#covert jewellery

[luveline]

I need more Hotch x teacher PLEASE, I’ll take anything 😭🙏🏻

Mr. Hotchner —call me Aaron, he always says, because he’s a bully— walks across the school grounds with his son stuck to him. 

According to your colleagues, Jack used to be more outgoing. Not extroverted, but friendly, with many friends and lots to say. But after the passing of his mother a few years ago he’s become a quieter child. It’s not uncommon to see him glued to his father or his Aunt Jess before school. 

You tuck your hands in your cardigan against the early summer morning chill. “Hello,” you greet as the Hotchners approach. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” Aaron says. His smile is a rare and lucrative sight; whenever he smiles at you like this, as though you’re some wonder he’s happened upon accidentally, it betters your whole day. 

“Good morning, Jack,” you say, a gentle prompt to see what mood he’s in. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi, buddy. You got your reading diary filled out?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Me and dad read Marlo again, I hope that’s okay.” 

You bend just a bit to be smaller, “You can read anything you want to.” 

“Dad says so too.” 

You and Aaron share a look. “Dad’s always right, huh?”

Jack nods emphatically. Aaron edges a half step closer to you, looking as though his hand is itching where he’s tucked it in his coat pocket. There’s something in it, you realise. He pulls it out and offers it to you covertly. 

“You left this behind,” he says. 

It’s one of your bracelets. You open your palm and let him tip the bracelet into your hand, curling your fingers closed, but not before the brush of his thumb has made you miss it against your cheek. 

“Oh, wow, I assumed I lost it.”

“No… it must have fallen down between my bed and the nightstand.”

You glance around, not as covert as you wish you were. It’s not that you and Aaron can’t date, but you perhaps shouldn’t, and besides that things are so new between you that it isn’t anyone else’s business either way. Plus, you have Jack to think about. He doesn’t know you’re seeing his father yet. 

You smile gratefully and tuck the bracelet into your pocket. “Thank you.” 

“Jack!” a blonde little girl called Sadie races up to you all and smiles wide. “Do you want to come and play with me? I want to try cartwheels before we go in.” 

Jack looks up at Aaron, who nods and leans down. He kisses his unwrinkled forehead. “I should be going soon. Be good today, okay?” 

Jack says his love yous as he jogs away with Sadie, his lunchbox forgotten in Aaron’s hands. “Want me to take it?” you ask. 

“Oh, yes. Please, honey, if you don’t mind.” 

Again, his hand brushes yours as he hands it over, his skin a reminder that he’s touched you now, and kindly, gentle fingertips trailing down your back as you dozed with your face against his chest. He’s so… perfect, in a way, such a caring person, you’ve never felt like this about someone. His proximity makes you wish you could go home with him now or follow him to work. It’s an achy feeling without being sore. 

“I never mind.” You watch him carefully as you talk, “It’s nice to get to see you every morning.” 

“It would be even nicer if we could’ve had the whole morning together,” he says agreeably, fondly. “Did you check your calendar for me? How are things looking next weekend?” 

“Very open for nice men who bring me jewellery.” 

“Don’t start,” he says quietly, his hand twitching toward yours, “or I’ll blow our cover.” 

“I wish you could.” 

“Me too, honey. I’m going to talk with Jack about it again this weekend.” He beams. “I wonder if he’ll change his tune this time.” 

When Aaron brought up the idea of you and him together to Jack, it had been as a simple hypothetical: How would you feel if me and Miss L/N wanted to be friends, Jack? 

He was ecstatic. Then we can see her all the time! he’d said. Aaron’s next port of call is to introduce the g-word. 

You and Aaron meet eyes, looking at one another, his hand creeping closer and closer to your side. He takes the end of your cardigan into his hand and feels it between his fingers, the slight touch, slightest movement of the fabric against your shoulder sending a shudder down your arms and chest. 

“Can I see you tonight?” he asks. 

“You aren’t busy?” you ask, surprised.

“Of course I am, I always am. But I think I have to see you.” 

Oh, you have to, you could tease. But you really need to see him too. “Just text me when you want me and I’ll be there,” you say, looking away from him toward the children and their racing. 

You’re glad you aren’t looking at him when he next speaks. “I always want you, but I have to go. Have a good day, honey, alright?”  

Jack’s lunchbox creaks in your hand. A funny soft kiss would be nice here, his smile pressed to yours. Maybe one day you’ll get one out in the open. “Thank you. Have a good day, too, Aaron,” you say, only looking up at him when you’re sure he’s crossed the school grounds to the parking lot. 

He looks back over his shoulder to you twice. 

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

Hey Ya'll! I've been working on this one for a little while and I can't wait to share it with you! It's a 16 + 1 generation legacy challenge for the Sims 4 based off of Taylor Swifts album Folklore! There aren't many solid rules for this one, I mostly just want ya'll to have fun and play it in a way that makes sense to you. That being said: - Mods and cheats are ok to use (I even encourage it). - Each Gen must have at least one child to play as the next heir. - I have used lots of packs in making this, you will need: City Living, Cats and Dogs, High School Years, Get Together, Crystal Creations, For Rent, Outdoor Retreat, Island Living, Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Discover University, Dine Out, Stranger Ville, Get Famous, Spa Day, Growing Together + more that I've probably forgotten. - If you do not have the required packs, feel free to change what you need to as long as it is somewhat similar to the original.

Gen 1: The One

You’re a meticulous gardener with a penchant for perfection, fiercely loyal to your craft and to your loved ones. Despite your somewhat snobbish tendencies, you dedicate yourself to finding true love, and when that journey ends, you never REALLY get over it. Yet you continue to cherish your familial bliss and vibrant social life.

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

Complete the soulmate aspiration with only one sim. Your sims permanently ‘separate’ once the aspiration is complete.

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

You're a charismatic politician, oozing self-assurance and intellect, always in the know. As a Renaissance Sim, mastering myriad skills comes naturally to you. Amidst your political pursuits, you find time for youthful adventures, savouring bar dates, maybe one day you’ll finally settle down with a cherished companion.

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

Go on at least 5 bar dates as a young adult.

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

You're a devoted stay-at-home parent, balancing material desires with a deep love for family and furry companions. Despite setbacks like a failed marriage and neighbourhood feuds, you find solace in nurturing your family and friends, building a home filled with love, even amidst domestic changes.

Career - Stay At Home Parent (You can work any career until you parent a child)

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

Have your first child as a newly aged up young adult.

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

In the world of espionage, you've always stood out. While others excel in covert ops, you thrive in building connections. Romantic at heart, yet socially awkward, you're drawn to leading, seeking solace in your club's camaraderie. After heartbreak, you relocate, shying from commitment but embracing your chosen family.

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

Create and lead your own club. Become friends with all the members.

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

Never get married or stay in a long-term relationship.

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

Amidst canvases and clay, you've always preferred solitude to the bustle of social affairs. As a critic, you explore the depths of creativity, while crafting jewellery and crystals on the side. Despite your artistic fervour, relationships falter, leaving you to nurture your creative progenies and seek solace in your craft.

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

In the spotlight's embrace, you dazzle as an entertainer, with moves that mesmerise and demands that rival divas. Behind the glamour lies a heart yearning for connection, seeking solace in fleeting affairs. As you master the arts of song and stage, you flit from home to home, craving new experiences and relationships to fulfil your insatiable appetite for life.

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

Have a secret love affair, with whom you’ll eventually marry.

Master the singing, piano and acting skills. Never master any other skills.

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

Beneath the stars, you find your playground, a whimsical astronaut drawn to the great unknown. Childhood antics linger as you escape the mundane, running away with a friend to explore the world. Haunted houses hold no fear for you, just another adventure in your quest for outdoor thrills. With each holiday, you uncover new wonders, embracing the vastness of the universe.

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

Run away from home as a teenager with a friend/s

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

In the vibrant world of social media, you craft narratives with precision, driven by ambition and a hint of envy for the spotlight. Amidst beachside dreams, you seek solace in Sulani's embrace, drawn to its sun-kissed shores. An affair with a married sim sparks passion, leading to a child and an obsession, anchoring you to the idyllic island life, forsaking love for the serenity of the sea.

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

Have an affair with a married sim you meet while on vacation.

Have at least one child with the married sim.

Live in Sulani for most, if not all, of your lifetime.

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

Driven by a desire to transform spaces, you carve your niche in the world of interior design, fueled by ambition yet shadowed by melancholy. As a youth, you flee, severing ties to forge a path of your own. Love finds you in the arms of a cheerful soul, grounding you upon your return, where you rebuild bridges and strive to be the ultimate caregiver to your children, overcoming personal demons along the way.

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

Move away as a teenager/young adult and lose most of your sims relationships.

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

Move back as a young adult/adult and re-make all the relationships you lost.

BONUS (Only if you have the Basemental Drugs MOD) Become addicted to at least one substance and successfully complete rehabilitation for it.

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

In the courtroom's halls, you weave tales of justice as a private attorney. Driven by wanderlust and a fear of commitment, marriage comes swiftly, but it's the thrill of forbidden affairs that ignites your passion. Caught in multiple webs of deceit, divorce looms, leading you to Henford-on-Bagley, where you navigate the complexities of parenthood alone, seeking solace in the quiet countryside.

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

Get married young and have at least 4 affairs before getting caught. 

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

Move to Henford-on-Bagley to raise all your children by yourself.

Gen 11: Invisible String

You always dreamed of sizzling pans and crafting culinary delights, a romantic at heart with a green thumb to match. Love's journey takes unexpected turns—a tumultuous romance with a mean spirit, a dance of uncertainty with a lifelong friend. As the years pass, you find your soulmate as an elder, nurturing both your restaurant empire, a family and a thriving garden.

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

Be in a long-term relationship with a mean sim and eventually break up.

Have a ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship with a life-long friend sim.

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

Betrayed in your youth by those you trusted the most, you harbour scars deep as loyalty binds you to your cause. You ascend the ranks of the criminal underworld, fueled by anger and an unyielding pursuit of justice and vengeance. Marriage offers solace, yet the thirst for retribution remains, driving you relentlessly until old age grants the serenity you seek.

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

As a teenager, have an ex friend/friend group/lover ruin your reputation/life.

Spend the rest of your adult life trying to get revenge.

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

Straight out of high school to the covert operations of the military, you excel, driven by duty and a longing to provide for your family. Medals adorn your chest, earned through dedication and sacrifice. Love finds you in the arms of a medical professional, but shadows linger, as memories of battle haunt your days, a silent reminder of the price of service.

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

Retire/quit your job as soon as you earn all available medals.

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

Live with PTSD (you can use a mod for this)

Gen 14: Betty 

Your high school romance blossoms into marriage, yet jealousy festers, leading to a massive indiscretion that fractures the trust you’ve built. Amidst the wreckage, you strive to mend what's broken, seeking solace in weekly garden dates as you navigate the rocky terrain of love. In the digital realm, you thrive as a freelancer, coding with confidence and a hint of cringe-worthy humour.

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

Have an affair for an extended period of time before being caught. 

Spend the rest of your life trying to heal the connection between you and your spouse. 

Gen 15: Peace

Unable to make friends, you shed the burden of high school to focus on working toward your dream job and pursue the limelight. Amidst the glittering lights of fame, you still struggle to find your place and people in the world. Eventually, love finds you in the presence of an outgoing spirit, but as stardom ascends, so does the weight of its demands, testing your quest for inner peace amidst the chaos of stardom.

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

Dropout of high school and work a part time job to earn money.

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

Become a Global Superstar and struggle with the price of fame.

Gen 16: Hoax

Born amidst the urban hustle of San Myshuno, your artistic soul yearns for expression amidst the city's chaos. Love's path proves rocky, a journey of unfulfilled connections and shattered dreams. Seeking solace in a fresh start, you depart the city's embrace, yet the ghost of past loves haunts your brushstrokes, forever captured in the vivid hues of your yearning canvases.

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

Be in a long-term, unfilling relationship with sim you have bad compatibility with. Eventually break up.

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

Never get over one of your previous relationships and spend the rest of your life yearning to have it back.

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of pages, you find your muse as a writer, enchanted by the dance of words and the embrace of nature. Poetry flows from you, a testament to your romantic soul. Holidays are cherished escapes, moments of tranquillity by the water's edge, fueling your creative spirit. Yet, it's in solitude that your greatest works are born, a testament to your dedication to the craft.

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

Go on Holiday with your spouse and family often, staying as close to a body of water as you can get.

Complete the gemstone collection.

Leave the world behind for a period of time to focus on writing (completely alone)

[chiefdirector]

Searching | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One

Two Years Ago

Tim felt his blood run cold. 

The words all made sense out loud, he knew what he was being told. But he himself could not make any sense of it. How could he? How could he make sense of any of this? How could she have just vanished? It wasn't meant to go like this; Tim wasn’t meant to lose her.

His body tensed as his mind began to race. He was meant to protect her, he should've been there to make sure that she was safe. He should've been there with her. He should have done something. He had failed her.

Grey repeatedly told him that he couldn't have changed the outcome, as if that would convince the man. Deep down inside Tim knew that was true. There was no way that the LAPD would let him anywhere near this operation. The pair of them were already on thin ice considering that they were both stationed at the Mid-Wilshire precinct. But despite the knowledge that it wasn’t his fault, Tim could not help the guilty feeling creeping back. He was her husband, he had vowed to always keep her safe. Now she could be in mortal danger and he was incapable of helping her.

Grey had also tried to send Bradford home. He lost that battle very quickly. Tim wouldn’t just sit at home and let other people take over. He couldn't. He had to help; he had to find her, even if it was the last thing he would do.

Search parties and covert operations were authorised, Tim took point on anything that he 

could. Captain Anderson gave him a chance, she knew it was risky with how strongly Tim felt about this but she also knew that nobody would look as hard and as thoroughly as he would.

He lasted two days before he was removed from the taskforce. 

——————

One Year Ago

Files were strewn across the coffee table. They had been for days, it was easier to keep them out than put them away every day. It was what he had spent the most of his free time doing, searching through files that he had already read back to front at least a hundred times. But maybe, just maybe, on the hundred-and-first time would he find something different, spot something that had been missed. Maybe in these pages he would find the answer he longed for.

But even at this point, Tim could feel the thought that this was all pointless, that (Y/N) would never be found, creeping in. He was a cop, he knew that the chances of finding a missing person after the first forty-eight hours plummeted drastically, and the chances of finding them alive was even less.

Still he picked up the file again, flipping to the beginning where he saw the initial missing persons report. They used two pictures, one was her portrait taken by the department, and the other was one taken by Tim. The two of them had gone away on a road trip for their honeymoon. At the time, (Y/N) had not yet cut her hair shorter, so the winds of the Grand Canyon were blowing it crazily in all directions. She smiled as wildly at the camera, eyes shining in joy. After Tim had taken that, another tourist offered to take the camera so the young couple could have a nice photo together. In that one, (Y/N) no longer faced the camera but her husband, and somehow her smile was even bigger.

That second photo was framed and carefully placed on Tim’s bedside table. It was his favourite photo and if she was never found, it was the way he wanted to remember her: happy, spirited, and free.

Tim didn't know what it was, whether it was the growing helplessness or the nostalgia of seeing his wife’s smile but he stood up, letting the paper fall to the ground, and meandered towards the bedroom. On the dresser stood her jewellery box, it hadn't been moved since she had left. He gently opened the lid and took out a simple chain. Next he slipped the ring from its place on his left hand and mounted it on the chain before attaching it around his neck.

——————

Six Months Ago

Life went on.

He knew it would, it was expected but that it didn’t mean it wasn’t any less daunting. He learnt to handle the day-to-day. He went grocery shopping, he did laundry, chores, cleaning, errands. He went on, one day at a time, it was the only way he could survive. Weeks seemed like years, months like decades. So Tim counted every single one of them: 547 days since she had disappeared. 562 since he last saw her. 

But life went on nonetheless. No matter how he documented it, the seconds, hours, minutes all flew by. (Y/N) just became another face in the sea of LAPD cold cases, another name that people would vaguely recall. And as she disappeared from the memories of many of his coworkers, he became more and more ghost-like. He never regained that joy he had from when he had her by his side.

He became a hardass, a stickler for rules, vengeful, angry, lost.

He was lost, but that was okay. He was okay with being like that because that meant the memory of her was not. He would remain a ghost, stuck in the past. A being that would never move on from what was taken from it. It provided comfort in some sort of sick and twisted way. He could relish in the memory of her, he could close his eyes and pretend she was there beside him.

He could guide others, help them not become him. Help them be better. He would take on another rookie, he would mould them into a model officer, and he would have to hope and pray that their fate would be better than his.

Part One | Part Three

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989

Tags are open

[orcasoul]

We don't talk anymore

This is just a quick angsty drabble that sprang to mind late last night and I just had to write it down.

Summary: Din is struggling with his feelings for you, the woman he hired to be Grogu's carer. He never expected to fall for you, but he did and he fell hard!

Warnings: angst, pining, use of Y/N. The Razor Crest has been replaced by a new one.

"For maker's sake, will you just talk to me Mando!" You didn't mean for your voice to come out so loud but frustration got the better of you. Standing in the cockpit of the Razor Crest with your fists clenched and throat constricting from fighting back the tears threatening to spill, you wait for his reply, any reply but instead all you got was a tense, towering wall of Beskar, unshifting, motionless apart from the rise and fall of his chest plate. Sometimes it seemed as though this impassive Mandalorian was just an extension of his ship, cold metal like the walls surrounding you. But besides his stoic display you know there is a man with feelings under all that armour. You've seen that man seep through the emotional armour he often resides behind when Grogu was in his care.

Gentle touches, soft chuckles, warm words and an endless amount of adoration for his little foundling revealed to you the real person Mando tired to suppress. After a while his aloof conduct towards you began to dissolve slightly too and you found him becoming more receptive to conversations, sometimes him being the one to initiate them. But recently he seemed to have retreated back into his armour and no matter how hard you tried to talk to him, to get him to open up, he would not allow even the slightest crack to materialise. "Have I done something or said something to upset you?-" "Of course not," he cut you off quickly. "Then what is it?" You pled, voice cracking. "You never talk to me unless you have to. Ever since our last visit to Nevarro you've been..... different." You exhale tiredly on the last word and hang your head as if you've been mentally defeated.

Din noticed how you deflated, he notices everything about you. How your eyes light up when something excites or amuses you, the little creases between your eyes when you frown, the gentle sway of your hips when you walk, and your laugh..... stars, it sounds heavenly to him! You are ingrained into his very soul. He's never been in love before but he knows without a doubt that this is the real thing. You are his everything. And that's the problem. He doesn't know how to tell you how he feels. He doesn't know if you would feel the same or if you would reject him. Din found it easier to ignore his growing affection for you while you were looking after Grogu. He was the priority for the both of you and having a shared responsibility made it easier for you both to connect.

Over time he noticed the conversations between you two had gone from being just about Grogu and his next quarry to more personal and private discussions (well most of the personal discussions were about you. He did share some of his childhood memories about his parents, and his early years with the covert but he never delved too far into his past). He enjoyed learning more about you, and the more he learned, the more his love for you bloomed. He hated seeing you hurting like this now and the worst part for him is knowing he's the one causing you this pain. But he doesn't know what to do or say in this moment. Should he reach out to comfort you? Should he just shrug your reaction off and tell you you're being dramatic? Dank Farrik, he doesn't know how to speak to you now that it's just the two of you with no distractions to occupy his mind.

His thoughts drift back to that day on Nevarro; Din watched you in the distance flitting from stall to stall, eyeing up all the local produce and bespoke clothing and jewellery while he sat outside a nearby cantina with Cara Dune. "So how's the little guy doing?" She asked Din while sipping her Spotchka. Din turned to her, a wistful smile breaking under his helmet, "He's actually doing very well. Last I heard he's managed to wield the force without it exhausting him." He couldn't help the pride emanating through his words at what his little one has accomplished in such a short time. "And I see Y/N is still with you," Cara smirked as she pointed to you. "Yep," Din replied casually, looking back over to you to make sure you were still in sight. When he turned back to look at Cara she still had that smirk plastered across her face. "What?" Din asked with a hint of confusion. "Nothing.... just thought you would have told her by now...." she trailed off while smiling into her cup.

"Tell her what?" He knew what she was getting at but decided to play oblivious anyway. Cara rolled her eyes and let out a playful huff, "Oh come on, anyone can see how you two feel about each other." "I don't... she doesn't..... it's not like that." Din has never stumbled over his words before and he hated how small it made him feel. "Haven't you noticed how she looks at you? Seriously, can't you see it?" she pressed. "It's just.... it's not a good idea," Din huffed. "I hired her to care for Grogu. That was the agreement, temporary employment-" "and yet she's still here," Cara clarified. Din was silent for a moment. He hadn't thought about it that way. Why were you still with him? You've had plenty of opportunities to settle on a safe world, yet you seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He felt a spark of hope ignite from the fact that you stayed, and after what Cara had just said. Cara's next words brought a nervous lump to his throat. "You need to tell her, before it's too late." After a moment Din simply nods at her. She's right, he knows she's right but how in the kriffin hell would he even go about telling you that he's in love with you?

Looking up at Din with glassy eyes, you know what you need to ask, and you're terrified to in case the answer you get is the one that'll break your heart. But you have to know now. "Do you want me to leave? Is that it?" you questioned with a shaky voice, while Din's posture became even more rigid. "It's okay if you want me to leave, you only had to tell me. I know this arrangement was temporary. I understand if you want your home back." Din couldn't believe what he was hearing. Of course he doesn't want you to leave! If he had his way he would have melded your bodies and souls together, the two of you existing perfectly in unison for eternity. He opened his mouth to speak but words failed him, instead a strangled "Uh" was all that escaped. The response was all that was needed to confirm your worst fear. He wants you to leave, he just didn't have the heart to tell you sooner.

Your mind told you it's perfectly understandable, after all you were only here to do a job but your heart cried out in anguish. You'd fallen hopelessly in love with this hardened Mandalorian and the thought of now having to adjust to life without him left your stomach in knots. You could almost feel your heart literally breaking apart inside your chest. Now you know what it means when they say love hurts. You had hoped he would stop you, cut you off with a declaration of love... oh you felt so foolish now. "Okay," You whisper sadly. "I'll get off at the next planet. I'll just...... I'll go pack my things." Before Din could react you'd turned away and made your way down the ladder to the hull of the ship where your makeshift sleeping quarters are to collect your belongings. His fingers twitched anxiously at his sides while the rest of his body remained frozen to the spot. He can't let you go, not like this, not without you knowing the truth. Taking a deep breath he forced his legs to carry him forward, to where you are. He realises it's now or never.

As he descends the ladder he can hear the faint sound of weeping and sniffling. His heart aromatically constricted, replacing his blood flow with the need to console you, protect you, make everything right, just so he can hear that exquisite laugh of yours again. He never wants to hear or see you in such distress ever again, and you won't be if he can help it. Your back is turned as Din approaches from behind. He knows you can hear his footsteps and are deliberately avoiding him, focusing on packing away the last of your clothes into your backpack. "Don't go," Din begged quietly. "Mando..." you voice sounded exhausted, "I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore. I can't stand this constant silence between us." The tears were flowing freely now, your voice betraying that fact. "Please just listen to me. I can explain everything-" "Oh now you want to talk?" you deadpanned while turning to him. You didn't realise how close he was standing, his tall frame making you look up to meet his visor. "What could you possibly want to talk about?" Din's gloved hand slowly made contact with your cheek, the soft leather of his thumb brushing away a single tear.

"Us," he stated simply, yet at the same time his gentle caress told you there was so much more to his meaning. Your heart skipped a beat and you dared to hope. "Us?" you asked, perplexed. "Yes.... that's if.... if you want there to be an us. Because I do, cyar'ika." You gasp and for a moment you thought you must be dreaming, but no this is real and the joy you feel now is enough to make you want to burst. Din's unexpected confession had instantaneously erased all of your sorrow and anger, like a wave washing over fire. You look lovingly into his visor and tiptoe to gain a little more height. You gently press your hands to both sides of his helmets' cheeks and bring his forehead down to meet yours in a keldabe kiss. You know exactly what this gesture means to him after he told you all about Mandalorian customs. It was Din's turn to gasp now, the sounds etching out a wide grin on your face. "Of course I do," you burst, while reaching for his hands. Din let out a shaky breath as you pulled your head away and you could tell he was smiling like a fool under his helmet, much like you are doing.

"I'm sorry cyare. I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, but I will try for you and I want you to know how much I love you." You close your eyes and sigh in contentment, knowing this is the start of something amazing. When you open them again you ask softly "What do those words mean? Cyar'ka, cyare?" "Darling, sweetheart, beloved," Din cooed stroking your hair. "I love you too, cyare," you repeated his native word back to him. Din felt a gush of pure ecstacy ripple through his body with your reciprocation. "Din," he breathed into your ear. "What?" you asked him with a confused smile. "My name is Din Djarin." Your smile quickly grew into one of affection and adoration. You know he doesn't usually give people his name and for him to give you this piece of himself just shows you how much he loves you. "I love you, Din Djarn," you purred passionately. "I love you too Y/N Y/L/N."

[hazellovesnuts]

Waltzing under the twinkling lights Part 1

Milady de Winter x Princess!Reader 🗡️

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Part 2

Eva Green & Characters one shots Collection

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Milady's POV

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It is beyond my wildest dreams to think that I would develop strong feelings for a princess of royal heritage. However, it is equally unimaginable for me to fathom the path I have taken, where I have ascended to become one of the most infamous and one of the most notorious spies in all of Europe either.

Throughout my eventful existence, I have adopted the captivating name of Milady de Winter and experienced a remarkably unconventional upbringing. Hailing from a humble background, my family's financial status was far from prosperous, compelling me to rely solely on my own resourcefulness. However, the means by which I sustained myself were often far from lawful, prompting me to adopt multiple aliases to shield my true identity from prying eyes. The harsh realities of my circumstances forced me to acquire the necessary survival skills, and I swiftly honed my abilities to navigate the treacherous paths of life. It was precisely this unparalleled skill set that captured the attention of none other than the infamous Cardinal Richelieu himself, even during my formative adolescent years.

Richelieu enlisted me as a covert operative or a spy under his command, and my talents propelled me up the ladder of success within his ranks. I proved to be exceptionally skilled at my assigned duties, executing them with precision and efficiency. However, even amidst my accomplishments, an indescribable void permeated my existence, as if my very being was an incomplete puzzle yearning for that one elusive piece to bring it to fruition. The nagging sensation of something missing plagued me ceaselessly, leaving me perplexed and disoriented. That was when I attended the ball that I happened to lay my eyes on what or should I say who that missing puzzle is.

And there she stood, the princess herself, radiating elegance as she shared a moment of pure joy with her companions. I couldn't help but be transfixed by her graceful presence and the genuine happiness that emanated from her. It was at that very instant when our eyes met for the first time, and I was instantly captivated by the sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her smile. Princess Y/N stood out from the crowd in a way that was truly remarkable. Her exceptional kindness, intelligence, and carefree spirit set her apart from anyone I had ever crossed paths with before. In all honesty, I found myself yearning to possess even a fraction of her admirable qualities. Our fateful encounter occurred unexpectedly at a grand ball, where the elite and noble figures of society had gathered. As I mingled with the well-heeled attendees, indulging in a glass of rich red wine, my ears were suddenly captivated by a burst of melodious laughter that seemed to float through the air. It was a sound so enchanting and delightful that it irresistibly beckoned me closer, drawing me toward its source.

The woman looked absolutely stunning, clad in a magnificent red dress adorned with intricate gold threadwork. It was evident that her father, being the king, had spared no expense in providing her with the finest jewellery, which only added to her allure. Her hair was expertly arranged in a half-up, half-down hairstyle, with a few loose strands gracefully framing her exquisite face.

In a state of trance, my gaze became fixated on her, unable to tear my eyes away. There was an inexplicable longing within me, a desire to become acquainted with her, to be in close proximity. It was then that I observed her companions dispersing, likely seeking to engage in social interactions with other members of the nobility. Driven by an uncontrollable force, I approached her, yearning for the smallest exchange of words.

As I approached her highness, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins. The moment she caught sight of me, I made sure to convey my utmost reverence by gracefully curtsying before her. With bated breath, I greeted her in a tone of deference, "Good evening, your Highness. Allow me to introduce myself as Milady de Winter." A whirlwind of emotions churned within me as I struggled to contain my excitement. Even though I had lived a life shrouded in secrecy as a spy, there was something about her that made me feel jittery, completely enthralled by her regal presence.

Princess Y/N smiled warmly at me, her eyes full of curiosity. "Good evening, my lady. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before. Are you new to the court?”

Her voice sounds so angelic, although I quickly returned her smile before I got lost in my mind,  hoping to conceal the whirlwind of emotions stirring within me. "Indeed, your highness. I have recently arrived, and it is truly an honor to be in your presence. Your beauty and grace are renowned throughout the kingdom."

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, you wouldn't notice unless you are very observant which I am considering I am a spy and I'm confident I had managed to make her blush. "Oh, you flatter me, Milady. But do tell me, what brings you to court? Are you here for a specific purpose?"

I glanced around, making sure no prying ears were nearby, before leaning in slightly. "I'm afraid I cannot disclose the details, your highness. Let's just say I serve a higher authority, and my role is to ensure the safety and security of the kingdom."

Princess Y/N's eyes widened with curiosity, her interest piqued. "How intriguing! A secret agent in our midst. You must have quite the stories to tell."

I chuckled, the sound escaping before I could stop myself. "Indeed, your highness. But I'm afraid my tales are not fit for a royal setting. Perhaps someday, in private, I can regale you with the tales of my adventures."

Her smile grew mischievous, and I knew she was enjoying our conversation. "I shall hold you to that, Milady. It would be a delight to hear your stories."

As the night continued, we talked and laughed about anything and everything, engaging in a light-hearted conversation. Princess Y/N possessed a quick wit and an inquisitive mind, making the hours fly by in a haze of laughter and shared moments. Time seemed to stand still, and for the first time in my life, I felt a sense of belonging.

As the music slowed and a waltz began, Princess Y/N turned to me with a spark of mischief in her eyes. "Milady, would you honor me with a dance?"

I couldn't help but be taken aback by her request, my heart skipping a beat. "Princess, it would be my utmost pleasure," I replied with a graceful bow.

As we moved together around the ballroom, our steps were perfectly in sync, as if we were made for each other. The world around us faded into the background, and it felt as though it was just the two of us.

As we danced, our conversation continued, and we shared our dreams, ambitions, and secrets. The more we spoke, the deeper our connection grew. It was as if the puzzle pieces of my life were slowly falling into place.

Princess Y/N looked at me intently, her eyes filled with warmth. "Milady, there is something different about you. You have this air of independence and mystery, yet there is also a vulnerability that draws me in. I feel like there is more to you than what meets the eye. You intrigue me so much."

I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. "Your Highness, I have spent my life hiding behind different names and identities. But with you, I feel like I can finally be myself. In your presence, I feel accepted and understood."

Her hand gently squeezed mine, and a tender smile graced her lips. "Milady, I see the strength and resilience within you. I believe there is a world of possibilities for us if we are willing to take a chance."

And at that moment, as we finished waltzing under the twinkling lights, Princess Y/N took my hand and led me to the gardens where no one was around. We kept our conversation while walking around the garden. This leads to us here in front of the fountain where we both held such intense eye contact. She looked into my eyes and for just a second her gaze lowered to my lips and so did mine. We started leaning closer to each other and before I knew it. Her soft lips were on mine and I knew that at this moment I had found the missing piece to my puzzle.

And so, we began our clandestine romance. It wasn't easy, of course. There were always guards around, and we had to be careful not to be caught. But we managed it, meeting in secret gardens and hidden alcoves. It was exhilarating, and I felt alive in a way I never had before. Princess Y/N was the light and love I never knew I needed, and together, we would navigate the mysteries of life, side by side.

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I have not yet watched "Les Trois Mousquetaires: D'artagnan" because it is only available in selected countries so I'm going to be basing Milady's background on what I think her background could have been and why she turned out to be like that. I'll leave the part where Milady and Athos are married cause Y/N is gonna come to the picture (though I do ship them a lot because of BBC's musketeers, go check it out if you haven't it's really good.)

Also, this is requested by Scarlett274973 (Wattpad), thank you for requesting 🩷

Also sorry for not updating any more oneshots since the last update. I haven't been feeling well and have had headaches and my body just doesn't want to sleep though I'm so tired and I also felt like throwing up but I'm getting better. Anyways, don't forget to drink your water lovelies and stay hydrated.

Edit (08/18/2023):

This is originally published on wattpad I also have a few other Eva Green and Characters one shots on my book in wattpad. I posted the very first one shot here and put the link on it. I'm going to publish this one shot here for now since wattpad is acting up and won't let me publish any updates. Thanks for understanding.

-Zel

[annoyinglandmagazine]

All is Fair in Love and War

Summary: Beren could not have come to Nargothrond at a worse time. For while Beren and Luthien are absorbed in their legendary romance they are about to inadvertently cause the resolution of a much more precarious one. Alternatively: Finrod makes bad choices and Curufin will most definitely be holding a grudge

The moment he’d seen that ring once again Finrod had been overjoyed at the unexpected reunion with the people of his Barahir, publicly embracing him and welcoming him to Nargothrond unequivocally and pointedly ignoring the sense of foreboding in his mind and the daggers his cousins were glaring at his back. Well one cousin in particular, but he could allow Curufin his petty jealousy, a degree of possessiveness was to be expected with a partner as flirtatious as himself. There was nothing too out of the ordinary there.

However when he spoke to Beren his mood changed swiftly and any pretence of joy was stripped from him at the word ‘silmaril’. He looked deep into his eyes, so alike Barahir’s it made him want to weep, and knew that there would be no persuading him to reconsider, to find another love. No, the way he spoke of the princess of Doriath with his voice never once failing to seep with adoration at every word, the way he presented their marriage as the only possible course of action, he knew that this was a kind of all consuming love that he wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed before.

This was a love that they might burn all of Beleriand to the ground for, though he was more familiar with that kind, and also that they would put naught before, not their people and responsibilities nor any others they held dear in their hearts. There was nothing in all of Arda that they would not do or give up for each other. And for all talk of elves having but one love he’d never seen anything like it, not even between his cousins who would most likely massacre cities for each other but could only love through covert letters and the rare co ordinated visit out of a sense of duty. Certainly not between himself and- well.

He looked at the ring Beren held in his palm and knew that it bound him and yet felt the clutches of another ring just as fiercely as he reached into the folds of his robes to discreetly hold it, as he had so many times in this past week but never with so much dread. Nervousness yes, but never dread.

When he slipped into his chambers he was exhausted and weighed down by the knowledge that there would be no easy course of action for him to choose and certainly not one that would please all, gesturing for all his attendants to retire for the evening with a false weary smile. He was already shrugging off his court robes and ready to collapse onto the bed when he noticed he was not alone. Leaning against his intricately carved headrest sat the fourth son of Feanor, sharpening the blade of that dwarven dagger he held in such high esteem until it was as sharp and shining as possible by any crafts known to the peoples of Arda.

He continued to twirl it about his fingers as he lifted his eyes momentarily to send a suspicious glance towards the elf entering the room.

‘Is there something wrong?’ This was his opportunity to explain the situation, to try to convince Curufin of the course of action he should and was obliged to take, how they could turn it to their advantage and perhaps make this a great triumph for all their people. That would go down well.

‘All is well, no need to let your reservations towards our guest get ahead of you cousin,’ he said casually as he moved across his room to lay aside piece after piece of jewellery in their separate boxes with great care to give himself time to find out what tack he should take.

After deliberation he decided on changing the topic to one that would no doubt prove a good distraction and convince even skeptical Curufin that his demeanour was little changed. He changed his tone to a familiar teasing one as he began to unlace his tunic, ‘Why if I didn’t know better I’d say you were still harbouring some jealousy towards Beor. But surely the great Curufinwë could never be so petty, I must be imagining things as us flighty Teleri are so prone to do,’ he turned to shoot a playful grin towards the now glaring Curufin.

The breach of the Quenya ban here and only here was one concession he admitted he felt little regret over, after all was it so dreadfully unreasonable for Curufin to not want the sweet nothings whispered in his ear tainted by an unfamiliar name, by a reminder of the loss and theft of his heritage. Was it so unreasonable for him to want the same?

Curufin laid the dagger on the nightstand with a little clink and began to unwind his braids for the night as an alternate way to keep his fingers moving, ‘I am not, nor have I ever been, jealous of that pathetic mortal. You had an insignificantly brief dalliance with him for some perplexing reason, most likely pity, and such matters do not bother me in the slightest. Don’t be absurd,’ he refused to look up at Finrod in petulance as he had finished undressing down to his small clothes and sat facing him on the bedspread.

‘Curufinwë,’ he murmured gently, hovering nearer his ear so he could feel the shivers it illicited, and he twined his hand with paler narrow fingers as he ever so slowly pulled them out of the mass of half unwinded black silk and onto his lap, making a point out of dragging his own through it as he did so. Curufin finally raised his head to meet his eyes, looking deep into Finrod and seeing none of his misgivings, only deep affection.

This was not a wise course of action, to cling to something he wouldn’t be permitted if the nér before him knew all the facts, it was taking advantage of him in truth to withhold such vital information and still get an unasked for joy out of this stolen moment. Playing with a Feanorian’s emotions and trust in such a manner was possibly the most dangerous thing he could do, but then inviting one into your bed was already incomprehensibly reckless, the several daggers no doubt on Curufin’s person right now could attest to that, but allowing the heart to get involved was something entirely other.

On a tremendously ill advised impulse Finrod pulled away to a beautiful exhalation of laughter from Curufin at the perceived teasing which only solidified his resolve as he strode over to his jewellery cabinet to find it, as he’d planned to for many months in many ways, in many settings but never in circumstances such as these. He’d had months to do it but he knew he wouldn’t have months more, he knew if he didn’t do it now he never would, that this door would be permanently shut. Out of the many ways he had planned to do it this had been one, in his chambers with Curufin sitting on the bed with a knee drawn up to his chest and the candlelight burning low and lighting his face softly until the harsh features became something fond and gentle, he knew that he would most likely never have a night such as this again.

He walked back towards Curufin and dropped to his knees at his side, taking a pale hand in his and bringing it to his lips, receiving a smile of mild curiosity from the other nér ‘Findarato are you quite alright, darling? If you wish to be on your knees before me I shan’t object but perhaps you may find a more suitable part of me to kiss in such a position?’

The suggestive commentary was issued without anymore bite than subtlety, Curufin was still rather new to it after all, if he were in the mood to make love tonight Finrod would get round to it relatively soon, he was never one to be patient once they were alone and Curufin had smiled at him like that. That was not his goal here though certainly would not be unwelcome later.

He took several deep breaths and only the clumsy flirtation made up his mind for him as he slid the ring out of his pocket and held it out. It was a simple thing but of exceptional quality, mithril with a precious ruby setting, if he were to try and get elaborate about it there would no doubt be mistakes, invisible to most of course but not Feanor’s shadow, the one who had grown up in the forge of the greatest smith in history. Proposing to him with a flawed ring would not be a pleasant experience.

Curufin’s lips parted in shock when he saw it and it took a few moments for Finrod to speak and take the final plunge ‘Curufinwë Atarinkë Feanorion will you-’

‘Is this a fucking joke?! Because if it is Findarató, I swear to the Valar they will never find the fucking body-’

He cupped his chin and Curufin closed his eyes briefly and breathed slowly at the touch. ‘I mean it, truly. We most likely won’t be able to tell people but we could find somewhere, a field for all I care, and bind our souls to each other for all eternity. To make you mine and I yours, that is what I wish. Will you marry me?’

It was delusion. Even if by some miracle he said yes tonight he would be cursing Finrod’s existence tomorrow. That night would never come, they would never have that, if it hadn’t been this it would have been something else some other conflict of interest or betrayal. They were not meant to love each other and in every eventuality they ended their stories the same way they started them, hating all that the other stood for and chose to do with their life. They were not Beren and Luthien.

But just tonight, with the way Curufin leaned in to kiss him soundly in answer and slide down off the bed into his lap, winding his arms about his neck to deepen the embrace as Finrod held his waist and lost himself in the softness of his lips and press of his narrow frame, he slid the ring onto his lover’s finger and allowed himself to pretend.

However many hours later he was lying in the disheveled silken sheets with an even more disheveled Curufin sleeping on his chest, hair now fully undone and lying across all the pillows and sheets in a striking contrast of black strands against bare pale and golden skin, golden hair and white sheets. He looked so happy and at peace in his sleep, none of the nightmares that often haunted him anywhere in sight, and Finrod felt a tear slip down his cheek as he knew he would be sleeping alone after tomorrow. He brought his lips down and kissed a pale, smooth shoulder before attempting to find some rest himself.

When he found the rumours of a coup brewing they did not surprise him and nor did finding his chambers empty that night and somehow colder. Well almost empty. On the nightstand rested a single ring and a crudely made dagger, clearly made in a moment of anger so unparalleled that craftsmanship was temporarily cast aside in favour of sending a message (if it had been Feanor the hatred in his veins would only have amplified his skills but this was not Feanor). No, they were not Beren and Luthien. But as he cast his mind to the glowing light of lamps and candles casting the shadows of two hands intertwining in the night on the walls he knew that it had been as close to love as he would ever find.

[pissvvytch]

Hidden witchcraft!

Carve a sigil/intention underneath a candle

Making a simple three-braid bracelet with intent. You can match the thread colour to your spell (black for protection, yellow for prosperity, pink for love ect.) and include hair/threads from clothing as taglocks. 

Herbal tea! Mint is great for protection and prosperity, rose for love and wisdom, hibiscus for passion and lust. Stir clockwise to attract something, anti to deflect. Add honey to sweeten your intent. 

Cleanse yourself in the shower by visualising the water washing off any negative energy. Use a sea salt scrub to remove a hex. 

Write a simple manifestation, 5-6 words long, that you can easily recite in your head. Think it as you light a candle/put on makeup/brew tea/cook a meal to create a covert spell. 

Trace a sigil with your finger to charge an object with intent. You can charge your perfume for glamour magic, your jewellery/shoes for protection, the possibilities are endless!

[mockiery]

Hey! (waves) 🍉 for Wes, 🍩 for Qyre, 🍻 for either/both! (fr tho none of the asks in this list are as "odd" as the anon ask you posted earlier. lol)

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with? (Wes)

Oh this is perfect. Wes has a watch that he wears every day, always keeps special care while at work bartending or cooking at home to not get anything on it or take it off if he absolutely needs to. It was his father's. It's nothing really special, a worn leather band and tarnished impure gold around the face, but it means a lot because it would've been very nice and have some meaning to it, his father being a black man giving the watch away in the mid-to-late 40's. His father had similarly been gifted a watch from his own mother once he came of age, so he was carrying on a tradition. But, the watch was not given to Wes, of course. Wes wasn't out or transitioned by any means, the watch had been a gift to the eldest son, Wes's younger brother Henry, when he'd turned 16. Henry was only a year younger than Wes, and Wes's closest sibling, and the only one that knew that Wes was leaving home before the day he did. He didn't know Wes was trans until Wes told him in a letter later, and was the only member of his family that Wes really kept in contact with. As soon as Henry had an address to send a letter back to Wes, he sent the watch with it. Wes was the eldest son, after all.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for? (Qyre)

Oh Qyre would have had a warrant out for defecting from their imperial servitude, having been forced to work as a mechanic for the empire after their Mandalorian covert had been destroyed as a preteen. Post-empire though? Speeding, easy. Absolutely speeding on xer speeder bike. No way in hell anyone would catch em though. Also xe has done some mechanic work and even competed in "unofficial" (read: illegal) speeder bike races, so there's another crime there. The only thing I could see xer actually getting caught for would be some menial shit about their ship not being within New Republic code or standards bc of the way e'd have fixed it up.

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day? (Either/Both)

For Wes, it's gonna be coming home from a night at the bar, taking off his (almost definitely unhealthy) homemade binder, getting comfy, putting a relaxing album on his record player, making some tea, and crawling into bed, often with a book. Later, Llewyn and their cat Half-Pint fit into that routine well, with cuddles and softness, maybe Llewyn plays or sings or hums Wes to sleep.

And for Qyre, after patching any of xer own scratches or scuffs, Qyre likes to polish their armor to wind down. It's different from the normal tinkering xe does in idle times, it doesn't require much complex thought, it's simple and it's important and it's meaningful. Keeping the armor clean and taken care of, honoring xis culture and eir family in every swipe of the gentle cloth they use only for this purpose. Occasionally it'll include retouching the paint, another great, focused and simple task.

Xe'll also go for ride on xer speeder bike or take over the helm of whatever ship xe's flying in, maybe run some routine diagnostics and checks. Whenever xe has Din, Grogu, and later Cobb in eir life, they're part of it too, patching up them or their armor or clothes, taking care of them. Qyre is wired to help fix things up, and that applies to the people xe loves too.

Send me OC asks!

[the-starry-seas]

I got to thinking about the strawberries again so I did picrews of most of their kids! Salwa and Bahij aren't pictured because there's not any Tusken picrews (though perhaps... someday...)

Jules, human, 13. Paz was Jules' godfather since Jules was a baby. When the covert was attacked on Nevarro, Jules' buir was wounded while fighting at Paz's side. Their dying words were used to make Paz promise to raise him. When Paz and Fury start dating, Jules was the very centre of Paz's life, and Fury never had any problem with that. His blue hair was done to match Paz's armour. He decided to follow a less restrictive branch of Mandalorian culture so he could remove his helmet. The entire Fett side of the family was surprised at how much he looked like young Jango - got some strong Concord Dawn genes! He's fearless, outspoken, and constantly finding trouble, much to his parents' amusement and/or exasperation.

Neva, Togruta, 6. Neva was meant to be a temporary foster, a couple months after Paz and Fury got married, but Paz could tell almost immediately that Fury didn't want to give her up and arranged for the adoption to be permanent. When she was first adopted, she and Fury were inseperable. She's still a little clingy and loves when Fury carries her around, and he's happy to oblige. She gets away with everything and is well aware that Fury is a total pushover. When she grows up she's going to be a pirate and veterinarian (try telling her that's not a thing and Fury will glare at you until you encourage her).

Six months after getting married, Paz and Fury started dating one of Boba's Tusken friends, U'Rajya. A year after that, they adopted Salwa and Bahij. Salwa was seventeen and her younger brother Bahij was twelve. Salwa is a poet who falls in love with everyone (not an easy task with three nosy buire) and can identify any bird on Tatooine at a glance. Bahij has ambitions to be a farmer but is also consistently 👀 at the beadworking studios in the Needles.

Ruiha, Zabrak, 11. A few months after Salwa and Bahij were adopted, the strawberries fostered Ruiha. Her mother had unexpectedly died from illness, and attempts were being made to find her cousins in the next system. In the time it took to do that, they all got attached to each other and Fury asked if they could adopt her. Paz took over her verd'goten training and she likes getting the drop on him to prove her training is a success. She's generally bold and outspoken but has moments of anxiety that can make her unexpectedly shy. Her eyes are dark emerald green.

Daljair, human, 16. When he swore the Creed as a teenager, Fury volunteered to adopt him, oversee his verd'goten and help him adjust to Mandalorian culture. He wasn't all too sure about them at first, but he quickly warmed up to the family. Sometimes they're a little too chaotic for his tates, but he loves how much they love each other. He dyed his locs pink to match Fury's armour. Initially he was frantic to prove himself as the best possible son, being an orphaned outsider with nowhere else to go, but his family's loyalty calmed his fears and gave him the confidence to make mistakes. He was intrigued by the Tusken jewellery that U'Rajya wore, and they arranged for him to have an apprenticeship with their clan's silversmith to see if it's the right career path for him. He's in regular contact with Cam and his family and visits them for a week every month.

Ragnar, human, 13. Ragnar was thought to have been killed in the last battle on Nevarro. Though wounded, he survived without permanent injury, and was adopted by the Mandalorians who got him offplanet. He was certain that Paz knew he was alive and was looking for him. Ultimately both those things turned out to be untrue, but he didn't hold that against his buir. They bumped into each other by mistake in the marketplace, and Paz had a hard time letting Ragnar out of his sight for weeks afterward.

[latenightsleuth]

Margaret Martin Murder 1938 - UNSOLVED

The Unsolved Sawmill Murder – Margaret Martin

An article by Emily Thompson 6th February 2018

On 17 December, 1938, Margaret Martin went to meet a man for an alleged job interview. She was never seen alive again.

19-year-old Margaret Martin from Luzerne County, Pennsylvania, was known as a shy but friendly girl that had many friends. “I liked to dance, but she never went to dances. She was very popular, very studious,” her friend Betty Hopkins fondly recalled.1

Martin graduated from Kingston High School in 1937 and took a couple of classes at Wilkes-Barre Business College to gain secretarial skills. She graduated with honours.

On Saturday the 17th of December, 1938, a neighbour who took phone calls for the Martin family informed Martin that a man had called with a job offer for her. The anonymous caller said that he was new in town and was setting up an insurance agency and was looking for a secretary. It was just 17 days after her graduation and she assumed that Wilkes-Barre Business College must have recommended her to this potential employer. A chuffed Martin took the phone call and arranged to meet the anonymous caller at Kingston Corners, just a short distance from her family home on Covert Street.

The last time Martin was seen alive was when a man who lived in an apartment at Kingston Corners spotted her climbing into a brown Plymouth. The man who was driving the car was said to be between 25 and 30-years-old and was slightly overweight.

When Martin didn’t arrive home, police were contacted and a search was launched.

Due to a six-month strike at the local newspapers, her disappearance wasn’t well publicised but there were a few articles detailing her disappearance. An “Evening Star” article noted that police were checking into the possibility that she had been lured away by a man who was running a “white slave ring.”2

On the 21st of December, 1938, 19-year-old muskrat hunter, Anthony Rezykowski, made a gruesome discovery as he was laying traps alongside the icy cold water of Keelersburg Creek in Northmoreland Township, Wyoming County. As he approached a disused bridge, he spotted a burlap sack bobbing up and down with the flow of the water. Protruding from the burlap sack was a human hand.

The search was over: it was Margret Martin and she had been viciously abused.

She had been slashed across the abdomen and leg. It’s presumed that the killer had attempted to dismember her. In addition, she had been bludgeoned with a heavy rock. Her body was bound with a clothesline: both legs were jammed up underneath her chin. She was raped before being strangled.

Martin’s mother had the traumatising task of identifying her body.

50 State troopers were called in to search the isolated, snow-covered countryside where she was found. Within days, they expressed the belief that Martin had been murdered by a “sex maniac with a cruel, distorted mind.” They soon received an anonymous tip from somebody who claimed they had overheard the anonymous caller making the telephone call to Martin in which he offered her a job. He was described as being between 25 and 30-years-old with sandy hair. He was said to be “neat” and “suave.” This was the only tangible clue they had to go on. 3

While the search of the surrounding area was unfruitful, investigators reached a breakthrough several weeks later when they discovered the site where Martin had been tortured and murdered. Inside a steam boiler of an abandoned sawmill near Forkston, approximately 15 miles away, was a pile of burnt clothes. The burnt clothes matched what Martin was wearing on the day of her disappearance. Also discovered in the ash were several pieces of jewellery that Martin had been wearing on the day of her disappearance.

Outside the abandoned sawmill, investigators found footprints of a man and a woman in frozen mud. At one point in the track, the woman’s footprints disappeared and thereafter there were signs that some kind of object had been dragged.4

A man living nearby the sawmill reported seeing light from the sawmill fire as somebody opened the door at approximately 9PM on the same day Martin disappeared. He told investigators that he had fired several warning shots in the direction of the sawmill but didn’t think to investigate any further as he assumed it was just a trespasser. Was the killer disturbed as he attempted to dismember Martin and dispose of her body in the sawmill? Investigators believe so.

While families worldwide were getting ready to celebrate the Christmas festivities, Martin was buried in the cemetery of St. Ignatius Church on the 24th of December. It was the day she had planned on attending a Kingston High School alumni dance. Around 1,000 mourners arrived to pay their last respects. Several plain-clothes officers mingled around the crowds on the possibility that the killer would show his face; it certainly isn’t unheard of for killers to show up at their victim’s funerals. It was to no avail.5 Martin was buried beside her brother, who she watched die of a childhood disease when he was just 4-years-old. In a cruel twist of fate, he too was buried the day before Christmas.

Investigators gathered around the creek where Martin’s body was found.

As it so transpired, the anonymous caller had called the Wilkes-Barre Business College at approximately 9:15AM on the morning of the 17th of December. The school secretary gave the man the name of two students along with their phone numbers. The second student she named was Martin. The caller never called the first student, just Martin. This makes one wonder if he knew the school would suggest Martin and share her phone number with him.

The inch-by-inch search of the craggy surrounding area turned up no clues that could point investigators in the direction of the killer. Unfortunately, just moments after the body of Martin was found, the skies opened up and snow fell down, turning the crime scene into a winter wonderland. If there were any footprints or tire tracks, the snow had obliterated them.

One main theory was that the killer was a local due to the fact that he was clearly familiar with the rugged terrain. The abandoned sawmill wasn’t in an easy location to find. Presumably he knew exactly where it was and knew that it was abandoned. Another theory amongst the locals was that the killer was a serial killer from another town but police didn’t have the ability to track such a killer during the time.

Four years after the murder, 21-year-old Orban Taylor from New York City handed himself into authorities and confessed that he had killed Martin. A former resident of Wilkes-Barre, Orban was brought in for extensive questioning and after 20 long hours, admitted that he had fabricated the confession. While some of what he had said matched the facts of the case, the majority contradicted evidence. Nevertheless, police had to investigate his claims. They could find no evidence to substantiate his claims and he wasn’t charged in relation to the murder of Martin. He was, however, charged with second degree assault in an unrelated crime. Two years later, he died in prison after drinking a cocktail of typewriter cleaning fluid, orange juice, sugar and water.6

The search for Martin’s murderer gripped the Wyoming Valley for years and even left many Kingston residents too terrified to venture outside. Pennsylvania authorities never close the cold cases in their archive. In fact, every year, unsolved murders are reopened and reviewed each and every year and Martin’s murder is no different. However, over the forthcoming years following her murder, tips and leads have dwindled significantly and police aren’t hopeful that this case will ever be solved.

Footnotes:

The Times Ledger, 24 January, 1999 – “A Gruesome Murder that went Unsolved”

Evening Star, 22 December, 1938 – “Girl, 19, May Be Detained”

Evening Star, 23 December, 1938 – “National Guardsmen Join in Search for Girl’s Slayer”

The Evening Sun, 30 December, 1938 – “Footprints Discovered”

The Times Leader, 27 April, 2009 – “Cold Murder Cases Live On”

Star-Gazette, 25 May, 1944 – “Inmate Dead from Poison Cocktail”

Full Article: https://morbidology.com/the-unsolved-sawmill-murder-margaret-martin/

[omg26lilly]

If you were just a fortnight of my life...

I was just drinking alcohol no one noticed that I wasn't coping with the pain, until I changed the way I looked, some part of me knows your to blame, all in the same I hope your drinking with me now.

I'm stuck in the shortest month of the year, hoping to get through the year.

In my way of denial we're be neighbours I would act like we're all good, when I throw all your good tidings fake smiles, perfect family life to shame. Yet your the one ruining my name, I was the wife, whom I loved till death to us apart.

Yet if we are both calling, why did we leave the phone unanswered? If I touched you would you kiss it better or were you another fortnight in my life,that's just something that you learn from, can't wait to see the truth uninhibited.

We were listening to the underated artists saying why haven't they been discovered, we're not these people that just fell. I choose this life, let's not be self destructive, let's keep our dignity intact. Although I thought rings were going to put on, you decided they were better as decorative peice than a commitment.

If my boy likes to break me till I'm broken, we are not going to be forever, all my favourite things, the parts I liked you took for yourself, until I reclaimed myself then you wanted me back. You can't have me if you want to destroy everything you can't have.

You would test all your new developments with the glitz and glam of a new recentical, then I go back with liquid smoke, I would be crying with all those pent up emotions that remind me of adolescence.

Did you leave me in abandoned part of town, all alone bare you took everything I owed, yet you thought I could survive. You took parts I don't care if it's old, its worn, tattered. Or if it seems new to you, you don't have a clue.

I was chilled to the bones, I was left to resuscitate what should be left dead in the grave, so goodbye to that house on the hill, if we both died who was holding the gun, who pulled the triger, who recoiled. I gave you all my energy and exbureance, I'm mad because I want it all back, if I'm always patching up your wounds, that they would come loose in the struggle and desperation.

Why could I be scared your not a rare element, I was going down I could feel your glares you couldn't cope that I was one of the greats. Its like I settled for just a grave digger, thief who wanted to take my talent, I'm gulity with association that you would become a great man, riding on the coat tailes of a mortal dilemma. You were hopeful that if you are just short, I would make you rise tall, if you think your the greatest gift that god has created, you must be sedated.

I was waiting for you at the church, the silent assailant took me out, now my darkest days were laid in the grave, wheres chaos there's scandal.

I love you I would scream to anybody who'd listen, we're getting married, to just see your faces, its like I would do anything to get attention hence my bad reputation. I'm not saying that everyone laughing at my misfortune, when they told you he ain't the one, who knows when those people would approve.

You were my first call when we wanted to go back to when we dreamt of things that are a stake for my company, I played the grieving widow, the tortured ex, the jealous girl, I'm here doesn't that stand for something.

It did lets start again lets have a holiday leave all the dust buried, your secret bodies, your little girl on the side, lets take this drug that will make it all better, you wont get caught or arrested down here. You saved all your money spent it all in slot machines, casinos in Vegas.

You needed to gain your composure down at daytona beach, where you could get the best ice cream, the diner where its open all night unitil you pick a fight, you remember where you are, the happiest by far. If florida is where you could get lost in the vibe, its the perfect secrete where I hide all my jewellery, its our covert affairs.

How is that I've sinned feed me all your mistyped victim status, hang, let me do my crime and pushinment, I don't know why I'm scared to leave, I can't say goodbye, yet I haven't touched you in weeks, days why do I feel ashamed while I'm fighting to stay.

Whose afraid of little old me who rescued me from the grave, where I was buried. I'm walking the streets where you use to live, I'm leaving my voice in your apartment, your find it where you looking at the greatest album that has ever lived, there's me ruining the disc, the hardware you couldn't fool me, I'm just little old me.

Dont worry she wont bite or snarl, its to late for apoglies, what if you meant those things you said in jest, drunk texts wanting me back, it blistered, burnt it was hell. Of course you couldn't stipulate what you did, you didn't interset me, you tried to bottle up everything that I am, your jealousy was like a bad drunk, where truth bled chaos.

Whose afraid, you are, you could never be me if you tried, you just dont like it when your not getting the attention you think you rightfully derseve.

I don't know how I can fix you, I've got a situation where I swear I know how to treat you, I'll stand by when your to drunk to drive, your saying stuff that I'm sure is just the alcohol talking.

Is it because everyone at the bar says good luck, knowing that I should be ashamed, he's from the deep south, he's from over seas, I love his accent, he's fuck boy. I can change his ways, we can't just be friends, he's just a rebound, I can work him round. I'm sure I'll teach him manners, chivalry, knock some realism until that head.

I always thought you were the great love of my life, you were the loss seeing as I could so go into auto pilot to fall back into your arms, like your always waiting to me to come back. It should of been buried, we should of stayed dead, it's just like we remembered that all the ways you said I changed you.

To you its of one those relationships that were set to promote you to stardom, it wasn't real, we talked about everything, now I'm laying in bed wishing those people would rest, saying they we were put to the test. Wasn't it better to have been loved, we're lost whatever it was we were fighting for, to not feel love at all would be the greatest tragedy of all.

19/4/24

[ashesurnsjewellery]

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[kazifatagar]

New: Thieves dig nearly $1m in jewellery and cash out of Philippines mall

In a daring heist, thieves tunneled into Gaisano Mall in Ozamiz City, Philippines, making off with 41 million pesos in jewelry and cash. Commencing their covert operation in a carnival beside the mall, the trio dug through a drainage canal to access the mall’s food court. Social Media Links Follow us on: Instagram Threads Facebook Twitter YouTube DailyMotion Read More News…

[turn-left-at-hell]

IMPORTANT!!! Australian's read

this is for the Australians out there (but I don't know the situation in other places so it might be relevant elsewhere too).

So, you may have heard that there are plans to phase out cash and coins for a cashless transaction system in Australia, ie card only. Now, there are issues with that. It would make crime harder, but more notably. It has the potential to be the beginning of a more totalitarian system with every transaction monitorable. No more covert transactions for less than socially acceptable things (not sex, read between the lines a bit better).

So, what can we do about it?

Best thing I can suggest. Buy jewellery from pawn shops of the equivalent worth to the "goods", exchange for goods. Person you buy goods from sells jewellery or whatever to get money for it.

A type of barter system if you will.

Even if you're not doing something illegal, I personally don't want someone to monitor every fucking thing I buy. That's my fucking business.

Add other suggestions in comments or reblogs if you can.

[artarina-com]

Aelalittel

Mysterious copper and green labradorite necklace. Artarina.com

[esti3]

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NARUTO ** -

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