Hello dana! How are you? I hope you're doing better and well!
This is already a question I asked the girls, but now the suitors! (Idk if I asked the suitors this—)
How would the suitors confess?
That's all dana, take care of yourself!
Hi huli! I’m stil pretty bad due my burn out, im without ideas and motivation to only in art but even in my studies, and every little thing is crumbling and i hate it. But lets say im ok! I hope you’re fine or better than me
Thank you for the asks, as usual its an amazing question and helps to develop the suitors or my character in general more! So here it is:
How Each Suitor Would Confess
He confesses through excess. He makes grand gestures, throws feasts, offers expensive gifts, jewelry, and public devotion. His confession is never private; he wants the world to witness his affection. To him, love must be proven loudly and continuously, as if devotion were a performance worthy of the gods.
He rarely confesses directly. Instead, he shows love through quiet care: gentler speech, protection, and attention reserved only for the person he loves. He avoids other suitors but makes time for you, listening more than speaking. If a confession happens, it is subdued and hesitant—often only after the other person confesses first.
He confesses only when he is certain the feeling is mutual. He dislikes vulnerability without control. When he does confess, it is calm, sincere, and carefully worded, usually in private. His tone is warm but composed, ensuring he never appears foolish or exposed.
He wouldn’t confess. He cannot believe someone could truly love him. Any affection he feels manifests as jealousy, bitterness, or cruel remarks. He may linger, stare, or grow possessive, but he will never speak the words aloud. To confess would mean admitting hope, and he refuses that risk.
He confesses as if it were nothing at all. His affection is wrapped in teasing, flirtation, and subtle provocation. He draws you into intimacy first—private moments, shared silence, music played far from others. When he finally confesses, it is casual, almost careless, though it exposes a rare fragility beneath his control.
He is deeply unaccustomed to being liked. When he confesses, he is nervous, joking excessively to mask his fear. He stumbles over his words, laughs at himself, and immediately downplays his feelings as if bracing for rejection. Yet beneath the humor is a genuine desire to be loved and finally chosen.
He does not confess in words. He is blunt, forceful, and unconcerned with consent (probably doesnt even know what “consent” means, for all he know and cares, it could be an exotic fruit name). Desire, to him, is a right. He simply takes what he wants, treating the act itself as a declaration. Whether the answer is yes or no is irrelevant in his mind.
He takes a long time to confess. He observes, evaluates compatibility, and slowly allows warmth to replace his usual coldness. When he finally confesses, he begins with metaphors—comparing love to endurance, balance, or nature—before ending abruptly with a direct, unembellished “I love you.”
He prefers to be confessed to. If forced to confess himself, he is visibly nervous, trying to maintain elegance while seeking reassurance. He questions whether the other person truly means it, afraid of being mistaken or mocked. His confession is soft, uncertain, and full of doubt.
He confesses smoothly and confidently. He understands people well and chooses the right moment. His tone is intimate and persuasive, never rushed. He speaks as though the confession is the natural conclusion of something already understood between them.
He confesses gently and without pressure. His approach is calm, sincere, and emotionally present. He may touch your hand or shoulder briefly but never demands an answer. If rejected, he accepts it with quiet dignity.
His confession is obsessive and unsettling. He speaks as though the relationship already exists, listing details about you that reveal how closely he has been watching. Like Hyppomachus, he does not accept refusal. His confession is a claim, not a question.
He confesses impulsively. The words spill out suddenly, often without preparation or planning. Immediately after confessing, he becomes anxious or panicked, unsure whether he has made a mistake. His emotions leap forward faster than his judgment.
He rarely confesses, burdened by restraint and internal conflict. If he does, it is late at night, spoken quietly, heavy with guilt. His confession feels like an admission of weakness rather than a triumph, as though love itself were something dangerous.
He confesses in a moment of heightened emotion—intoxicated by passion, wine, or chaos. His words are intense, dramatic, and overwhelming. He means them fully in that moment, though he may later struggle to face the consequences of such openness. (Yes, bad choices when drunk its his thing)
