Emotionallyrepressed Stories

"𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡" 『••✎••』 𝑵𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 In a world that mocks magic, the real power hides in plain sight. Most people think magic is a joke. The kind of thing you roll your eyes at, unless you're high, desperate, or a walking Pinterest board. Colton, Scarlett, Jacqueline and Julian know better. Colton's shadows don't play nice. Scarlett's hexes don't miss. Jacqueline might look like your average spiritual burnout, but she knows how to twist a spell with a smile. And Julian? Well, if the crows are watching, it's already too late. They're chaotic, powerful, and unfortunately functional - depending on who you ask. When a run-in outside a half-dead magic bar turns into an unintentional declaration of war, the four of them are forced to face the one truth they've all avoided: hiding only works until the world finally notices you exist. And when it does, it won't be laughing anymore. ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑥, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝑭𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍

Some truths are too dangerous to speak. Some legacies are too powerful to kill. And some names were never meant to be forgotten. At the heart of the kingdom of Velmira sits the House of Mirrors an elite academy where noble heirs are trained to rule, obey, and never ask questions. Cassian Vale is everything the Academy demands; perfect, feared, controlled. Raelle is the secret it was never meant to remember. She arrives with no crest, no past, and no right to be seen. But the moment she steps through the gates, the ancestral Mirror cracks and nothing stays quiet after that. Whispers stir in the Vaults below. Bloodlines begin to fracture. And between the boy who was never meant to feel and the girl who was never meant to survive, something begins to burn. But in a kingdom where magic is law, and silence is survival... Love is the most dangerous spell of all.

Angelo Marchiglio and Viktor Turovsky were never meant to meet-until fate throws them into the same underground ring. Raised by rival mafia empires and bound by the massacre that tore their families apart, their paths collide in fists, fire, and unspoken truths. But when hatred flickers into something dangerously close to desire, everything they've been taught starts to unravel. Loyalties blur. Secrets resurface. And as a third enemy rises from the shadows, they'll have to decide: Are they still enemies by blood... or something far more lethal?

In an underground arena built from the gutted remains of an abandoned subway, imaginary friends are forced into brutal cage matches for the amusement of unseen sponsors and a nostalgia-starved audience. We follow Clip, the newbie fighter scrapped from the side of the road, clinging to his values. All before he's thrust into this world of violence, resentment, and buried memories. Where the really struggle comes in... well... not dying. What were once the embodiments of a child's dreams, hobbies, comfort foods, and insecurities, are now molded into fighters outside their nature, personas they maintain for their own survival. But Clip isn't here to just survive. No. He's here to understand. He's going to do whatever it takes to make the fight club realize who they were. Who they still are. And that simple desire may be enough to dismantle the system from the inside out.

"Killing an Excuse of Virelia and Adrian" begins with a bombing-and everything that survives it. When Solstice War College is attacked, Adrian is forced to transfer to Arcanum, a place known for its silence, structure, and students who don't ask questions. Virelia has always been one of them. Sharp-edged and unreadable, she has no interest in the boy from a broken campus. But the war doesn't care about comfort zones, and neither does the truth. Thrown together by circumstance, Adrian and Virelia slowly circle each other-connected by rumors, duty, and the things they refuse to say. It's not a romance. Not at first. It's the quiet study of two people unlearning what they've been taught to hate-and the excuse that kept them from looking deeper.

Diluc Ragnvindr hates bare feet. Venti has no idea-and parades around barefoot anyway. What starts as a mild irritation quickly spirals into flustered tickle attacks, matching socks, soft movie nights, and one bard slowly breaking through the winery owner's stoic walls. It's a slowburn, full of tea, chaos, emotional vulnerability, and just a smidge of angst. Secrets are spilled, giggles are weaponized, and love tiptoes in on socked feet. Literally.

New England has a bad reputation, and that reputation is: everyone there hates everything and everyone and has no love in their hearts. Yeah. And while New Englanders may act that way at first, it's just because it takes them a while to warm up to people. And by a while, I do mean a WHILE.