#and tristan i guess too

[talesfromtheenchantedforest]

Isoldes (of Ireland), ranked

5. Gottfried von Strassburg. 0/10, a real bottom-of-the-barrel Isolde. All of her compelling qualities are ported onto other characters so that she can embody the empty shell of idealized femininity: she doesn’t have the medical skill to heal Tristan, her mother does; she doesn’t have any political savvy, Brangien does. Insipid, limp, fickle, boring. Also, and this isn’t strictly related to her, but it is emphasized that she HATES Tristan prior to the potion, and I vastly prefer the versions where they develop a real friendship before the potion turns them into lust-drunk maniacs.

4. Eilhart von Oberge 4/10, a mixed bag. You see where Gottfried got some of his Isolde’s worst characteristics — the pettiness, the fickleness, both when Tristan does something extremely minor like not halting for her sake, and the awful post-wedding-night trying to murder Brangien thing. But she also keeps many of her fun qualities — her medical skill, her deductive reasoning (the detective work to figure out that the Lord High Steward didn’t kill the dragon! Finding Tristan by tracking down his non-Irish horseshoes!). You tried, Eilhart, but you didn’t try hard enough.

3. The Prose Tristan. 7/10, this Isolde is really cooking with gas. She’s giving Tristan a run for his money in the writing-emo-songs department, which sounds honestly insufferable for everyone around them but they seem happy, so like good for them. When called out by Mark gives him a real “yeah, I AM in love with Tristan, and I sure hate you, the fuck are you gonna do about it,” which we love for her. Points docked for attempted Brangien murder, however.

2. Le Morte D’Arthur. 9/10, the Isolde that first made me not normal about Arthuriana. She’s willing to do anything to save Brangien. She holds a castle against Palamedes while he lies down outside the gates and mopes. She writes heartfelt letters to Guenevere. She has a very sweet relationship with Dinadan and lets him pour out his heart about how much he hates love.

1. Béroul 10/10 no notes. Ten steps ahead of Mark at every turn and hilarious about it. Engineering the scenario wherein she will be able to swear honestly that no man ever been between her thighs except Mark and “the leper who made himself a beast of burden and carried me across the ford, and my husband King Mark” by ordering Tristan, in the guise of a beggar, to get down on his knees and “turn your face away and your back toward me, and I will straddle you like a man,” in case we were in any doubt about what they get up to in bed. An icon. A legend. The greatest tragedy of the Arthurian manuscript tradition is that we only have fragments of this one.

[good--merits-accumulated]

If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.

[willowmosby]

So I decided to watch the new abc Doctor Odyssey, because God forbid I finish one of the multiple other shows I'm working my way through. My thoughts are below the gif (that i did not make in case that wasn't obvious)

Please please let me know if you have thoughts id love to know how others are vibing with this show!

So my thoughts. Is this a theme heavy pick apart the screen for details hold be accountable for their options show. No and honestly I'm kinda glad. Like I love me some Buffy or Black sails, of interview with a vampire. But honestly right now I'm super excited for super sexy boat time so whenever I use the world silly in this review please know I mean it in the best way possible.

The only weird thing is that I felt super weird the covid is now old enough to be a tragic backstory. I mean covid is absolutely tragic backstory material but like I thought we would give it a few more years.

Unless it ends up in some twilight zone shit it will be a little murder she wrote in the sense that like there's no way that a small town has that many murders and people still want to live there. There is no way they have even 3 emergencies a week that are as serious as this weeks on a cruise ship of that size. - but hey I'm not mad cause " work like a captain party like a pirate" is so silly but also so sexy and the ship is show shiny and pretty and the homoerotic tension is so there.

Like Tristan and Max had way more chemistry than either of them had with Avery. I could see an Ot3 cropping up but I don't think ABC is going to be able to actually do that - like it's still a stretch for me to think they'll go through gay route- but I think that could be fun.

The bit where Max decided not to sleep with Avery did feel very much like he's gay and just not out about it and got caught up in the homoerotic fight but somehow ended up with the girl? (Like you know that scene from how I met your mother where it's not Ted fighting someone for a girl or the girl and someone fighting for ted? )but if it's not that's fine too we love a man who realizes there is a power imbalance.

I just think it's a weird way to set up a straight will they won't they. You know cause most times in a will they won't they It takes them a while to get to the first time. Like if they were setting up a romantic trope they did it better with enemies to friends to lovers ( please please let this be the case) with Tristan and Max.

Anyway Sorry sorry for the ship discourse it's too early in the show to really tell maybe next week the cast will have settled in and the chemistry between Max and Avery will be off the charts.

For some ship discourse I do really like the set like it is so clean and sparkly and like it just feels like a glamorous, sexy, and fun time. Like nothing too serious or gritty can happen here no sir. Which isn't always my cup of tea but this time I think it could be fun.

I like the captain as a character cause he goes so far in being serious that it comes back to silly. I do think that if the show wants to last a long time it needs a few more regulars. I don't need a full ensemble ensemble but like 4 characters that we know by name is not enough. Give me a reoccurring lifeguard or bartender or something

Anyway just thought I get some thoughts out there while it's relevant, who knows if I will actually continue to watch ( just so many shows so little time) but I will try my best.

I'm super excited to see other people's thoughts and feelings!

[releasing-my-insanity]

Well, I'm pretty sure this is how Siegfried got hurt. The question is, what is he doing? And why? Photo by Ros Clarke. (Closed Facebook group.)

[orionscelt]

Spying on the Hufflepuff team at practice🦡🔍🔍🔍

@fuokir @witchheroines

[saarasabaku]

IN OTHER NEWS :p

I made a guy :3 His name is Tristan and he's an emo little punk like me :D

[stairset]

Oh my god someone finally made an “all Order 66 scenes edited together” video that actually kinda works

[tristanrambles]

Me through clenched teeth with a white-knuckled grip on my pen: My Art has Value, the Only One who has to Like it is Me, My Art has Value---

[suppenzeit]

hello. why do i have an unstoppable urge to draw my oc at almost 3 in the morning

[testing-tranquility]

GUESS who’s drrrunk AGAIN?????????

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Innocent Touch

Synopsis: You and Ser Aemond are starting to come into a routine and each other's good graces until it is rudely abrupted. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond growing fonder of his station, ¿infatuation?, Slight Jealousy PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART

“Who is this from?” You asked as a squire handed you another bouquet of flowers. Aemond resisted rolling his eyes as he watched you toy with the petals. He stood behind you as you and your brother sat in the gardens. “Lord Triston, Your Highness,” The squire bowed as he left. “I did not know Lord Tristan was courting you,” Your brother frowned and reached forward to take hold of the scroll placed in the middle of the bouquet. 

“This is the fifth one in three days; it’s quite excessive, is it not?” You pondered as you placed the bouquet on the side, not keen on the smell of roses. You turned to your brother, waiting for his response, but he was too busy reading the scroll— you would guess another poem that he had plagiarized from one of the great poets of the realm. “It’s quite a… bold poem he chose,” your brother frowned, and you shrugged, taking a bite of berries and cream cake. “Since when had he started courting you? I do not remember him asking for Father or I’s permission,” He stated, and you shrugged once more. “He began to send flowers, I believe, a week or so ago?” You said uncertain. “Do I recount right, Ser Aemond?” You turned to your knight for confirmation, slowly warming up to him once more as he had aided in a time of desperation. 

“Yes, princess.” He nodded, and your brother turned his gaze upon your sworn protector, seeing his stoic expression severe into a scowl. “I think it best you keep your distance from Lord Tristan,” Your brother said, glancing over the flowers he sent as well as the rather forward poem he had given. “Very well then,” You agreed, not at all attracted to the young lord who was known for his reputation as a rake.

“See to it that the lord does not bother my sister, Ser Aemond,” Your brother commanded as he stood. “Of course, my prince,” Ser Aemond bowed, agreeing without question as he, too, was unsettled by the lord’s quite fervent attention towards you. He had been noticing lord Tristan trailing you for the past few days, even going as far as walking down the halls of your wing at night. Of course, Aemond always stood guard, ready to challenge the lord. 

“I’ll see you at supper, sister,” your brother said, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before leaving. As he left, you placed a lemon tart onto a plate and raised it to offer to your knight. “No, thank you, princess. I had just eaten,” He said, and you nodded. 

“Was lady Davenport present during the last tea party I held?” You questioned Ser Aemond as your memory seemed to fail you, but you had learned your knight had a rather sharp one. “I do not believe so, princess,” He replied, trailing his eye around the gardens as he noticed the distant figure of lord Tristan staring at you from above. “Hm, this is the second session she has missed… I noticed that she has been absent in court as of late,” You mussed, not expecting a reply from your knight as you thought out loud. 

“I hear whispers that the lady Davenport is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress,” Your knight then said, making your eyes widen, and you turned your body to look at him from where he stood behind you. Aemond bit his tongue as he saw the expression on your face. He does not care for gossip, but he did find your reactions to it quite amusing. “But she is not set to marry until a fortnight.” Ser Aemond shrugged as he imparted the talk he heard from the maids. You let out a breath of a laugh. “I always thought her intended was quite the traditionalist,” you muttered, and Aemond smirked, pondering if he should share the next piece of information he had overheard. “He is… but his brother is proven not.” He quietly added and bit his lip. “No!” You gasped in disbelief, turning to Ser Aemond once more, only for him to shrug again. “Again, these are only whispers I hear, princess,” He said, and you narrowed your eyes as an amused smirk rose to his lips that he could not control as he spoke. 

When Aemond removed his gaze from you, he noticed lord Tristan making his way towards your direction. “Princess, you are late for your meeting with your seamstress,” You turned towards the sun and saw that it was past its peak, “Oh, yes, of course,” You said and stood, going in the direction of your chambers and Aemond content as lord Tristan missed your presence. 

Ser Aemond stood guard outside your chambers as you were fitted for your gowns, passing his gaze through the hall and watching intently all the passersby. He clenched his jaw as he saw lord Tristan standing at the end of the hall, observing the commissioned portraits of you that were made each year for your name day. Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye as lord Tristan inched his way towards your chambers. Aemond wore his most formidable expression as he was met with the lord. “I wish to seek an audience with the princess,” He said, voice dismissive. “The princess does not wish to be disturbed.” Ser Aemond replied curtly. 

He watched as the lord raised a pompous brow. “I do not believe you understood what I said— I seek an audience with the princess.” He gritted, and Aemond’s hold at the hilt of his sword tigtened. “I understand perfectly. It is you who does not comprehend that the princess does not wish to be disturbed.” Aemond resisted succumbing to his urges and showed great animosity towards the young lord. 

The door to your chambers opened, hindering either man from speaking. Your seamstress exited, and Aemond was quick to hinder the lord, who seemed to forget any sense of manners as he tried to force himself into the sanctity of your chambers. “My lord?” You questioned and turned to Ser Aemond, who had a deep scowl on his face. “Princess— I wish to speak with you,” lord Tristan bowed and threw a glare at your knight. “Oh, I am not receiving company at the moment, my lord. I—I wish to be alone.” You say quietly. “Have you received the flowers I sent?” The lord ignored your words, and Aemond’s jaw ticked as you two locked eyes, seeing apprehension in your gaze. “I have, thank you, lord Tristan… but if you would excuse me,” You curtsied and moved to close your door. Leaving your knight and the rather audacious lord. 

Aemond felt a pompous smirk rise to his lips as you shut and barred your door, the hopefulness in the lord’s eyes disappearing quickly. Aemond bit his lip as lord Tristan walked off in a huff. When you hear his departing footsteps, you unbarred your door and peeked your head out. “Is he gone?” You quietly asked your knight, staring up at him, “Yes, princess,” Aemond nodded, and you fully opened your chamber door. “He’s quite… boorish,” You muttered and took your kitten into your arms, cradling it as if it were a babe as you walked through the halls with your knight. “He certainly is, princess,” he agreed, looking towards the kitten who he had hidden days before. There was a glare in the feline’s eyes as Theodore was familiar with the man who had placed him in the confines of the mouth of a gargoyle. 

You hear your little kitten suddenly hiss, making you frown and run your fingers soothingly through your pet’s fur. “What’s wrong, my darling?” You cooed, looking down at Theodore, who continued to hiss. You doubled your efforts in trying to calm him, unaware that the man beside you was the reason for the agitated state of your kitten. You placed a kiss on his little head, and that seemed to be effective. Theodore slowly calmed down. Aemond bit his lip as he feared that his desperate actions would be known by you— implausible since no one bore witness to his actions, but you would certainly question why your pet would be upset whenever in the presence of Aemond.

You were too distracted as you tried to soothe your kitten, growing unaware of your surroundings and where you walked. Aemond sighed as this was a frequent occurrence; he circled his arm around your waist and guided your way. He bit his tongue as he was enveloped with your scent. At your close proximity, Ser Aemond scowled at the continuation of whining from your kitten. Aemond led you to your solarium, arm growing cold as he removed his hold from your waist. He stood guard by the door and listened to you cooing at your kitten. 

Ser Aemond stood straighter as he heard footsteps revealing your brother. “Is my sister in?” He questioned, and Aemond nodded curtly. “My prince,” He called before your brother entered. “Lord Tristan had been proved rather ungallant… just earlier today, he tried to force himself into the chambers of the princess to seek an audience with her even though he was told that she wishes to be alone.” Aemond had no trouble in tattling. He saw a severe frown on your brother’s face, and only when the prince frowned did Aemond finally see the resemblance between you and the prince. The prince hummed, thinking of a way to protect you further; it was silently known by the court that lord Tristan was persistent— stopping at nothing to acquire anything he wanted, and he usually resorts to ill ways to achieve it. 

“My sister’s safety is of utmost importance, Ser Aemond,” Aemond nodded, “I know… and I agree, my prince,” He agreed. “I shall have no choice but to add another guard to her station,” Aemond stilled at the prince’s words. “My—my prince, I am fully capable of protecting the princess,” He said, almost defensively. Your brother’s eyes widened, fearing that he had offended the knight. “Yes, of course— I would not entrust my sister in your care if you are incapable, but with lord Tristan sniffing around her, I fear you would need aid.” Aemond bit back his tongue, not wanting to speak out of turn. “Ser Adam shall accompany you during the day as an added guard to my sister, so no more run-ins like earlier shall occur.” Aemond gritted his teeth and gave a reluctant nod before opening the door for the prince. 

The following day, Aemond stood guard by your door and waited for you to start your morning. He stiffened at his spot as he heard the clank of armor and the image of Ser Adam taking his post on the other side of your door, a teasing smirk on his lips as he saw Aemond's annoyed face. “Ser Aemond,” He nodded in greeting, “Ser Adam,” Aemond gritted in reluctant courtesy. You opened your chamber doors, and two knights straightened their stances. You looked between your two guards, “Good morrow, Sers,” You greeted and walked off, your kitten in your arms and your two guards following you as you made your way to the gardens. 

The once soothing clang of Ser Aemond’s armor as he walked now turned into an annoying bang as his steps were matched with Ser Adam's. You looked down upon your pet cat, who rested calmly in your arms, still drowsy from his sleep. Aemond noticed your attention was placed on your kitten was more and placed his hand on the small of your back to lead your way, as always. Aemond caught the gaze of Ser Adam, the secondary knight raising a quizzical brow at him, but Aemond did his best to ignore his presence, trying to pretend that it was only you and him, just like days before. 

When in the gardens, Aemond moved to assist you to your chair, but Ser Adam beat him to it. He gritted his jaw as the kind ‘thanks’ that was meant to him was addressed to the other knight. As the day went on with Ser Adam accompanying the both of you— you offering him the same refreshments and chatter as Aemond and even gossiping with him, Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach that he did not care for. It was as if fire ants were crawling and biting at his skin, and some strong hand was twisting his gut and possibly even his heart. 

“Good night, Ser Adam,” You smiled as the knight went to retire for the night, much to Aemond’s relief. You and your sworn protector walked the halls to your room, and you noticed that he had been rather rigged the whole day— nothing odd, but you did notice that he was starting to unclench the past few days. “You’re scowling.” You mused as you two turned a hallway; Aemond glanced at you who observed his expression. “Am I, princess?” He asked, knowing full well he was.  Aemond feigned confused, as he did not want his annoyance to be revealed. “You are; you’ve had that line between your brows the whole day,” You say, and stood at the tip of your toes and trying to smoothen the furrow between his brows.

Aemond froze at your actions that were not mediated and thought about by yourself, forgetting your sensibilities as you invaded your knight’s personal space. You froze as you realized what you had done, quickly backing away, your cheeks heating at your actions, and felt embarrassment course through your veins. “I… I apologize,” you say, your voice just a squeak, and you hurriedly turn on your heels as you rush toward your chambers. Aemond battled through his shock and followed you through your chambers, the both of you uttering a quick and awkward ‘good night’ before you disappeared behind your door. 

Aemond stood at his post, breathing ragged as his hand fingers went to where you left your soft and burning touch. Aemond tried to calm his breathing, dismayed by his reaction. It was just an innocent touch, nothing to fuss over about, is it not? He rested the back of his head on the cold stone and tried not to let his thoughts be consumed by you even more. 

[hihopelessromantics]

y e s

THIS

Along with the things the Elizabeths and his friends have taught him, he's got a bunch of hobbies and knowledge he picked up just for himself.

He's done plenty of things just 'cause it's fun, but it wasn't always like that.

angst incoming -

Mel didn't get the chance to really know how his people lived when he was their war hero- his father kept him too occupied with the war. Meliodas seemed to be alienated from his whole tribe, and probably had little to no one to learn ordinary social skills with until his brother was born. I hc that Meliodas would help his little brother get to know their people and their culture in ways he knew he would never be allowed to do, whether that be by sneaking him reports / letters to the royal family from civilians and soldiers, helping him gain access to the restricted sections of the library, or, like I'm writing in through the wall, helping him go on little “missions” to visit his own people and experience a little of what life could have been like for them if they weren't the demon king’s sons. Now that he's cursed to wander Britannia until he can break the curse, learning more about culture and people and emotions and cool little tricks is one thing he can do that will continue to matter and stick with him over the course of his journey.

By living for himself for once, he can have more bittersweet, honest moments with people he loves. Good moments, bad ones, times he doesn't know how he's feeling and can't function because of it. He can do it all without becoming a stain on his father's throne room carpet. He can experience life. Not fully. He can't - not without his soulmate by his side. They fought with every ounce of life in them, side by side, for each other and for the future their loved ones will live in, so that they might experience life instead of simply surviving it.

He's lost everything - even his freedom is debatable - but the axe is hanging over Elizabeth's head now, not his.

All the people he's met and thought "in another life, we could have been friends" about are either dead or healing. He has another life. This is his new life, and he can make friends. They may hurt him and betray him and misunderstand him and die while he lives on endlessly, but he can make friends.

Zeldris and the Commandments should be safe in the seal. Well, safe from his father and the goddesses, at least. He didn't know what they were going through in there. He prayed it was painless. He prayed they weren't conscious, frozen but aware of passing time. He bit down hard on his arm until the blood flowed to try and stop himself from praying for forgiveness. He was stunned when one of his longtime human friends noticed - even more so when he screamed and started shouting for Meliodas to stop. His friend refused to switch topics until Mel did something other than insist he was fine, so he broke down and told him - vaguely of course - about his old team and what he had done to them. How all the dreams he was working toward were snatched away, leaving him nothing but a traitor and a failure. Pushing the demons he knew could change for the better one day even further into the darkness. Even living as an unfeeling rock, he could see little bits of their personalities, glimpses of who they could be - that habit he picked up from Zeldris never truly left him. The mundane days of the past haunted him. The mundane days in Britannia were somehow, even with the curse, so much better than the ones he suffered through as the leader of the Ten Commandments. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He just wished . . . he could see what would happen if he had been able to give them the chances he had now. He wanted them to see all of this.

The friend understood. Turns out, loss is something that can be felt between two people . . .

Whenever someone leaves his life,

He searches for things they would like, things they would find interesting. And he learns what they are.

Until he loses track of where and when and until that revived muscle humming with emotion dies again, guilt and grief vanishing to leave all those memories of learning and teaching as dull as he was, just a rock with a couple pretty pictures slipping out of his hands, falling through the gap. As it closes over and they snap out of view, all he sees is love, love, love, falling like fragile petals into oblivion.

He’ll have to brush off the dust on a couple of those things to teach Tristan. He had a feeling his son would appreciate the harmonica as much as he had back then.

Random thought of the night: Meliodas must have some really old-fashioned and odd skills. Especially to humans. He's a demon, raised in the Demon Realm, who then spent 3,000 years living amongst humans. I don't know how the world has changed over those years, but surely humans don't live the same way they did 3,000 years ago. So Meliodas must like just know how to Do Stuff.

[tiarpopdind]

Convincing Ominis

Part 2 | Part 4

Just a simple retelling of exactly what happened during this part of the quest, no crazy action yet.

I felt the need to draw this before the big Scriptorium arc because, well, I thought awkward Tristan was kinda silly. She doesn't know how to ask someone for something.

Regarding how she feels exactly about the whole Sebastian ordeal....

I always felt that MC was kinda manipulative bringing up aunt Noctua and i'm sure Ominis was aware of that too. Because of that, I want my MC to be fully aware of her actions and feel bad about them.

She doesn't understand how serious Dark magic is (didn't know what it was until Hogwarts since shes Muggleborn).

And she trusts Sebastian. If he says it's safe, then it's safe. She also doesn't want to lose her first friend in Hogwarts over a disagreement, she sees how him and Ominis argue.

Unfortunately she's now finding herself stuck in the middle of their feud, and she is highly uncomfortable. She wants to help Sebastian and Anne, but also doesn't want to hurt Ominis in the process.

She dislikes him, and he dislikes her, but she'd hate to damage his and Sebastian's friendship any further... i guess you could say she feels very guilty asking Ominis about the Scriptorium...

[releasing-my-insanity]

Scrolling down Tumblr and coming across an unexpected Durrells gif: *Scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll* Callum Woodhouse?? *Scroll, scroll, scroll.*

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello! Would you mind writing scenarios or head cannons about Tristan or Lancelot with a female s/o?

Love your 7DS works btw!💗💗

I will do both! Thank you for the love kind anon ☺️

Tristan Liones

About anyone can take one look at you two and think to themselves, 'Yeah, they actually fit each other pretty well' or something along the lines of this example. Tristan generally worries or cares for your wellbeing quite a lot, it can be more so obvious in this aspect when it comes down to you beside from how he worries for others.

He faces quite a lot of teasing about having you as his girlfriend from (guess who-) a friend of his, and always tries to refute the teasing or simply ignore it. A lot of their silly disputes was mainly because of you, Tristan tends to get a little defensive on your behalf.

Tristan still very much is beside himself with disbelief sometimes, as he sometimes is just suddenly is reminded of how he is in a relationship with such a beautiful and wonderful girl. He genuinely appreciates you a lot, and shows that in various ways, at appropriate times of course.

Though, he does have concerns about how civilians or some of his closest friends may view you, due to difference in status (Tristan being a royal, and that you are simply more so a regular person). You had reassured him that you didn't mind, and that you rather focus on just worrying about anything else then the dumb whispering or blatant rude comments.

He had been eventually faced with the fact that he will have to introduce you to his parents, he tried to keep his relationship hidden as long as he possibly could - but it was inevitable at in the end. You had ran into Meliodas one time, and Elizabeth on a separate occasion. You introduced yourself without realizing that Tristan hadn't told them yet, and their reactions were completely different yet similar. Meliodas was both bewildered and happy, his son found someone he could be happy with. Elizabeth was somewhat surprised, but had praised you and Tristan for getting together, and she was happy that her dear son found someone.

If you happen to be a Holy Knight like Tristan is, he worries a lot less and knows you can hold your own in battle. However, despite the fact you may be a Holy Knight, he will always look for you after anything major in combat happens. Tristan simply sometimes can only hope you are okay in these situations, and will do his best to re-group with you at a safer time.

If you are not a Holy Knight, he may be a little overbearing at times when rushing into combat, and tells you to be extremely careful and safe. He tries not to worry too much, but he can't help it! Tristan does his best to try to not think about you when these situations occur, and trusts you that you can take care of yourself when neccessary. He just simply hates when you are endangered, be it your own decisions or possibly being dragged into it.

Due to his abundance of wealth as a prince, he likes to use this money to buy you a gift here and there. Even if there isn't a holiday at the moment in Liones, Tristan still likes to do it anyway. Gift giving is mainly one of the ways Tristan likes to show his affection for you, and takes careful time in choosing his gifts for you. Most of his gifts are things you might've mentioned that you liked that one time, or objects that you say were your absolute favorites.

Had misunderstandings were ever to occur between you, he would try his best to resolve it fast and quickly. Tristan doesn't want tension to rise at all, and prefers to amend the situation quickly and peacefully. Though, if he ever felt the one to be right in such circumstances, Tristan would be a little angry and push off the argument between you. Sometime later, his anger had faded and Tristan would be the one try to resolve the tension between you both. Not to say you had some moments of being the one to resolve the situation at times too.

Tristan was still very at odds with his demonic abilities, and preferred to not show that side of himself to you, no matter how long the two of you had known each other or gotten comfortable with. He didn't like the comparisons others would make of him compared to his father, not that he didn't dislike his father, the whole monster thing had just made him simply detest the idea of his demon half.

With his goddess half, he didn't mind as he was more comfortable and very in control of his goddess powers. So Tristan liked to use his wings fly with you sometimes, soaring through the air was a wonderful feeling to him, and he wanted you to be able to experience such a thing. When you had first seen his goddess half, you had flat out said that he was beautiful, and that had made him very bashful.

If you were ever to gift Tristan anything, he'd cherish it very deeply. Such an example could be that you gifted him a very ornate bracelet of flowers that can never wilt, he will keep it at almost all times on his person. He could take one look at the bracelet and be reminded of you right away, Tristan was happy that you thought of him for this very thing, and this was something he would never forget.

When it came to being one of the kindest you could ever know, Tristan always could find you beautiful and pretty in every single aspect. Even sides to you that you say are ugly, he still finds that absolutely beautiful too, because it was part of you.

Tristan doesn't mind very casual displays of affection, such as hand holding. He in fact very much enjoys it as he walks through the capital with you, perhaps on a day of leisure when both of you aren't so busy.

"Oh, look at this."

You spoke in a quiet voice, causing Tristan to perk up to see what had caught your attention. The sound of your own footsteps had stopped at a window store display, it was a mannequin dressed in your favorite kind of clothes.

He walked up to the window, standing at your side as he can very much understand why it did, "It looks great, I think you'd look good in them." Tristan mentioned, his eyes setting upon you with that kind smile of his. You blinked for a few moments, registering the compliment.

You waved your hands, shaking your head, "Ah it's just a silly thing to think about you know! I don't think I could ever look good in those clothes, I just like to admire the patterns and the way it looks." You sighed with a resigned look, you preferred comfort over fashion. But sometimes you just wanted to look good just for the hell of it.

His features contort into a slight frown, sensing the self-deprecation in your words. Tristan would prefer if you didn't bring yourself down like that.

Oh so gently, he clasps your hands, enveloping them in his own. "Bringing yourself down on one thing isn't going to give you good thoughts, I know for a fact you would bring out the best of those clothes." He winces, somewhat finding the words he was saying as cheesy, but nonetheless attempts to continue, "I know those thoughts won't just go away, but I hope you know how amazing you look regardless."

You were amazed at his words, his immediate attempts at reassurance. So you respond in just a manner of two ways, simply just squeezing his hands and noted, "Thank you, Tristan. That means a lot to me."

He beams, a wide smile on his face.

"Always!"

Lancelot

Somehow he can think of every nickname in existence, and without fail will refer to you by any one of these nicknames. It can vary, but the most he refers to you as is either 'babe' or a shortened version of your name. He likes to keep it simple and sweet, only can you actually tell he is being serious about something is that he calls you by your full name.

Lancelot tends to be quite protective of you, and glares at anyone who seems to be making you uncomfortable. He can understand and relate to the feeling, so he is quite literally your guard dog when you need him to be. Often times, he is very ensured in his success.

He has a habit of keeping an eye on you should you two or even the group is rushed into danger. Lancelot doesn't hesitate to listen for your heartbeat, he is more reassured the moment he hears your thoughts or heart. Lancelot was beside himself with relief that he actually was born with the ability to read both minds and hearts, he didn't have to worry as much the moment he hears yours.

The only way his/your friends would learn that you two were in a relationship together is by how Lancelot would be blatantly obvious in his small affections, could be him referring to you by a nickname or just even him smiling in a way he wouldn't for anyone else. It becomes a rousing moment of surprise the moment they realize, asking why you/he hadn't said anything about being together. He just brushes it off and asks 'why it would be such a thing to bring up? don't be so nosy in our personal business.'

If you ever end up matching his energy at times, even if it wasn't directed at him, Lancelot actually feels pretty proud that you stand up for yourself or whatever it may be. He feels a little unsure however of the fact that his behavior might've have been rubbing off on you.

One of the only ways you could manage to get Lancelot flustered is if you had referred to him as 'Lance' in an endearing manner, and other way you could get that expression is your willingness to carry yourself through situations and even in combat (regardless if you were as strong as him, or weak). He can appreciate your personality, viewing you far more unique then most people.

He quite readily understands that each and every person have their weak points and strong points, Lancelot simply wasn't prepared to be granted with the sight of all those points of you. Each and every side of you perhaps, but he shrugs it off rather easily, and gets used to them all quickly. He always reminds you that he doesn't mind what sides of you he sees, it literally will never deter Lancelot.

Normally because of his ability to read minds or even the heart, he can sense right away if you are sick or afflicted with a fever. If you ever tried to hid it from him, it is very futile and will result in a worried Lance. He cares about you a lot and wants you to get better as soon as possible, Lancelot is stubborn as hell in this regard.

One way he shows his affection for you is acts of service, as he isn't always in the mood of physical touch with you. Such an example is that you could say that your feet were hurting because of the constant walking, and he will not hesitate to pick you up and walk around while carrying you on his back. Another example of this is that Lancelot will perform certain things you've been needing to get around to on your behalf, he just shrugs it off like it wasn't a big deal when you ask.

He absolutely does not care whether you're a Holy Knight or not, Lancelot will always worry about you when danger is imminent, or if you may be the one in face of the danger. His senses are heightened and he is high on guard, ready to bring you away from the incoming danger if neccessary.

Despite his shortcomings, flaws and all. He truly does appreciate you as a whole; when you worry, when you cheer, and your laughter. The one thing he hates seeing genuinely is your tears, Lancelot hates when you cry, even if its a normal emotion, he feels angry at himself for allowing that to happen. It also makes him feel at odds with himself, even he's been in this relationship for you for a good amount of time now, he actually cares about you in this way.

Lancelot tends to be a bit of a show-off at times when in battle, he really likes seeing the impressed look you have on your face. He would never admit it, but he really likes being praised - especially when it's you praising him for how cool he was. Lancelot is excited on the inside when this happens, but never expresses his sentiment on the outside. He just likes when his own girlfriend tells him he's cool.

Introducing you to his parents was something that has very rarely come to mind, as he had a habit of being away from home quite often for long periods of time. So Lancelot seldom thought of the idea, thinking it was rather unnecessary to go all that way for you to meet his parents.

You knew Lancelot had an eye for attention to detail, but you didn't expect that to go the same for hair-styling as well. How this had occurred was that he had asked you to sit down in front of him, and despite your confusion, you complied and did as he asked.

Now you had been sitting here with Lancelot as he had braided your hair, into an ornate design laying upon your head.

"I didn't know you were so good with hair, Lance." You teased, but stayed still as to not interrupt his focus. He was definitely making good process in such little time too, though truth be told you were still so surprised. However, this time with him was nice, a good way to bond even in silence.

"I just had alot of practice before." He mentions, the tone almost seemed to be somber. You raised a brow for a short moment, but quelled your questions and curiosities.

So you decided to not bring it up, and changed the subject, "Lucky you then, trying to wrangle my hair is hard to deal with every time I need to."

He huffs, almost as if he laughed at your comment. Lancelot pats your head for a short moment, "You can get better at it babe."

"Lance, if that was supposed to be a joke. I promise you it is not funny." You warn, and he recoils for a moment, feigning an expression as if he were scared. You huff as you turn your head, watching this happen all in the next few moments. Lancelot softens, returning to his usual sitting position.

"Wasn't a joke, I promise."

[a-aexotic]

✫𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆, i can see you.

✫ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fighting, swearing, tristan being an asshole, breaking things (not too graphic promise LOL) ✫ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | hey yall, i'm back! i hope everyone enjoys! also i tagged everyone who seemed interested, i'm sorry for the VERY late update. i'm back, mwahhh. also planning a nate archibald series, who'd be interested? lmk! ✫ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @colbybrocks @weepingwitchofthewest @shady-writtingtalk @zulpix-blog @wheelerslover @dogmom600 @damnhati @remussbitch @yourmumstoyboy2-blog @1-800-starkindustrie

The front door opened suddenly and she whipped her head to make eye contact with... Tristan Dugray? Oh, so that's where she's heard that name!

Y/N couldn't control as her mouth flew open. She also couldn't control the words that came out of her mouth as she saw him. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me."

After Y/N had locked eyes with Tristan she whipped her head to face her father. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother?!"

Her father and Kristan looked surprised — they both exchanged glances before they looked back at her. "Yeah, I guess I am?"

His answer sounded more like a question rather than a straight up reply. He didn't know why she was now seemingly opposed to the idea of him being engaged to Kristan simply because of Tristan.

Y/N looked shocked, her jaw practically on the floor. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother." Instead of a question, it sounds more like a statement.

Before any of them could reply, Tristan spoke. "Oh, hello step-sister." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He was enjoying see your shocked expression. Tristan's smug remark only fueled your growing frustration and utter disbelief. You shot him a glare that could freeze lava before turning back to her father and Kristan, your mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

"So, this is what you meant by wanting me to spend time with my old 'friends'?" Your tone was laced with sarcasm as she addressed her father. "You conveniently forgot to mention that my 'old friend' is now my soon-to-be stepbrother?"

Her father shifted uncomfortably under her accusing gaze, realizing he had failed to properly prepare Y/N for this bombshell. "I... I thought it would be best to tell you in person."

Your frustration mounted with each passing second. "Well you thought wrong, Dad."

Kristan interjected, her voice gentle yet firm. "I understand this is a lot to take in, Y/N. But we're all going to be a family now, and I hope we can find a way to make this work."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes at Kristan's attempt to diffuse the tension as she gave her a sarcastic smile. "Right, a family. How convenient."

Tristan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed with a smirk still playing on his lips. "Well, this should be fun. Welcome to the family, stepsis."

Y/N resisted the urge to launch herself at him as she shot daggers with her eyes. "Don't call me that."

Kristan shot a glare at her son as she turned to you once again. "We didn't realize it would be such a shock to you,. We should have handled this better."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. You knew you couldn't blame her father entirely, but the whole thing still felt like a betrayal. "I just need some time to process all of this," Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. "Excuse me."

"I thought that went great." Tristan mumbled as his mother shook his head, your father pulling her in closer.

You turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving your father, Kristan, and Tristan as your retreated to her old bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that your carefully constructed world was crumbling around you, and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

You stepped out of the car, dramatically slamming the door as you took in the school: Chilton Prep School, where she would be going to school from now. She heard footsteps from behind her, she already knew who it was.

"Welcome home, Cromwell." Tristan's voice rang. You gritted her teeth at the sound of Tristan's voice behind you. You turned slowly, fixing him with a glare that could cut through steel.

"Save it, Dugray," you snapped, your tone dripping with disdain. "This is hardly my idea of home."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Well, get used to it. Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Feisty as ever, Cromwell. I'm just offering a friendly welcome to our new classmate, no need to get all... bitchy."

You narrowed your eyes at his remark, resisting the urge to roll them. "I'll take that as a compliment, Dugray. And I don't need your welcome. I know my way around just fine."

Tristan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. "Oh, come on, Cromwell. Where's that famous New York charm? You're going to need it to survive in this stuffy place."

"I'll manage just fine without your help," you shot back, your voice dripping with determination. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your bullshit."

You turned away from Tristan, walking into Chilton. You already hated it, everyone looked so pretentious and elitist, just like Tristan. But you weren't going to let that intimidate you. You had faced down Manhattan's elite, and you could handle a bunch of snooty prep school kids. You had grown up with these kids, they couldn't be that hard.

As you made your way through the halls, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The students eyed you with curiosity, whispers following in your wake. But you held your head high, refusing to let them see any hint of insecurity.

Chilton was a far cry from the bustling streets of Manhattan, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in for a rough ride. But you were Y/N Cromwell, and you didn't back down from a challenge.

With a flick of your hair and a confident stride, you made your way to your first class, ready to show Chilton Prep that Y/N Cromwell was a force to be reckoned with.

"Where are you two going?" You popped a grape in your mouth as you watched Kristan grab her purse from the chair as your father tightened his tie.

"I told you earlier, we have a date."

You raised an eyebrow at your father's response, a hint of skepticism in your voice. "A date? You two are acting like lovesick teenagers."

Kristan chuckled, smoothing down her blouse as she shot you a warm smile. "Well, your father does know how to sweep a lady off her feet."

You rolled your eyes as Kristan and your father shared glances. You all knew what that meant, you had to be left alone with Tristan. You had barely managed to tolerate his presence since arriving at your father's house, and the thought of spending an evening alone with him was enough to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Well, have fun on your date," you forced out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

With a quick goodbye, your father and Kristan headed out the door, leaving you alone, turning around and seeing Tristan in the spacious living room. He caught your gaze and his lips curved up into a smile.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Tristan's gaze met yours, his smirk sending a wave of irritation coursing through you. You knew exactly what he was thinking – that he had you right where he wanted you, trapped in his company for the evening.

Suppressing a sigh, you turned away from Tristan, refusing to let him see how much he was getting under your skin. Instead, you busied yourself with anything that would distract you from his presence – flipping through a magazine, checking your phone, anything to avoid acknowledging him.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, Tristan was a persistent presence in the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his smug smirk burning into the back of your skull.

Finally unable to take it anymore, you turned to face him with a glare. "What do you want, Tristan?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

Tristan's smirk widened, his gaze flickering with amusement. "Just enjoying the view, Cromwell," he replied casually, as if your irritation was nothing more than entertainment to him.

You let out a bitter laugh as you shook your head. "Real classy, Tristan."

Tristan's smirk only widened at your remark, his amusement evident in every line of his face. "Oh, come on, Cromwell," he said, his tone teasing. "You can't tell me you're not used to being the center of attention. You were in New York for five years and you're telling me you didn't have the boys throwing themselves at you?"

You narrowed your eyes at Tristan, refusing to let his words rattle you. "I don't need validation from boys like you," you retorted, your voice dripping with annoyance. "Unlike some people, I have more important things to focus on than relationships."

Tristan's smirk faltered slightly at your cutting remark, but he quickly regained his composure. "Touché, Cromwell," he replied, his tone laced with amusement. "But don't act like you're immune to a little attention. I've seen the way you strut around like you own the place."

"And you don't? Please, I see the way every girl at Chilton looks at you. And I know you well enough to see how much that strokes your already, inflated ego." You paused, your voice laced with sarcasm as you leveled a pointed gaze at Tristan. "But hey, who am I to judge? If you want to bask in the adoration of your fan club, be my guest."

"Oh, I will, Y/N." Tristan let out a laugh as he watched you get all heated. He continued you watch you as you scoffed, turning your head back to the magazine.

You could feel his eyes on you, his amusement practically palpable. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. You weren't about to let him see how much he was getting to you. With a determined flick of your wrist, you closed the magazine and stood up from the sofa, shooting Tristan a glare.

"I have better things to do than sit here and listen to you," you declared, your voice laced with determination. With that, you turned on your heel and marched out of the room, leaving Tristan behind with his smug smirk and his insufferable ego.

You refused to let him drag you down to his level – you had bigger things to focus on than his petty games, like actually getting back to Manhattan where you belonged.

As you walked away, Tristan's amusement turned to frustration. He wasn't used to someone challenging him like this, especially not someone like you. With a determined stride, he followed after you, catching up just as you reached the hallway.

As you stormed out of the room, Tristan's smirk faded into a scowl. He watched you go, frustration bubbling up inside him. How dare she walk away from him like that? Without a second thought, Tristan followed after you, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he caught up to you just as you reached the foyer.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Tristan called out, his voice sharp with annoyance.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare. "Away from you," you replied sharply, crossing your arms over your chest. "I can't stand being around you for another second."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his own temper flaring. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Like you're any better. You're nothing but a spoiled brat who thinks she's better than everyone else."

The words hit you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of rage within you. "At least I'm not a narcissistic asshole who gets off on belittling others," you spat, your voice rising with each word. "You think you're so much better but you're not."

Tristan squared his shoulders, meeting your gaze head-on. "I want to know what your problem is," he replied, his tone angry. "You've been acting like you a complete bitch when I'm all trying to do is be your friend."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Oh, spare me the act, Tristan," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "We both know that's not what you're after. You just want to play your little games and stroke your own ego."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "And what about you, huh?" he retorted, his voice rising in anger. "You act like you're too good for everyone, like you're above it all. Well, let me tell you something, Y/N – you're not as special as you think you are."

"You know what, Tristan. I don't care about you or your stupid games because all I'm trying to do is get back to New York. All this shit is just a rock in the road," you spat as you turned around, walking away.

"Oh really? What about your obvious drinking problem, that's why your mom sent you away, right?"

You stopped in your track as you took in Tristan's words. Fury was etched across your features as you spun around to face him, your fists clenched at your sides. "How dare you," you seethed, your voice trembling with rage. "You stupid asshole!"

You pushed him as hard as you could, causing him to trip and fall into a table. You heard a loud shattering and both of you just stared at each other before looking down to see glass everywhere.

"Shit, that's my mom's vase." Tristan's eyes widened in shock as he glanced at the shattered remains of the vase on the floor.

Your chest heaved with anger as you glared at Tristan, your fists still clenched at your sides. "You deserved it," you spat, your voice thick with venom. "You had no right to say that."

"Y/N, this vase is like two grand. It was my mom's favorite vase," Tristan scoffed as he stared down at the ground. "She's gonna be fucking pissed, idiot."

You stared back at him with anger but you knew that you needed to figure something out. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you clenched your jaw and met Tristan's gaze head-on. "I know I messed up," you admitted begrudgingly, your voice tight with frustration. "You shouldn't have been a bitch."

"Well you shouldn't have pushed me, like an psycho." Tristan's voice was sharp, but there was a hint of surrender beneath his irritation. He knew that pointing fingers wouldn't solve anything, but he couldn't help but feel defensive in the face of your accusation.

"Well I'm not apologizing-"

"Y/N, we need to figure out what to do before they come home."

And right on cue, the front door opened, revealing your father and Kristan, who froze in shock at the sight of the shattered vase and the two of you standing next to it.

Your father's expression hardened as he took in the scene, his disappointment evident in his eyes. "What in the world happened here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

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