#please note that he’s also thinking that life isn’t worth living | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 4 months ago

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Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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outofconcheol · 4 months ago

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bloodline (JWW x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: vampire professor!wonwoo x TA!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, fantasy au, 18+

summary: Cursed to a solitary existence, Wonwoo seeks a cure for his condition - enlisting the help of his diligent teacher's assistant. However, you refuse to let Professor Jeon go through with the cure without first teaching him the wonders of having something worth living for. When your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, friendship (and something more) blooms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the secrets that both you and Wonwoo have been harboring finally catch up to you? Will you and Wonwoo make the most of every moment, or will the aftermath of his quest leave you both even lonelier than before?

warnings (to be updated with final fic): tw: this fic deals with Wonwoo being tired of his vampirism and essentially wanting to end his life as a vampire (whatever that may entail - stay tuned), mentions blood, Wonwoo has dark and depressing thoughts, that's all for now but just know we are in for a ride :)

word count: 619 for the teaser, TBD for final fic

a/n: I've been thinking about this for a long time, and with me wanting to write more for SVT, I decided it was finally time to take the plunge! Please note that this is going to be an angsty journey, with lots of inspiration from pieces such as Thirst (2009), Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), and the Vampire Tapestry by Suzie McKee Charnas. As always, if these themes are not for you, please take care of yourself (your wellbeing comes first always). Also, thank you to the lovely sèvn (@aaagustd/@xscoupsx) for the banner. I hope you enjoy!

The bust sits in the corner of the office, nestled away in an alcove by the window. On sunnier days, when the light would hit it, the marble would reflect brilliantly, its ivory tones taking the appearance of an angel, a silent guardian watching over Wonwoo while he worked. Most of the time, it loomed in the shadows, its unsettling presence doing nothing more than to serve as a reminder that despite his physical appearance, Wonwoo was closer to the cold, unfeeling marble than he was to any of the human peers he’d encountered through the centuries.

Wonwoo can’t recall when in his travels he’d come across the statue, eight hundred years blurring together into a muddle, countless memories fading into oblivion, delicate threads disappearing in the intricate fabric of his mind. Maybe at one point it’d been a gift from a dear friend, or maybe even a lover, but Wonwoo simply couldn’t remember any of it at all. A lifetime of indulgence and hedonism meant that seeking pleasure had long lost its charm.

What more was there to study when Wonwoo had studied it all? From stepping into battle during the middle ages, joining the height of enlightenment during the Renaissance, and witnessing the advent of modern technology in the past century or so, Wonwoo had lingered in the background, slipping easily into the folds of human society. And it all lead him here, to this room that felt more like a box than an office, sifting through countless essays from a batch of college students who were as disinterested in learning about anthropology as Wonwoo had become with his own life.

Even now, he casts his gaze over to his faint reflection in the window, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, lean and lonely-looking. To the untrained eye, professor Jeon Wonwoo was the picture of innocence, milking the image of a solitary bachelor devoted to pursuing a lifetime of knowledge, much to the chagrin of many of his pupils. But Wonwoo saw what no one else did - the faint tinge of red in his eyes, a sign that he’d gone hungry for too long, the needle-like barb under his tongue that had known the taste of blood too many times. All signs of the monster that layed within.

The efforts of concealing his true nature had finally caught up to him - the mask that he’d put on, feigning interest in human art, science, and culture finally slipping from his face. Simply put, Wonwoo was tired - restless from years of fighting the hunger, pretending that he cared for this life he’d crafted for himself. In reality, it was all a farce. Wonwoo had given up human blood long ago, but feasting on animals wasn’t enough to quell the burning inside him.

In the end, he craved. Wonwoo was a thief, because he craved the one thing that was a lifesource for humans - their anima, their joie de vivre. He craved it because he didn’t have one of his own, nothing that drove him, that fueled him to keep going. Humans felt things - they felt happiness, sadness, anger and love. Emotions were so intertwined into the mesh of their lives that they craved any experiences that would give them more - from weddings and parties for families and friends, to random hook-ups, to even the thrill of dangerous situations.

He’d read the essays his students had written - some of them talking about how humanity loved the society they’d crafted so much, that science was constantly coming up with new ways to prolong life, to keep on living. And yet, it didn’t move him. Wonwoo was tired of living just to live. Which is why he’d chosen to die.

a/n pt. 2: if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! I work a pretty busy job, so I'm not sure when the anticipated release date, will be, but I'm going to try to work on this as much as I can. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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cursedcola · 2 years ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

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inbloomwriting · 1 year ago

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If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to.

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it.

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches.

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her.

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection.

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?”

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture.

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.”

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?”

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.”

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?”

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought.

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.”

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool.

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.”

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon.

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “

“ — hang out?”

“Mh. Hang out.”

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet.

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.”

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes.

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely.

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness.

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life.

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous.

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.”

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship.

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.”

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.”

“Right? I reckon it would.”

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart.

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?”

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.”

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.”

“They don’t know you like I know you.”

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once.

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.”

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.”

“Obviously.”

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.”

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.”

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.”

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him.

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.”

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.”

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze.

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.”

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.”

“I’m sorry.”

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always.

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows.

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?”

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!”

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation.

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Dropping you off?”

“Are you not coming inside then?”

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.”

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit.

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —”

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen.

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going.

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.”

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew.

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy.

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen.

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable?

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love.

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like.

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.”

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win.

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for.

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing.

“Superstar, you did it!”

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?”

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted.

“I — “

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!”

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot.

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night.

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.”

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.”

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.”

“What?”

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.”

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers.

“Jamie Tartt?”

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved.

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt oneshot #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #I dont know what else to tag this as my friends ....#inbloomwriting

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rekindlevn · 4 months ago

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what are their ways of saying "i love you" without saying "i love you"?

Is…. Is this a question on the boys love languages?

*scrambles all the notes and papers together*

We are glad you asked!

Spending quality time together is how Niko is going to show you his love. He’s busy, even as a kid he was juggling school with sports and modeling professionally, so for him to out everything aside to solely focus on you … well, it’s going to be difficult, but it’s certainly worth it to him!

It could be something extravagant, like maybe he could arrange for you to travel to see him in a runway show then he could take you out for a nice dinner after (or if he had the accommodations, he’d love to cook for you even more). It could also be something as simple as sitting under your favorite tree, holding hands and just finding peace in each other. If you’re ever feeling down, or if you’re ever feeling insecure in the relationship, he’ll move heaven and earth to make time to treat you like you’re the most important person on the planet – because to him, that’s exactly what you are.

Jules is such a silly boy. Mr Never Around loves and wants to be in your orbit, spending time with you and just feeling the warmth of you with him; Whether its with physical touch or just being in the same room. (We would like to rattle him for not only hurting you but also hurting himself with his decisions but that a discussion for another time)

Oh and also, please let him know he is doing well. Like, compliment him, let him know is doing well; He really needs that in his life.

Showing his love? That’s will be all the acts of service he will do for you :3

You have a complex coffee order? He knows it off by heart, and picks one up for you everyday without you needing to ask.

Wanting some dessert? Say no more he either already has it in the kitchen ready for you, or he will order it for you without you needing to ask. Again.

You saw this really cute plush that reminds you of him and just need it but you couldn’t because reason? He will surprise you with it within days cause he knew you wanted it and… well… I think you can see the pattern (❁´◡`❁)

You want it or need it? He has it or will do it. Happily

Markus does enjoy physical touch – if at all possible, he’s going to want to have at least a hand on you at all times. But you really know he’s down bad for you when he starts giving you little gifts. The thing is that he doesn’t have a lot of money, like really very, very little money, so a gift isn’t often going to be something he buys for you. Sometimes it can be a drawing (he’s good at it!), a sketch he’s done of you or some flowers because he can’t afford to buy you any.

Sometimes it can be a song that he wrote just for you. It doesn’t have to be a song he’s written, either – he could just learn your favorite song and play that for you. If you don’t want a big performance, he wouldn’t even have to pull out the guitar either, he could just sing to you quietly while having a cuddle. Handwritten letters, too.

Yeah, you live together, but maybe some days you’ll find an envelope on your pillow after getting home from work with a letter inside that describes in detail how madly in love he is with you. So that kind of gift-giving.

#god we were waiting to talk about this #love languages #knowing how the boys want to be loved and show their love?!#you know its the most important information #rekindle #rekindle vn #rekindle niko #rekindle jules #rekindle markus #otome #visual novel #vn #mintheart #rekindlevn

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years ago

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Okay okay request tiem!! So like, first of all, hope you're doing well fjkebd-- second of all, how would vil, jamil and idia react to a mc in the self aware au (already in their universe) drawing and or painting them, telling the constant compliment over how pretty or nice they are to draw, doodle them in their notebooks when taking notes and so on.

Idk it's like a thing I do with my friends, so I wanna know what they'd do n all, fbnebd thank u!! <3<3<3<3<3

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsebility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, stalking, obsession, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, isolation

Jamil Viper/Vil Schoenheit/Idia Shroud-Player draws and constantly tells them compliments

Ok, so we are throwing away our independance today (not something I would recommend but you do you)

Jamil is used to stand in the shadow of Kalim, heck, even his own parents thought that the future sultan was more important than their son

When you were suddenly standing in front of him he was already shoked enough, almost dropping the tray filled with food for his employer

Let us just say that Scarabia is in constant danger of going up in flames after that

Oh why? Well he just, more or less, quit without handing in the piece of paper that usually says “Mhm sorry bro but I’m leaving. The pay was never good tbh”

Yes, he is still employed but the person he is serving in truth is you, leaving Kalim alone with the stove

And since most of the people reading this probably don’t have a butler we are of course impressed by his skills

No wonder Al-Asim can’t do stuff on his own, Jamil is spoiling you into dependance!

So what do you do when you are impressed? You compliment whoever had that affect on you

That is already bad enough in itself but now you are also drawing him? Doodeling him into your notebooks? (He defenitely checks them)

Did you want him to be your 24/7 caretaker who takes your freedom away or what?

Somehow it is possible that those actions are making him even more focused on taking care of you

Has defenitely taken one of the paintings and hid it just for him to see

But please lay the mop down. He is here to take care of the dorm and you just need to live a comfortable life

What do you mean he does everything? Just rely on him and don’t meet with others, they just get your clothes dirty and make scratches in the freshly waxed floor boards

Also, isn’t he here? Why would you need anyone else? Uh… sorry there is something in his eyes. Could you take a look?

Vil is pretty used to compliments and also has defenitley gotten fanart before

But if it’s you? The hecking Mona Lisa in his eyes

So how did he get close enough to you to recieve such things?

Two words, one meaning: overall care

Like this man is polishing you like his life depends on it

It’s already bad enough that you are living in that dirty place but you can’t even afford simple self care! (We ignore for now that his defenition of “simple” is worth the rent of an ordinary person)

But the man wants- no, is determined to scrub the dust of the ruin away and uncover the shining diamond under all that filth

And since we all are bound by social beauty standarts (and don’t want skin deseases connected to dirt) we are (most likely) very thankful for his hard work

So one day he came into your room, a bottle of hand lotion in his perfectly manicured clutches, and ran straight into your mirror

Oh you are curious why? Well you just threw a compliment and “thanks” at his head

But it’s probably you more freaked out because whilst he did get a scratch on his face he didn’t even care

Once you start do NOT stop!

If you do he will think that you have found someone else whom you consider better company

And remember that huge green house they have? There is probably something in there capable to make you… uh… “stay close to him”

Also, those third years you have asked for the way to your next classroom have been found “with their red paint outside their bodies” and their hearts missing, suspicious arrows sticking out of them

But what did you expect? The Fairest Queen was also pretty possessive of her status as the “most beautiful” and what is there to stop him in following her footsteps? Just maybe not with beauty…

So either you wanted to roast marmellows in a very extreme way or you wanted to burn the whole building down

But here he is, probably already having reached the melting point of stone and still staring at you

Are you seriously suprised? This is Idia we are talking about

You are a God to Idia, a flawed one but still higher than even Hades… that guy is literally death

And he also thinks that he is very unattractive so you might as well tell Lilia to leave his iron sticks away unless he wants to rshape them

How are you still alive standing in thnis heat??!

It is already hard enough to just get in contact with him but somehow you did

Idia is not used to get paintings drawn of him and only Ortho would be able to convince him to get a picture done of him

But now here you are, telling him that you admire his skills with electronics

I hope you brought your marmellows because I forgot mine at home

When he was just creepely looking at you from time to time then say goodbye to privacy after this

You see, strays also come back to you if you fed them once and Idia is just as starved for attention as a stray is for food

But what exactly is he supposed to do? Well…

You remember that phone Crowley gave us over the winter holidays? He never took that one back

Even though Idia knows he shouldn’t do this and feels bad he just can’t stop

Stop looking at you, stop watchig you, stop craving the warmth you gave him on that fatefull day

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persephoneprice · 5 months ago

Note

lily, please elaborate on your clemmie and lyssie post 😔🙏🏽

i know i did this to myself but i’m actually nervous to write this out because i don’t think anyone is going to agree with me but here i go!

before i start- i do want to clarify that i love both characters and this is in no way me hating on clemmie or implying that lysistrata is perfect! clemmie is miles ahead in terms of being caring versus her peers.

however, i do not see clemensia as a truly good, kind person. (again, this is all my personal interpretation and i could be way off!)

a few things stick out to me about clemensia that make me feel this way (pre-snake bite, obviously! def unfair to hold post snake-bite against her).

the first example is when they are discussing how to force people to watch the games.

clemensia says-

“The real problem is, it’s sickening to watch”

lysistrata says-

“Most of us don’t want to watch other people suffer.”

to me, i see this as lysistrata acknowledging and putting focus on the children suffering- where clemmie focuses mainly on how it makes her feel to watch.

clemensia also talks about her first meeting with reaper-

“Mine wouldn’t speak. Not a word”

not horrible by any means- but it still feels lacking in empathy (and not great that she referred to reaper as ‘hers’).

another example that comes to mind is when clemmie and coriolanus are discussing the games after arachne death and she says this-

“Yes, or make them Avoxes, or something,” said Clemensia. “It’s awful, but not as bad as the arena. I mean, I’d rather be alive without a tongue than dead, wouldn’t you?”

this isn’t a bad thing necessarily! but to me, i see it as misguided and failing to actually put herself in the shoes of these children and sort of failing to have genuine empathy.

another example is regarding iphigenia-

“Clemensia had once told Coriolanus it was the only revenge she could take on her father, but refused to give any more details.”

again, miles ahead of most of her peers because she refused to elaborate further but i believe that exposing that to coriolanus at all was a deeply unkind thing to do.

and then here are some examples where i see lysistrata displaying kindness (though i’m aware that it may be unfair to bring up things lysistrata did during the games bc clem didn’t get the same chance to bond with reaper!)

she makes the effort to help jessup even before he protects her in the bombing-

she’d apparently been working hard to connect with Jessup “I brought you some cream for your neck,”

she is grateful to jessup after he protects her instead of just assuming that her life is worth more. she’s also willing to speak out and tell everyone this despite knowing how people view district citizens.

“She’s going around saying that big, ugly boy from District Twelve protected her by throwing his body over her, but who knows? The Vickers family loves the spotlight.”

it’s also worth noting that coriolanus follows this up by saying he’s never seen a vickers trying to claim the spotlight.

she also says this-

“And who wouldn’t rather be the victor than the defeated?”

“I don’t know that I have much interest in being either,” said Lysistrata.”

which i think is very decent considering she lived through the war just as much as her classmates.

she displays empathy and understanding for dill & reaper when her classmates do not-

“Isn’t he the one who promised to kill all the others?” asked Pup.

“Doesn’t look so tough to me,” said Urban.”

“She’s his district partner,” said Lysistrata. “And she’s almost dead now. Tuberculosis, probably.”

she’s also quick to call out her classmates during the games-

“Like musical chairs,” said Domitia with a pleased look.

“But with people dying,” said Lysistrata.”

when jessup has rabies and is chasing lucy gray-

“If Jessup can’t win, I want Lucy Gray to. That’s what he’d want. And she can’t win if he kills her,” she said. “Which might happen anyway.”

to me, this shows that she has been able to empathize and understand who jessup is as a person.

also while other classmates display anger or frustration at losing the prize she says this-

“Coriolanus could barely hear Lysistrata whisper, “Oh, don’t let him die alone.”

because she cares about jessup. she also sends food to lucy gray directly after that.

and of course there’s this interaction which i think speaks for itself-

“I do.” She took a deep breath. “What I’d like people to know about Jessup is that he was a good person. He threw his body over mine to protect me when the bombs started going off in the arena. It wasn’t even conscious. He did it reflexively. That’s who he was at heart. A protector. I don’t think he would’ve ever won the Games, because he’d have died trying to protect Lucy Gray.”

“Oh, like a dog or something.” Lepidus nodded. “A really good one.”

“No, not like a dog. Like a human being,” said Lysistrata.”

but the fact that she firmly and openly asserted his humanity in front of the entire capitol essentially is massive to me.

and of course there’s the fact that she had been nice to sejanus-

“Snow had invited Festus and Lysistrata to join the party, as they’d liked Sejanus better than most of his classmates and could be counted on to say nice things.”

of course this is all rambling that doesn’t actually answer the question but i feel like it was important to try to explain why i saw them as slightly different.

essentially i think my thoughts on kind vs nice can be summed up by this quote-

Niceness, then, is often expressed through words or gestures, while kindness is often expressed through acts.

and lysistrata proved repeatedly that she is willing to act by speaking up consistently despite how taboo it is in the capitol. whereas i don’t view clemensia as someone who would be as willing to directly assert a district citizens humanity so publicly (again, my own personal interpretation.).

because of this- i believe lysistrata is a lot more likely to get herself in trouble quicker by opening her mouth and sticking up for the district citizens, especially after this experience. whereas i do not think clemensia would be as likely to risk her safety to do so.

#asks #am not tagging this one pls don’t hate me y’all #i promise i love them both and think clemmie is a doll #this is def just my interpretation!!!#analysis

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writtenontheport · 1 year ago

Note

Lockwood falling in love with the type three ghost of a girl.

That's it.

That's the ask.

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Prologue

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

Anthony Lockwood x fem reader

Warnings/Tags: Reader is in this for like 2 paragraphs, Romcom 😭, Ik you gave me angst but everything I touch turns romcom I’m so sorry, George gets mad at Lockwood for a bit, Old people clients, mentions of death, Reader is literally a fucking ghost 😭, please tell me if there’s anything I forgot to tag

Notes: I absolutely adored this request omfg. When I saw it, I just KNEW I had to write it omg. This is— this needs to be multipart I’m so sorry. I can’t get it out of my head that he’ll have a little ghostly girlfriend PLEASE ITS SO CUTE IN MY HEAD. Also; very badly edited!! I was exhausted when I first posted this and am still currently combing through it for errors.

Summary: It starts, as all things do here: with a meetcute, the undead, and maybe a bit of tomfoolery. It goes, as it almost never does, with meeting the undead love of his life. What a big day for Anthony Lockwood.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Lockwood is staring into the eyes of the most breathtaking girl he has ever seen, and she isn’t even alive anymore. The girl looks as she probably did when she was alive; a beautiful face with only the most kissable lips he has ever seen in his life, not that he ever could kiss her. He should be calling for Lucy and George— yelling for them to tell them he’s found their ghost, but instead…

“Hi,” He says, clearing his throat, “I’m Anthony. Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood and co. You’re a ghost.”

He winces when your frown deepens, and feels bad immediately for blurting that out. Before he can apologize, he sees you mouthing something and realizes quite late that he does in fact need Lucy and George here to be able to talk to you.

“I can’t really hear you, sorry. I have… my friend can though. Just a second—“

Before we can go forward, we have to go back a little to just before this began. So let’s start with a fact: even with Skull being able to talk with Lucy, Lockwood still had his reservations on type threes. Type ones and type twos were the predictable result of certain situations— murders, death by illness, accidents, and all the “good” things that made the visitors more likely to visit. Type threes? It took the literal manifestation of the actual thing for him to even accept they existed. Suffice to say, Lockwood didn’t think he could ever fully warm up to the idea of a ghost he couldn’t understand.

Then one day, a case comes to him with a rather peculiar situation. The living don’t often find themselves attached to the undead, especially ones with no relation to them. The Thistlebrows prove to be an exception. The case? Their family ghost is lonely now that their granddaughter’s been sent away.

Lucy and George have stepped out for supplies when the old Thistlebrow couple stops by, so he takes them to the sitting room and prepares them tea. From the first word that comes out of them, Lockwood thinks he’s having some sort of hallucinogenic episode.

That’s more of an exaggeration actually as it seemed reasonably normal at first; strong presence, solid apparition visible enough that even in their old age they could see wisps of it lurking. Nothing more than a stubborn spectre, he was sure. Then—

“It’s an old house,” Mrs. Thistlebrow croons, sipping her cup of tea. “We’ve only lived in it for a few years, and we doubt we’ll be able to keep her company for much longer.”

“I’m sorry?” Lockwood asks, genuinely confused. He was sure he must have misheard them, before Mr. Thistlebrow spoke.

“We don’t know where she is, really, nor have we ever fully seen her… but our granddaughter is taken with her. We thought at first she just had an imaginary friend, but then…” He pulls out a polaroid.

There was nothing in the photo worth noting— a pair of shoes on the windowsill of an open window. The flash of the camera didn’t illuminate past the frame, but that was expected for a photo taken so late. He keeps a patient smile on his face, but he nods slowly with his brow furrowed in worry.

“The window was locked when we left the room. It’s too tall for our granddaughter to reach, and nothing was moved before or after this picture was taken— at least not by the living. Our granddaughter had asked her to open it to prove to us she was real, and the ghost left her shoes on the windowsill to hammer it in.” He leaves the photo in front of Lockwood, pulling back into the seat.

Lockwood’s brow scrunches in confusion as the gears turn in his head. Many type twos form apparitions, but poltergeists do not. Incidentally, only poltergeists can interact with heavy objects and the window certainly wouldn’t have been light. It looked to be a thick pane of glass with a metal on wood frame, pushed open farther than a stray breeze could push it.

“How old is your granddaughter?” He asks, his own voice distant to him. The photo makes something in him itch to solve the case.

“Just turned 7,” Mrs. Thistlebrow says with a click of her tongue, bringing a hand up to her wrinkly cheek. “Her parents sent off abroad when they realised she had Talent; didn’t want her having anything to do with the Problem. Heart broken, she was. The ghost was her first best friend.”

The Thistlebrows look genuinely devastated at that, and Lockwood bites back an incredulous frown. Oh the story he has for Lucy and George when they come back, absolutely mental it all is.

“We know this might be a lot to ask, but we’ll pay you as much as you need to keep the ghost company. Our granddaughter was so devastated knowing the poor girl would be lonely without her, and we certainly couldn’t talk to her no matter how much we tried.” Mr. Thistlebrow picks an envelope from his suit pocket, and slides it across the table to Lockwood. It’s a thick thing with obviously quite a bit of cash, and a cheque is peeking out from where the lip has opened.

Now, he could absolutely refuse the case. The agency was stable and the cases they have lined up were far less troublesome than finding and keeping another possible type-three ghost; George would even call him stupid for not refusing it right away, but…

“We’ll do it. You both have nothing to worry about,” He says instead, reassuring as he can be as he pulls on the lapels of his jacket. Mr. and Mrs. Thistlebrow’s faces split into smiles, and Lockwood can’t find it in him to regret his decision.

“—And you took the case?” George says, all but yelling as he leans over the table to stare wide-eyed at Lockwood. Lucy’s frozen in her seat, her pen still on the thinking cloth.

“I authenticated the money, and they offered to meet us at the house as soon as we can if there were any more issues with compensation.” He takes a spoonful of supper, and hums in delight. “You’ve really outdone yourself today, George.”

“That’s not the problem, Lockwood,” George hisses, always so dour. He doesn’t settle down into his seat, even going so far as to cross his arms in disapproval. Still, he mumbles out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Did they say anything else?” Lucy finally speaks up, her eyes still on the thinking cloth. It’s good she’s at least started doodling again, so Lockwood manages to look back up at both of them (which is very hard when George is glaring at him so severely).

“Their granddaughter’s name is Pepper, thought it might help us if we pretended to be her friends at least. It…” He pauses, tapping his spoon against his supper as he thinks of the right way to say it, “As far as they know, it isn’t aggressive and seems cooperative. They even— actually, wait.”

He pulls out the polaroid from his inner pocket, looking it over (even though he knows nothing would have changed) before sliding it to the center of the table. Lucy and George both lean in to have a look, coming back to stare at him in confusion.

“It was able to unlock and push the window open, then left the girl’s shoes on the windowsill to further prove it existed. Not only that, but both the Thistlebrows have said it is a rather heavy window too high up for their granddaughter to reach.” He takes another bite of his dinner, watching their expressions morph.

“But they said it had an apparition?” George asks first, seeming on the edge of worried and heavily intrigued. “Spectres can’t interact with heavy objects, but poltergeists can’t have apparitions. This ghost can’t exist unless it really was…”

Lucy is deep in deliberation as her eyes flit to somewhere out of the kitchen; the skull, Lockwood realizes quickly. “If this is a type three… and it was cooperative…”

A pregnant pause fills the room, only the ticking of a faraway clock echoing about the walls. George settles into his seat with a sigh, finally picking up his utensils. Lucy, rests her hands in her lap. They all look up and at each other, waiting for a beat, before falling into a quiet supper. They were definitely going to have to see this through now.

So here Lockwood finds himself in front of the house that starts and ends it all; that houses what might just be the strangest thing to happen in his haunted life. He meets you in a flurry of strange things— through a polaroid of an open window, a ghost goose case, and then meeting the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen— before he finds himself asking:

“Would you like to come home with us?”

You nod quickly in surprise, your eyes shining in mirth and other-light. He doesn’t even need Lucy to translate that as anything but a firm ‘yes’.

A/N: Everything I touch… turns to romcoms… I am like King Midas of romcoms PLEASE.

Also! Starting a silly taglist, just somehow reach out if you’d like to be added!!

Taglist 🏷️

@tangledinlove

#portie writes fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you

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corazondebeskar-reads · 9 months ago

Text

live to rise - chapter seven

live to rise series

seven: not worth my soul

series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: An escape attempt is made.

chapter warnings: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE WARNINGS. This chapter contains many very dark themes. I have omitted them as they are all spoilers. Please see end notes for chapter-specific warnings and/or feel free to DM me.

Sorry this is late; life found a way to get in the way. This is the penultimate chapter and thank you all so much for coming along on this journey. I hope you bear with me through this.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You’re not cut out for this. This isn’t a surprise. You’ve never had the stomach for danger.

Having to stand still and calm and like nothing at all is making your heart race, nothing is brewing a storm in your stomach, nothing is wrong? Like you aren’t facing near-certain death in a matter of hours?

Your feet are stuck on the metal floor of the sponsor box and it’s not from the sun melting them there. You can’t even bring yourself to face Shand, stuck solidly in place staring out over the arena like you’ll fall apart if you move.

And there are still two hours until he fights, let alone what comes later tonight.

You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, thankful again for the light linen blouse and skirts. The circulators billow them with cold air for the sponsor’s comfort but you can’t seem to keep your brow dry.

You’re the weak link and Shand knows it. Luckily, Gideon didn’t seem to register that at your report this morning.

Probably because you had thrown up on his floor before you could say anything and he sent you away, thank the stars.

When it comes time for Din to fight, the dizziness is creeping in. The normal nerves of a battle are incompatible with this newer, stronger terror. You’re practically shaking.

No one notices, though. Not when all eyes are on the Mandalorian as his opponent’s ax settles in the meat of his shoulder.

You think maybe your body betrayed you, that maybe you made a sound. The dryness of your throat was the only saving grace.

Despite the way that everything in you has gone cold, hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes. You squeeze them shut. After all, you had promised. He had pushed and pushed until you promised not to watch.

If there’s any mercy in the universe, you think, this won’t be the end. It can’t be.

It isn’t.

Shand’s hand smacks against your arm and you realize she’s been speaking. You’re hurt that she hit you for only a moment.

“It’s over. He won. Go,” she snaps once she has your attention.

You run.

He doesn’t come back for a long time. You pace the cell, wringing your hands. He doesn’t usually stay in medical, shouldn’t need to, so this was… bad. You can’t hear with the way your heart is beating overtime, the blood rushing in your ears, the tunnel closing in until most of the room is just static.

Until the doors open.

The guards are gone as soon as it closes behind him, not caring for how pallid he seems or the way his eyes aren’t focusing. They’ve healed him, mostly, though you know the damage must be far worse than their bacta shots can fix. You’re at his side in a second, though your strength isn’t enough to hold him up.

Between the both of you, he stumbles to the bed and you ease him down to sit. He tries to pull you down beside him with his good arm but you’re faster, right now, dodging his grip to move, forcing a canteen in his hand instead of your body.

You’re out of the room before he can take a drink, though you know you shouldn’t. It’s almost too risky but far riskier not to.

So you sneak into the kitchens. You’ve only ever used the passcode before to take the little containers of oil and fat left for you by Jyoti. She trusted you immensely and you were going to break that, now. Going to use her code to enter and take real, actual food.

The guilt only lasts for a moment.

The stars align in your favor—or rather, you think, in Din’s, and you make it back to the cell with your contraband unnoticed. He’s dozing off, slumped against the wall, and your heart stops for just a moment before you see the rise and fall of his chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he scolds predictably when you rouse him.

“You lost too much blood,” you snap. Doesn’t he understand? Doesn’t he get it yet? Everything is on the line and he’s worried about theft? The list of your crimes is already insurmountable. A handful of Bantha meat and bread and cheese were hardly going to register.

“I’m fine,” he says, slow and placating.

“Don’t start,” you say with a huff.

He puts down the sandwich and pulls you to him by the back of your neck, cupping gently until your foreheads meet.

“I’m okay, kar’talyc. I’ll be okay.”

“You better,” you try to say, but you choke on it. Here, in his arms, both free from immediate danger, you fall into the breakdown that’s been building all day.

“We’re okay,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Nothing’s wrong that can’t be fixed.”

And you have to believe him.

When it happens, it happens so fast.

It has to.

You’re in the lounge. There’s a private room reserved, but for now, the three of you are in the crowd. Shand keeps the both of you close, making sickening conversation with other sponsors and encouraging them to ask Din questions about his armor.

It’s, of course, still mounted on display in the center of the room. There’s no barrier, no shield between it and the true scum of the galaxy that populates the room.

Thank the stars for Gideon’s ego.

He’s not in the lounge tonight. Not yet, anyway. It’s a small mercy.

There’s no signal when it begins. No precise timing, no secret comms. Those were not luxuries afforded tonight.

It just happens.

Shand looks at Din and he moves at once, twisting fluidly to shield you with his body. His chest pressed to your back. His to the explosion.

There’s no chance for the dust to settle. Smoke and ash fill the room in hazy orange.

Din’s hand is on your arm until it isn’t.

Shand is by his side until she isn’t.

You’re frozen on the spot until you aren’t.

You finally move, the invisibility granted by your status letting you slip through the screaming socialites.

Blaster fire pings behind you.

In front, a green Mandalorian reaches Din. He doesn’t reach his armor, so you lunge for it. For the helmet.

It flies from your grasp when the trooper grabs you.

Shand snaps it from the air with a grappling cable, whipping it to Din. There’s another Mando, you think, moving through the smoke. A blue one, going for the armor.

Whoever’s in the green kit is strong enough to wrangle Din, yelling something unintelligible as they make for the new exit carved by detonators. There’ll be speeders there, at the former windows of the private room, and they’ll get him to the ship.

You have to believe that’s true.

It’s too late for you, though.

You don’t even fight it when they drag you away.

There’s no chance against two of Gideon’s dark armored troopers.

You think you hear Din yelling and fighting to get to you, and you pray they have the sense to get him out.

The troopers are not any gentler when you go limp in their arms, the ache of their grasp promising to bruise. You hang there, feet dragging, and find yourself blessedly numb.

What awaits you will be worse than death, you expect. They’re going to extract every bit of information from you before they let you die. But it’s okay.

He’s free. He has his helmet and his people.

His son is alive.

You’ve always been willing to martyr yourself for your residents. At least this last time will make a difference. A man walks free; a child gets to keep his father.

Maybe in another life, you could have loved one another wholly.

Dying for him will have to be enough.

When they lock you in the tiny cell, they toss your body to the ground, and your head cracks against the metal bench. The last thing you remember before you lose consciousness is that maybe you understand Vrar’s choice a little better.

Death is the only freedom you’ll get.

When they come for you again, you’re still unconscious. They remedy that with an acrid-smelling capsule cracked under your nose that yanks you back to the real world.

Once you’re in binders, they drag you through the halls back to the sponsor lounge.

Gideon always did have a knack for the dramatics.

In the wreckage, there’s a slanted platform facing what still remains of Din’s armor. You’re dismayed that they only seem to have retrieved the chest plate and helmet, but even that is better than nothing.

The troopers strap you in and leave you there. You suppose they’re hoping you’ll get upset at the sight.

When Gideon swoops in, cape fluttering, he’s accompanied by an interrogation droid. You’d expected that, at least. Not that you aren’t terrified by the sight.

You don’t intend to fight, though. You know next to nothing—he was always careful not to tell you anything he didn’t want tortured out of you.

They won’t believe you, and they’ll torture you anyway. You know this.

Gideon looks you over silently and then turns sideways so he can see both you and the armor.

“Do you know what this is?” He gestures to a pauldron.

“Beskar armor.” You keep your voice as flat as possible.

“Technically correct, I suppose. I meant this specifically.” He taps two fingers against the mudhorn.

“It’s a shoulder pauldron.”

He backhands you. A gasp escapes you, and tears spring to your eyes.

“The symbol, you stupid girl.”

“Yes,” you give in. “It’s a mudhorn.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“It’s the symbol of his clan.”

“Did he tell you why the symbol of his clan is a mudhorn?”

“No.”

He searches your face but finds no lie. “I’ll tell you a little story, then, about this man you think is so high and mighty.

Once upon a time, he stole something very precious from me. A baby, you see, that was under my protection.”

You almost scoff, and he seems to be waiting for it. When you keep control, he carries on.

“But when he tried to escape with the baby, he couldn’t get past a single measly mudhorn. All that bravado, and he had to rely on a little magic baby for help to defeat a single creature.”

When you fail to react again, he steps closer. Too close, really.

“Some champion. You know he was only the Mand’alor by chance? The saber is mine by rights.”

“He won it from you.” He’s goading you, and you know it, but it works all the same.

His palm connects with your face, and you cry out.

“It’s such a shame. You were so well-behaved, so close to freedom. Yet you risked it all for… for what? For him to leave you behind to pay the price?”

“Wasn’t about me.”

“No? He didn’t, say, kiss you and make sweet promises for a future together? Did you really fall for the oldest trick in the book? A weak-willed, heartsick little girl sacrificing herself for a man incapable of love?”

Wretchedly, his words do tug on something deep in your gut. But it’s okay, you remind yourself. It doesn’t matter.

You don’t, either.

You just wish you had been able to send one more comm to your parents. Oh, stars. You can’t think about your parents. Nausea bubbles up in your throat.

“You know, I admired them once, too. Of course, I was just a foolish little boy, jealous of the armor and the power. Until I learned of their savagery, brute nature, and primitive way of life. And then we had the trooper’s suits, but without the beskar…” His eyes are bright and wild. “Well, I solved that little issue, didn’t I? As the leader of Mandalore, I can do whatever I like with the beskar.”

You still don't respond. You’re trying to tune him out. He thinks this will… what, convince you to share information you don’t have? Endure you to him? No, he just likes the sound of his own voice. Wants to boast and brag since his peers are tired of the same stories.

You’re a captive audience.

Unfortunately, this little performance requires your participation. But when he gets to that portion, his sudden question throws you entirely off.

“Who is the rebel spy?” he asks calmly.

“The rebellion was eliminated,” you say automatically. This was the line coached into your brains, the truth the Empire wanted plastering the beaten down remains of hope.

He scoffs. “Don’t play stupid with me, girl. Who was your contact? Who led this little ‘operation’?” His smooth voice was dripping with condensation.

“I don’t know. I was only here as his attendant,” you recite.

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to stay here all day. Luckily, I don’t have to.” His grin is practiced power, a crafted cruelty. “That’s the nice thing about IT-Os, you know? They’ll just keep going, even when you break.”

He steps closer. “Or, you can report to me as is your duty. It can tell me if you’re telling the truth.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“So be it.”

And with a swirl of his cape, he leaves. He actually leaves. Your breath picks up, hitching a little.

The droid whirs as it nears you, the buzz reinforcing the mistake you’ve made.

It shows no mercy.

The IT-O may not have let you faint, but the troopers don’t care. Everything goes dark almost as soon as they have you in arms and you wake up in your cell.

The first thing you notice is that you’re about to vomit.

Unfortunately, you do.

The second thing you notice is the full body agony. As if your muscles have all been stretched beyond limits and you’re left to drown in the ache.

The third thing you notice is the ash.

It covers the ground, some soaking into a pool of your sick, some scattered. Whatever it was is curled into dark fragments, thin and brittle with blackened edges.

You lay limp on the bench, arm dangling over the side. You try not to look at it, at how some of your fingers don’t sit quite right. Looking at them makes your head pound and your vision blur.

Instead, you force your eyes to focus on the charred flimsy. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The colors don’t make a recognizable shape, too torn and burnt, but the way the colors flow over the paper is…

No.

You can’t move. You can’t see anything else. The thick layer of ash and scraps tells you everything you need to know.

The cell is blanketed in what little is left of all of the fighters’ portraits.

Gideon isn’t there when the troopers bring you back. Just the droid. You can’t even control it, you start struggling, pathetic as it must seem, as they strap you onto the table. You’re hyperventilating as your chest feels like it caves in. You can’t take another day of this.

You can’t.

But you do.

Gideon wanders in around dusk, the setting suns visible through the wreckage. The IT-O stands down from its tortures but stays at your side, monitoring vitals and keeping you awake. The drone of its motor is enough to have you shaking.

“So how many souls did you betray for one man?” Gideon says, brows furrowed as if he actually cares.

You don’t say anything, can’t really.

“I know that’s what your little books were for. I am a man of culture, after all. When I visit planets, I like to learn a little about its people.”

So he had gone. Personally.

He answers your thoughts before you think them. “Don’t worry, your parents are fine. You still have a chance to spare them.”

The IT-O whirs and it’s over. You can’t. You know it. Gideon knows it.

He smiles. “Who was your contact?”

“The sponsor. Shand.”

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“That’s all I know.”

“Confirmed,” says the IT-O.

You nearly faint when it talks. You didn’t know it could. It has a horrible, horrible voice and you know if you live past this day, you’ll hear it in your sleep for the rest of your life.

By now, you’re hoping it won’t be for long.

“By the way,” Gideon says casually. “Those little pictures? One might consider those treason. Those are enemies of the Empire. You really should be thanking me for destroying the evidence. If you give me the name of the Rebel spy, I might even be convinced to forget about them.”

“I don’t know anything about a spy,” you say, voice cracking.

“False,” says the droid and you scream.

“I don’t, I don’t,” you cry, but it’s useless. You knew that Gideon and Din suspected there was a spy. It was enough to condemn you.

“So be it,” is all he says before the troopers take you away.

When they come for you again, it’s not the lounge they bring you to.

It’s the arena.

When you realize where you’re headed, having walked these halls enough that it’s ingrained in your core, you almost cry. It’ll be quick this way, you’re sure of it. Whoever you face will be desperate to win, and you, well.

You won’t be.

If only you could have been so lucky. You should have known Gideon wasn’t going to grant you the mercy.

It’s an all-hands assembly. Every Imperial, every servant, every prisoner. The troopers drag you up the steps and secure you facedown on the slanted platform. The restraints are excessive, rendering you essentially immobile.

It doesn’t bode well for a quick death. You had still been clutching the fluttery hope that he’d just decapitate you.

“Last chance to tell me who the spy is,” Gideon murmurs.

“It’s me,” you say.

He laughs. “Oh, stupid girl. If it were, you’d be dead already. You see, even the filthy Rebels don’t leave their own to suffer torture. But you didn’t get even a lullaby, did you?”

You close your eyes. Your crooked fingers twitch of their own accord, a staccato beat on repeat. You hope he’s not watching, but just in case.

Ni ceta. I’m sorry.

“You’re certainly going to wish you did,” he promises.

You don’t listen to his little speech. You try very hard to be anywhere but here, even as your body trembles beyond your control.

When he ignites the darksaber, that tiny hope flutters back to life.

It, and everything else inside you, turns to ash the moment the tip of the blade touches your skin.

He takes his time. You’re sure you scream, but you can’t hear it. Can’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Death lingers on the edges of your vision but won’t take your hand, won’t save you.

When he stops abruptly, you don’t register it right away. The pain remains, though the blade is swinging in an arc somewhere behind you.

Someone else screams.

“Don’t let him bite it,” Gideon is saying to a trooper. The words don’t make sense. You think maybe you faint. When you come to, Gideon has his gloved fist around your neck, and you can see the blurry form of someone behind, restrained by troopers.

“I was right,” Gideon sneers. “You knew the whole time.”

“She didn’t know!” Eli says. “She didn’t know. We didn’t tell her.”

“Shut up, or I’ll take the other one,” Gideon snaps.

Your vision clears enough to figure out what he means. Eli’s right leg has been sliced diagonally above the knee, the limb somewhere out of your field of vision. His saving grace, for better or worse, was that the wound was cauterized instantly.

Much like your back.

When Gideon reignites the saber, Eli struggles. You wish you had the strength to tell him not to.

You’re beginning to suspect neither of you will be dying any time soon.

When he finishes, Gideon is almost gleeful when he grabs a holopad to show you what the cameras are showing everyone. The Imperial Crest burned into your back, almost exactly where Din’s Mythosaur is.

When you black out this time, he doesn’t bother to wake you.

You wake in the cage. It’s dark and the arena is empty, but you’re not alone.

Eli has dragged himself to lean against the back wall, looking a sickly pale blue. You aren’t sure how he’s still conscious. Or how you are.

He’s coaching himself through breathing and your own pain begins to fade in, your brain no longer able to ignore the new wounds any more than it can ignore the work of the droid.

“Why did you draw attention to yourself?” you ask him with a hoarse, shattered voice. “ I feel like that should be spy 101 or something.” You crawl closer, desperate not to die alone.

He gives you a wry smile. “You know, I didn’t come here to make friends. Allies, sure. But not friends.”

“Oh, you absolute fool,” you sigh. Your head rests on his good thigh, allowing you to more easily lay on your side and keep dirt off your back. “I wasn’t worth it.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But maybe the Rebels left me here for six years, and I wasn’t allowed to save a single person. And then you came and cared so much.”

You sigh.

"You saved someone. Not for the cause, but just because you could. And you would have done the same for me," he says. “I don’t blame you."

But you wish he would.

Silence settles with the stars. For the first time since you’ve been on the surface, you’re able to enjoy them.

“What?” Eli says as you stare upward.

“The sky is so pretty,” you say, huffing a breath. “The sky is so pretty, and we’re going to die.”

“Technically, those things are always true,” Eli says.

His truth is, at least, a comfort.

next chapter

writing this made me physically ill even though it was planned from the start so if you want to cry/yell with me please do :(

title from "Towards the Sun" by Rihanna.

WARNINGS/SPOILERS BELOW -- -- -- -- -- --

Chapter Specific Warnings: graphic injuries, graphic descriptions of injuries, torture, graphic description of torture, mutilation, dismemberment, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideations, hopelessness, trauma, mental torture, anguish, angst, hurt NO comfort

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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melmedardasworld · 10 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/melmedardasworld/730246048285605888/klaus-and-bonnie-both-have-the-habit-of-solving meta please??

Since I received this message from you a while ago anon in relation to this post, I finally got time to expand on my initial note.

Despite their vastly different background, personalities and approaches to life, both Klaus and Bonnie share a profound sense of loneliness (because they are so different from the others in the group) and a desperate longing for love and acceptance that leads them to solve things by themselves. It’s more fleshed out in Klaus than Bonnie, but I feel that there are enough clues to zoom in on how they deal with solving problems and usually succeeding.

I think both harbor deep-seated abandonment wounds that fuel their need to take matters into their own hands.

Bonnie's journey is marked by the profound absence of parental figures. Abandoned by her mother at a young age (and repeatedly as she grew up since other people had to call Abby to even come and see her) and with her father seldom present because of his focus on his work as a pharmaceutical rep, Bonnie found solace and guidance in her grandmother, Grams. However, once Grams' died she had no parental figure. At that time, Bonnie learns the harsh reality of relying on- and raising herself. But all that pain and hyper-independence didn’t prepare / teach Bonnie (she downright ignored it at times too) to be so self-sacrificial time and again for the ones she loved. While it’s admirable, I think it also masks a deeper fear for Bonnie of being cast aside / ignored once more. It's a subconscious drive to prove her worth and indispensability, stemming from a childhood marked by neglect and loss, and also a boyfriend that cheated on her after she SAVED his life. Not just that, her loyalty got rewarded with her death every other season.

In contrast, Klaus also carries the scars of familial betrayal and rejection. His are more visible because of the toxic environment he was raised with an abusive (step) father. His transformation into the vampire-hybrid only deepens his sense of isolation, as his own mother and stepfather subject him to further torment and abandonment. Despite his thirst for power, Klaus's true desire lies in finding a place where he belongs, isn’t alone, and loved. With him, he also protects his family, but in the process ruins their lives by either daggering them or killing his sibling’s loved ones. He thinks its for their own good and doesn’t take their wishes into account. It doesn’t help that Elijah (sometimes Rebekah) usually encourage it too.

Despite their parallels in how they go about things and their abandonment issues, the similarities between Bonnie and Klaus, is their intrinsic need to control their destinies and that of their loved ones / family. Whether driven by paranoia or the desire to protect loved ones, both refuse to be passive players in their own narratives.

#bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #klonnie #my thoughts #tvd meta #my first post since… forever

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

Text

Obsessive Headcanons

Gotham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 500 commission: some hc’s for eddie being an obsessive sweetheart 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: obsessive, stalking, yandere themes

Yes, he absolutely could just approach you and tell you outright that he enjoys your company and likes being around you, but where in that direct method is the mystery and intrigue?

More importantly, where’s the fun?

And besides, as socially inept as he can sometimes come across, he’s very aware that telling someone you’re obsessed with them, in fact telling people you’re obsessed with anything that deviates from the norm, isn’t the romantic and honourable compliment he thinks it is.

It apparently makes people “concerned” and “worried”.

So instead, he’ll offer his little gifts and riddles, hoping that you’re clever enough to get them and their deeper meanings. And even if you don’t, he’ll just keep leaving them around, hoping that you eventually train yourself into being smart enough to understand what he’s trying to say.

He’ll spend hours and hours thinking of clever ways to compliment you, to lure you into his affections, to make his intentions clear.

He’ll also spend hours and hours just thinking of you and what it might be like to live in that blissful reality where you feel the same way about him.

Where you’re not concerned by how little time he spends working and how much time he spends fawning over you, standing near you, or hovering just outside of your peripheral vision.

Obviously, he’s doing it so he can watch you. Just to keep an eye on you, to learn about your habits and interests and routines. But somewhere in his mind he’s convinced himself that it also offers you protection. He’s there in case of emergencies. So he has to be around you all the time now, because what if the one moment he doesn’t spend keeping an eye out for you is the time that you need him most?

What if he misses out on his big opportunity to be your saviour? Your knight in shining armour? What if something terrible happens to you? Or what if the worst things happen to you?

Yeah, not worth the risk. He’ll remain vigilant.

One day you’ll see him for what he is, and how much he’s worth to you.

One day, his efforts to please you and ingrain himself into your brain and your life and your self will be noticed for what they are.

Until then though, here is a little note card. The first clue will lead you to the second. You can have the key to your office back when you solve all fifty clues.

And he is definitely right here to help you, if you need him. He can offer hints and fun anecdotes and jokes. Even hold your hand if you want…?

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #riddler imagine #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #gotham #gotham riddler #gotham!riddler #gotham fox

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judesmoonbeauty · 1 year ago

Text

Yves Kloss - Act 2 Ch. 14 - Dramatic Route Ending

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. Also, feel free to ignore my random commentary. I know this Master List is delayed, but eh, it was my first translation project, and I had no idea of what I was doing.

Please note: Only his common route and Dramatic route are translated/summarized.

Alt translations are marked as ///

T/L notes are notated at the bottom of the post with***

Upon returning to Obsidian Palace, Yves was tended to by the Imperial Family’s personal physician. He then meets with Gilbert, Chev, and Emma.

Yves: Sorry, I’m back later than planned.

Chev: …………

Gil: Wow, you’re a little torn up, aren’t you?

Yves: It’s not as bad as it looks. In fact, I’m amazed at your medical technology. Thank you for your prompt treatment.

Gil: I didn’t like it. (That he received treatment). But how could I do nothing when a guest of honor comes back here injured? My physician was happy that he was able to suture you up so much.

Yves: Thank you for his time.

Gil: Besides, there’s no harm in selling a favor since we’ll be cooperating from now on.

Yves: I hope we can deepen the friendship between our countries. By the way….may I ask what happened to Horst and the others?

Gil: What difference does that make?

Yves: Thanks to them I learned a lot about the Kloss family. I don’t want to just hand them over and be done with it.

Gil: It’s the same thing with the mansion. You seem to like doing meaningless things.

Yves: Even if it’s meaningless it can turn into something important in the future.

Gil: I don’t think it’s worth the time.

Yves: Still, please.

Gilbert stares at him and lets out a small sigh at Yves’ plea.

Gil: I don’t know what you’re expecting, but of course they must be executed. What’s with that look of disapproval on your face? The culprit who attempted to end your life was a guest of the Imperial family. He must be punished accordingly. You are a king of a kingdom, don’t you understand?

He has a point. If something happened to Yves it would’ve been a diplomatic issue, Emma reasons to herself. But…

Yves: Prince Gilbert, I’d like you to reconsider the death penalty.

Gil: That’s a surprise…….

Yves: Rhodolite will not charge anything against Obsidian for this matter. “I was injured due to a personal conflict” -can’t you go with that?

Gil: That kind of naïve judgment doesn’t work in Obsidian. If you are kind and forgiving, then you’ll be taken advantage of. In this corrupt country, there is no place for your kind of thinking. Kill or be killed those are the only options in Obsidian.

His eyes are dark and slightly murderous. Emma again admits to herself that Gil has a point. In Obsidian, Yves’ kindness is fatal.

Yves: Still…….please. He is both a perpetrator and a victim. I feel as if he could be redeemed.

Gilbert: ……Oh, no. You’re so good-natured it’s disgusting.

Yves: ………..

Gilbert: Then, let’s do this. Instead of just listening to your request///Then, let’s do this. In exchange of doing you a favor.

Gilbert: Just once - you cannot refuse my request. You must obey my command, so to speak. If that’s the case, then I’ll yield.

Yves: I will not accept any command if national interests are at stake.

Gilbert: Eh, stingy.

Yves: ….I will accept anything I can personally obey.

Gilbert: Well okay. That’s not a bad deal since I will be able to use you - whom I hate - like a slave. Roderich, cancel the execution and let them live.

Roderich: Yes, your highness.

Yves looks relieved by the overturned sentence.

Ragna: Your Majesty, here.

Yves: Thank you. Prince Gilbert, the information we’ve promised about Tanzanite, Achroite and Ruby.

Gilbert runs his eyes over the received document.

Gil: There isn’t much here. Are you going to be sending out messengers?

Yves: Yes, there are 8 princes of Rhodolite and I will send them all as emissaries to these nations. It may take some time, but the truth will eventually come out.***

Gilbert: You’ve got a lot of confidence.

Yves: Becaue my brothers are all capable.

Gilbert: More than you?

Yves: …………

Gilbert: Haha I’m just kidding. You are the king, so you must be the most capable of the eight.

Yves: Well, I’ll devote myself to it.

Gil: I need you to do that. I’m betting on your country.

Gilbert turns away with the documents, and says he will be waiting for further Intel BEFORE the 3 countries make their move.***

In an unknow country, in an unknown town , in an unknown house.

Matthias: …………You’re late.

Kagari: You’re too early. You’re here 10 minutes before the meeting time, aren’t you?

Matthias: 30 minutes.

Kagari: So strait-laced. Don’t be so strict. I’ve got something for you.***

Matthias: What is this?

Kagari: Dorayaki. It’s delicious. You’ll be surprised.

Matthias: Mm, it is good. It’s exquisitely soft and has a rich sweetness. It must’ve been made by the hands of a delicate, sensitive and beautiful woman. (I’m dead ☠️. It wasn’t stated, but I bet Kagari was the one who made the dorayaki😂).

Kagari: Your words are difficult///You’re creepy.

Matthias: Now, why the sudden urge to bring a gift?

Kagari: We’ve met many times, but I never brought this with me. I’m just imitating you who gives me coffee each time. Eat more.

Matthias: No, I think I’ll pass. If I eat anymore I’ll violate the 15th rule of the Osbrink family motto. (Oh, you’re gonna be fun to break. 😏)

Kagari: Your shoulders seem stiff you should make yourself more comfortable.

A door opens and Azel swaggers in.

Azel: Oh, it smells sweet.

Kagari: Here comes the fierce god.///Here comes the stubborn god.

Matthias: Azel, you’re always late. At least follow Kagari’s example and be here five minutes before the meet up.

A clock bell rings.

Azel: I’m not late. Look the bell just rang. Isn’t this the appointment time?….But it’s delicious isn’t it? Ruby’s red bean sweets with Achroite coffee. If I receive tribute, I am a god who always returns a favor with heartfelt respect and gratitude.

Kagari: That doesn’t matter. Did you bring anything? Probably not.

Azel: No, Kagari. Do not judge people or god by their appearance.

Matthias: But you didn’t did you? You look empty-handed in my eyes.

Azel: Gifts aren’t all about what you can see right? It seems that the Dark Disaster has started to move.

Kagari: Obsidian? That was fast.

Matthias: But it was within our expectations. And as far as gifts go, it’s inferior to dorayaki.

Azel: Well, listen to god’s gracious words until the end. It seems that Obsidian has been in talks with the small nation of Rhodolite. They will probably use this kingdom of roses to gather information about our alliance.

Matthias: That was a wise choice (Obsidian using Rhodolite.) Rhodolite wouldn’t stand a chance against any of our three countries. No matter which country you go to you will receive a certain amount of “hospitality.”

Kagari: When a fierce person comes along, who can withstand the “welcome” of Ruby, I will deal with them myself.

Azel: I too, would be excited to welcome them. Tanzanite’s “welcome” would be exciting.

Matthias: You guys…just keep it legal. But do you think Benitoite and Jade will make their move?

Azel: Of course, they are in the same situation, they’ll start to look into this too.

Kagari: Can I meet Keith? I just got a new sword and I want to try it out.

Azel: I’m sure Keith would be thrilled to see you. I miss Silvio too, he’s so rich.

Matthias: You both are giving me a headache with all your lawbreaking. What matters now is how we move.

Azel: Fair point.

Kagari: Should I kill you///Should I kill them?***

Azel: No, Kagari. That is a last resort. We have joined hands for a purpose, but it would be bad if all the other princes find out.

Kagari & Matthias:………..

Azel: Whether you step back or strike first is up to each of you. Now, let’s get started for each of our aspirations……..

Back in Obsidian, Yves stops Gilbert. Emma stumbles upon them and eavesdrops.

Yves: Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: What is it? I don’t have enough free time to stand around and talk to you.

Yves: I’ll be brief. I was told you erased the Kloss family.

Gil: …………

Yves: Really?

Gil: Don’t ask me such an obvious question.

Yves: May I ask why?

Gil: I don’t want to tell you. It’s troublesome.

Yves: I want to know. I’m sure the Kloss family has something to do with why you don’t like me.

Gil: ……Heh, I’m glad you became the king. Because of your position, no matter how obnoxious the things you say are, I can’t kill you directly.

Yves:…..You couldn’t tolerate the way the Kloss family did things. You knew the grief and anger of the people that’s why you cut off their nest of evil.

Gil: …………

Yves: But I was the last survivor. You can’t trust me when I carry the blood of an evil family. That’s why you don’t like me, isn’t it?

Gil: If that’s the case, then I’m a very good person who punishes evil and does the right thing, aren’t I?

Yves:………..

Gil: If you’re the king, it’s better to know there are somethings that shouldn’t be touched, right?…..If it’s something important, even more so.

Gilbert leaves and so does Yves. It’s evident that Yves wants to become closer to Gilbert. Perhaps the alliance will allow the opportunity? And so, they returned to Rhodolite.

Many days have passed since they returned to Rhodolite and everyone is back in their normal routine. After a long day Emma suggests she and Yves retire. Her hand was taken and she was pushed down on the bed and tells her that because of her he was able withstand the trials in Obsidian and avoid falling under a curse that should have been broken. They mutually confess their feelings and make love.

(There will be many difficulties in the future. There will be obstacles that will make Emma feel reckless....Still, if she’s with Yves, she can definitely overcome it).

As long as this true love continues to shine.

Fin.

***8 Princes - This is the literal t/l. Although, it’s technically 7 because he is now king, Cybird still includes him as a prince - 8 total.

***(I believe he is inferring as to whether or not Yves is capable of delivering additional intel before the 3 nations make their move).

***Strait-laced - (Here Kagari just calls him an ‘honor student’. But I tweaked it a little).

***Should I kill you? - (This was tricky. Kagari says ‘you’. But I wasn’t sure if he really meant that towards Azel for some secret reason OR if it was a T/L error and it’s supposed to be ‘them’ regarding the Rhodolitian Princes. So, I included both.)

[Previous]

Ahhhh, our new foreign princes make their debut!! While I LOVE how beautiful Azel’s eyes are it’s KAGARI that I am anticipating the most!!! He is feisty and apparently crazy. Not to mention we get a ginger LI - that’s my combo 😏

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