#and Id only regret not being able to be there for them when they may have needed me most. Or even much at all.

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

[phantomyre]

Rebirth-Vincent Analysis/Breakdown 1 Vincent's connection to Sephiroth and why his penance is now justified (SPOILERS)

Bear in mind this is mostly an analysis and some of it may be obvious to some. But the purpose of this is to shed light on some of the more nuanced aspects pertaining to Vincent's character and what we might expect from him moving into part 3. I will be breaking these into parts so as to not create such lengthy posts. NOTE: It has been over 2 weeks so I will no longer be censoring content, but I will maintain the spoiler tags. --------------

For starters, Vincent’s personality has been well implemented in that some of his more nuanced traits are highlighted in Rebirth. Compared to OG’s depiction of him, he is more hostile and skeptical than before. In OG, he divulges everything from Sephiroth’s past to his own involvement with Shinra. Not so in Rebirth, however. As a matter of fact, he avoids talking about Sephiroth altogether (up until a certain side-quest), and only calls himself ‘security’ instead of telling the group he once worked for Shinra. Regarding the source of his guilt, it heavily revolves around Sephiroth without so much as a mention of Hojo. As a result, instead of Hojo being his target, Vincent’s driving motivation for joining Cloud’s company is Sephiroth, siting he has unfinished business with Sephiroth. Previously in OG, Vincent’s regret stemmed from his inability to prevent Lucrecia and Hojo from experimenting on their child, Sephiroth. Little else was given, and fans have long held the notion that Vincent had needlessly punished himself for something that was completely not his fault, criticizing his self-hatred as pure edginess and being overdramatic. However, Rebirth has shown there is yet another layer of tragedy regarding the reason for Vincent’s self-imposed punishment. And this leads to the topic of Vincent’s relationship to Sephiroth.

When the party first meet Vincent, though he initially plays the part of a security guard and interrogates them for a breach of ID security, his aggression quickly deflates when he learns that the party is after Sephiroth. It isn’t until Cloud steps into the chamber that used to contain Sephiroth’s samples that Vincent becomes extremely hostile towards the party, oddly protective of the room and whatever info on Sephiroth it may have had. Once Vincent is finally convinced to join the party for the sole purpose of meeting Sephiroth, Vincent states he has some ‘unfinished business’ with Sephiroth. The weight of this motivation becomes very heavy when Vincent finally tells the group the nature of Vincent and Sephiroth’s ‘unique bond’.

According to Vincent, he feels partially to blame for Sephiroth’s cruelty. While that isn’t completely new, Vincent goes on to say that he ‘had many opportunities to purge him from this world’, also sighting the countless people suffering as experiments in the basement. In OG, Vincent was unaware of the evils Sephiroth had committed until Cloud told him. Vincent even says ‘all this while I was sleeping’ when he joins Cloud in seeing the vision of Nibelheim burning—proving Vincent was naïve of the events. In later compilations, it’s implied that Vincent is indeed able to sense turmoil around him since he so happens to turn up whenever someone is about to die. This led fans to question how Vincent was so oblivious to one of the most devastating events in FF7’s story. In Rebirth, however, we learn Vincent was far from oblivious. This implies that Vincent was aware of Sephiroth massacring Nibelheim, the survivors becoming human-experiments, and likely Zack and Cloud’s experimentation as well. Vincent not only neglected to save Lucrecia and Sephiroth during the experimentations, but he also turned a blind eye to the plight of others, allowing Sephiroth to continue his rampage. And not just once or twice. But many times. This is a significant change to Vincent’s story and will likely play a large part in part 3 in his journey to redemption. The red cloak he wears now makes more symbolic sense as he carries the blood of innocents on his shoulders. Now… Vincent’s penance is justified.

#vincent valentine #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #final fantasy #ffvii #ff7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth spoilers #ffvii rebirth

[jounosparticles]

Hello o/ i just finished midterm im finally free orz.How are you doing?

I want to asked what do you think about Fukuchi?like his relationship or morality anything in general.Hes such an interesting character i wish ppl talk about him more.

hello! i’m pretty good! finished a read through bsd beast today (fantastic novel btw) and will work on some writing tonight i think!

i hope your midterm went well!! feel free to tell me about it if you’d like :) i’m interested

and ty for asking about fukuchi! i have lots to say about him.

fukuchi - my opinion

first off i will preface this by saying i USED to be a fukuchi hater. he used to really piss me off but looking back it was 100% biased towards the characters he hurt and i didn’t think too much of his motives. i actually really like him now and believe he’s very underrated.

for starters, i LOVE his design. the face scars especially really tie everything together. i also like his silly moustache hehe

his role as a hunting dog was really great and i hope we see more of that—some sort of pre-DoA scenes where we see the hunting dogs work together so i can look into their dynamics more. it seems that he genuinely was a good leader and cared for his squad. he was fun and lighthearted and seemed to be kind to his subordinates.

i really hope we get some sort of scenes where we see him interacting with the other members of the DoA, flashback scenes or something. we only really seen him interact with bram. i feel he would have gotten along well with sigma, since neither of them are bad people. in contrast i want to see him interact with fyodor and nikolai for the very opposite purpose.

i somewhat sympathized with fukuchi when he was fighting atsushi and akutagawa, his view on war clearly messed him up a ton and he just appeared to have a bad approach to solving what was right. i regret to admit i think i let a lot of the general perception of fukuchi hinder my opinion on him here. i understood his motives to a degree but couldn’t like him for that (which has since changed).

i wholeheartedly believe fukuchi is a good person. he is severely traumatized from all the war he had to deal with, which altered his perception on a good approach to solving things.

assuming he is around 45 years old, he would have received the warning of the war at the age of 9. imagine being a small child and realizing you have to save millions from dying? yet throughout it all he kept a great composure and was kind to others. the scenes where he was with fukuzawa as a child showed he was a good kid despite the huge task he would need to complete. this displays immense courage.

now more onto the DoA era.

notice how he turned everyone into vampires instead of just killing them? partially this was likely to build an army, however i assume part of it was to keep people from dying. he doesn’t want any more bloodshed and did what was necessary. he never told anyone about this though, there’s a good chance bram would have been more willing to help had he been open about the plan. maybe?

the way he treated bram wasn’t great though. it would have been cool to see him talk to bram about it and they work together. of course bram didn’t really seem to care too much about humanity before meeting aya, so he may have not agreed.

fukuchi was also incredibly smart for trusting fukuzawa to do what was right. it really shows their bond and how they knew each other. i’d love to look into their dynamics more, especially the scene where fukuchi tries to convince fukuzawa to go to war since there was a ton of symbolism there.

fukuchi and jouno’s bond also intrigues me. we know he invited jouno to the hunting dogs with the goal of him joining the DoA yet jouno was too influenced by good to be able to do it. i wonder if fukuchi would have told jouno the truth in the case that he agreed to join? or did he assume jouno was willing to be a ruthless killer? id like to think that fukuchi believed jouno had the morality to keep the agency safe despite being supposed to act evil; since fukuchi didn’t actually want them dead. ill make a longer analysis about this idea soon actually since it has the little gears in my head turning.

his relationship with tachihara is also interesting to me. i haven’t thought too much into it, but i believe fukuchi said something along of being disappointed in tachihara’s "betrayal". it makes me wonder if maybe he had hoped tachihara’s morality had changed in the mafia so he would never need to face him in battle? i’ll have to reread the chapters and look into this more.

his relationship with teruko also is one that makes me quite sad. she looked heartbroken as she had to kill him. she was also the only one he told other than fukuzawa about his real plan (as far as im aware). they were definitely close.

in the end, fukuchi’s reveal of the truth and everything he had been dealing with for so long made his actions make a ton of sense. he was just a person with a huge responsibility who tried to save things as well as he could. i really wish he could have gotten closure on the world he saved (if he is truly dead). he’s a fantastic character and has a ton of depth. i only scratched the surface here. maybe i will need to make an "in defence of fukuchi" essay at some point.

#thank you for asking this i love talking about him #super underrated character #i gotta make some dynamics analysis with him. him and jouno is one i think about a lot. like i said above im gonna make a post ab it even #also one with him and tachihara. and teruko. and fukuzawa #and maybe ranpo? #idk i have a lot to say about how fukuchi gets along with others. it’s really cool #asks #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fukuchi #fukuchi ouchi #fukuchi #fukuchu bsd #ouchi fukuchi

[albertserra]

uhm hi. you’re the only film person on tumblr im aware of and i have a question you may know an answer to. actually i need advice not an answer: How many movies a day do you think i will be able to see during a film festival. How many are you usually able to do?? i want to see four for two days in a row (2 - 4 - 4 - 2) but idk if it’s possible. i had days at home when i saw 4/day but usually one of them was something light and easy and also i was alone and at home 😐 honestly im going alone and im just scared that i won’t have anything else to do… also one of the movies im still not sure about going bc it would be my fourth is Pacifiction. that’s bc of your constant recommendations 🫡 hope you’re having a lovely day thanks bye

so its really a matter of personal preference. For me, anything more than three in a day might get exhausting and I wouldn't be able to give every movie my full attention and might be to the movies' detriment. something like pacifiction for example needs pretty constant engagement from the viewer to get the full experience (I still highly recommend it! as far as Serra goes its probably his most accessible in terms of structure, narrative wise its still pretty oblique). So my fear would be id be wasting my time and spoiling a potentially great movie if im tired from all the other ones ive seen that day and don't have enough time to really let each movie sink in. but thats just me! if i was in your shoes I'd do three in day max unless some of the movies are short - and id skip a third movie on the day pacifiction is playing so i could do it lmao. in the down time id just sit down and eat or have coffee so id be able to come down from the movies and be ready for the next if that makes sense.

sundance is the only festival i have experience with bc it was online since the pandemic, i did it in 2021 and 2022. I did a lot per day in 2021 and don't regret it because being at home gave me a little more flexibility. 2022 i didn't do as much simply bc i couldnt make the timing work for what I wanted to watch.

i know @shesnake crams as much as they can when they do their festivals so maybe they can offer their input too

#asks #anonymous

[qumiiiquinnquin]

my view on love is so skewed.

what is love?

i know what it is. only partially though. i only know it from an outside perspective.

people feel deeply for each other , to the point of dating , sometimes to the point of marriage , sometimes to the point of having a kid or multiple children. sometimes , to the point of growing old together , and sometimes resting peacefully with your graves side by side in the cemetery.

sometimes love just doesnt work out though. feelings for each other erode away over time and the gears of love for each other just stop turning , cheating or infidelity may happen , or just a complete breakup or divorce.

im a child of a divorced couple who ended up splitting because my mom cheated on my dad. before my dad had found out what my mom had done , their relationship was dwindling because all i can gather is they weren't feeling very close anymore. my dad says it got to the point that they’d be texting each other from opposite ends of the same couch instead of talking. my mom is remarried since 2015 , and my dad has been struggling to find and keep a relationship. he came very close to proposing again , but they ended up splitting.

i dont know what it feels like when love just doesn't work out. ive seen it though ; both times my dad had to split with someone , it caused him major depression , especially when he had to part from my mom. he had disappeared for a while and my uncle watched us , i can only assume he had left because what the divorce had done to him. he drank more ((not to the point of alcoholism but almost)) and smoked more , and my mom smoked more too. she seems to regret her actions , and stopped smoking about a year prior to getting remarried.

but to be honest , i dont even know what it feels like when love does work out. ive explained times that ive had crushes on people to friends last year , only having crushes exactly three times. my friends said that these were more “squishes” instead of crushes , as i was not comfortable with the idea of ever marrying or dating those who i had crushes on. it wasn't feelings of romance , even if it felt like it. i just liked someone a lot.

ive only confessed once , and it was to my closest friend. it felt like genuine feelings of romance. i wanted to spend the rest of my days with him , and if i may be honest , the idea of him ever finding and dating someone hurts my soul a little.

when i confessed , he said no. i remember i was hurt by that for a bit , and sometimes i feel sad when i recall that our relationship is strictly platonic friends. we say i love you to each other , but with the platonic tone indicator. sometimes , i wish i could say it without the tone indicator and be able to call each other sweet names.

but at the same time , im glad he said no. i dont know how love works. the very idea of dating , marriage , and always being with the same person for the rest of your life makes me uncomfortable , as well as anxious and confused. i do not understand how dating works , at what point marriage is considered , how deeply in love you have to be to want to marry , how you dont get tired of your partner when living with them for the rest of both of your lives , etc. etc. etc.

even lately , when ive been feeling very alone and wishing i had a partner , i dont think id be happy if i did have one because i dont understand or really...feel love.

what is dating?

is it cuddling or other types of physical affection? but what if im not comfortable with being touched? what then?

is it going out? but what qualifies as going out? is it the fancy dinner shown in shows and movies , or is it just basic outings like to a fun store or a walk downtown or the movies?

is it just hanging out next to each other at home or somewhere? but certain things have to qualify as a date right?

what is marriage?

when do you decide you love each other so much to the point of wanting to marry?

what is it like to live the rest of your life with someone else? do you not get tired of their company? do you simply get used to it? do you do anything to have small breaks away from each other? but if you are spending time away from your spouse , does anyone then think the relationship is unhealthy and going downhill?

when do you decide you love each other so much to have a child?

there's so much to love that i dont understand.

not to mention , besides my lack of understanding much about love , the idea of cheating , divorce , or something happening to my partner has partially frightened me out of trying to find someone. additionally , you never know who you will meet. ending up in an abusive or controlling relationship has also kept me at bay from seeking somebody. i already have enough trauma to bear on my shoulders , if im being perfectly honest...i dont want anything added to that...

i feel silly as i type this , because as i said earlier , i have been desiring a partner lately , and confessed to my closest friend a couple years ago and sometimes wish we could be something. three times , ive had people confess to me , only for me to turn them down because i am not comfortable with being in a relationship. i keep going back and forth with myself if i would truly be happy in a relationship , and its even led to me questioning my own identity - i identify as aroace.

the asexual part has held true and will continue to hold true for the rest of my life. but...with my thoughts and feelings on love , especially lately where they seem like they're changing , im not certain i can still identify as aromantic...

it seems to wane. sometimes , i desperately want a partner and feel quite lonely and jealous whenever i see a couple. other times - and most times - i feel happy by myself , and do not feel comfortable ever being in a relationship with someone. i feel quite annoyed whenever my family tells me ill change my mind or i will eventually find somebody.

i want someone to love me , but i never want to be in a relationship with them. does that make sense? i wouldnt mind being loved and loving someone else , but i would want the relationship to remain platonic or simply just friends.

none of this may make sense. i wish i could explain it all better , but i dont exactly know how to describe my feelings on love too well.

it's just my very skewed view on love.

#not a vent #long post

[calebwittebane]

also like. dont get me wrong im SO glad i cut my abusers out of my loife, that was one of the best decisions ive ever made and my only regret was not doing it sooner - and its actually kind of awesome how it did not in fact ruin my relationship with my other family members, and actually i plan to visit my grandma whom i havent seen in ages and who i was sure was gonna be like upset with me about the whole thing but totally isnt and in fact seems to be rly supportive of it. but like. ive been fucking STRUGGLING. i dont know why. could be college related stress and like having to think a lot about my Tragic Past (mind you its Tragic enough that there are times where talking about it or thinking too hard about it makes me for real physically ill and exhausted for an entire day or even several), but the amount of stress dreams ive been having is insane and ive been going days and WEEKS without being able to even like speak to anyone or answer messages on here (which i feel super bad about) or do extremely basic things.

like i was expecting to immediately feel so energized and relieved, and sure i did at first, and the relief and sense of freedom is palpable and id never go back, but girl i am so far from being Energized. plus like a good 60% of my nightmares these days involve having them back in my life, its something i am SO afraid of, and i still cant shake the feeling that one day im gonna have to talk to them again and like Repent from abandoning them. which i obviously am not gonna. but its just. ive been SO bad at handling stress lately. i get so exhausted so quickly, like to the point of completely shutting down. anything stressful comes up, i just cannot handle it. i feel so WEAK. its like my mind and body have said Enough like Thats It Were Not Doing This Shit Anymore. and i guess thats fair, i mean when i saw a cardiologist in may he was basically like Girl Relax Or You Might Pass Away. but like. man i just slept for 20 hours! thats not okay

[dishtothedeath]

i can't see you, the light is in my face || mm.3 || yukari || re: reacts + inigo + man

Once Severin had entered, Yukari makes sure to place her hands on her laps. She watches him from her perch as he approaches her with the same calm smile she wore the day they met in a meeting room that she remembered being too cold. Like then, all she could do is smile through her discomfort and not let it show. Though now she was aided by the AR technology, even if it would occasionally glitch and the corners of her mouth would appear to fall. His fall made it easier to smile though. 

Skull. No. Basile looks at her and she turns her attention to him. Even with half his body held together by duct tape and hot glue, he was such a sight to behold. For closure's sake.

Although she does not look at him, she hears Fergus's request and answers it with a wordless nod. She had said quite a few sorrys over the course of the project to various people with an equally varying degree of sincerity. 

Alfie and Inigo's comments on her appearances do earn more actions from her. She places her hands on her cheeks and swipes the crystal tears off. As soon as they leave her skin they break into sparkling shards that fade. But in the blink of an eye they've returned to her face. Yukari moves to tighten her hand around one of her sleeves and pulls. Without much effort it tears and bursts into feathers that drift away. But before she can fully move her hand, it's back in place. 

"I can continue if you'd like but it would be met with the same results."

Even putting her hair up was a no-go. 

"If you have complaints about the outfit... The person you should address them to is preoccupied at the moment."

She doesn't elaborate any further. Jun'ya speaks of regret of not making sure she was dead but he had carried her to her bed. He had to have felt her light breathing. Maybe he had hoped she'd bleed out. Maybe he didn't actually care enough to kill her at that moment. What was an attempted murder between spuǝᴉɹɟ? 

"You're right, Kamata. The security here is rather dreadful. After all, Ides was the first to die. Had I died, I'm sure they would've taken my notes seriously and made you an offer."

And he'd be too good at it. If Severin was awake to hear that, would he kick himself in regret or play like he meant to do that.

Finally someone speaks who she can look at. Yukari's attention turns to Man.

He'll see something the others can't now that she chooses to directly face him. Even if she spoke to others, she had yet to look at them. Poor, unfortunate Man. 

"It means that I did not think I could handle your personality well. Based on the recordings they had me watch, I found myself zoning out the most when you would speak." 

Even as Castella speaks up, she doesn't look to them. Her attention stays on Man. 

"Earlier Bourbon had requested I speak on certain matters. I..." Well she won't say apologize. Rather she can't. "I think it is time I do so. At the moment, there are few people know of the project closely enough to have an impact on it. I am one of those people. If I were to die a majority of the project would be lost as well since the data I've collected has not given to anyone else."

She never cared for gambling but she understood what it meant to hide your cards and not let anyone see you flinch. 

"I would not be able to make it better, no one would. It is a work in progress, but while we may be able to supply you with physical bodies there are still adjustments, like returning of the senses, to be made. The project would be removed from HDQ Entertainment and given to my company instead. As they have a strict image to hold and do not just give positions away to useless children who were lucky to be born with their last names, Sweethearts would not want to tarnish their reputation by making playthings out of you. They'll reap the reward of appearing as a savior."

Even if she wasn't the only one from her company sitting in on the meeting with Severin. 

"In fact, they're the ones that are on their way now. If you want those that have passed to escape the island then get the idea of revenge out of your head."

She has not stopped staring at Man as she speaks. Her tone polite and professional as Yukari should be. Whatever glitches may happen to her appearances can be easily ignored by those not involved in an almost one-sided conversation she seems to be having with Man. 

#submission #mm #trial #yukari

[gothicblogs]

The invisible girl

In the invisible girl a traveler takes shelter in a ruined tower during a storm and the housekeeper tells him the story of the painting called The Invisible Girl. The painting depicts a young woman named Rosina who fled home after her guardian Sir Peter Vernon discovered the relationship with his son Henry . Keep in mind that this story takes place in the early eighteenth century Wales. Henry was away when Rosina left and in spite of a search by the regretful Sir Peter ,Rosina is presumed dead. Reports begin to circulate of a young woman  wandering near the tower and henry goes to investigate . he discovers that Rosina has been hiding there and brings her home . They marry and furnish the tower as a monument to their story.

Well first off, why is the story called the invisible girl? When you hear something like the invisible girl you assume it would be a ghost right? But turns out it was just Rosina in the shadows. The painting in the tower was also called the invisible girl. Probably because that's what the people called her before she was found. 

So Rosina was the invisible girl, what was she like? She is described as kindhearted and caring, self spoken but desperate to please Sir Peter, perhaps even a people pleaser. She was in-love with Henry and this is where I'm confused. If Rosina was adopted by Sir Peter did she marry her step-brother? That is a rather weird element but moving on. Sir Peter was miserable and perhaps that's why he liked Rosina so much. 

After Rosina left he felt guilty and lonely. In the end he saw the love between Rosina and Henry and gave them his blessing. He couldn't before as they had kept it a secret.

We can see the themes of this story were, forbidden love, ghosts meaning the supernatural. The conflict was also man vs man, Rosina vs Peter. It could also be man vs self, Peter vs self, and you will understand in a minute.

The narrator of this story was unnamed but my theory is that it's Henry, mourning the death of Rosina. The narrator was also Unreliable. In my opinion the narrator may have been simply making the story up or telling only partial truths due to not being able to accept the death of his lover. There is also the possibility that he repressed the memory of his lover’s death and hallucinated the titular invisible girl.

Another possibility is that this really is a ghost story and has been passed on which is why some parts don't make as much sense. What supports this claim is that the housekeeper was telling the traveler this story. The invisible girl was a story IN another story. 

Going by my theory I’d say that the moral of this story would be to not believe everything you hear and to know that stories being passed on can be far different from the original.

Though I did enjoy reading this story I did not find it as shocking, scary and interesting as id liked it to be. I value interesting symbolism in stories because it makes them more easy to analyze but this story was beautiful nonetheless.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I wonder why Simeon's blessing was taken away and he wasnt turned into a fallen angel like the brother's..? Like, is the Celestial Realm trying to keep angels from turning into demons, so they turn them "human" to rehabilitate them? Are the angels trying to keep their numbers up? How come we have never heard of any more angels to demons after the brother's fell? Surely there were bound to be angels that didnt fit the Celestial Realm. Where did they go?

I have so many questions and thought id share them with you to see what you thought! 👻

I honestly don't know...I can speculate but there's a huge chance whatever I say now can and will be proven false

But whatever:

I definitely don't think the Celestial Realm anticipated the brothers turning into demons. They were the first of their kind, and you probably don't think losing a certain aspect of yourself will just turn you into another race yknow. Also considering how the Angels were very obviously shooting to kill during the Rebellion (the angel aiming an arrow at Belphie & Lilith) I think they didn't expect any of the siblings to survive. If they were willing to kill Lilith over giving food to a human/healing a human then defying and fighting against that order and the Celestial Realm seems pretty inexcusable.

As to why Simeon isn't a Fallen Angel or Demon, I don't think losing your Blessing is what turns you into one. The brothers (and probably even Lilith given what we know about her) were all showing signs of Sin in the Celestial Realm. They all had a predisposition towards causing mischief just for fun. They were already demon-esque long before they Fell.

Simeon, despite not being all sunshine and rainbows, isn't like that. Despite having something of a temper at times and being somewhat mischievous he's still eons more angelic than even the mildest and most composed of the siblings (whoever that may be)

The siblings' Blessing was, at the point of their Fall, the only thing separating them from Demons

Simeon losing his Blessing won't have the same effect.

Also given how much Michael regrets the siblings' Fall he probably doesn't want to permanently lose more people he was close with

(Assuming Simeon's loss of his Blessing is Michael's doing) Michael may see this as a suspension. Punishment for lying and stealing from him (in S2), HOWEVER,

I have this idea that losing your Blessing isn't something someone else can do. It's something that happens as you change. Angels are very opinionated and seem to have a strict code/set of rules on what makes them an angel. Straying too far from that, questioning too much, losing sight of your "angelic self" would cause you to lose your Blessing - thereby becoming less Angelic until it's all gone and you've completely transformed

Michael might have suspended Simeon in S3 - which was why he was in the human world. But in the human world Simeon seemed truly happy - surrounded by all the people he loved (both humans and demons). Doing something he loved. Being made to confront the fact that he missed the Celestial Realm from back when the siblings still lived there. That he missed Lucifer and that this time with Lucifer (even as a demon) was limited. That his greatest fear was associated with the Celestial Realm.

If my theory about how one's Blessing is lost is correct then all this would have contributed to it.

It'd also explain why Raphael was so worried about Simeon because despite all their problems they still care for each other (and they already lost the siblings who they also cared for). They probably never expected this would happen.

About more angels not fitting the mould:

There probably are a lot.... even the siblings never fit the mould. They were troublemakers and showed off their Sins as angels long before they Fell. They were able to live long, full lives in the Celestial Realm. They even got promoted and held high/important positions in the Celestial Realm. But there was a tipping point. The siblings outright defied the Celestial Realm. They started a Rebellion. And then they Fell. I don't think anyone else ever reached that point.

#asks #obey me season 4 #obey me spoilers #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date? obey me! #obey me! #swd obey me #om simeon #obey me simeon #om! simeon #obey me! simeon #swd simeon #shall we date simeon #om! michael #obey me michael #obey me! michael #swd michael #shall we date? obey me #swd obey me! #shall we date obey me #my theory #my headcanon

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - night #Jasonette Protection Program

[toadstoolillustrations]

I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this one but starrskye as well

:) hi. Is there a grade above A+? A++++++++ maybe. Anyway I'm taking this opportunity to show off some screenshots I took from the rfta transcript hope u don't mind (update this got. Out if hand I'm sorry no one look at me starrskye has me in a death grip also i cannot shut up about angel apparently)

[ID: Text reading: "Pheonix: (Ms. Starr's hatred toward Lana... It all dates back to two years ago!)" /End ID]

(Me voice) oh em gee just like how lana and angel should date <333

[ID: Text reading: "Angel: Back then, everyone looked up to Lana. All the detectives wanted to be like her.

Ema: ! Really?

Angel: Oh yes... myself included. I was a fool, really. She hated anything crooked, and always watched out for the other detectives." /End ID]

Head in hands Lana watched out for the other detectives... Also the whole "I was a fool, really" THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING.

Angel Starr who had no reason to doubt Lana's genuine kindness and fell for her, Angel who's heart froze when Lana started being so cold and was forced to either think none of that warmth was real at all or that something unthinkable happened. Angel who sold lunches for two years while Lana Skye bled from some invisible wound no one could know of and faced it all with a stone face. Angel who grew so bitter she had to turn to revenge to fuel herself and unearth what had torn them all apart but could only keep herself together by insisting Lana was a worm of a prosecutor. Two years is too short a time to heal a heart ripped by loss and betrayal and anguish. Angel did you truly believe that? Where you really a fool or were you kept in the dark by corruption beyond your understanding. It wasn't your fault it wasn't the Marshall's it wasn't poor dead goodman it wasn't Lana. You are bitter and you have reason to be. Angel Starr you loved and lost and lied on the stand so a woman you may still love would hang.

[ID: Two screenshots of text reading: "Angel: that's why... I'll never be able to forgive her. Why did she have to turn so cold after that..?"

The second image's text says: "Angel: I don't know, but one thing's for sure. Ever since that case ended, she's never been the same. It's only logical to conclude... there must have been a reason for her change."/End ID]

Shakes Angel by the shoulders guys she doesn't know what her story really is at this point. Is Lana a worm? why has she changed? does that matter? is it not enough that she did and hurt them, hurt Angel? Something happened they all know it and Angel's tried to find out and Bruce Goodman died for it. At this point what am I saying this is anything. Look Angel's just so interesting and her relationship with Lana is so complex I need people talking about it but my brains tiny right now.

Anyway all of these ones were from day three of investigation in rfta and it's the best investigation day bc they’re all kinda worn down and Angel is less angry and just bitter and she gives Phoenix a lunch to bribe Jake with. Like she’s getting more honest and at that point the case has fully drawn you in and I think its neat :) like I don’t have to drag angels thoughts out kicking and screaming it just shows how hurt she just is and her regrets it’s!! Maybe this is just starrskye thoughts but still!!

Uhhhh I've bored ye now take these gay people real <333

[ID: Two screenshots of text reading: "Angel: After the murder, the suspect attempted to run behind a partition off to her side. I quickly caught her, explained her rights to her, and arrested her on the spot." The word "her" has been crossed out and replaced with the word "gay" so the the sentence now reads "explained gay rights to her".

The next image has text that reads: "Angel: The chief prosecutor tried to resist, but her efforts were in vain. She knocked my hands aside, kicked over an oil drum...

Phoenix: O-oil drum? (Hard to imagine...)

Angel: Oh, she's beautiful, but deadly! A predator, this one! A leopard woman! Rowr!/end ID]

"oh, she's beautiful, but deadly!" Ur gay

Anyway hope u enjoyed toad screaming abt starrskye tune in next week for the exact same thing

#anyway uh. #this got out of hand im so sorry #i just have a lot of thoughts abt them #feel free to ask me more abt them but no promises it'll be comprehensible #aa #ace attorney #starrskye #lana skye #angel starr #toadtalks #baby-butch #rfta #long post. #asks

[fatefulfaerie]

Once Upon A Time

Long one shot under the cut. Every once in a while I obsess over Gelato (Roman x Neo) so...yeah...

Spoilers for RWBY: Roman Holiday (read it if you haven’t it’s so good!!)

He didn’t know how to treat it like anything but a heist.

Roman had definitely kissed a girl before, Bleu Berry at the orphanage when he was twelve, Crimsen Blank when he was fifteen, Verd Webster when he was seventeen, and then of course the off and on thing with Chameleon while he worked for Lil’ Miss.

But something about kissing Neo was special, something not to be messed up or done lightly like every other young woman he had kissed. He had to do it right.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Roman had planned a heist without Neo, and he found himself at a loss because of it. She really was the brains of their partnership...and the brawn…

Why was he even here?

Neo gave him a distinct look. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

He was staring again, at her instead of the television. His cover story was that he stared into space when he was really tired.

Lie.

It was really him taking glances from under her nose, like pickpocketing a stranger’s wallet.

Steal.

Cheat.

Survive

Love.

When did that get in there?

Normally when they sat down together to watch the large, holographic screen that emitted from Neo’s facedown scroll -- Roman still hadn’t gotten his hands on a new scroll. He was perfectly able to steal one of course, especially since the Vale City Mall had the most pathetic security. He just kept straight up forgetting -- they were watching themselves on TV, laughing about the coverage of their recent ridiculous robbery and eating spicy hot wings from the Cuckoo Crazy Chicken Shack.

This was the first time that Roman was thinking about someone else while watching his own name flash across the screen.

He was catching feelings for her, and there was no doubt about it. He had been catching feelings ever since she saved his life in the alley where she first showed off her semblance, and then more and more as they spent time together.

Roman pinpointed the moment she showed him the fabulous outfit she had made for him as that oh moment that you read about in romance novels.

Not that he read. He accidentally stole a book once. Once. Neo was the reader. He could hardly summon the patience. When Neo gave him a book to read, he skipped to the end. Roman didn’t see the point in all the rest.

But for some reason with this conundrum, this real-life conundrum, he couldn’t bring himself to skip to the end, to just kiss her like it meant just as much as any other kiss.

He tried to plan it like a heist, watching Neo, memorizing her routine, figuring the best moment of the day to perform the act, but it didn’t work. Neo was too unpredictable. She wasn’t like a bank or a warehouse that had their security guards on the same schedule every day. Her chaos was part of her charm, always doing the unexpected, but Roman was absolutely lost as to when he should make his move, if at all. They had a good thing going here, after all, and for all he knew he could kiss her one second and be knocked out cold the next.

Roman felt a slap on his shoulder and he looked over.

What the hell?

Neo was mute yet Roman could hear her say it. She must have been doing airplane arms before she slapped him.

She pointed at him and then her right ear, her forehead creased with inquisition.

“No, I am not going deaf,” Roman said.

She must have been clapping and snapping to get his attention.

“I’m just thinking,” he explained, the words spilling out just as he realized he might have to come up with an answer for what he was thinking.

But Neo nodded in understanding. What a wonderful human being. She mimed sleep, resting her head on hands that touched palms.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Sleep. Good idea.”

Since his fancy condo was ambushed by Lil’ Miss, the two partners in crime had settled in an abandoned building that had gone from being a restaurant to a convenience store to a nail salon in the span of three months, before being abandoned for a year now. This street was a terrible place for an above-board business and even the Vale Government had let it rot, too small and inconsequential to be made into a factory or a warehouse of any sort.

Neo and Roman found it a week after the skirmish at the Vanille mansion. It was dilapidated and falling apart but it was only as broken as each of them were before they found each other. They quickly saw it as home.

So Roman stood up in order to head towards his bedroll in the corner. Neo watched him with a suspicious eye.

“Now that we’ve done as much damage as we could with the information from Mr. Vanille’s computer…”

Neo had already noticed that Roman never referred to the late Jimmy Vanille as her dad. Biologically he was her dad but he never treated her like a daughter.

“We may as well start on this dust business,” he continued. “Dust Till Dawn seems like the easiest target to me but I’d rather start bigger, something more fun.”

He turned around in case Neo had anything to add but she only stood up and paced towards him, using her semblance to change into Roman Torchwick himself. Roman looked at the mirrored version of himself as Neo made fun of the way he had been acting, staring with a blank expression, losing his train of thought. She then changed back into herself and shrugged her shoulders with her hands up as if to ask him why.

“I…I don’t know.”

He stammered. He rarely stammered.

She crossed her hands over her heart, then offered her hands to him. He knew what that meant.

Can I help?

She was always so thoughtful.

“It, umm…”

He had to be confident about this, he absolutely had to. He was Roman Torchwick, after all, the fabulous, the famous. He was fearless. He was clever and could get any girl he wanted, even the best of the best that stood in front of him. He could do this.

“Roman Torchwick this is the VPD,” a voice bellowed. Roman closed and opened his eyes.

“Why is it never you?” He asked Neo quietly, who was smirking. She stuck out her tongue.

“Come out with your hands up,” the loud voice continued. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Neo turned back into Roman.

“Meet you at Forever Fall?” He asked.

Neo nodded and ran off to get caught by the police. Roman pocketed Neo’s scroll and grabbed Melodic Cudger and Hush, the two hooks of which clinked in his grasp.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Torchwick,” he heard as he was halfway out the window in the back. Roman froze and listened. He dared to let his vanity doom him. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t do you justice.”

Roman turned his head.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could see the scene barely, through a gap in one of the distant boarded windows. Neo, in his image of course, stood with her hands in surrender.

“A volatile jokester,” the policeman continued, circling around Neo. “Always has something to remark. Doesn’t seem to want to shut up.” He stopped his spherical pacing and turned on his heel. “Do you know where I got these phrases?”

Neo shook her head.

“Vale Police Department records,” he said. “It’s how they describe you, and it’s how I know you aren’t really in front of me right now, are you Torchwick?”

He felt the panic in his heart, he tried to slip out the window but his forehead met a gun as it cocked with a click.

Their strategy had worked twice already, a disguised Neo getting arrested as Roman fled to a rendezvous location. Neo would use her semblance to escape captivity easily and they would have cheated the system. But it seems the police caught on.

Roman was almost impressed as he bumped shoulders with Neo in the back of the cop car, their weapons confiscated and Neo’s scroll slammed in half by the heel of one of the officers. Their hands were literally tied and Roman might have found a way to fight his way out of this but hey, he had never seen the interior of the Vale Police Department before. He figured it was time for a grand tour of the rathole’s rat hole.

“What’s that?” were the next words out of his mouth twenty minutes later. The VPD building was disappointing. Roman regretted wanting a look inside within a couple steps.

“Semblance inhibitor,” the officer replied, latching a second pair of handcuffs onto Neo’s wrists and only Neo’s wrists. “New tech from Atlas. It drains aura.”

Neo looked at Roman with a flash of panic in her eyes. She was always so confident in her chaos that it was a rare sight to see her scared.

“It’s okay,” he managed softly.

“We’re submitting her for questioning,” the officer continued, nearly interrupted as if Roman hadn’t said anything. “And we’re sending you back to Mistral. Lil’ Miss will be elated to learn that you are alive.”

They began to pull them away along two different hallways.

“No,” Roman said, struggling. “No!”

He lurched for Neo with all his might and caught her lips. That one moment of vulnerability where she tried to keep him with her cost him his better sense as he was very nearly yanked away, only seeing Neo’s face in shock.

“She’s mute, you idiots!” Neo heard Roman exclaim. “She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. You lay a hand on her and so help me gods I’ll--”

A door slammed shut. Neo didn’t get to hear that last bit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trivia Vanille a.k.a. “Neopolitan”

Height: 4’10”

Age: 19

Prisoner ID Number: 827338

It was the first time in several years that she genuinely smiled in a picture, and it was a mugshot. Although she could see in her file the name that was dead to her, they referred to her verbally only as Neopolitan. The respect made Neo over the moon with happiness, made her almost forget her concern to get out of this without her semblance. The lock on her normal handcuffs were simple enough to pick once she was left alone but the one that shone blue and drained her energy even now would take a bit more creativity.

Roman Torchwick

Height: 5’11”

Age: 27

Prisoner ID Number: 827299

How many times did he have to tell them? He was six foot three. Six. Feet. Three. Inches. They never listened to him and it bothered him that it was on his permanent record that he didn’t measure up to at least six feet. For goodness sake, he was a celebrity. Any dunce on the street knows that he has orange hair, a white jacket, a grey scarf tied around his neck, and dashing emerald eyes. Everyone knows that he gave himself the birthday of October 31st (the mother who abandoned him at the orphanage didn’t care to specify the day that he had an excuse to steal cake) and that he was six foot three. It was on his mugshot and everything. He pleaded until he had two hands on the bars of his temporary holding cell. He was on his knees.

“Lights out.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

He heard a foot stomp behind him. His cellmate was standing against the barred window that let in only streaks of moonlight, only fractions of nightlife and remnants of an already crumbled world.

He was a quite heavyset man and Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Roman was good in a fight but he wasn’t sure about these odds as he slowly stood up. This guy looked to have the strength of ten men and his arms were crossed.

Descending pink triangles dispelled the illusion and Roman choked a sigh of relief when the burly man turned into the small silhouette of Neo herself. Her hip cocked to the side and Roman knew, although he couldn’t see it, that she was smirking.

Roman rushed forth and hugged her, embraced her desperately like he never had before. He must have really thought they weren’t getting out of this one together.

“How?” he asked when they separated, his eyes searching her moonlit face.

Neo mimed picking a lock but then shook her head. She then mimed smashing her heel into an invisible pair of handcuffs between her two wrists and gave Roman a thumbs up.

“Good to know Atlas technology goes so fancy on design that brute force is the solution to breaking it. Would you like to pick the cell lock or shall I?”

Neo nodded and skipped to do just that, as if that were the easy part. Neo plucked pins from her mess of brown and pink hair and got to work kneeling before the lock and snaking her arms around the other side of the bars. Roman leaned on the bedpost and ignored his actual cellmate, the actual burly, wideset man who was knocked out on the bottom bunk and had a gnarly bruise the resembled Neo’s heeled boots across his face.

“About earlier, I…” Roman hesitated. “I guess I just wanted to apologize if I took you by surprise. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, don’t get me wrong, I just…”

After several clicks, the door swung open and Neo turned around to face Roman, approaching him. Roman wondered if she had even heard him until she grasped his tied gray scarf and pulled him into her lips. It was all the answer Roman needed as they explored each other’s mouths, Neo slowly backing up and Roman chasing her, walking forward. When she let loose his lips they were out of the cell. She smiled. Roman was absolutely smitten.

She turned into a security guard, one they had seen earlier and she took his hand, Roman giggling under his breath as they fled from the Vale Police Department and into the wild night they had claimed as their own.

The memory became foggy, as it always did. It turned into a million other nights of chaos with him, all melding into a single lifetime that was now deceased. Trivia Vanille once died in the burning rubble of the Vanille Estate and left Neopolitan in her stead, but the moment Neo saw a blinding “X” over Roman’s aura gage a different Neopolitan had emerged. This one wasn’t languishing in her new sense of identity, wasn’t happy beyond belief in her friendship with this Torchwick guy. No, this Neopolitan was in pain, deep soulful, cutthroat, bleeding pain. When she threw a parasol and made her dad bleed she felt nothing. When her parents died because of the dust her dad harbored, she felt free. But when Roman died, she felt grief for the very first time, felt loss and lost in this world that didn’t understand her, would never understand her like he did.

Neo blinked her eyes open.

She liked when her dreams dipped into her memories up until the point where she woke up, where reality reminded her what was past and what was present.

It smelled like blood here. Neo had started to wonder if this is what it was like to be in the womb, gestating, trapped, waiting to be reborn in Salem’s image. The thought made Neo gag. This was the last place she wanted to be, seen as a mere chess piece in Salem’s game. She grew up as a chess piece that had been discarded, then used, then discarded again, like a dirty towel her parents kept forgetting about. What once liberated her was her newfound knowledge that her decisions could be her own but now she was CInder’s helper? beneficiary?

She would have to stomach it until Cinder upheld her end of the deal and got her to Ruby Rose.

Neo pushed against the bed she was assigned and sat up, although she would use the term bed extremely loosely. It was a hunk of red rock and the small room looked like the maw of a Grimm more than anything else. Neo would quantify it to a torture chamber if there wasn’t a small young man literally being tortured a few rooms over. She at least had it better off than him, but that didn’t say much.

Neo steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of him, not the boy who screamed in anguish down the hallway but him. Roman. She thought of his brown, leather slip-on shoes and how much he hated the hassle of tying laces. She thought of his dark grey pants and how they collected around his ankles. She thought of his white coat and remembered tailoring it to his size, remembered thinking of the moment she would surprise him with it. She remembered his gloves and how it felt to be held by those hands. She remember his grey scarf and tried not to think about how it was on her neck instead of his. She tried to think of his piercing green eyes and his pumpkin orange hair, his bowler hat that had a red ribbon and a grey feather. She tried to remember his voice.

She opened her eyes and stood up slowly, pacing towards the illusion she had created, feeling tears sting in her eyes, feeling her heart beat with relief she tried to subdue.

“Neo,” he said softly.

She bawled, tears streaming down her face. She took the hat off her head and put it on her doll. She cupped his face with her hands and found herself missing having to go on her tippy toes like this.

Neo thought she could hold the illusion long enough to at least hug him, to at least derive some comfort from her memories and what her semblance was able to do with them. Yet, the illusion just as soon shattered, crumbling into shards of glass. Neo’s gasp was shaky as she looked down into her palms. Her breaths matched no rhythm and her soul bled as if she had lost him all over again. She looked up.

Cinder.

Her lip quivered. Neo couldn’t help it. Her brow furrowed in anger despite her sadness. The pink and the brown were like flames. And yet Cinder couldn’t even see her hate. No one could see anything of her.

“Salem wants everyone on the bridge,” Cinder said. “Welcome to reality.”

She walked off without a care and Neo fell to her knees, gathering the glass shards. She seethed with anger as she held them delicately in her hands. Her panting increased as balled her hands into fists, not caring in the slightest the sharp pain in her palms or the blood staining her white gloves.

She made a silent promise to Roman then, not to live for herself like she once did but to survive long enough to give Ruby Rose everything she deserved.

#gelato #neo x roman #roman holiday #rwby roman holiday #rwby #rwby fanfiction #roman torchwick #neopolitan #trivia vanille #neo my beloved #am I ec Myers yet?

[akirameta84]

thinking about it, was there anything stopping kusuo from re-petrifying akechi over and over until he figured things out?

sorry for spelling mistakes haha. if its not major I'm too lazy to reread and catch em all(™)

it never says he has a limit on this ability like that, so if he had been extremely determined to not let akechi find out, he could've kept trying different future outcomes over and over

but would a person petrified experience hunger and thirst while in that state? if so, this would only be possible a day or two without serious negative effects. but from what we've seen, im fairly certain everything about the individual is frozen like that, so I doubt so

of course there was people and noticing akechi's disappearance, and akechi himself nothing the missed time. but if he got the timeline right, then akechi would've never been even entered the room in this instance, as seen by the failed timeline where hes closer with his friends group. thus its a moot point, and making the idea of keeping him frozen longer plausible

considering how the other two espers came to know about his powers, it really makes you wonder why he gave in so easily. kusuo had almost told aiura because he believed its be inevitable, but when he realized his aura was too large to be seen up close, he forfeited, only having to confess in order to save chiyo's life.

toritsuka had found out completely on his own, and by the time he approached saiki, there would have been too many memories to erase them all with his memory alteration, as its stated he can do a minute at a time.

and, interestingly, in the manga there's a whole day between saiki receiving toritsukas letter and him arriving, while in the anime its the same day. saiki is even able to complete his psychometry on the letter. it actually makes more sense in the anime, though, as surely he'd have noticed his glove was missing before a whole day had passed?

anyways, point stands that family is the only people kusuo has completely willingly told about his powers were family members. and yet he gave in so easily to akechi.

something that's striking me as odd is when akechi revealed himself to be someone from kusuo's past, and someone who suspected him of having powers...he did nothing.

as seen on aren's first day, he could've easily had akechi transfer out or just make him stop attending.

sure it might've been suspicious, but a combo of forcing him to transfer out and some memory alteration making him forget kusuo was at PK, that he attended PK, or that he was transferred out strangely, any may have possibly worked.

or better yet, petrify and perform the time leap stunts much earlier, before akechi had such concrete evidence. akechi likely would've responded readily to an invitation over to kusuo's house, and he could've attempted to deal with the problem then.

sure its possible he didn't think about that, but with how covered everyone of kusuo's bases have been throughout the series, I heavily heavily doubt it. and besides, I think there's more to it.

one thing kusuo mentions being happy to have fixed at the end of akechi's time travel arc is erasing the fact his younger self told akechi about his powers.

he regrets this truly as a teenager, but his younger self was a lot more complacent about telling him, up until akechi spilled the secret himself in order to hope for kusuo's protection, but even kusuo acknowledges its normal for people to reach out to those who they know can help

he smiles like this after his confused face fades, and tells akechi about his powers. his younger self didn't have much of a reason to keep his powers from someone he viewed as a friend, and even showed MUCH less emotional repression imo.

but there was one striking reason.

look at how the smile on his face fades each time he recalls what his mother said. he actively wanted to show them his powers, not just akechi either.

his older self acknowledges that akechi felt like a friend to him, which is kusuo speak for he felt they were pretty close friends, considering that the main cast is still mostly classmate or aquintence level at the end of the series according to him.

considering how easily kusuo gives in to telling akechi after his admittedly extensive process trying to prevent this outcome...I'd say, honestly, kusuo still feels the same way about akechi.

he certainly tolerates akechi referring to him by his first name, and even though aiura does as well, im not convinced she'd listen if he even told her off. (tbh, his whole friend group has issues with listening to him, and his mom forcing him on outings isn't helping. but thats a rant for another time)

the day akechi invites himself over, its done merely to hang out, and kusuo is slightly surprised by this.

of course, even akechi has to cheat his way into staying, but kusuo is like that to everyone.

kusuo isn't used to people coming over just to hang out, as whenever the rest of his friends bug him, they need something most of the time. and when the two of them get into betting on the horse races over cake, as frustrated as kusuo gets, id say he enjoys himself. one of the last panels says as much

I hit the image limit, but near the end of chapter 266 his eyes have the sparkle effect they do when he's actually feeling emotions. its so sweet. and during the end of the showdown arc, kusuo repeats to kuusuke the the same phrase akechi said to him after taking the power remover. "I can still be your playmate"

overall, coupled with how easily kusuo gave in to telling about his powers, without even a single death threat to keep akechi silent...yeah, he definitely thinks of akechi as a good, maybe even close friend. even if he doesn't believe or admit it to himself, its true.

thank you for reading i got this in my mind after rewatching the time travel arc, hence the random anime images instead of panels which I can grab more easily as examples lol

#saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki kusuo #manga #anime #akechi touma #rant

[shhh-no-ones-home]

through the green glass door (*) loki laufeyson x reader

+++++++++ Guess who watched the first Thor movie 😁😁

(*) - leads to smut but it doesnt go all the way. but like, its super suggestive lol

Song: lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off by panic at the disco

@cynic-spirit +++++++++

"do you have any idea what the consequences will be if i get caught?!"

i exclaimed as quietly as possible,  my three friends giggling as they huddled around me.

"y/n, youre the most agile person we know. and we've all been dreaming of the fruit off that tree for ages. please."

Lenore said and i rolled my eyes.

"if i get caught im taking you three down with me."

i said, gripping the tree bark on the outside portion of the wall.

"we believe in you."

she said as i began climbing. i couldnt believe id let them talk me into this. but they were right, we had all been wanting the fruit off this tree for a very long time. it was forbidden to any outside the palace walls. something none of us had ever or would ever have the pleasure of enjoying. until now i suppose.

"im at the top."

i called back down to them still on the ground. they all cheered and clapped, jumping up and down as they giggled. but i wasnt triumphant just yet. i could see the tree, barely touching the branches of the one i was in. just over the garden wall.

"youve got this."

i whispered to myself, stepping as lightly as i possibly could towards the wall. there was a creaking and i paused, taking a deep breath. it was fine. this was fine. so i kept going, jumping onto the top of the garden wall as the edge of the branch snapped. i took a staggered breath, still hidden within lots of leaves. but there, like a light in the distance i could see the golden fruit. i plucked one off the branch, its smell as it got closer becoming sweeter and sweeter.

then i saw another, plucking it too and tossing both to the ground below. there i saw the three of them, rushing over and picking them up. i grabbed another that was close enough to reach and dropped it down, so each of them could have one of their own. they all celebrated with happy noises of content as they devoured them. as i looked back up to grab another fruit i noticed there were none left nearer to me.

"drat."

i complained, seeing one of the golden fruits just past the wall, barely out of reach. i knew i shouldn't be greedy but i went through all this trouble, it would be a shame to not have one for myself. so i stepped further, to the edge of the wall. i found a branch sturdy enough and planted my foot on it. i took one step, then another, and so on until i was nearing the trunk of the tree and the fruit i had seen from the wall.

"finally."

i whispered, plucking it off the branch and sinking my teeth into it. it was just as sweet as it smelled and i was glad i had continued on my journey over the wall. that was at least until i took one wrong step, another branch breaking under me. then it was one branch after another, falling straight on my face in the grass below the tree. i groaned, lifting my head and my eyes going wide. there in front of me was a pair of black leather boots.

"um, i can explain."

i started, looking up and pausing again. there in front of me was the young prince, holding a book in one hand and a pear in the other, looking just as surprised to see me as i was to see him.

"im sure thats one hel of an explanation having dropped from the sky."

he stated and i moved to my knees quickly, bowing in front of him.

"yes, my prince. i am truly sorry."

he laughed and i looked at him confused.

"please, stand."

he said and i did as told, bowing my head.

"i have not seen you before."

"my prince?"

i raised a brow, watching him as he leaned against the tree.

"where do you come from?"

i cleared my throat.

"outside the palace my prince."

he laughed again.

"do you think me an idiot?"

he asked and i stopped breathing.

"of course not, how could you? you are but a peasant."

then i drew my brows.

"now you wait just a minute! i may not be of noble birth but that does not mean you will disrespect me. arrest me, for all i care, but i will not be spoken to like a-"

"relax."

he said and i stopped.

"relax?!"

he shook his head.

"what is your name?"

i opened and closed my mouth a couple times. then i inhaled sharply.

"y/n."

he stood off the tree, tucked the book under his arm, and offered me his hand.

"well y/n, i am of the impression that you are in need of a new dress."

i looked at him funny before looking down at my outfit. i was dirty and my skirt had torn when i fell out of the tree.

"you arent going to arrest me?"

i asked hesitantly and he smiled.

"i am not."

he said and i slowly took his hand.

"my prince i, i dont believe-"

"you dont need to believe, just trust me."

he said and i nodded. i followed him blindly inside, walking openly past the guards up the stairs and down a long glimmering hallway. it didnt necessarily feel right, but something about him made me want to keep walking. to keep following him.

"my prince-"

"call me loki."

he interrupted.

"um, loki, right. uh where are we going?"

he squeezed my hand before pulling me into a room.

"my chambers."

he said and i froze, the door closing behind us. then out of nowhere a woman appeared, bowing her head.

"bring us one of my mothers old dresses. my guest is in need of some new clothes."

he said in a suave tone, the woman walking past me and out the door.

"i dare say, my prince, i am not worthy of wearing the queens garb."

he looked at me and smiled, pulling a chair out from under a small golden table and sitting at it.

"i think she would disagree."

i smiled back in amusement and joined him at the table.

"why are you being so nice to me?"

i asked and watched as he took a drink.

"it has been a long time since someone has been able to get over garden wall and not get caught. i admire that."

i raised a brow.

"so you like that im mischievous?"

i questioned and he smirked.

"exactly."

i made a small noise of disbelief.

"i should have guessed. the midgaurdians call you, what, the god of mischief? it only makes sense you would like someone sneaking into the palace garden."

"my lord."

i heard from the door and both our gaze turned to the girl, holding a blue dress.

"ah yes, a perfect choice."

i watched as he took it from her, shooing her away afterwards. and then he started towards me, making me more curious.

"for the lady."

he said, offering it to me and i smirked at him.

"care to help me put it on?"

i made a face, realizing what i had just asked and almost couldnt believe myself for being so bold. but part of me also didnt regret it. and i couldnt help notice the knowing smile across his face as he led me to his bed. there he laid the dress out and moved to help me.

"a bit intrepid for someone who believed me to want to arrest them."

i looked over his face for a moment.

"theres something about you i cant get off of my mind."

"and that is?"

he asked, stepping behind me and undoing the top op my dress slowly. i just stood and stared ahead as he did so.

"though i know we could both be in large amounts of trouble with the king if he were to find out i am here, i still feel like i can trust you."

i said, looking at him over my shoulder and we both examined each other. his face was soft. softer than before. and the golden light peaking in over the terrace railing made him look more ethereal.

"i can trust you, cant i?"

i asked and his gaze shifted down my face.

"you can trust this."

he said calmly before capturing my lips in his. it was gentle and i could feel my heart knocking a my rib cage to be let out. i was kissing the boy prince. the heir apparent. and gods did it feel great.

"loki."

i whispered when he pulled away, looking between his eyes for any reason not to trust him and coming up with nothing.

"do you still wish for my help?"

he bargained and i nodded.

"i wouldnt want anything else."

it was said in such a hushed tone im sure no one else would have been able to hear it had they been in the room. i stood there as he stripped me slowly. He began with finishing the top of my dress, letting the lacing down and pushing the fabric down off my shoulders. as the dress pooled at my ankles i was left there in my sark, a small shiver traveling up my spine as his fingers traced up my arm.

"may i?"

he asked, placing his other hand firmly at my waist, tugging at the fabric. i swallowed hard, almost feeling like i shouldnt be doing this.

"yes."

i said quiet and bold.

"you are quite the woman."

he noted, pulling the sark up over my head and dropping it to the floor with my dress. i should have felt more exposed standing there naked but my back was still to him.

"Thank you my prince."

I said with some form of sincerity. He kissed my shoulder.

"I told you, call me Loki."

He whispered into my ear, sending goosebumps over my skin.

"Loki."

I half moaned, leaning back into him as his hands found their way to my hips again.

"May I touch you further?"

He questioned and I nodded against him, feeling his hand trail up my torso painfully slow. He kissed across my shoulder, up my neck, and onto my jaw before spinning me around swiftly. I gasped at the sudden movement, looking over his face as he stepped closer to kiss me properly. When he pulled away I noticed his clothes had also vanished, gone in a flash of green.

"May I make love to you?"

He asked, barely gracing my lips with his own.

"Please do."

I whispered against him before kissing him, again and again, until my back hit the soft silk of his bedding.

#wattpad #x reader #Loki Laufeyson #marverl #imagines #one shots #342 #loki #smut? #idk not really but kinda #smut

[monstertidbits]

What do you think about the torden siblings and their parents?

haha nonnie did you know i think abt them all the time...

the sibs' relationships with their parents make me so sad and angry. it's obvious that laios is still incredibly hurt by their actions towards both him and falin- esp falin. she was the person who understood him best, the one who never left his side (even when he wanted her to, lol), and at the end, the only one who still believed in him and supported his dreams. they were the ones who took her away from him. i already guessed they sent her to the magic academy in order to get rid of her instead of "helping her" and then it got confirmed in the world guide like damn i knew they were trash but now i know they are trash! id bet they didn't even let laios know abt this before she had already left and he had nothing to do about it. but my own hcs aside; laios talks abt how his father never... truly communicated with him. at this point in life, he barely knows the man who raised him, and he feels such deep resentment bc of that. it's actually surprising bc we know laios- he's openly kind, trusting, supportive and apppreciative of the people around him, a man who can't lie and is very honest and direct in his intentions. he's really nothing like the father he describes, a cold man who keeps to himself to the point his own son can't comprehend him, and he doesn't want to be.

also do you sometimes think abt how laios' love for monsters and his wish to travel far away were deepened by how bad his home life was? it was a place he didn't belong because the people around him didn't want to understand and accept him, not even his own parents. they suffocated him, they let him know he will amount to nothing, and they couldn't even begin to accept the person he loved most- his own little sister. there was nothing for him there after she left. and falin... god... her eating all alone in her own home every single day, every single meal... she was lonely and neglected long before she left the village, and there's no way she didn't feel the animosity at her own home. i think she's the kind of child to suck it up and try to make things right and "behave" in order to have her happy little family again, but laios leaving destroyed the little of that life she still had... she was just a child who knew nothing of the world but her own parents feared her. their mother being described as "mentally frail" in the world guide too... like cmon... i'm sure she did NOT take her child being able to see and speak to ghosts very well. and it's easier to get rid of this weird, creepy little girl instead of confronting the other villagers and protecting their daughter and son. i guess being the village chief was more important than being a good parent...

i also think her being unable to make any friends at the academy must be connected to all this as well... both of them didn't manage to fit in school and had to endure such loneliness bc of that and their separation. at least falin met marcille, but laios never had that sort of friend in his life...

despite saying all this, i do understand that they are people living in a small, conservative village. they may think they did their best at the time, but at the end they haven't seen their children in years because of that... i hope they at least regret it, somewhat. i think laios not being able to forgive them for that is partially related to him not being able to forgive himself for leaving falin in the first place... and if he's so hard on his 12 years old self, how could he possibly find it in himself to forgive the grown adults who failed her?

#ahhh. #asks #anon #dungeon meshi on thebrain......