#might do more in the future i got some ideas

[amirasainz]

Hey girl

So I got inspired by the whole Bella Hadid and Prince of Qatar thing. What if driver!reader is the one the Prince has a crush on and the other drivers become overprotectiv???

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Princess of Qatar

It was a strange feeling to be the center of attention, especially when the attention came from one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. Yn was used to the spotlight—after all, she was a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull, an extremely talented one at that. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just the press or the fans; it was him. The Prince of Qatar.

It had all started innocently enough. She’d arrived in Qatar two weeks ahead of the GP for a promotional event, and as a result, she’d spent more time than usual with the prince. He was charming, kind, and nothing short of a gentleman. They’d spent evenings talking about everything from racing to their favorite films, and his interest in her was genuine. Or at least, that’s what Yn had thought at first.

But the internet had other ideas. Rumors began to swirl—first as whispers, then as headlines. The two were seen together so frequently that fans started speculating. Were they dating? Was the prince falling for her? The rumors only got louder when someone snapped a picture of the two of them laughing together in a private conversation.

And then, it happened. A report surfaced suggesting that the prince might be interested in marrying Yn. The internet went into overdrive. Fans, tabloids, and gossip outlets all had a field day, creating hashtags, memes, and theories. It didn’t help that Yn had once posted a picture of her hand next to his, joking about "a future championship ring" and how “it’s the only ring I’d ever need.”

As the days passed, the drivers all started noticing the online buzz. And they weren't having it.

---

Charles was the first to notice.

It was late at night, and he was scrolling through his phone in his hotel room when a post about Yn and the prince came up. He immediately clicked on it, thinking it was just another rumor. But as he scrolled through the pictures of Yn and the prince, looking so natural together, he felt a knot in his stomach.

“What is this?” Charles muttered to himself. “This is going too far.”

He kept scrolling, getting increasingly frustrated as each article came up with more speculation. Finally, he tossed his phone onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. He had to do something.

---

George was, unsurprisingly, not far behind.

The next morning, at breakfast, he slid into the seat next to Charles, who was already staring at his phone. He raised an eyebrow.

“You know about the rumors, right?” George asked.

Charles nodded, his brow furrowed.

“It’s getting out of hand.”

“I know,” George replied, now looking serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

Charles turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

George pulled out his laptop, opened a PowerPoint presentation, and turned it toward Charles. On the first slide was the title: "Why Yn Shouldn’t Become a Princess."

“George, are you seriously making a PowerPoint about this?” Charles asked incredulously.

George nodded, scrolling through the slides. “I’ve got points, Charles.”

The first slide was about the prince’s wealth and the pressure of becoming a royal. “The prince might have power, but would Yn be happy in that world?” George said, pointing at the next slide.

Charles groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, seriously,” George continued. “Number two: the media pressure. She won’t have any privacy. She’ll be constantly hounded, and it could affect her career. Imagine the headlines every time she races. ‘Princess of F1.’”

Charles rubbed his temples. “You’re insane.”

But George wasn’t done yet. He was already on the third slide: “Formula 1 Comes First”. “And lastly, we all know that racing is her first love. The prince can’t compete with that.”

Charles gave up, laughing despite himself. “Alright, alright, I get it. But maybe just... stop making PowerPoints, yeah?”

George shrugged, undeterred. “No promises.”

---

Meanwhile, Carlos and Max were taking a more direct approach.

“Max, we need to talk.” Carlos said as he walked into Max’s hotel room, closing the door behind him.

Max was leaning against the window, eyes narrowed, watching the hustle of the city below.

“About Yn and the prince?” Max said without turning around.

Carlos nodded. “I think we need to keep an eye on her.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I mean, it’s not just the prince. It’s everything. The media. The fans. It’s all happening so fast. We need to protect her.”

Max finally turned, his usual nonchalance replaced with a rare seriousness. “You want us to act like bodyguards?”

Carlos nodded. “Basically.”

Max exhaled, then shrugged. “Fine. But only because we have to.”

And so, the next day, both Max and Carlos found themselves trailing Yn from a distance, keeping an eye on her as she went about her day. To anyone else, they looked like two guys casually hanging out. But in reality, they were her silent bodyguards, watching her every move without saying a word.

---

Lando, on the other hand, couldn’t help himself.

He had been spending more time with Yn recently, so he decided to confront her directly. He caught up with her after a practice session at the track.

“Hey, Yn.” Lando said, his eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s going on with you and the prince?”

Yn smirked, leaning against a wall as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Oh, nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” Lando repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You guys have been all over the news. There’s even talk about marriage.”

Yn chuckled. “Lando, come on. People love to make stuff up. We’re just friends.”

“But why are you hanging out with him so much?” Lando asked, his eyes narrowing in on her.

Yn laughed again. “You’re just jealous that I get to hang out with a prince, aren’t you?”

Lando threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m not jealous. I’m just... concerned.”

Yn patted him on the shoulder, her smile wide. “I’ll be fine, Lando. I promise.”

---

Finally, Lewis had his turn.

After hearing about the situation from the others, he decided it was time to have a quiet, heart-to-heart conversation with Yn. He found her by the pool, her legs dipped into the water, enjoying the rare moments of calm before the chaos of race weekend.

“Hey, Yn. Can we talk?” Lewis said, taking a seat beside her.

Yn turned to him, her expression softening. “Of course, Lewis. What’s up?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Lewis said, looking at her with concern. “All this attention... it’s a lot. And I know it’s coming from everywhere. You’ve got a lot of people worried about you.”

Yn smiled gently. “I’m fine, Lewis. Seriously. I’m not letting any of this get to me. I know what I want, and I’m not going to let anyone else dictate that.”

Lewis nodded, his face softening. “Just... take care of yourself, yeah? And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Yn leaned over and gave him a playful nudge. “Thanks, Lewis. You’re a good friend.”

---

Race weekend finally arrived, and the tension among the drivers was palpable. The rumors about Yn and the prince still lingered, but the drivers had all done their best to protect her in their own ways.

As they all gathered in the paddock before the race, Yn finally stood up and addressed them all.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had enough of this.” Yn said, raising her hands in surrender. “The prince and I are just friends. That’s it.”

The drivers exchanged glances, some of them sighing in relief, others looking a bit embarrassed for their overprotectiveness.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, still skeptical.

Yn grinned. “That’s all. Now, can we focus on the race? I have a championship to win, remember?”

The drivers let out a collective sigh, and Charles clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to business then.”

As they walked to the grid, the rumors faded into the background, and the only thing that mattered was the race ahead. But as Yn smiled to herself, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way her teammates cared for her. In the end, she knew they’d always have her back—no matter what the internet said.

And that, she thought, was all that really mattered.

[gach-doodles]

heelloooo! good day! if it's not any trouble, could we please have a better look at Sampo from your previous wonderland cast? thank you!

- @towynn

Sorry for the late reply! I just wanted to do everything for everyone because ideas just suddenly flooded in I couldn't stop (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) Sampo is a little different than the one on paper, but the overall spirit is there! (Though I might add some more details or make another redesign for him in the future, I feel like I could do better than this...)

Argenti got a huge makeover because I didn't like how he looked like a chef (?) in the previous one, and Kafka also got a little upgrade too with the mushroom and caterpillar motif. (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)

And of course I couldn't decide on the final Alice so I just made all of the four below Alice.

Guess who is the odd one out among the Alices? (Hint: the one not having any checker pattern)

[writingwisterias]

Day 24: Pregnancy Kink

Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Pregnancy kink, established relationship

Masterlist

There were many presents underneath the tree, some beautifully hand wrapped by you and some had an attempt by Leon. The lights gave off a warm glow against the red and gold theme, a few personalized baubles lingering in spots. Tinsel decorated the walls in low hung strips, along with various other decorations. Leon loved it. This small home he had found and crafted with you at the heart. His present was the biggest this year, his eyes often lingering on it as he tried to figure it out without touching. A small game he had made for himself. You both wanted a quiet Christmas one final one before the impending arrival of your first baby came. So your parents had dropped off their gifts, the pile larger than he had ever seen. Most of them no doubt for the baby.

You were elsewhere in the house, he could hear the sweet tunes leave your lips as you hummed to yourself. He hated how active you were still, despite only being 6 months along. Always finding things to do, thanks to his job you were able to take an early maternity leave and not worry about the financial situation from it. He found you in the nursery, folding up the many clothes you had been preparing since finding out the gender. A girl. Something that he didn't know he needed until he found out, his heart already full of love for her.

“She's not even here yet and has got you doing her laundry” he joked. You jolted slightly after having not heard him enter the room but you still greeted him with a warm smile. The brightest thing he has ever laid his eyes on. “Someone's gotta do it, her daddy has been staring at the presents all day” you teased. Oh how you loved his laugh, the natural belly laugh he only seemed to use when you were around. “Maybe I can open one early?” He smirked “might tempt me not to stare at them anymore”

“You are talking like you already have you eye on one”

Of course he did. He was a giant child at heart, practically swaying on his feet as he waited for your answer. You nodded, holding your hands out for him to help you up. You smiled as his hands instantly found your waist, tucking you into his side as he sped walked into the living room. His smile was childish as looked amongst the gifts, searching the tags for the ones that signed your name. You watched as he realized the one he wanted was from you, heavy and hard. Almost like a book. “Choosing that one?” you smirked at him. Leon nodded his hair falling all over his face as he exaggerated the movement.

His fingers worked delicately on the tape, making sure not to rip the wrapping paper. It was definitely a book only the cover was black, adding to the alluding mystery he had created in his small mini game. He could see you smile - a small timid one as he opened the pages. An album, filled with images of a place he didn't recognize. It wasn't until he turned the next page he was shocked. Your maternity photo shoot…in lingerie?

Leon had made numerous comments on your changes as they came, his erection more prominent when he would gaze upon at night. ‘There's nothing sexier than what you are doing for our future’ he would always claim. He was more than happy to satisfy your hormones early on in the pregnancy. His cock was probably red and sore with the amount of times you woke him up needing him. Yet as you grew your frustrations increased but his willingness to help decreased in fear of hurting you. Something completely justified but it left you aching. To combat this you booked a boudoir shoot. Dressing yourself up and being guided into the sexier positions with the photographer. The idea was being saved until a wedding came around, always wanting to give it to him on your wedding day. But times grew desperate as did you.

“Honey this is…wow”

That's all he has to say? After that time and money you put into modelling this, just for a touch. You were sad, almost going to cry because of these damn hormones until you saw it. The curve in his sweatpants that slowly grew with a small twitch. His breath hitching as he turned the page. Leon couldn't describe how turned he was, the erection came almost instantly. At least he knew his drinking hadn't affected it yet. You had made him his own version of a playboy magazine, looking extremely attractive whilst being swollen with evidence of himself. “Is it good?” You asked, your voice timid as you shrunk in on yourself. Leon chuckled, his eyes finally meeting yours with a darkened glare. One that held only pure admiration and lust.

He stalked over to you, sitting on the sofa beside you. His lips encased your own, keeping you trapped in a whirlpool of affection and passion. His hands fell onto your hips gently hitching up the fabric of your summer dress until he found the waistband of your underwear. “Leon? Did you like it?”

His heart cracked at you attempting to seek his approval, as if his actions weren't words enough as your insecurities grew. “I loved it”

With that he guided you on his lap, enjoying the feel of you as your lips crashed against each other in another battle for dominance. Your hands worked on his buttons whilst he slipped your underwear aside. Leon slid into you with ease, his thrusts shallow and small as you worked yourself on his cock. Admiring your breasts in the small dress you were wearing, how they now grew in size. Your small belly pressing against his as you rocked against him. It was heavenly, he wanted nothing more than to be treated like this. In the corner of his eye he could see the present open on the floor, the imagery only spurring him on further until he finally felt his balls tighten.

His load coated your walls, the warmth spreading inside causing them to flutter and clench around his softening cock as you orgasmed around him. Your head landed in his neck, catching your breath. After all, it had been a while since you could do this for so long. Leon lifted you up, the two of you still connected. Silently carrying you to the bedroom where you assumed he was going to continue giving you an early Christmas present.

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Along the Chimney with Care

Prompt Day 24: Stocking | Word Count: 550 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Learning New Skills, Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks, as he leans over Steve's shoulder as he sits at the dining room table. 

"Practicing," Steve answers, as he looks at the scrap of fabric in front of him at the sewing machine that he's dragged out of the deepest recesses of some closet.

"Practicing what?" Eddie asks, because it just looks like a bundle of tangled up threads.

Steve flips it over. 

It's a kind of badly done embroidered version of Eddie's name, but it makes him smile. It might not be anywhere near perfect, but he likes the effort Steve's clearly tried to make. Steve could have ordered them custom-made from somewhere else, or even gotten iron-on letters, but instead he's chosen to do it this way, for better or worse.

"What's this for?" Eddie asks, smiling.

"Stockings for Christmas. I mistakenly thought this looked easy. It is not easy," Steve says, and Eddie sits down.

"Let me help," Eddie offers, even if he has no idea what that will entail. But surely they can figure it out together. They've always been able to figure anything out, as long as they've done it together. Two heads are better than one, and all that shit.

Not to mention, Eddie can sew. In theory. By hand, for sure, and Wayne had an old machine Eddie used a few times while making vests and other shit. He's never made a stocking, but he's willing to try.

"It keeps tangling on the back," Steve laments, and Eddie slides the practice piece of fabric towards himself, so he can look at it more closely.

"Is there a manual?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head. 

"Not that I've ever seen," Steve answers.

"Hmm," Eddie says. He understands the basics, maybe, but he's not sure he can do much by way of troubleshooting.

But he bets he knows who can.

"Joyce says to check the bobbin," Eddie says from the kitchen, holding onto the phone. 

"What's the bobbin?" Steve asks, standing up and looking at the top of the machine.

"What's the bobbin?" Eddie repeats.

Joyce laughs in his ear, "Oh, dear."

But she walks them through it. They take it out, rethread it through the machine, and then test it out.

It's better. It's definitely better.

"That fixed it!" Steve says, pumping his fist in the air, hollering, "Thanks, Joyce!"

"He says thanks," Eddie repeats to her over the line. 

She heard him. The whole block heard him.

Eddie sits on the couch and watches Steve hang the stockings along the chimney with care. They aren't perfect. Far from it. But they do have their names on them, and Steve made them. He also let Eddie sew patches on them, which makes them even more personal to each of them.

A joint effort. Eddie loves them in all their slightly wonky glory, and he hopes they use them for years to come. 

"Okay. They're Santa ready," Steve says, and Eddie grins. 

"I can't wait to see what Santa brings me," Eddie declares, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, and Steve just smiles like he has the biggest secret. 

"Coal, probably," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, big and bright.

Steve's got something planned, something up his stocking, as it were, and Eddie can't wait to find out what.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🧦

[the-thieves-gambit]

"No.” She scoffed but with a smile. “ I get not recently but what about in high school? College? You're going to tell me you never dated and fallen in love before? Never had to do the meeting of parents or had to the what are your intensions with my child, talk?" While she had never had done these personally herself there were plenty she had to pretend through. It wasn't as if she was trying to fish some sort of sordid affair from him, it was just her trying to know more about the man he loved.

At his story though she looked at his hand. She had pretended a lot of things to get out of various situations but stabbing herself with a utensil never crossed her mind before. "That seems rather extreme." The next words that came from him though, had her hazel eyes gleam with tears, adoration. Love. There was never going to be enough words, gestures, anything in the world that could ever say how much she loved him. So for now, she settled on a small kiss, leaning over and placed it on his cheek.

"You got that all wrong," her tone serious as she settled her head on his shoulder. "I have no idea who Elizabeth Bordeaux is or could be. It sounds all wrong." Watching more people come and go. She had never thought about marriage, even considered it a part of her future one day, but here she was. Like a school girl thinking about her having the same last name as her crush. Though they might not marry, the reason for this trip was at the forefront of him. There was no one else she would ever do this with, consider doing this with. Releasing a small sigh she spoke again. "Elizabeth Sóley Bordeaux, now that one rolls off the tongue a bit better. If I do say so myself."

Sitting up, she shook her head, it was no surprise that she was excited and ready to read the new novel in her possession now. The distractions that Wally provided though, were very tempting and she did enjoy them. "That sounds highly unlikely." Raised eyebrow. "What if I wanted you on your worst behavior?" It was a tease, not like they could do much on the plane full of people anyway.

"Ghost adventures?!" Elizabeth despised that man. Having accidentally seen an episode when she was channel surfing once, she absolutely hated him. Could see past the facade the man put up about being able to channel the other side or other beings. "That fake wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a marmennill, selkie or a mermaid! Anyway," a slight roll of her eyes. "On the island elves are believed to go home from home offering gifts but if you accept them, it causes madness. So its best not to. So technically they are all dicky."

The thought of them going to the museum had her smiling like a fool. "The musuem gets some thing wagging. We can go as long as you don't feel...," she thought over the right word to say but could only giggle when she continued. "Inadequate after, we can consider it. Men don't tend to like to see how they size up to others. There's also lots of museums and we can always go back to see them all."

Hearing another overhead call for another flight boarding, she nudging his shoulder playfully. "Is that us?" She was slightly anxious, ready to embark on this adventure to find that 'right moment.'

"Yes," without hesitation he answered. Then he chuckled not because she said something funny, just because he hadn't realized she didn't know he didn't really get this far in the dating scene before. "Don't laugh but I didn't really get too far in the dating scene. If you want the truth I didn't date. Not like I had a chance. Karina made sure to keep me busy at work so social life like that, never really happened. I was always best on my own and bringing in a relationship where I had to explain being a hundred different people at one time. Not many would understand that. Meli made me go on one date when I was twenty three. It was lunch at a tiki shop. She was so boring I literally stabbed my hand with a spork to get out of it. Meeting parents deal never did that before. Ma knew that I wasn't easy to impress so to speak so having to hear about you made her realize you weren't just someone. She knew you spoke to me in more than just words." He smiled and that let her know he understood the nervous aspect. "Maybe not in dating but I do understand the nerves. The want to be liked for who you are. Putting your best foot forward is terrifying. I understand where you're coming from but I also know that beautiful albeit bruised heart of yours and have seen how much love and care you put into getting to know people and really try to shed what you had known all your life. And that my darling, is one of your best qualities. Not letting the shit you went through harden you as a person now." He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm and smiled at her.

"Not really if you're asked. It's like I'm willingly giving you my last name." Though he knew her teasing ways he couldn't help but be funny and answer truthfully. "Elizabeth Bordeaux. Watch out fancy pants. Mnm rolls off the tongue there don't you think?" His grin was soft as his eyes twinkled at the mere prospect of her taking his last name and being married to her.

He raised his eyebrows being surprisingly intrigued by this book. "You can't wait to read it now can you?" The amusement danced in his tone of voice as he kept rubbing her knuckles. "You gotta tell me how it ends though. I promise to behave and let you read it on our flight without or mild interruptions."

He offered up a mhmm for to continue. A part of him wondered what it was that her father wasn't lying about. "Okay, that I learned or saw in that episode of ghost adventures." Was he a fan? No but he was also sometimes in need of a distraction rummaging through paperwork at his desk. "Imagine being trapped in their world. What if you get a dicky one and every word they say it just makes you more trapped." He followed her movement and nodded. "I wouldn't feed my curiosity if I didn't ask about witchcraft on the island.' His heart made a dance at the sound of her laughter and stared at her like she was a gleaming star shining right back at him. Then he heard her and started to laugh making his eyes crinkle at the sides. "Impressive huh? Is this your way of saying we are heading down there first? Feel like we gotta see this ever growing impressive collection that has got tongues wagging."

[casuallyobssessed]

Fairytales & Firesides - Bodyguard!John Wick x Fem!Reader ❥ 6.1k Words

A/N: My Keanuverse Secret Santa gift for @at-wicks-end, hosted by @97keanu ! I hope you love it! P.S. I don't live in an area that gets snow, sorry if this is inaccurate! 🫶🏼

Before You Read: bodyguard AU, fluff, canon typical violence/descriptions of violence, short-ish slow burn (I tried lol), angst, no beta, use of Y/N, :3c

gif creds to dalekinapaintedparadise - divider by bleachbambi

Archive of Our Own Link

Winter crashes into the mountains like a raging bull, forcing you inside for the foreseeable future. Sleet and snow dominate the weather forecast, rendering the outdoors dangerous in more ways than one. While the snow comes down, you could usually be found tucked away in your home library. Warm light from the fireplace bathes you in an orange and red glow as you curl up in your comfiest chair with one of your many books. This has always been your treasured safe space. 

At least, it was, until things with your uncle got more complicated. For a while now, you've been living in one of your uncle's mansions, kind of doing whatever you want. He allows you to stay there only because you promised to look after the place every winter when there aren't as many people around to help on the property due to the snowfall in the mountains. 

Your uncle, Diego, is into some pretty shady stuff. Gangs, drugs, secret societies? You name it, he has his fingers in it. Recently, Diego had some kind of drug deal gone bad with a very prestigious group of people involved. Since then, they've hired a hit on your uncle and any of your family that they can get their hands on. A distant cousin, one aunt, and your great grandfather have all fallen victim to revenge killings. Diego fears that you could be next since you live in one of his properties, so he's hired a selection of bodyguards for your protection.

Unfortunately, the newly hired muscle made your comfort space feel more like a prison. As silly as it might sound, you felt like a princess locked away in her secluded tower. Being a full grown adult, something like this seemed like overkill. You didn't need twenty four seven protection from everything that goes bump in the night, but you were dependent on Diego’s generosity, so you accepted his offer of security with gritted teeth. 

As the time passed, your bodyguards came and went. You never had the same one for more than a week at a time. Many of them were kind to you, and thankfully, only one of them had been a creep. They were promptly dealt with (according to Diego, anyway). 

It didn't take too long for daily life to start losing its spark. You plowed through a good portion of your books in the first couple of weeks. This prompted you to start writing your own book. Really, it was more of a journal documenting your experience, but who said it couldn't be both? 

The guards were usually your only contact with the outside world, so you appreciated your conversations with them. Trading stories of their heroic actions for your recounts of the fantasy books you had been reading, you were able to keep your imagination running wild and your notebooks full of ideas. 

After one particularly difficult week, Sunday rolled around and it was time for a new guard. You bid farewell to the previous one and patiently waited to meet the lucky new bodyguard. Diego would brief them on their duties before they were dispatched to your side. You just hope they were kinder than the last. 

Your newest guard is set to find you on the floor in your library, busy reviewing pieces of your story journal. The click of the door opening snatches you back to reality, turning your attention to the man entering your sanctuary. Standing up, you step over your journal and various papers scattered around the floor, and slowly walk over to where he stood. 

“Good Morning, Ms.Y/N,” His voice is as smooth as honey.

“It's nice to meet you,” You offer your hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake, ”What's your name?” 

“John. I see that you're busy, I'll keep out of your way.” 

John looks past you, at the chaos spread about the room, and gives you a curt nod before assuming his post by the door. You return to work on your journal, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your writing as you occasionally steal glances at him, documenting the handsome new guard. 

John is not a bad looking man. He stands a good bit taller than you with slicked back, dark hair and a matching, well groomed beard. He has beautiful brown eyes that twinkle as though they hold the secrets to the universe. Maybe that last part is all in your head, but there's certainly something mysterious about this man that captivates you.

Out of your way is where John stays for the next couple of days, quiet and mostly indifferent to your presence. He followed you whenever you left your library but kept a distance either in front or behind you. At night, he sat on the couch in the far corner of your room. Under normal circumstances, it would have made you too uneasy to have someone watching you sleep, but after weeks of constant surveillance, you were used to it. 

Come the third day, you are determined to break the ice with him. Two days of no conversation other than one word responses was driving you mad. It never took this long for a guard to warm up to you. So, you decide that you are going to try your best to get some kind of response out of him. 

Small talk definitely isn't going to work. This man is clearly not one to gossip or discuss the weather with. Your first attempt is to ask him about current events. ‘What's the world like out there right now? Anything important happening that I should know about?’ You're met with only a shrug and a small, well meaning smile. Strike one. 

Next, you try asking him about himself and his home life. ‘Have anyone at home missing you while you're busy here? Do you have any pets?’ Unfortunately, these questions don't receive much of a response either, not even so much as a shrug. The look in his eyes hardened after the first question, though. You figure it's best not to push it. Strike two. 

For your last attempt, you decide to ask him if he has any interesting stories about jobs he's had in the past. This was a common question you had for your guards as their answers would usually help inspire your writing. ‘Do you have any cool action stories or experiences you could share? I can tell you about some of the books I've been reading in exchange!’ Finally, John looks at you with somewhat of an amused expression on his face. It's the most emotion you've gotten out of him, so far, but he doesn't say anything. Strike three. You're out! 

…Or are you? 

John shifts on his feet before clearing his throat to speak, “I suppose there are a few I could share with you.” 

“Awesome. Let me grab my notebook,” you say incredibly calmly, desperate not to give away your excitement. Mentally, you're doing a celebratory victory dance. 

-

For hours, you two trade stories. His were outlandish, but true. Each story is more nail bitingly exciting than the last. Yours range from the worst romance novels you've ever read, to the best fantasy books you have shelved in your library. You filled half your journal with wonderful ideas thanks to John. And on top of that, it seems like he is getting more comfortable with talking to you. It's an overall win-win for you. 

That night, you become keenly aware of John in the corner of your room, reading one of the books you suggested to him. You're not sure what changed, but you feel very differently about having him here. Sure, you feel protected, but something inside you has started to feel warm and gooey knowing he's always nearby. Maybe you just need a good night's rest. It's been a long day. You snuggle up underneath your comforter and drift off to sleep. 

The next morning you wake yourself up from tossing and turning. You can't catch your breath, you're completely flushed, and your heart is racing. It takes a moment, but suddenly your dream from last night comes flooding back and you're blushing like a schoolgirl. 

You had a dream about John. Oh God. Your cheeks must be burning bright red from embarrassment. Looking over at John, he is seemingly still asleep. His eyes are closed, head leaned back, arms crossed on his chest, and legs spread wide. You wonder what would happen if you were to crawl between those long legs and… Nope! Nuh uh! Shaking the rogue thoughts from your head, you promptly get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You need a cold shower, pronto. 

Upon returning from your shower, John was finally awake, reading the same book from the night before. Realizing you’re back and wearing only a towel, John excuses himself and steps outside the door to wait for you to change. 

You don't know how you're supposed to face him, but you know that the thoughts you're having aren't fair towards him. John has been completely professional with you while he's been here and it would be inappropriate of you to cross that line. 

Getting dressed quickly, you pick out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Never leaving the house has some perks. You rarely have to get dressed up in stiff, fancy clothes unless you really want to. Days like today, you can lounge around in pajamas with no consequence. 

Once you’re finished dressing, you leave your room and briskly walk past John without a word. You don't necessarily want to be cold towards him, but until you get a grip on yourself, it's probably better that way. 

John dutifully follows you back to the library and posts up by the door. You tend to the fireplace, rekindle it as needed, and then plop yourself onto the bench next to the window adjacent to the hearth. Frost is crawling up the edges of the window, obscuring your view only slightly. As you stare out into the wintry wonderland, you try your best not to think about John and the contents of your dream. 

Instead, you focus on the snowflakes as they dance down from the sky in a flurry and collect on the ground below. With how soft the snow looks, you have no trouble imagining yourself making the perfect snow angel, right in the front yard. You're not sure if going out there is the best idea, given the weather and the unpredictable danger, but a little freedom might just be what you need right now.

Maybe if you move fast enough, you could get past John and escape outside. It was worth a shot. You nonchalantly rise up from the bench and silently shuffle back to your room. John trails along behind you, looking moderately confused. You hurriedly shut the bedroom door, accidentally closing it in his face.

“Sorry, John! Give me a minute, I'm changing again,” You call out.

A muffled ‘Okay’ can be heard as you dig through your closet looking for your puffy winter coat. You find it half shoved in the back corner, dangling precariously on its hanger. After pulling your coat on, you slide into your snow boots, wriggle your fingers into your gloves, and head towards the front door. 

As fate would have it, a big coat and snow boots are not the smartest choices when you're trying to move fast. You make it as far as the foyer, reaching for the door handle before he stops you. So much for keeping your distance from him today. 

“Ms. Y/N, where do you think you're going?” John grabs your arm tightly enough to keep you in place. You try shrugging him off, but he's got too strong of a grip on you. 

“Outside. I want to see the snow.”

“You can see the snow from in here,” He responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I want to feel it, John. I want to remember what it's like to breathe fresh air.” 

“It's my job to keep you safe. Inside,” He replies sternly.

“I'm going out and you are not going to stop me,” You spit back at him, putting your foot down. 

John reluctantly lets you go and takes a step back. He considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Fine. Diego won't be pleased, but at least let me put on my coat.” 

You oblige his request and wait for him patiently until he returns wearing his heavy, black coat. Though you do feel a little bad for how you spoke to him, you don't regret it. You have been cooped up in this house for far too long. 

John insists on stepping outside first to make sure it's clear before allowing you to follow him. The second you cross the threshold, cold, crisp air hits your face and you breathe a sigh of relief. Being inside all the time gets incredibly stuffy and winter isn't the ideal time to be opening windows to air things out. You stare up into the sky as snowflakes land on your face, only to melt against your skin. 

Everything is still and quiet. From the house to the trees, it's a peaceful, untouched spread of snow, give or take a few sparse animal tracks. Off to the side, John is watching you and your surroundings with a sharp eye.

You trudge around in the snow looking for the best place to make your masterpiece. Just in front of the windows to the library, you find the perfect spot. 

Without another thought, you fall back into the snow, moving your arms and legs to create the shape of a snow angel. You feel as giddy as a kid, smiling ear to ear and laughing like a fool. Who knew something as simple as playing in the snow could make you feel so happy, so free? 

“John, come on! Make a snow angel with me. Please?” You’re begging him to have some fun with you even though half an hour ago you were plotting how you could avoid him indefinitely. 

His footsteps crunch in the snow until he's standing over you with a smile almost as wide as yours as you look up at him. You feel as though the heavens have opened up and you're staring directly at an angel. The frost nipping at your nose pales in comparison to the heat bursting inside your chest. 

He solemnly shakes his head at you, “I can't, I'm sorry.”  

You stay like that for a bit until the cold from the snow starts to overwhelm you through your coat and pajama pants, sending chills down your spine. You stand up from the ground to admire your handiwork. It's a solid outline if you ignore John's big footprints in the snow above the head. You decide it's an easy eight out of ten.

Satisfied with your creation, you move on to your next activity. You scoop up a handful of snow and pat it into a ball in your hands. Luckily for you, John is turned away, distracted by something off in the distance near the trees. Now’s the perfect chance to strike. 

You wind up your arm and toss the snowball at him, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Pumping your fist in the air, you holler out a loud ‘Yes!’

You hear an exasperated sigh come from John, and quickly, you realize you may have messed up and taken things too far. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Your apology is cut off by John whipping around, grabbing a fistful of snow, forming it hastily in his hands, and then throwing it at you, landing in the center of your chest. 

Stunned, you let out a loud laugh before returning fire. John obviously has the better aim of you two. Missing every other shot was an improvement for you, while he was landing every hit flawlessly.

Unsurprising to you, John ends up as the winner of the snowball fight. You gave up once your stomach started rumbling and you realized that you hadn't eaten any breakfast yet. Hungry and defeated, you head back inside with your bodyguard in tow.

In the foyer, you strip off your coat, gloves, and boots, tossing them to the side. You had plenty of time to worry about them later. John hangs his coat up carefully on the coat rack and turns to you expectantly. 

“Thank you for going out there with me. That was a lot of fun,” You exclaim while rubbing your hands together to bring back the feeling in them. 

“It can't happen again, but you're welcome,” He looks genuinely sorry. 

“I know,” You understand the danger, but you wish things were different, “Are you hungry? I can make us some mean pancakes.” 

“Sure, Ms. Y/N,” Once again, John is smiling at you and it's enough to ignite even the coldest parts of you. There was no way on earth you could keep trying to avoid him when he made you feel this way with just a smile.

-

Breakfast went off without a hitch. Well, there may have been a minor hitch involving the pancake batter, but John stepped in and saved the day. He ended up offering to take over the process entirely, and you agreed. That gave you a chance to watch him do something besides stand still and look all serious.  

Once you’re done eating and all the breakfast dishes are clean, you scurry back to your library with John right behind you. Your journal and miscellaneous papers are still spread around the floor from the night before. John had really given you some wonderful stories to fuel your imagination, and now it's time to incorporate them into your book. 

By the door, John stands perfectly still, aside from the sly glances he throws your way. Seeing him stand over there by himself tugged at your heartstrings a bit after the eventful morning you've had. It suddenly felt very selfish to have someone on their feet, at attention, all day and night just for you. From your seat on the floor, you gesture to the chair right beside you.

“You can sit down if you want. I'm sure you can still protect me from any threats just as well over here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Y/N, but it's in your best interest if I stay here.”

“Are you sure?” You think for a moment and then continue, “What if I said I felt way more safe with you sitting next to me?” 

John gives you a hint of a smile before quickly resuming his professional poker face, “I really shouldn't… but if it makes you feel safer, I guess I can do that.” 

You lean over and pat the cushion of your comfy chair, encouraging him to sit. He makes his way over to you and sits in your chair, sinking down into it like it was made for him. After a few minutes of sitting together in silence as you worked, you begin to wonder when the last time he was truly able to relax was. 

“Hey John?” You look up at him, journal in hand.

“Mhm?” His voice thick with unease as he looks down at you.

“Can I read you some of what I have written so far? Will you tell me what you think?” 

“Sure.” 

Ever so slowly, John starts to truly relax as he listens to you. He spreads his legs just so and lets his shoulders ease back into a comfortable position, listening to you intently as you tell him your story enthusiastically. You stop occasionally to get his opinion on a set of dialogue or how a sentence is phrased and he's more than happy to advise you. By the end of the day with him, you've completely filled another notebook and you've fallen totally head over heels for John. 

-

The next few days pass by in a blur. John assists you in nearly completing your book, lets you sneak outside again (a couple, glorious times), and he even makes breakfast for you on Saturday morning. 

On Saturday evening, knowing that he'll have to leave soon, you convince him to have a movie night with you by letting him pick whatever movie he wants. You make a huge bowl of popcorn for the occasion and get settled on the couch while John peruses your Uncle's movie collection. He decides on an obscure western you've never heard of, and settles onto the couch, leaving one seat's worth of space between you for the popcorn bowl. 

Subconsciously, you wish he was sitting closer, but you'll have to settle for accidentally touching hands while reaching for popcorn at the same time. 

So far, the movie is a total snoozefest. You wouldn't dare say that to John, considering he seems to be enjoying it. If it weren't for his proximity to you keeping your heart racing, you definitely would have nodded off by now. Surprisingly quickly you run out of popcorn, so you set the bowl on the coffee table to get it out of the way and break down that final barrier between you and John. 

Half way through the movie, you find yourself scooting inches closer to John. You hope he doesn't notice, but something about him just has a magnetic pull that draws you in effortlessly. 

-

Now three fourths of the way through the movie, you start to feel brave. Taking notice of how lonely his hand looks resting on his thigh, you make the bold move to place your hand over his during a particularly high action scene. His hand is warm against yours and the feeling sends tingles through your fingertips. 

You're pleasantly surprised when John doesn't shrug you off, but instead looks over at you with a small smile, before lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart is thumping inside your chest as he gives your hand a squeeze, but you're sure it's going to explode when he lets go of your hand to pull you into his lap. 

Your senses are overwhelmed as you get a light whiff of the warm spice of his cologne as you lean in close, taking all of him in. His hands are gently holding your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. You look to him for silent permission before closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. The feeling in the air is positively electric as his lips meet yours. 

-

The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours. John's the one who breaks away from you first, looking absolutely debauched. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks and lips are brushed red, and the lustful look in his eye is burning a hole right through to your center. 

It's him who decides to ignore the tenting in his pants and politely recommends that you go to bed. As much as it kills you to do so, you reluctantly peel yourself off of him and go straight to your room to take another painfully cold shower. 

Your entire night is filled with another round of tossing and turning mixed with racy dreams featuring your bodyguard, who never finds his way into your room throughout the night. You assume he's keeping watch from the living room, only slightly neglecting his duties of having an eye on you at all times. 

-

Saying goodbye to John the next morning may have been one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. No amount of begging or tears could have changed Diego's mind. ‘Getting attached to these people is like falling in love with a mutt you know you can't keep. They're here for your protection, Y/N, not for you to play with.’ His words stung. Even if it was the truth, you didn't want to hear it.

With tears in your eyes, you watch through one of the library windows as John's car retreats down the driveway. The hole in your chest feels massive, like it’s destined to swallow you whole if you aren't careful. Holding yourself tight, you curl up in your comfy chair and cry. It's the only thing you can muster the energy for. 

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You're startled awake from your sleep by loud, insistent thuds of the brass door knocker echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. You're not sure how long you’ve been out for, but the sun has gone down and the only light left is coming from the crackling embers in the fireplace. Rubbing your eyes, you drag your feet to the front door and open it without thinking twice.

Standing on the other side is a wall of a man. He has to be taller than John by at least half a foot, and twice as wide. He's wearing a simple black suit, not unlike something one of your bodyguards would wear during their time here. That must be it, he’s the newest guard hired by Diego. Since you had been asleep, you haven't checked your phone yet to see if you had any missed calls from him.

“Y/N, I assume?” His voice sounds like gravel, in an unpleasant sort of way. It lands roughly on your ears and makes you wince.

“That would be me. Did Diego send you?” 

The man ignores your question and gestures towards the foyer, “Can I come in? It's freezing out here.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, come on in.”

As you step back to allow him through, he slams a massive hand against the door, knocking it wide open and shoving you harshly onto the floor. Before you can make sense of what's going on, he's got a hand in your hair, dragging you further into the house. 

You kick and scream as he lugs you down the hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. You try digging your nails into the back of his hand but he doesn't seem affected by the pain as he picks you up off the floor and tosses you onto the bed. The second he lets go of your hair, you scramble off the bed and towards the door. In a flash, the man grabs you by the ankles and drags you back over to the bed. 

This time, when he chunks you on the mattress, he produces a gun from his waistband and places the cold barrel directly against your forehead.

“Don't move again or I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.” 

Your eye twitches as you stare at him, afraid to even blink. He puts the gun back in his waistband and reaches into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. Out of his it, he pulls a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs. 

You're tempted to make another run for it, but you recall the feeling of his gun against your skin and you decide better of it. He grabs one of your wrists and slaps a cuff onto it, and when he reaches for your other wrist, you snatch it away. 

This appears to be your second mistake of the night. The man rears back and slaps you harder than you've ever felt before. 

“Stop acting like a brat,” He hisses at you. 

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as pain shoots through the side of your face. You barely register it as he successfully grabs your hand and places the remaining cuff around your wrist a little too tightly. The cuffs dig into your skin painfully, taking your mind off of the pounding in your head.

The mystery man paces around the room checking the windows and shutting the bedroom door before stopping in front of you. He places a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat to speak. 

“All right, listen. Here's how this is gonna go. When I get the go ahead from my Boss, I'm gonna kill you. Until then, we wait.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and your brain starts to spiral into full blown panic mode. There's no way you can muscle your way out of this. You could try playing the money card, he might fall for it. 

“You don't have to do this. Do you want money? My uncle can pay you double whatever your boss is paying. Call him, I'm sure he-” The man presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up. 

“Stop talking.” 

With that, he goes back to pacing around the room, occasionally checking his phone for that green light to take you out. Your mind races a million miles an hour as you pull against the handcuffs, knowing you can't slip out of them. Sniffles fill the room while your eyes start watering again. The man gives you a disgusted look as your breathing quickens and your lip trembles. 

“Are you really crying right now? Give me a fuckin’ break. This is just business. Eye for an eye type deal,” He snarls before going back to the window.

“Shit. Shit!” 

He sees something he clearly doesn't like, and backs away from the window. In a huff, he's grabbing your arm, and snatching you off of the bed. You resist, pulling away from him and stumbling backwards. The man growls before charging at you, grabbing your waist, and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down!” You scream and pound your fists against his back to no avail.

With his other hand, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call that goes unanswered. He hastily leaves the bedroom and carries you down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. You try to grab everything you can as you pass by to try and slow him down: the walls, picture frames, even a curio cabinet that only topples over and smashes, littering the floor with glass. Unaffected by your attempts, he stops in front of the back door, overlooking the patio. 

“Hope you like the cold,” He grumbles and opens the door, cold air blasting into the house. 

Not giving you a chance to resist this time, he walks out into the snow and tosses you on the ground, landing you hard in the snow. 

“Get up, come on,” He's got his gun out again, pointed directly at you, “Towards the trees. Go!”

You try to collect yourself to stand up, but you're shaking so bad that you can barely keep your balance on your bare feet. Lacking the patience to wait for you to get a grip, he tucks an arm underneath yours and starts dragging you along again. 

The cold bites against the skin around your cuffed wrists. Your feet are so painfully frozen, they almost feel warm as you try to keep up with the man holding a gun to your head. 

It's a long walk to the tree line and by the time you make it there, you can't feel your feet or hands anymore. Your pajama bottoms are soaked through from the snow and you're convinced there's no possible way you can take another step, so you don't. You collapse at the base of the nearest tree, slipping out of his grip. 

“Any last words?” The man raises his pistol to your head once more, “I'll make this quick.”

As you look up at him, your attention is drawn to the black outline of a figure running through the snow behind him, about halfway between the house and the trees. Your brows furrow in confusion, prompting the man to turn around and follow your gaze. 

“What the fu-” You watch in disbelief as a sickening splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter explodes from one side of his head, tainting the bright white snow with a glistening red. All that can be heard besides your own heavy breathing is the loud crack echoing against the mountains. The light disappears from his eyes as his body crumples beneath him, landing with a soft crunch as the snow packs down underneath. 

You'd scream if you could feel any part of your body, but the best you can do is screw your eyes shut and hope you're not next. Your tears freeze against your cheeks as you cry and hold your arms as close to your body as you can for warmth, even if it's futile. 

Not long after, you hear fast approaching footsteps stomping through the snow, headed right your way. 

“Y/N?!” Your eyes snap open. You know that voice. 

“J-J-” With how bad your teeth are chattering, it's hard to speak. 

In an instant, John is in front of you, pulling off his coat to wrap around you. He crouches down to eye level with you and places both hands on your cheeks, looking at you, his deep, brown eyes are full of concern. 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You're not sure how to answer that question without crying even harder, so you just lift your hands up to show him the cuffs digging into your wrists. He seemingly understands what you're trying to say and turns towards the unmoving heap of a man on the ground. He searches through the man's pockets, pulling out a wallet, a cell phone, car keys, and finally, the keys to the handcuffs. John unlocks the cuffs quickly and tosses them into the snow beside you before gently rubbing the sore areas around your wrists. 

“Let's get you inside, hm?”

You nod eagerly and try to stand up with him, but you can't feel your legs and you end up losing your balance again, almost toppling over into the snow. Thankfully, John catches you before you hit the ground. 

“I c-can't-”

“Shh, I've got you. Hold on to me,” He reassures you. 

With that, John is placing your arm around his neck and picking you up bridal style. The walk back to the house seems even longer and colder than before. You hug his neck tightly as he carries you, hoping that your shaking doesn't bother him too much.

-

John carries you into the house, past the broken glass and snow that's blown in from the open doors, not stopping until he reaches your safe space, your library. He sets you down in your comfy chair and kneels down while holding your hand. 

“We have to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?” His tone is soft and sweet, yet urgent. 

Again, you nod and let him help you out of your freezing, wet pajamas. He starts with your bottoms, tucking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Next, he pushes the coat he gave you off your shoulders and carefully helps you lift your arms up to slide off your shirt. He dumps them in a soggy pile on the floor next to your chair.

“I'll be right back,” He pats your knee comfortingly before leaving the library.

You sit alone and shivering for a minute until John returns with a big, fluffy blanket. 

“Do you think you can take your underwear off by yourself?”

You look at him with wide eyes and then down at your hands. With how bad they are still shaking, and the fact you only kind of have feeling in them now, you aren't sure what you could do by yourself. 

“I'll help you. I won't look, just wrap yourself up in this.”

John wraps the blanket around the front of your body, then reaches around behind you to unclasp your bra and places it on top of your shirt in the pile. He kneels down again and reaches beneath the blanket, slowly pulling off your underwear and dropping them on top of your bra. You can feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and you're glad at least some part of you seems to be warming up. 

Now that you're free from the clutches of the wet clothes, John turns away from you to relight the fireplace. While he's occupied, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and hold it closed in front of you, still partially numb to the fact that it was John who came to save you and you did not die back there. 

When he's finished with the fireplace, John comes back over and kneels on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, like you'd float away if he lets you go. He still bears a twinkle of concern in his eyes but he doesn't say anything else. Together, you sit quietly, thawing out your extremities and regaining some of your composure. 

You’re first to break the silence once you're feeling properly warm again. 

“You came back?” You whisper.

“Of course I did, Y/N. I couldn't stay away.”

[the-art-of-sanshoku]

A thumbs up has many uses...

Timelapse:

Song: Hogarth - Chin up and Smile

[sensei-twinkles]

I’ve been too busy for finished pieces and I feel bad not posting much so I’m gonna post more sketches if that’s okay! Just means you guys get more content ✨

Most will be Dadmight because literally peak duo I can’t stop drawing them, this is only one page of many 🫵

[ednaeflowers]

Her head tilts. Edna didn't think he would actually go along with this idea. Given the topic, 'Nova' is a girl; probably one Ludger is on tentative terms with if she is a last resort. ❛  I don't know who 'Nova' is, but as long as she's a girl, Operation Bait will work.  ❜ She thinks she might even borrow 'lecherous scumbag' someday if Perveid annoys her a little too much in the future henceforth. Though, Ludger does have a point about it being icky. She starts feeling sorry for Nova, whoever she may be. 

On her face is an unimpressed look towards his explanation. With a shake of her head, she flatly comments, ❛  That's got to be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard.  ❜

It's even cheesier than when Meebo was talking about a quote he wanted to use for that book he wants to write. Something about history being the architect of people's hearts. Cheesy, just like now—but she knows that people who can be openly cheesy are also people with good hearts, if not a little dorky. There is no real harm in wanting to write a book to preserve the events of their journey, or wanting to be a star in someone's sky. Edna can never be a star herself because her sky is long gone and dead, but Ludger... He still has people to shine for. He wants to ... help people. Humans like him aren't all that bad, she supposes.

❛  If he works so much by himself, then that means you have to definitely hold a light for him anyway,  ❜ she replies, shrugging. She knows how it feels to want to do something for an older brother, once upon a time. More solemnly, she adds, ❛  Even stars burn out eventually, so this is going to be a testament of your willpower. Be prepared for what could lie ahead, and make sure you don't regret anything. You can't bring hope to others if you can't do at least that much.  ❜ 

That was too serious for her liking, so she shakes off the bittersweet feeling as she watches him pour the mixture into a container. She is briefly shocked when he offers a ladle to her for a taste since no one really did that with her when they were cooking, but nevertheless, she slowly approaches him, the bag of the palmiers lowered as she dips a finger from her left hand into the thick glaze to lick off. The taste immediately has her eyes widening a bit in awe, an explosion of warm sweetness in her mouth as she swallows. 

❛  It's really good,  ❜ she firstly tells him, pleased. He nailed it. True, he just finished prepping it, but for it to taste this good at this stage is a feat of its own. It would be divine paired up with the chestnuts. ❛  The amount of sugar... Even the temperature... Keep making it like this at all times, Lurin.  ❜ 

She steps back to let him work again, idly playing with the ribbon of the palmier bag. ❛  I take walks, and I visit Onii-chan sometimes.  ❜ And that's it. Edna vowed to herself that she would not despair after Sorey's journey was over, but that did not mean she currently lives an eventful life either. She is simply content to live in peace, all things considered. ❛  Too boring for you?  ❜ she asks knowingly, fully expecting some sort of comment about how lonely her lifestyle is. 

Though he appreciates Lady Edna's attempt to sorta console him on his herculean task, Ludger can't say he's as hopeful as before he learned the truth. Glenwood's a massive continent; even if he ran on little sleep and no breaks, he could still miss Lord Zaveid by a thousand miles. Why must his good deeds in particular go unpunished?

But Lady Edna offered a Plan B as well: live bait. Ludger would've entertained it until the note about peeking on the girls sauna was tacked on. No lady, even his worst enemies, deserves to be ogled by... how did Victor put it when someone put a move on Lara once? "A lecherous scumbag", if he's remembering right.

'Feels icky to use somebody as ogling bait. Especially for a "lecherous scumbag". But guess could ask Nova as last resort since he likes meeting "hot studs".' Maybe then she'd stop her ogling of Julius. Ludger can't talk to her for more than a few minutes before he gets questions about his brother. Maybe this bitter pill would teach her what lies in the future.

His little nickname story ending so abruptly does catch Lady Edna's curiosity. Well... here it goes! 'So you know how stars light our world when it's at its darkest? And they're always above us even when we can't see them? I want to be like that one day: bringing hope to my friend's worst days even when I'm far away.'

Ludger expects much finger pointing and remarks if he's a five-year-old for the cheesy reasoning. But that's his lot in life: being a big ol' cheese wheel who spawns more cheese whenever he opens his mouth. Sure someone out there that isn't his brother likes his brand of cheese.

'Know I have a long way to go. But dreams can reach high right? d( ᵕ꒳ᵕ)ಇ Just hope Nii-san will be there to tell me I did a good job. He works himself WAY too hard.'

Ludger then set his notepad down to pour the chestnuts and syrup into a spacious container. Though before he covered it with a cooking cloth to let them marinate, he scooped a bit of syrup onto the ladle and offered it to Edna as a taste of what's to come. Too bad he couldn't make the actual soaking process faster; his Chromatus wasn't developed like Victor's or Nii-san's to pull anything so cool and suave...

'While this sits, what do you do when you're relaxing in your humble slice of home?'

[arolesbianism]

An older and a slightly newer concept for stalien Odile

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[destinywillowleaf]

besides legends arceus causing the whole "oh riley is actually really old (and at one point went by rye)" braincell it also led to other Fun Ideas about ancestry and dealing with who people expect you to be contrasting with who you really are :) especially with marley's japanese name (mai) becoming the english name for her ancestor and thus joining rye in being the stat trainer ancestors who share the same name origin as their present-day descendants/selves :) :) (also they were specifically made a team in the BDSP battle tower which might not mean much but i'm thinking about it now anyway)

[fennthetalkingdog]

You know, when I was first researching neurodivergence (and autism and ADHD in particular) and wondering if I was, in fact, neurodivergent, I brought my conclusions to my mom and she said:

"I mean, you're gifted, right? So you already are neurodivergent???"

So here's to her (kinda) and her words. Giftedness is a neurodivergence, in my opinion. From what I've seen, a lot of the traits overlap with common autistic and/or ADHD traits too, especially regarding overexcitabilities, and a lot of researchers talking about the topic describe giftedness with the same kind of "your brain is just made differently" and "you're just wired differently" language as they use for other neurodivergent conditions. But I also say this because I've seen some gifted people who, while struggling with some "autistic/ADHD traits," don't have all the traits necessary for an autism or ADHD diagnosis. Giftedness is a label for them that encompasses the struggles they have without saying that they don't struggle enough or forcing them to try to fit into a mold that isn't them. And I get that; when I was first questioning, I didn't think I had enough autistic traits to count for a diagnosis either, so I took comfort in a "gifted" label. (Not to say that all gifted people are just autistic people and/or people with ADHD that don't realize, or that all gifted people are just people who don't have enough traits for a diagnosis! That was just the case for me and the folks I've been around, but I've also heard the case of it not being that.)

But if I am gifted, then I also have autism. A lot of my struggles are, honestly, just better described by autism than just by a byproduct of giftedness. My struggles with people and with "being too much," my sensory differences (and yes, sometimes issues), my stimming, and some of my executive dysfunction all sound like autistic traits to me more than a mix of psychomotor and sensual overexcitabilities and a whole bunch of coincidental byproducts of my being gifted and hanging out with nongifted peers. Don't get me wrong; based on my family history, background, and traits, I honestly probably am gifted lol. But it's not just that.

So this is me saying that if the people around you are saying that you're just gifted, you're free to look for other, perhaps better explanations for your feelings and experiences. But if you are just gifted, you're still free to call yourself neurodivergent! My gifted traits lead to me feeling just as ostracized sometimes as my autistic ones, so who am I to police that label?

[bijoumikhawal]

"Biden is the best choice and he's actually really empathetic and reasonable but also you can't wait for a candidate that won't do genocide and war crimes because to become a presidential candidate you have to be willing to do that" see what you fundamentally don't understand is I'm not waiting for a candidate that won't do war crimes, because I know that. I cannot morally stomach this system, it's a joke to claim its democratic, and AMERICA DELENDA EST. this country is a plague on this Earth

[neverendingford]

.

[dire-kumori]

Oh and i had a question about, like, logistics of the reaper au!

Assuming there's a possible ending where reaper Mike dies and young Mike manages to live... do you think it would change things? Would it matter, in the end?

Or is Evan still fated to die at Mike’s hands, is Liz still fated to die, too? Is young Mike still fated to grow up and get scooped before ultimately dying while trying to kill his younger self? (Which is just... very, very sad and horrific in so many ways)

Because if none of these things happen, it could create a paradox; where would reaper Mike have come from if Evan and Liz never die, and Mike never gets scooped?

...Very good question.

Okay, so I like to think that Reaper Mike's mission is ultimately doomed to fail. Obviously he's never going to successfully erase his past self. But after a while, it's stopped being about 'making things right' and 'protecting Evan' and more about 'hurting (kid) Mike as much as possible,' so that doesn't really matter to him. At a certain point he just kind of stops being 'Michael Afton' and just becomes 'the Reaper.'

But Reaper Mike isn't the only one who's changed by the repeated loops. Even with the memories fragmented, young Mike is living out... weeks? Months? Hell, maybe even years in this loop. He's growing up, essentially, but without aging. I mean, of course his emotional and mental maturity is skewed because - [vague gesture at the blood-soaked death parade he's trapped in] - but after a certain number of loops he isn't quite the same person who would have thoughtlessly shoved his brother's head into moving machine parts. Especially not when he still has the broken images of Evan sobbing hysterically and begging the somebody to stop hurting his brother (the Reaper turning its fury onto Evan for daring to get between him and his target, past Mike throwing himself over Evan's little body in a vain attempt to at the very least save Evan's life, if not his own) floating around in his brain.

Can you tell I'm just word vomiting at this point? I kind of lost track of the original question.

I'm not 100% what this would mean for the Reaper Mike because with past Mike growing and changing, the Reaper would inevitably change as well. I like throwing characters up against forces or circumstances beyond their control, but I don't like saying things are just fated to happen. If things play out the same way again, it's because factors leading to those events are still the same. It might actually be that so long as Reaper Mike is stuck outside of his own time, he's largely unaffected by changes made to his past aside from some ripples in his memories. He was pretty shocked when his past self made choices he was certain he never would have made, such as seeking vengeance for Evan's sake after the loop where the Reaper killed them both. So scratch what I said above, past Mike is growing, while Reaper Mike stagnates, wallowing in his self-loathing.