Nia are nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess, Jimmy sent Naomi home, not wanting her to bear anymore of Roman’s wrath. And Nia left to avoid unleashing her wrath on Roman, neither of which he’s entirely upset about. 

He has no interest in seeing either of them right now.

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

“Send it to me.” Roman is smart. Always has been. It’s not difficult for him to connect the dots to see that someone clearly fucked with Solana. And he’s almost certain whatever footage the twins found will confirm and show exactly how she was fucked with. The same way he’s entirely certain that managing his anger seeing as such is damn near if not wholly impossible.

And she doesn’t need that right now. She’s already a hot mess. Being exposed to his explosive temper will only exacerbate that, so being sent the footage for him to view when he’s alone and can respond as violently as he wants is the best route.

Especially with his next order.

“Whoever it is, bring em’ to Asylum.” He adds, as if it needs to be specified. “Tonight.” 

Jey nods, and Roman notices there’s an edge to his voice. The same way there’s an edge in Jimmy’s expression. They seem pissed. “You got it.” And for some reason, Roman has a burning guess that it has to do with whatever they found rather than it being directed toward him. 

Waiting for Solana to exit the locker rooms, Roman blows out a deep breath and scratches his beard. This day has been a shitshow for a variety of reasons, but this reason in particular, this thing with Solana, it ranks pretty high up there.

He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing to do with this girl. 

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

“Text Paul. Tell him I want Solana’s medical records. All of them.”

Roman knows now he needs answers, specific answers regarding exactly what he’s dealing with. And Solana is clearly in no position to share these things with him, not that he’d even want her to. 

She’d probably have to be admitted somewhere if he tried that shit. 

Jimmy looks understandably confused but affirms, “I gotchu.”

And with that, Roman also pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, selecting the thread and typing out a message he doesn’t really think twice about.

Roman: Dwayne. Change of plans. I’ll come when I can, but now’s not a good time. I have shit here I need to handle first.

Roman: In the meantime, take my name out their fucking mouths. 

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And just like that, Solana knows that he knows what happened. Knows about Austin and Grayson.

And it turns her stomach. 

Roman took her back to the house. He left her alone, giving her time and space to come down from her breakdown. And even in sitting in her room, writing out her feelings about the day's events, she knew. Solana knew that it wasn’t that simple. That Roman wouldn’t just leave what happened today at that.

That he’d want to know what happened, what triggered it, but naively, she tried to convince herself he’s too busy of a man to deep dive and find out on his own. To push her for answers. 

She’s wrong.

She’s wrong because that’s the first thing to leave his mouth when he finds her in the kitchen. 

Roman’s question, however, is valid and understandable, even if just the thought alone of having this conversation makes Solana physically uncomfortable.

Still, given everything that’s happened today, she can’t blame him for wanting answers.

She just doesn’t have them to give.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His tone is full of mockery and frustration that she also can’t blame him for but physically finds herself feeling unsettled. “Bullshit. I want an answer, Solana.”

Her skin feels hot, stomach starting to knot. “I just—I don’t—”

“I can’t handle problems you have if you don’t fucking tell me that you have a problem in the first place.”

“I’m sorry—”

At that, Roman snaps, unintentionally, but also a build-up from all of the day’s events. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

What he doesn’t expect is for her to jump back away from him, so much so that she falls to the floor and hurriedly moves back against the cabinet, as she shouts in a panic, “I’m sorry!” Her arms are crossed in front of her body, a defensive position, like she’s waiting, bracing.

Waiting for him to hit her.

Roman’s been in this position countless times. Standing before people as they begged for mercy, begged for him to not enact his vengeance, to rule out his judgment as judge, juror, and executioner. And it’s always been a thrill for him, a boost to his ego, a reminder of his power.

And not once has he ever felt bad for causing such a reaction.

Not until this moment. 

With slow, careful movements, Roman also moves to the floor, one leg outstretched, the other hiked so his foot is planted on the ground. His arm casually resting on his knee. “Solana….do you remember what I said to you that day at your job?”

She's still waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to lash out, for him to hit her. But, she’s confused by the fact that instead of him doing so just yet, he's sitting on the floor opposite of her. And somehow, she finds it in her to focus on his question. He said a couple of noteworthy things that day, but somehow, she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“My…..my clumsiness.” Clumsiness he told her she wouldn’t have to worry about, but she’s been more than worried about it, more waiting for it, expecting it at some point or another. 

“And I meant that shit.” His head is leaned back against the cabinet, and Solana suddenly feels even worse. He seems so stressed out from all of this, from her. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you. Not your dad. Not your brother. Not fucking Theory and Waller.” There’s a bit of a pause as he adds, almost quietly, “and especially not me.” 

Solana is unsure what to make of what he’s saying to her. Not sure how to process and take it at face value. It’s hard for her to digest the fact that one of the most dangerous and violent men in the country wants her to believe that he’d never put his hands on her. That he’s not someone she needs to be scared of. 

And she doesn't understand it, can’t comprehend how he can not be like every other man in her life. “W–why?”

“Cause unlike your piece of shit family, The Bloodline has morals. I’m not a good man, Solana, and I don’t pretend to be. But, I’ve never hit a woman, and I never will.” Roman never pictured himself having to explain to a woman why he has no desire to beat her. Yet, here he fucking is. “Real men don’t do that shit.”

Solana doesn’t know what to say to that, is still not sure what to say to any of it. But then, Roman is speaking again.

“It’s no secret. I have a temper, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. Not for you, not for anyone.” Solana knows this, knows this very well, and understands it just as much. She would never expect him to change his ways, especially for the likes of her. “But, I—I’ll try to be mindful of it around you.” 

That…..throws her for a loop. Why? Why would he do anything for her? What has she done to make him even feel like he should? Except stress him out and cause him unnecessary problems.

Roman continues, asserting, “but, you’ve gotta start fucking telling me shit. I need you to meet me halfway here. I need you to communicate with me. You can’t spend the rest of your life writing what you refuse to say out loud.” 

She licks her lip, a nervous action, replying as best she can, “I’m not—I’m not used to—” She’s not used to people caring about her, caring about her wellbeing, and maybe that’s too strong and too inaccurate to describe what Roman is saying. It’s certainly how it feels though. “I—I’ll try.”

He seems pleased by this, probably not fully satisfied but enough for him to drop the subject. And she appreciates that, and is thankful for it. This day has already been a lot, too much. She’s so fucking tired. 

Roman says nothing else, not that she needs him to, not that he needs to. But, as he stands up, turning to leave, she finds herself asking him, “where—where are you going?”

His answer is simple but ominous. “I told you. No one lays a hand on you.” He grabs his jacket off the sofa, sliding it on as he vows, “I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

—-------

Asylums, historically, have been places of horror. Where the lives of so many end in cruel and undeserved ways. Screams and pleas falling on deaf ears, memories of terror forever etched in the walls and halls of a building that’s only seen suffering.

It’s a fitting name for Roman’s location for interrogation. 

Torture. Because there is no being interrogated by the Tribal Chief. It’s just straight up, unadulterated torture. And truth be told, it’s a bit of a last, or maybe second resort. Killing someone in the moment is much easier, preferred. A shot to the head, a knife across the throat, even the snap of a neck. All much easier than methodical, drawn out ending of lives.

But some instances, some circumstances call for something more, something sinister, something lasting.

And that’s exactly what Theory and Waller are going to get.

By the time Roman walks into the building, sliding and tossing his jacket to the side, the twins have done a decent job roughing them up. One of them—he could never tell the difference—nor did he care or will it matter in a few hours, has a black eye that’s swollen shut. The other’s nose is crooked and bleeding, most likely broken. Their clothes are already stained with sweat, blood, and dirt. 

They’re both tied down by their wrists and ankles that he can see have started to dig into their skin. Their chairs are situated opposite each other. Good. That’ll make this even better. Calmly, Roman walks over, snapping his finger as Jimmy and Jey step back, visibly pleased with their warm up. 

He crouches down between them, looking back and forth between both with a smirk. “Gentleman, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” One of them, the taller of the two looks scared shitless while the other is glaring with idiotic defiance. Like he clearly thinks he and his friend are going to leave this building alive. 

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

“I’m Roman.” His voice is slick ice. “Roman Reigns.” There’s a rush of adrenaline that soars through Roman’s big body seeing the fear flash in both sets of irises. Good. They should be fucking terrified. “But, I do know someone you have met.” His voice goes cold again. “My wife.”

“Actually, I saw you meet my wife, but you didn’t just meet her, did you?” Roman smiles, shaking his head. “Naw man….ya’ll did a hell of a lot more than that.” 

Roman doesn’t need to have footage of just what happened in that locker room. He can paint the image all on his own, and it’s an image that makes his blood go cold. The footage of them in the hallway was damning enough. “You cornered her, didn’t you? You waited until she was alone and vulnerable and you harassed her. You sexually harassed her. My wife.” 

Roman shrugs, looking between the two. “What ya’ll think should happen?” Their mumbled and grumbled voices are incoherent against the gags in their mouths. Laughing quietly, he continues, “now, now, I’m a fair Tribal Chief.” Roman stands up, walking over to the wall of tools and weapons laid out. He settles for the hunting knife. “So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna let you tell me which body part goes first.”

He motions for the twins to remove their gags and upon that removal, the defiant punk is the first to speak, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

The other one, however, is damn near in tears. “Pl—please. We–we’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Grayson! He–he’s bluffing.” Theory, he thinks, decides to prolong his torture even longer by reiterateing, “we didn’t even fucking touch her. The bitch is ly—”

Roman sees red, again, most likely a buildup of the day's events. But, it’s pure rage that fills him as he slams the Buck 119 down against Theory’s left hand, cleanly slicing off four of his fingers. 

Theory’s screams fill the room as the twins chuckle, Jey taunting, “who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Roman grabs his chin, vowing, “I’m gonna make you suffer the longest.”

“We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” Grayson is now crying, clearly ready to beg, plead, and whatever else it takes to get him out of this hell. “Austin just—he had her up against the locker, he–he pinned her, but we didn’t rape her. I swear!”

Grayson unintentionally paints a picture in Roman’s head of what he already figured is what happened, what he figured is what sent Solana into her traumatized state.

Big mistake.

Roman brings the knife down on both of Grayson’s thighs, intentionally aiming for near the top of his knees, his quadriceps, effectively rendering him permanently paralyzed. His screams of pain are music to Roman’s ears. Roman grabs him by his jaw, screaming, “who the fuck do you think you are! She’s mine! You hurt her and think I’m not gon break every bone in your fucking body? You don’t ever fuckin touch what’s mine! You understand me!”

The younger man is practically hysterical at this point. “Please….” Roman looks down, hit with the stench of urine, seeing that the one with the accent has pissed himself. Disgusted, he backs away, hitting the pathetic son of a bitch with a blow across his cheek that sends teeth flying out his mouth.

He turns back around, eyes focused on a now teary eyed Theory. “I was going to be fair, let you decide in which order I dismember you, but now…now I’m just gonna make you watch as I kill you both, piece by fucking piece."

He looks over at his cousins who seem completely unaffected and almost indifferent to the gruesome scene unfolding before them. “Jimmy.” Roman doesn’t hesitate, a sadistic smile on his handsome face. “Give me the saw.”

—------

Blood is such a pain in the ass to get out of almost everything. 

Roman showered a good twenty minutes before leaving the Asylum, and he can still see specks of dried blood, or maybe it’s bone, or flesh. 

There’s a sense of satisfaction that fills him though, that almost calms him as he imagines the look of pure terror and fright on their faces as he methodically took their lives, piece by piece. Well fucking deserved in Roman’s opinion.

And he’d do it all over again if he could.

Minus the blood and guts and shit, because that's just fucking annoying. Roman readies to take another shower, hitting the light switch near his bedroom door when he immediately notices the brown journal sitting in the middle of the bed.

There’s a second to pause and another second for him to realize he’s seen a similar book before. Solana. He’s seen her writing in one very close to the one on his bed. 

Less apprehensive, Roman walks over to see it’s open to a page filled with neat writing he knows must belong to Solana.

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

I know you don’t want me saying sorry anymore, and I know you want me to talk to you, but it’s really hard for me. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to talk to you. 

And I know you said I can’t write, but writing has always been the only way I can express myself, so I will try to talk to you more, but….until then, can I just write?

Solana

Right off the bat, Roman’s first and initial response is no.

Because why the fuck would he write like something out of a damn movie when she could just fucking talk to him?

But, that’s the thing, that’s exactly what she’s trying to express to him, that she can’t, that it’s too hard for her. Right now, at least. Because there’s also a promise, a promise to try to transition to more verbal communication, Roman’s preference.

Granted, he hates talking to most people in general, but it’s preferred over writing damn letters like the 1700s.

And then he thinks about it, recalling earlier today and the pure terror in her voice, the fear wracking her body so much so that she didn’t even realize she was this close to third degree burns. He has to be realistic here, realistic about what she is and isn’t capable of.

As frustratingly slow as it is, she is trying, in her own way. He can’t fault her for that.

Regardless of how he feels about it, this is the best she can do. For now. And he’ll hold her to working towards that, because growth doesn’t happen in comfort zones. She has to get used to being uncomfortable with new things. That’s just how it is.

But this….he can meet her halfway.

Grabbing a pen out his nightstand, Roman writes out his response, taking and laying it out on the kitchen island for her to see first thing in the morning.

Solana,

I recognize communication is challenging for you. If this is what works for you, I’ll do it. For now.

Do you work this weekend? If so, call off. 

I’m taking you somewhere.

Also, there's nothing you can't tell me.

I promise you that.

Roman

[yolli-es]

Please, I'm really sorry

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, sadness, rude treatment, mentions of death

I doubt this is in character, so treat it as a silly sketch. Writing text is harder than headcanons..

MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND THERE MAY BE MEANING ERRORS

You adore Jinx; you love and tolerate her. Your acquaintance was unexpected, and your subsequent friendship was spontaneous. You were choking with tears after losing your mother when she found you. This girl saved you so easily, as if it were so easy. Jinx never told you about the past, but when the voices in her head became too loud, you didn't need an explanation. You saw how bad she becomes and what consequences it can bring. Afterwards, you promise yourself to always be there so that you can prevent the irreparable. This was not always successful.

After Silko died, things got really bad. Jinx tried to continue his work, to be strong and collected. But this is Jinx. Your Jinx. And she never was and never will be like this. Maybe that's why she's been so rude to you, taking it out on you because she's under so much stress. Sooner or later it will all end, and she will be able to look at you again without irritation.

You forgive Jinx for everything: the harsh words, the insults, the hits. Because she always apologizes after. And you don't care that it's not sincere at all. You love her; she is the only thing you have.

The day started out quite normally. You and Jinx were sitting in Silko's office, which is still called that way to this day, on the initiative of Jinx herself. It was all quite nice: she decided to share with you many thoughts about the future, which happened quite rarely. But then Sevika came in. And with her came terrible news. Shimmer production had been disrupted again. The enforcers blew up the plant, dealing with the guards there without any particular problems. And she just walked out after saying that. Just one look from Jinx made it clear how bad she was feeling right now,

"It's not your fault, and..." — you're interrupted by a rude "shut up." Jinx, who had been sitting on the table quite relaxed, now clutched her head, her eyes closed, and her breathing quickened. Just a few moments ago she was vulnerable, and now she's rude to you again. "You don't understand me at all," Jinx said in a breaking voice, hiding her face in her knees. It was painful to hear. We have been through a lot together. But she's worse off, and you step over yourself again: "I love you, Jinx. What do you want me to do?". You tell her this so often, so sincerely and naively. Her reaction to your words is always different; you can never guess, and now she again hits you: "I want you to stop being so useless and just help me." Jinx whispered, still struggling with her emotions. She hadn't let herself get angry, panicked, or sad that easily since Silko died. No tears. She kept herself under control. And is that what she thought all along? It's your fault; you're just doing a shitty job. Obviously, sitting here with her is not what she wanted. It looks so painful for you. The girl you love is suffering so much; why don't you just make it easier? That day you stayed, having endured many insults and a couple of blows.

Usually you stayed by Jinx's side, always supporting her and helping her with many tasks. For example, maintaining her authority in the city, keeping an eye out for possible rats nearby, and always saving your love from nervous breakdowns. But now you're by Sevika's side, at a shimmer production plant. You didn't tell Jinx anything; you didn't even think she would ask and worry. You need to act more decisively, as she wanted it. The task was simple: wait until the enforcers come here and destroy them. You were never a good fighter, just a decent shot. Your skills were enough to protect yourself on the streets of Zaun, but they were nothing against well-trained law enforcement officers. That's why you stayed on the sidelines, watching from above and covering Sevika.

You realized how much you screwed up with this shit when you found yourself in the middle of a shootout. Things didn't go according to plan when Sevika was shot, and now you had to save her. Letting the woman lean on you, you ran upstairs. The sounds of gunshots, explosions, and screams confirmed your fears: this plant is finished. Neither the shimmer nor the people were saved. Adrenaline was pumping through you, and you didn't notice anything except the cherished goal.

You reached a safe place and fell. The rest was like a dream. Sevika sat next to you, trying to close the open wound. She tied it with a rag, shouting something about the presence of shimmer nearby. The wound seems to be on your legs, chest, and head. It was painful and cold. Severe weakness. How the hell did enforcers get you? You couldn't think, let alone remember. This woman was shaking you, trying to make you think, but you had already given up. You had lost, and you had screwed up so badly, Jinx would never forgive you. Sevika shouted something, and you didn't really listen; you just couldn't. And then your gaze focused on a blue spot... Jinx? You wanted to look at her one last time. She may be disappointed in you, angry, or simply empty towards you, but all this will not matter as long as she is here. Your eyes closed for just a moment.

" ...orr..."—You can't see, only distantly hear. Such a nice sound; you've heard it before. The noise makes you open your eyes again. A flash of light disorientated you. Straining your eyes, you managed to make out a silhouette in front of you. It was Jinx, and... she was crying. She was in complete disarray, desperately holding your face. She bit her lips every time she wanted to swallow the lump in her throat and continue talking. She was talking to you. What was she saying? Your damn body is so weak. "Hold on, just breathe. Please, I'm really sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you...",-She repeated it over and over while you felt the shimmer being injected into your body. You wanted to calm her down, to say "I love you" back. And all you did was watch silently. Your eyelids were so heavy, and your body suddenly seemed too weightless. You were being yelled at, shaken, and pricked with a shimmer stabbed over and over. And you were too weak to respond to it, closing your eyes one last time.

Jinx sincerely apologizes this time. It's a pity that your mind was too weak to realize this.

it was short, unclear and stupid 🥴 Wrote this in a hurry while I'm taking a break from studying and writing other things.

[mediumgayitalian]

“After you.”

“Nerd.”

Nico tugs on a curl as he walks by Will’s bowed head, scoffing when Will winks at him. His hand lingers, though, waiting for Will to kick the door shut, trailing past his ear and down his neck and twisting down his arm, sliding down to his palm. His fingers are cold, as they always are, and Will brings them up to his mouth and kisses them, gently, and Nico rolls his eyes then, too, but the smile pushes out onto his face anyway.

“You can’t be doing all this in public,” he scolds.

“You started it,” Will points out, even though he’d be doing this anyway. Cursed be the day Will has Nico next to him and keeps his distance. He can’t imagine it. When he is around him he often feels like the desperately spinning needle in an old compass. Whirling around to find his source, his true North.

“Stop saying mushy shit in your head.”

“Out loud it is, then.” He clears his throat. “Oh, Nico, shimmering stars in my skies —”

They’re loud, far too loud, for this time in the morning, and even Nico’s slapping hands and laughing shushes do nothing to keep the infirmary quiet, but Will can’t bring himself to care. Partially because each one of the fuckers kept him busy for hours yesterday, straight through lunch, but mostly because the freshly risen sun beams almost directly onto Nico’s face, melting his eyes into pools of amber, and he smiles in that quiet, private way of his, close-lipped and crooked. There is breath in Will’s lungs, he knows it, but his body forgets, and all he can see hear think feel is the shape of Nico’s smile, and the slope of his nose, and the feel of his cool roughened hands on Will’s face.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and the words are muffled by his palms but the sincerity is not. The sincerity is punched out of him like the air hisses out of the gills of a hooked fish.

Nico huffs. “You’re buttering me up.” But he is preening; shoulders shuddering and eyelashes fluttering at the praise. At the wideness of Will’s eyes, the brazen, blatant awe.

He doesn’t let Will look long, because he rarely does, but he pulls away with a smile, softens his distance with three quick squeezes to Will’s fingers, with a brush of his hair. He stalks over to the nurse’s station, humming, plucking the clipboard from the wall and inspecting it, pulling his own crumpled paper from his pocket and smoothing it out side by side. Will trails by after him, plucking his coat from the bench and shrugging it on.

“Where are you today?”

“Arena, mostly. Kiddie classes today. You in here all day?”

Will looks over at the sleeping Hermes kids — all nineteen of them — and sighs. “Yep.”

“Won’t see you much, then.”

“Ugh.”

“However will you survive.”

“Maybe I have a nervous breakdown and get reassigned. You think I’d thrive in California? Maybe Pennhurst —”

“Oh my gods.”

There’s no one quite as effective as shutting Will the fuck up as Nico. Something about him just makes him pensive, makes him reflective. Makes him realise that time is limited and silence holds weight, that moments of quiet tranquility are infinitely more valuable than one realises outside of them.

Also tonsil hockey. That works pretty well, Will has to admit. Lou Ellen has disgustingly described it as ‘Will’s off button being located in the back of his throat’, which, fair, but she shouldn’t have said it.

“Have a good day at work,” Nico murmurs, pecking Will’s pout. “Try not to commit medical malpractice. Or negligence.”

“…I might do negligence.”

“Oh, shut up. You love your job.”

“I love you,” Will grumbles, his own smile twitching behind pressed-closed lips. “My job drains me and violates several labour laws.”

Conveniently ignoring the second half of his complaint, because he loves to watch Will suffer, apparently, Nico murmurs “Love you too, drama queen, I’ll bring you lunch,” kisses him again, and then jogs off, headed for the Arena.

Will sighs, turning to his clipboard, and starts running through a list of every god he knows, thanking them for Nico.

He’s pretty lucky.

[residentflamingo]

Late Night Talking

Hirai Momo x fem! reader

Summary ———> Y/N can’t fall asleep, so she has a late-night conversation with her wife to help her relax.

Genre: hurt/comfort & fluff

Warnings: mentions of loneliness

A/N: I just had to write this one out. I haven’t been able to get this scenario out of my head for weeks! I hope you enjoy this little drabble I wrote out <3 You can also check out my other stuff if you would like! It is very much appreciated ❤️

Word count ———> 2,360

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

→ 2:00 AM

You hated not being able to sleep on nights like this these.

You were currently sitting up in bed, restless, trying to do whatever you could to fall back asleep. You tried counting sheep, blinking your eyes rapidly to get them tired, and turning over to your side, but still nothing.

Meanwhile, your wife Momo, was sound asleep right next to you. Her chest rising slowly up and down, mouth slightly open with drool coming out of it, and one of her hands interlocked with yours. She was for sure sound asleep, and you were also a teeny bit jealous that she could fall asleep faster than you could. But of course, you still didn’t mind the cute sight of her sleeping.

Today had been one of those days where life kicked just you in the ass over and over, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Work had been really busy today, and it brought you to the edge of a nervous breakdown just waiting to happen.

Your boss kept stacking an endless amount of papers on your desk, demanding that each paper be finished at a certain time. Along with your coworkers who kept pushing your limits, trying to constantly talk to you and be a distraction while you were working. You usually love them to death, but today just wasn't one of those days.

Work was one of the main things you were stressed about, but other kinds of thoughts had been running through your mind as well. About four hours ago, when you got in bed comfy under the covers, your mind started racing and thinking about things that worried you even more. Th negative thoughts had taken over, bringing your mood down severely. In your mind, you were fully convinced that you felt lonely and bothersome to others.

Lately, you didn't feel like you had anyone to turn to. Your friends were good people, but they just weren't good listeners, so you felt like you couldn't tell them anything really personal. With Momo, it was easy for her to tell when you were feeling off. During hard times, she had always been a shoulder for you to cry on, and you would never forget it. But lately, it wasn’t so easy for you to reach out to her.

She had just gotten done with the world tour, and she was absolutely exhausted. You felt like you would be another burden to her if you were to tell her about your struggles. So you tried to suffer in silence for as long as you could. But it was eating you up inside, and it was becoming too much. In the back of your mind, you hoped Momo would notice first instead of you trying to come forward about it.

While you were deep in thought, you didn't realize that Momo had slowly woken up beside you. She fluttered her eyes open, only to find you sitting up and not asleep. She grew worried, so then she shifted around in bed, rubbed her the sleep out of her eyes, and began to speak to you.

“Hey, what-” Momo muttered in a low whisper, causing you to jump in surprise at the sudden voice coming from beside you.

“Ahhh! Oh my gosh, Momo. You scared the shit out of me! Don’t scare me like that…”

Momo chuckled, “Sorry honey…” She slowly leans over, and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead. When she pulls away, she brings her hand up next to your face and gently moves your hair behind your ears.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just wondering, what are you doing up this late, hm?”

You smiled at her sweet gesture, and then sighed at the thought of how long you’ve been trying to sleep for.

“I’ve been trying to sleep for a few hours now… But no matter how hard I try I just can’t fall asleep.”

"Hmmm... maybe I can help with that. Talk to me honey, what's been on your mind lately? Is there something else bothering you?"

You got nervous, knowing you had to finally confess to her how you felt. " Well, I don't know... I don't really want to tell you because I know you just got off tour, so I wouldn't really want to bother you with-"

Momo quickly interrupted you and put a single finger over your lips saying, "Nope, shush shush. That doesn't matter at all. No matter what happens with my job, or how busy I am, you are always my top priority. You are my wife after all honey. I will help you with whatever you need."

You smiled, feeling so thankful that your wife is as sweet as she is. She always makes you feel loved with her kind words and affirmations. You exhaled a long shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling trying to think of what to say to her.

Expressing your feelings out loud wasn't always your strong suit, but tonight, your wife made you feel as if that wasn't ever a problem in the first place. Momo sat up and layed on her side, looking at you intently, making sure to give you all of her attention.

"Well... lately I've been feeling really stressed out from work and I don't know how to deal with it. My boss keeps loading me with so much work, giving me unbelievable dates for when I have to finish them. He doesn't do that to anyone else in the office but me. It's like he hates my guts or something... I-I also feel really pressured, since next week I have to present a very important slideshow for a meeting with all of the advisors and the CEO. I have a really bad feeling that I'm going to fail and lose my job. Even worse I might disappoint everyone, including my parents."

Momo pouted after hearing your confession, feeling sad thinking about you being stressed out. She hated seeing you this way, especially since it was happening right under her nose.

"Oh, baby I'm so sorry. I've always hated your boss too, he gives me the creeps. And, I know exactly how you feel about worrying if you'll disappoint people. It’s the worst kind of feeling. We can’t control how people feel most of the time, but we can control how we rise above from the mistakes we have made. So if someone gets disappointed in you, they were never supporting you fully in the first place. I know you’re gonna do great on your presentation. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’ll figure it out like always. Just do it like how you always do, and I assure you those businessmen will be impressed. And if you fail, I will be right beside you to comfort you, and we can figure it out together. If your parents do get mad... let them. They need to understand that mistakes are normal in life and that it's not the end of the world. You are a hard worker Y/N, don't ever forget that."

After Momo was done talking, she softly grasped your hand and brought it up to her lips, giving it a sweet and loving kiss. She then looked back up at you and smiled, "I love you so much Y/N. I know you're gonna do great next week.”

“Thank you, honey... But there’s something else I have to tell you too.”

Momo tilted her head in confusion, “Hmm? What is it?.”

“Well... lately I’ve been feeling really lonely and I’m not really sure why. It’s not because of you at all, I just have these negative thoughts that go through my mind sometimes making me think that nobody cares about me, and that I’m a burden to everyone. It’s really bothering me and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Your eyes started watering up over the emotional confession you just shared, and tears began to flood out of them. Momo quickly noticed, so she wrapped her arms around you to bring to closer to her embrace. “No no no, it’s okay honey don’t cry.”

She got a little bit emotional too, seeing you in such a state like this. Momo loved you with every single fiber and cell in her body, so seeing you like this really made her tear up inside. She held you for a little while rubbing your back and saying sweet nothings in your ear to help calm you down some. “I love you so much... You’re so sweet and kind. You’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you as my wife.”

Not long after, she moved her hands to both sides of your face and gave your forehead a soft and loving kiss. She looked you in the eyes reassuringly and said, “You are so loved, I promise you. I wouldn’t be able to function without you. Please don’t ever hesitate to come to me when you’re struggling okay? I don’t care if I just had a long day at work, or if I’m on tour, I’ll always be there for you. Your friends, the girls, all love and care about you very much.”

She gave you another peck on the lips, and rubbed her fingers along the sides of your arms. You could tell by looking in her eyes that she was trying so hard not to cry, and that she meant every single word she said.

“You are never, ever a bother to me. In fact, you make my life so much more brighter, and happier every day. You’re the reason I get up every day and get so excited to do things. All because of you. You are so special to me Y/N I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”

You smiled a chuckled a little bit, remembering when she first proposed to you at a beach. You two had been walking on the beach for some time, when she all of a sudden gets down on one knee and asks you to marry her. You said yes of course, and gave her the biggest hug while she spun you around in circles.

The funny part about this story is that right after all of this happened, Momo had seen a couple of crabs coming towards her, and got spooked making her immediately run off with you still in her arms. She had sprinted all the way back up to the shared hotel room you guys were staying at. You couldn’t stop laughing for about thirty minutes after the little incident, and that had turned into one of your favorite core memories with her.

Momo smiled after she realized she had made you giggle a little bit, “Hey what are you laughing about silly?”

You leaned into her embrace a little bit more, falling more in love with her with each word she said to you. She always knew exactly what to say in order to make you feel better.

“Oh nothing, I’m just remembering the time you ran off on the beach because some crabs scared you.”

Momo laughed along with you and leaned back away from you a little bit so she could look at you directly. Her hands rested next to your hips, just rubbing small circles around them.

“Okay listen, at least I had a good reason to run away from them! Crabs are scary...”

“Honey there were only two crabs on the beach. Two….”

You looked at her with your head tilted, questioning what her actual argument was. She was being so cute you couldn’t take it.

“My point exactly. Any crab is a threat to me! I am not trying to get pinched by one any time soon.”

You started laughing again uncontrollably and even snorted a little bit, leaving Momo sitting there stunned. She had no clue what to do now. All she could do was just stare at you in awe, and listen to your adorable laugh she always loves to hear.

About thirty seconds later once you were done laughing, you sat up again and gave Momo one of the biggest hugs you could ever muster up.

“I love you so much Momo. Thank you for always making me feel loved.”

Momo’s eyes teared up a little bit again, and she hugged you even tighter, not wanting this moment to ever end with you.

“You’re welcome Y/N. I'm always happy to help you."

You rested your head comfortably on her shoulder and smiled, feeling your eyes get drowsy from the comforting aura Momo constantly gave off. She quickly noticed and gave your forehead a gentle kiss once again. She whispered, "You getting sleepy honey?"

You nodded and mumbled, "Mhmm..."

Momo smiled and chuckled at your sleepy tone of voice. She then shuffled around in bed, and held onto you as she layed her body back down flat on the mattress. Then she pulled the covers over you two, and layed you on top of her so you could be comfy. She kissed the top of you head one last time, and rubbed circles around your back.

“Good night honey… I love you so much. Wake me up if you need anything okay?”

You smiled and hummed a response, “Okay… I love you too.”

Before Momo had tried to fall back asleep, she watched you for a little while, rubbing your back and making sure that you were okay. It broke her heart that you had been feeling this way for some time. But she swore to herself that she would pay closer attention, and would help you the best way she could this time around.

After a while, she finally felt content enough to fall back asleep, and gently wrapped her arms around you, closing her eyes knowing you were safe with her. The quiet sounds of your breathing perfectly matched with Momo’s heartbeat that you were hearing underneath you. You two had always worked in harmony no matter the situation. And right now, you and Momo were both asleep knowing everything would be okay.

You were no longer worried about that stupid presentation at work, and all of the papers you had to file that week. As long as you had your wife by your side, you knew that no matter what obstacle you had to face you guys could overcome it together.

[haggishlyhagging]

The more women are paid, the less eager they are to marry. A 1982 study of three thousand singles found that women earning high incomes are almost twice as likely to want to remain unwed as women earning low incomes. "What is going to happen to marriage and childbearing in a society where women really have equality?" Princeton demographer Charles Westoff wondered in the Wall Street Journal in 1986. "The more economically independent women are, the less attractive marriage becomes."

Men in the '80s, on the other hand, were a little more anxious to marry than the press accounts let on. Single men far outnumbered women in dating services, matchmaking clubs, and the personals columns, all of which enjoyed explosive growth in the decade. In the mid-80s, video dating services were complaining of a three-to-one male-to-female sex ratio in their membership rolls. In fact, it had become common practice for dating services to admit single women at heavily reduced rates, even free memberships, in hopes of remedying the imbalance.

Personal ads were similarly lopsided. In an analysis of 1,200 ads in 1988, sociologist Theresa Montini found that most were placed by thirty-five-year-old heterosexual men and the vast majority "wanted a long-term relationship." Dating service directors reported that the majority of men they counseled were seeking spouses, not dates. When Great Expectations, the nation's largest dating service, surveyed its members in 1988, it found that 93 percent of the men wanted, within one year, to have either "a commitment with one person" or marriage. Only 7 percent of the men said they were seeking "lots of dates with different people." Asked to describe "what concerns you the day after you had sex with a new partner," only 9 percent of the men checked "Was I good?" while 42 percent said they were wondering whether it could lead to a "committed relationship."

These men had good cause to pursue nuptials; if there's one pattern that psychological studies have established, it's that the institution of marriage has an overwhelmingly salutary effect on men's mental health. "Being married," the prominent government demographer Paul Glick once estimated, "is about twice as advantageous to men as to women in terms of continued survival." Or, as family sociologist Jessie Bernard wrote in 1972:

“There are few findings more consistent, less equivocal, [and] more convincing, than the sometimes spectacular and always impressive superiority on almost every index—demographic, psychological, or social—of married over never-married men. Despite all the jokes about marriage in which men indulge, all the complaints they lodge against it, it is one of the greatest boons of their sex.”

Bernard's observation still applies. As Ronald C. Kessler, who tracks changes in men's mental health at the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research, says: "All this business about how hard it is to be a single woman doesn't make much sense when you look at what's really going on. It's single men who have the worst of it. When men marry, their mental health massively increases."

The mental health data, chronicled in dozens of studies that have looked at marital differences in the last forty years, are consistent and overwhelming: The suicide rate of single men is twice as high as that of married men. Single men suffer from nearly twice as many severe neurotic symptoms and are far more susceptible to nervous breakdowns, depression, even nightmares. And despite the all-American image of the carefree single cowboy, in reality bachelors are far more likely to be morose, passive, and phobic than married men.

When contrasted with single women, unwed men fared no better in mental health studies. Single men suffer from twice as many mental health impairments as single women; they are more depressed, more passive, more likely to experience nervous breakdowns and all the designated symptoms of psychological distress—from fainting to insomnia. In one study, one third of the single men scored high for severe neurotic symptoms; only 4 percent of the single women did.

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

[youremyheaven]

Mrigashira: Always On The Run

TW: abuse, kidnapping, r*pe, murder, stalking, violence, incest

I have been doing more research on Mrigashira simply because for the last month or so, I have been seeing more Mrigashira like incidents more and more often (synchronicity, I suppose). It's so fascinating to me how literally the themes of this nakshatra manifest in real life.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the mythology of this nakshatra, it goes like this:

Rohini was Brahma's favourite daughter. He loved her to such an extent that he tried to be sexually intimate with her. Traumatized, Rohini decided to leave heaven. She descended down to earth and took the form of a deer (a deer's head is the symbol of Mrigashira and the word "Mrigashira" literally translates to animal's head) so that she can hide away from her creepy father. Deers are animals who spend their lives in fear of danger. Every day it wakes up knowing that it will have to run for its life because its prey to many predators. There is no sense of safety.

In real life this translates to paranoia, stalking (being stalked as well as stalking others), kidnapping, being held hostage, incestual abuse, obsession, being exiled, going into hiding, being deprived of your "freedom", being gaslit/manipulated, stockholm syndrome, having a violent/unsafe home, being on the run, chasing as well as being chased etc

Lindsay Lohan, Mrigashira Rising (she is also Bharani Moon and Venusian women are highly susceptible to abuse, which I'll explore further in a separate post)

Lindsay starred in a movie called I Know Who Killed Me which revolves around a young woman who is abducted and tortured by a sadistic serial killer. After surviving the abduction, she insists that her identity is that of another woman.

I would say both the themes of being abducted and held hostage and also being very confused about your identity are linked to Mrigashira (I won't give away the twist of the movie, but you should watch it, its not as bad as some people say it is). You have to remember that in the mythology, Rohini changed form from a woman to a deer, so changing identities, being confused about who you really are and by extension being susceptible to gaslighting and manipulation and also being paranoid about the same are all Mrigashira themes.

However, its not just victims who have Mrigashira placements, unfortunately, many perpetrators have Mrig in their charts as well.

Boy George- Mrigashira Sun

In 2007, Boy George imprisoned a male escort in his house, chained him to the wall and beat him up. It was apparently a psychotic episode as George was struggling with cocaine addiction at the time. He was convicted and served a 15-month sentence.

Sia- Mrigashira Moon

Sia felt uncomfortable being in the limelight and would suffer from constant anxiety and nervous breakdowns as a result of it in the early phase of her career. So when she made a comeback, she decided to wear wigs that covered her face and basically kept her hidden from view (all of these are Mrigashira themes).

Sia's relationship and obsession with Maddie Ziegler (Saturn in Mrigashira) has been extremely inappropriate. In 2014, at the age of 11, Maddie starred in Chandelier for Sia who was 38yrs old. Sia was a huge fan of Maddie after watching her performances on Dance Moms and reached out to her to star in the video. This began a long series of collaborations and performances.

Sia kept creating projects for Maddie to be in just so that she can keep her close and in her own words "protect her". But she cast Maddie as an autistic teen in a movie called Music for which Maddie received huge backlash and is considered very insulting movie to the autistic community. Maddie didn't even want to be in it but Sia forced her.

For many years, Maddie was the ONLY person that Sia followed on IG (now she's one of the five people she follows lol). Maddie would apparently have sleepovers with Sia and they'd snuggle in bed together? 🤮🤢🤮idk why a teenager has to live and snuggle with some middle aged woman who isn't even related to her?? Sia gets away with all this bc she's a woman, if a man did all this to a teenager he'd be accused of grooming her. Sia even bought Maddie her first car and tried to adopt her?? Sia basically made Maddie codependent on her from her early teens. I hope one day all the truth comes to light because their dynamic is seriously disturbing and Maddie has yet to speak up about it.

I personally find it morbid that a woman who found fame so nerve wracking and damaging as to hide behind wigs for her entire career would put a literal child out there as the "face" of her brand and then claim that she was "protecting" her. What or who exactly is she being protected from lol? if anything she is being exploited by a creepy older woman.

Linda Hamilton, Mrigashira Moon

Linda played the iconic Sarah Connor in the Terminator who is supposed to be executed by a cyborg sent from the future. The entire movie basically features Sarah running for her life. This is a very literal manifestation of a Mrigashira trope.

Bae Doona, Mrigashira Moon

several characters that Doona has played echo Mrigashira-esque themes. In Cloud Atlas, she plays a humanoid clone who has to eat "soap" which is the food that clones eat to remain acquiescent (it takes away their ability to remember or form new thoughts that aren't programmed into them- basically a scifi dystopian version of being gaslit). She eventually breaks free and learns the "truth" about her condition (another Mrigashira theme is "learning the truth" because Rohini escaped heaven after learning the truth behind her father's love).

Ewan McGregor, Mrigashira Moon

Ewan starred in a movie called Big Fish which is about a frustrated son trying to determine the fact from fiction in his dying father's life.

Ewan plays the father in question. The son does eventually learn about the truth but blurring fact and fiction and not being able to distinguish which is which, being overly suspicious of others and their motives etc are all Mrigashira themes.

Liam Neeson, Mrigashira Sun

In The Taken movies, Liam stars as a former CIA operative who must rescue his teenage daughter and her friend who has been abducted by human traffickers for sexual slavery while on a trip to Paris.

Liam is on the run throughout the movie, except he's the one chasing them and he is on a mission to rescue his abducted daughter (extremely on brand Mrigashira trope).

Bear Grylls, Ketu in Mrigashira

speaking of running and chasing, lets talk about surviving in the wild, which also arguably correlates to Mrigashira. Bear Grylls aka the man who made a career out of teaching people how to survive in the wild has his Ketu placement here. i include Ketu placements because Ketu is how we channel our latent creative potential. it represents our imagination and creativity bc its the lowest point of our subconscious.

BTS made their debut on 12th June 2013, so they have Mrigashira Sun atmakaraka & Jupiter (Pushya Moon, Mercury in Punarvasu amatyakaraka)

I have often wondered why Armies are so uniquely obsessive and why BTS seems mutually obsessed with their armies. For the most part it is a wonderful rapport (minus the saesangs) and knowing their Mrigashira connection cements it further.

Amelia Earhart, Venus in Mrigashira atmakaraka

The Mrigashira urge to be an explorer of some kind is very interesting to me, I feel like they're always breaking into new territories and doing unprecedented things but always paying a personal price for it

Amelia was an American aviation pioneer. On July 2, 1937, Earhart disappeared over the Pacific Ocean while attempting to become the first female pilot to circumnavigate the world. To this day, no one is quite sure what happened to her.

Mrigashira nak is quite prominent in the charts of many people who have similarly gone exploring and never returned.

Michael Rockefeller, Venus AK in Mrigashira, Mars Amk in Mrigashira

In 1961, he was on an expedition (??) in present day Indonesia (then Dutch New Guinea) when the boat he was in had overturned. He was with the anthropologist Rene Wassing who was rescued the next day but Michael was never seen or heard from again despite intensive searches all over the area. He was declared legally dead in 1964. There have been speculations over the years that he may have been a victim of cannibalism (which was practiced by the local tribes).

Joshua Slocum, Ketu in Mrigashira

He was the first person to sail single-handedly around the world.

In 1909 he set sail from New England in the Spray (the name of his ship) to spend the winter in Grand Cayman and was lost at sea. He was assumed to have been the victim of a collision; he and the Spray were never found, and in 1924 he was declared legally dead.

To go exploring and never be found is tragically Mrigashiracore

Hart Crane, Ketu in Mrigashira

On April 27, 1932, Crane, in an inebriated state, jumped off or fell off the steamship USS Orizaba and into the Gulf of Mexico while the ship was en route to New York. His body was never found.

Glen Miller, Mrigashira Rising

American big band conductor, arranger, composer, trombone player, and recording artist before and during World War II, when he was an officer in the US Army Air Forces.

Miller went missing in action (MIA) on December 15, 1944, on a flight over the English Channel. In keeping with standard operating procedure for the US military services, Miller was officially declared dead a year and a day later. Nobody is sure as to what exactly happened to him and his body was never recovered.

Jodi Sue Huisentruit, Mars in Mrigashira AmK

She was an American news anchor for KIMT in Mason City, Iowa. She disappeared in the early morning hours of June 27, 1995, soon after telling a colleague that she had overslept and was running late for work. Since there were signs of a struggle outside her apartment, Huisentruit is believed to have been abducted. However, extensive investigations failed to uncover any clues to her disappearance, and Huisentruit was declared legally dead in 2001.

Victor Grayson, Mars in Mrigashira AK, Shravana Moon

He was an English socialist politician of the early 20th century. 

On 28 September 1920, Grayson was out drinking with friends when he received a telephone message. He told his friends that he had to go to the Queen's Hotel in Leicester Square and would be back shortly. He did not return and no one knows what happened to him.

It has been speculated that Grayson was murdered to prevent his revealing evidence of corruption.

Salman Rushdie, Sun & Moon in Mrigashira

After his fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), Rushdie became the subject of several assassination attempts and death threats, including a fatwa calling for his death issued by Ruhollah Khomeini, the supreme leader of Iran. Numerous killings and bombings have been carried out by extremists who cite the book as motivation, sparking a debate about censorship and religiously motivated violence. In 2022, a man stabbed Rushdie after rushing onto the stage where the novelist was scheduled to deliver a lecture at the Chautauqua Institution in Chautauqua, New York.

After the fatwa was issued, Rushdie took the name of Joseph Anton and lived in hiding under police protection for several years. The theme of Mrigashira running away and trying to hide manifests once again in this unfortunate example.

Vili Fualaau, Uttara Ashadha Moon, Mrigashira Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Rahu)

In the 90s Vili Fualaau's case made major headlines when Mary Kay Letourneau, his teacher was arrested for raping the 6th grader whom she had known since he was in 2nd grade. She was 34 years old and pregnant with 12 year old Vili's baby 🤢🤮🤢and claimed that she did not know that it was a crime to have sex with minors??  While awaiting sentencing, she gave birth to Fualaau's daughter.

Shortly after Letourneau had completed three months in jail, the police caught her in a car with Fualaau. A judge revoked her plea agreement and reinstated the prison sentence for the maximum allowed by law of seven and a half years. Eight months after returning to prison, she gave birth to Fualaau's second child, another daughter. She was imprisoned from 1998 to 2004. Letourneau and Fualaau were married in May 2005, and the marriage lasted 14 years until their separation in 2019. She died from cancer in 2020 and even though they were separated, Fualaau took care of her until she passed away. He publicly claimed that he never saw anything wrong in their relationship.

Obviously many victims struggle to form a coherent understanding of what happened to them. Some eroticize their experiences, others romanticize them or normalize them. Its often difficult for Mrig natives to fully comprehend or understand the insanity of the really messed up things they went through. Fualaau was groomed and raped by this woman since he was a child yet he held her in positive regard and remained married to her for nearly two decades and took care of her until she passed away?

Its similar to Brooke Shields, Mrig Moon who always spoke glowingly about the mother who made her do a full frontal nude playboy shoot as a 10yr old child??

Mrigashira being a deva gana nakshatra is quick to forgive and forget, it is also a Mridu or gentle nakshatra and often times, just how ??? sympathetic they are towards people who have abused them baffles me.

Gary DeVore- Jupiter in Mrigashira AmK, Uttaraphalguni Sun

He was a Hollywood screenwriter.

DeVore disappeared in June 1997, while driving at night from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Santa Barbara, California, prompting an extensive search and media speculation. DeVore was working in his office in Santa Fe trying to finish a script. DeVore had recently complained of writer's block, and so had decided to change his environment. When he finally finished the script, DeVore decided to drive home through the Mojave Desert. His wife Wendy was waiting for him at their beachfront house in Carpinteria, California. When she did not hear from him, she decided to call around 1 am (it was later discovered the call had not been recorded by the telephone company). He answered, but was not very specific on his location. This was the last time Wendy spoke with him.

A year later, he and his Ford Explorer were discovered submerged below a bridge over the aqueduct in Palmdale, California. After police had retrieved the vehicle from the water, it was found that his laptop containing the script (titled The Big Steal) was missing, as was his gun. DeVore's hands were missing; hand bones were found nearby but could not be conclusively identified as DeVore's. The discovery of DeVore's vehicle was considered suspicious, as the aqueduct was searched shortly after his disappearance was reported and nothing unusual was discovered. Police concluded that for DeVore to crash his vehicle in this location meant that he would have had to have driven 3 mi (4.8 km) against traffic without being seen. This would have been doubly difficult because the vehicle's lights were not switched on. DeVore's death has not been solved to date.

Patty Hearst, Jupiter in Mrigashira AK, Sun & Venus in Shatabhisha (I had previously explored how Shatabhisha natives often endure abuse)

She first became known for the events following her 1974 kidnapping by the Symbionese Liberation Army. She was found and arrested 19 months after being abducted, by which time she was a fugitive wanted for serious crimes committed with members of the group. She was held in custody, and there was speculation before trial that her family's resources would enable her to avoid time in prison.

At her trial, the prosecution suggested that Hearst had joined the Symbionese Liberation Army of her own volition. However, she testified that she had been raped and threatened with death while held captive. At the time of her arrest, Hearst's weight had dropped to 87 pounds (40 kg), and she was described by psychologist Margaret Singer in October 1975 as "a low-IQ, low-affect zombie". Shortly after her arrest, doctors recorded signs of trauma: her IQ was measured as 112, whereas it had previously been 130; there were huge gaps in her memory regarding her pre-SLA life; she was smoking heavily and had nightmares. She is said to have been brainwashed into committing crimes for the SLA

There is a really unfortunate pattern of Mrig natives being brainwashed by others, living in hiding, being on the run and generally feeling unsafe. These are some extreme manifestations of the themes of this nakshatra.

[lif3lessb0dy]

₊˚⊹ ೀ lads boys; xavier & zayne

╰┈➤ headcanon/scenario; they saw how reader is struggling with her mental health

cw; self-harming(recovering), scars, depression in xavier's part, feeling not enough because of scars in zayne's part, cursing

a/n; if any of this topics is triggering you do not read! I kinda based some of this on my personal experience from the past so I did everything I could to make this accurate, if you feel like reading this will be harmful to your journey in any way feel free to skip it

i saw @chryssikyu 's post and decided that I can write something about it since I haven't found anything like that here.

╰┈➤ XAVIER!

you were a team so he could watch how your behavior is changing

he was really worried, he wanted to ask if everything is fine

he was headed straight to your apartment, prepared the questions in his head, he was afraid that it would seem awkward, you were just work partners after all

he knocked at your door

you opened but after you realized that it was xavier you just wanted to start crying again, you looked like a total mess, you didn't want to make him worry about you but it was too late

„can i... can i come in?” he asked quietly

„yeah, of course” you wiped your wet cheeks with your sleeve once again.

you were nervous asf

after some minutes of normal talk he wanted to just ask about his suspicions

you started crying and opened up about your recovery and depression episodes that lately hit you badly, you told him how you were feeling about your job, friends and life in general

he saw your old scars on thighs but didn't say anything, he waited to see if you would like to talk about it, he didn't want to force you to do this, especially now

you had such a bad mental breakdown that you have told him everything.

„(y/n) if you ever have such a bad time again that you want to return to self-harm, come to me. we don't even have to talk if you don't want to, if you ever feel like that again just come to me. or I will come to you, I don't want you to suffer in silence, it's not a shame to ask for help or support.” he looked at you „you are so much more than what you think, i don't want you to sit in the dark of your room crying and thinking you're useless, because you're not. I know you probably think my words are a joke, but I really... I really like you so I want you to be happy, I would do anything to make sure you don't experience these bad moments alone”

you didn't expect this. you expected disgust or laugh. why was he so nice and caring? in your eyes you were just a burden to him on a missions but he still cared about you.

„I also understand that you will need your alone moments, I just want you to know that you can count on me.” he gently grabbed your hand. „we're more than just a team, I care about you and wish you the best”

╰┈➤ ZAYNE!

it was your first date with him, you still couldn't believe that it was really happening

you wanted to dress nicely but after you saw yourself in the mirror you just started crying. no matter what dress or skirt you were wearing you still felt ugly. you felt like the scars on your body make you worse.

you called zayne and came up with some excuse just to stay at home. you really felt terrible, you just wanted to lay in bed all day and cry. you recently started therapy again because you knew that you were feeling worse and worse every day.

zayne knew that something was off. you were so excited, but suddenly you were sick and couldn't go? he knew that you were 100% healthy because he was your doctor after all, he didn't notice any signs of illness at yesterday's routine checkup

he decided to go to your apartment to see what was going on. he gently knocked and waited for an answer, after a while you opened the door.

„za-zayne?” he caught you off guard, you quickly pretended that you were coughing. „what are you doing here?”

„I wanted to examine you since you're not feeling well”

you felt guilty that you made him worry about you. you sighed and knew that you needed to tell him the truth.

„zayne... listen, i-i'm...” you started whispering.

„not sick?” he raised an eyebrow. „can I come in?”

you nodded twice. you felt embarrassed because of your lie.

„what's wrong, (y/n)? did something happen? or you just... didn't want to go? yo-you could tell me if you didn't want this date” he said calmly, almost like he thought that it's all because of pity towards him, well, he was the one who asked you out, he was worried that you agreed because you didn't want to make him feel bad

„no! i wanted it, but... it's really complicated” you avoided his gaze, not sure how to say what you were thinking. „since you're my doctor you know that...” you paused, your psychologist helped you learn how to talk about your feelings, but you were still afraid.

„know what?” he came closer and grabbed your hand. „don't be afraid, (y/n), you can tell me everything and I will not judge you” zayne said sincerely.

„do you think i'm worse than others because of my scars? do they make me ugly?” you looked straight into his eyes

„what?” he was completely shocked. „I have never thought like that and I never will. these scars are a sign of how much you've been through, that's the past, we can't change it, but we can do anything so you don't have to make new ones.” there was no insincerity in his gaze, only pure love. „I don't only care about how your body looks like, I see you as a wonderful, brave person who has a good heart. you're so pretty for me, some scars won't change it” he lifted your hand and gently pressed his lips against it.

„I wouldn't want people to start talking bad about you because of my...” he didn't let you finish, he cupped your face and ran his thumb over your lips.

„do you think I care about what they think when I have you by my side? you're a wonderful person, everyone admires how nice and helpful you are, often after you visit me in the hospital, people would talk about how beautiful you are, (y/n), let me show you how I see you, don't look at yourself like you're the worst piece of shit. i know it's not that easy, i'm glad you're continuing with therapy, and if there's anything i can do to show you how much i care about you – i will do it.”

[icycoldninja]

Hii I hope you're having a good day! I want to request a moment where sparda boys are proposing to their s/o and the s/o is also about to the exact same thing so it ended up becoming a double proposal?? I find that it'd be cute and the sweetest thing ever

Ohohohohoho

Sparda boys x Reader double proposal headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante had been growing the courage to propose to you for a while now. Little did he think you were too.

-When the day arrived, he brought you out somewhere nice, the ring in his pocket, and got down on one knee for you. Imagine his shock when you got down on one knee as well.

-He didn't know what the heck you were doing, but continued with the proposal. As he pulled out his ring, he saw you pulling out yours.

-Both of you proposed at the same time. Both of you froze in shock. Both of you awkwardly paused for a minute. Then, you exchanged rings while staring straight into each other's eyes.

-Neither of you questioned the nature of this arrangement, you simply accepted it and moved on.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was a bundle of pointy nerves as he asked the waiter at the restaurant you were at to kindly place the engagement ring in the champagne. It was a somewhat clichéd proposal that you can't really blame him for since Vergil gets his ideas from romance novels.

-Yes, the novel he is currently reading is beyond cheesy, so what? He thinks this will be a grand surprise that you will appreciate, and hopefully accept.

-When the waiter brought out the wine as requested, Vergil was shocked to see that there was a ring in his glass as well as yours. The answer as to why this was seemed evident in your eyes.

-He had a million questions he could have asked, but at the moment, only one really mattered, so he asked you, and you asked him the same question immediately after.

-You both said yes at the same time, and the rest is history.

□ Nero □

-Nero had been very hesitant to go through with this, mostly because he feared rejection. After three nervous breakdowns and a talk from Dante, he finally felt he was ready.

-You, too, were very hesitant to go through with this as well, but after hopping around your house excitedly for a whole hour and a pep talk from Nico, you thought you could take on the world.

-Nero rung the doorbell at 7:30 PM, right on time. You proceeded with your cozy home date, just as planned. Then, as he was about to leave, you popped the question, which was probably the only thing that didn't go according to plan.

-Nero stared at you like you were crazy, making you worry that he'd reject you, only to watch him pull a ring out of his pocket and sheepishly present it to you. You were ecstatic.

-After exchanging rings and strangling each other with hugs for a few hours, you guys started laughing about how you both planned to do the same thing for so long and never said anything. What a silly coincidence.

● V ●

-You had planned to propose to V for a few months now, and finally, after suffering in silence for all this time, you gained the confidence to go through with it.

-Since V is a quiet person and you are a quiet person, you figured it would be nice to take him on a relaxing walk somewhere before proposing at your destination.

-Everything was going fine, until the moment actually arrived. Then you felt too afraid, too nervous, and way too sweaty to do or say anything.

-Then V dropped down to one bony knee out of the blue, and fearing he might be hurt or something, you hurried to help him. To your surprise, V whips out a ring and proposes to you on the spot. You say yes, of course, despite being flabbergasted, and after letting him slip the ring onto your finger, you awkwardly admit you were planning to do the same thing.

-V is shocked, but accepts your proposal with a smile. You're both surprised, and a little confused, but happy.