#belle et rebelle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoeebsbuffay · 1 year

Text

Imagine you are a peasant who happens to save Darth Vader after his meeting with Ahsoka left him unconscious—and you have no idea who this man is. Part II.

Warnings: drama, smut, unburnt Vader, angst—but fluffy endings as always, naturally.

Warnings 2: not recommended for minors or those who are sensitive to the themes aforementioned.

Warnings 3: slightly/loosely inspired in “La Belle et la Bête” (the one with Léa Seydoux).

Warnings 4: references to the “Rebels”, final episode season 2.

***

You are still kept in ignorance about Jedis and Siths. As days turn into weeks, spending time with the man you are looking after is not much a burden.

Vader knows he should prevent you to harbor sentiments towards you, however, he is incapable of doing so.

“Are you often this quiet?”, you inquire him after a while. This day you have him with you at the gardens and he watches as you clean all by yourself.

“I was wondering how devoted you’ve become to this castle and the gardens”, Vader doesn’t respond your question and you just sigh at it. “What are you sighing for?”

“It is funny how often you pose me questions that you don’t feel like answering when I ask you the same.” You shoot him a glare.

“I would rather keep my life out of your sight and your mind as well”, says Vader. “Otherwise why is it of your interest to hear about me? I, on the other hand, know nothing about the one who is looking after me.”

You roll your eyes. After you place an ointment over his wounds, you say:

“Is this how you want to roll?”

“I am no good man, Y/N.”

You lift your eyes and Vader thinks he is a fish trapped in a web. Last time he felt this way was with Padmé and this seems to worsen his mood.

“You might be, but there is good in you.”

“I am a monster! How can you say that after all the things I’ve done?”

As if to startle you, he stands and gives you a glare as he angrily lists all of his wrongs in a long path of blood that ironically brought him to you.

“You lost your family in a war that I caused it!”

“Because you took part in a conflict that clearly manipulated you!”

You watch him in completely daze as he walks from a side to another. Part of you fears him, but another sees him as a man with dark past who can still choose the path of redemption.

“I was not manipulated!”, he yells at you before walking out the room and disappearing of your sight.

As he leaves, you start wondering why are you staying there. To clear your mind, you opt for going to the market.

***

The Sith Lord watches you carefully from afar. He is now feeling a lot better than when he was first brought to that odd castle. His wounds are now turning into scars and his physique is going back to what used to be before the explosion that separated him from Ahsoka.

He tries not to think about this evening. He always thought… Vader swallows hard, seeking a way out of the burdens he carries in his soul, the ones that plague his conscience every night before he closes his eyes when endless torments never cease to torture him.

Whether he cares to admit or not, Ashoka Tano is another of his links to Anakin Skywalker, to…her. The woman he loved. When Darth Vader thinks of Padmé Amidala, no darkness remains.

Yet, she is no more. And Anakin Skywalker was buried with her. Or so he thinks.

In the meantime he is dwelling into an odd kind of meditation you’ve never seen before, you realize your eyes remain glued on his figure. You detest how every inch of him gets your attention and even those terrifying eyes are not enough to frighten you.

“Why do I feel there is a pair of y/c eyes analyzing me?”, Vader cannot help out the amusement in his voice.

You put a face.

“How would you know I am watching you if your eyes are closed?”

Again, he laughs. You realize the boisterous sound not only brings a smile to your lips, but also makes your heart skip a beat.

“Because I can.” It’s all he tells you.

You feel like a child when you move to where he is and, folding your arms, you pout:

“Well then, should I assume you can do better than this?”

As much as Vader wants to keep you far from him, as much as he wishes to cloud himself from your shining presence, there is only so much he can do.

“Is that a challenge?”

You side smirk at him. Your answer, however, captures his curiosity when you rather say:

“Challenge accepted it is.”

***

Later, when you think him to be asleep, you go back to the library you grew fond of. After half of the morning spent outdoors, you regret leaving the castle. You are now known by your former friends and neighbors as an old maid who got mad due to the loss of your family. In order to cover your unhappiness, you seek solace in books.

Vader, however, is not unaware of this subtle change of mood of yours. He is meditating when he hears your steps: at first, the Sith Lord expects with annoyance your bubbly nonsense observation concerning the day, yet he is sorely disappointment when he is ignored.

And he is almost sure he can hear a sniff? Darth Vader hopes to ignore this perception, but it is too difficult to do so. His pride is not amended; he realizes you’ve been filling the hole left by Padmé. As scary as that is, he does not wish to see you hurt, though. So, despite himself, he comes after you.

“What are you reading?”

You are caught off guard, clearly surprised by his presence. You try to avoid eye contact so he does not see you’ve been weeping. Yet, had you known his true nature, you’d know doing so is a waste of time.

“What are you doing here?”, you respond him with another question.

He moves to where you are and just like that he takes the book away from your hands. Ignoring your protests—especially because you suddenly notice how tall he is—, Lord Vader is amused by the content of your book.

“What got you reading into Siths and Jedis? I thought these old tales were nothing but myths to you.”

“Never said that”, you snort at him. “What I remember telling you, Mr Skyguy, was that we have very few books concerning this subject. Hence why I know little about each.”

“And looks like you found one.”

“Well observed”, you remark sarcastically.

“Are you finally in terms to who am I, then?”, Vader finds himself smirking at you.

How easily you bring him to smile. Some believer might suggest this was all orchestrated by the Force, to achieve balance. Yet, what do you know of these things, less so of mundane matters?

You are still trying to get the book out of his hands when he laughs for the first time in a very long time.

“Please. You give yourself too much a credit.” You snort at him, before pouting. “Would you please give me the book back to my hands?”

“I might. With one condition, though.”

You fold your arms, not in the mood for his tricks.

“Really now?”

“I want to know what got you upset, Y/N.” He softens.

You turn abruptly at a window nearby, busying yourself with opening it and staring into the green landscape that draws under your eyes.

“Why’d you care?”

Lord Vader joins your side rather hesitantly. The question threatens to knock his pride down, albeit a broken one. Yet, exhausted as he is of this endless torment that has been following him for years, he shrugs his shoulders.

“Why do you assume I do?”

“You would not have asked had you not”, you answer softly.

The two stay in silence for some time. Vader studies you, seeing you are affected by his presence. When reading your thoughts, he finds the answer he’s been looking for. Yet, at the same time the Sith Lord finds himself an intrude to your intimate self. As intrigued as he is to read you more, he wants to earn your trust.

Well, well. To get to this point would make him frown, but he instead looks away and says:

“You are too good for this world, Y/N. It’s better for you to ignore the aspects that make it bad.”

You cast him a puzzled look at him. Your eyes notice his hard features, his clenched jaw, the flaring yellow eyes that contain a well filled with dark waters. Vader feels you, senses your silent observations, though surprised he is before your lack of judgement to what you see.

“You are being kind”, you divert away. “My neighbors once thought like you too.”

Vader turns his face at you. His eyebrows are raised when saying:

“What could possibly make them change their minds about you?”

You roll your eyes before his sarcastic remark.

“How about me isolating in an old, abandoned castle? They don’t know I am occupied with you. Even if they did, this would only reinforce the legend of the old maid.”

To your dismay, Vader throws his head and laughs. Now reclining against the wall, he stares at you in disbelief.

“No way. They shall bite their tongues for such a vile accusation.”

“Mock it as you wish. It is easier for you to say.” And for the first time since he met you, he spots a vulnerability in you.

Which sensibilizes him.

“Y/N.”

“They are all dead, I know.” It’s when you burst into tears. “I have no one. Absolutely no one. And my father is not coming back, that my heart knows.”

Vader pulls you into a hug, moved by your suffering. It’s not that different from his, in certain ways.

“That is not true, Y/N.” He whispers so only you can hear. “You still have all of me.”

***

It starts to rain. Vader watches as you go back to your old singing, bubbly and merry self. A sight he is most content to see.

“You have an unique talent, Y/N”, he tells you out of sudden.

You nearly jump away, not seeing he’d been there for a while. You try not to look away, but the heat in your face betrays you. Which only makes him smile wide, of course.

“And what that would be, sir?”

“Please, don’t call me sir.”

“Very well then. How should I call you?”

Vader pauses for a second.

“Skyguy will do. Didn’t we agree this was how I wanted to be called?”

“Skyguy it is. But you were saying about my unique talent?”

Vader chuckles lightly.

“That you manage to mend broken things and bring them to life. This castle was completely terrifying months ago.”

You sigh dramatically before giving him the look.

“And look at you. Your wounds are completely healed”, you remark proudly of your efforts. “If I remember well, you called me a owner of primitive soul. And this primitive soul let you live.”

Vader shakes his head as if you are unbelievable.

“Really now, Y/N? I was referring to the castle.”

“And yet”, you shorten the distance between you two, going as far as taking his hand into yours. “You made so much to me as well, Skyguy. Whatever your past is, I am giving you the present.”

Though he knows you mean something else, his heart cannot but skip a beat. Vader, a Sith Lord, has been captivated by a peasant girl. He tries to remove his hand of yours, but as he does so, he in fact interlocks his fingers with yours.

“You don’t know about me to say such a thing.” His voice comes out a whisper.

“I know enough.”

You don’t know what moves you, but before you know, you are the one holding his face with your delicate fingers. Pulling you against you, you tip toe to kiss your lips against his.

Although he resists you at first, something about the urge of your heart translated to your body melts his defenses.

It is useless to fight you, dear one.

So Vader holds your frame against his. It has been some time, a long while, in fact, since he’d done this. He always loved one woman and it is so strange he is now besotted with another.

Your scent drives him insane. As your tongue dominates his, he feels he is about to lose grip of his control. Next thing you both know is that he pins you against the wall and almost instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist, your hands moving impatiently from his face to his short hair, down to his neck and resting over his shoulders, helping tossing away his vine cape.

He is rigid underneath his pants, he can feel you are burning for him. But as both of you catch your breath and he sees something he has not seen before, he hesitates.

“What is it?”, you ask softly. “My darling…”

“No.” He comes back to reason and steps back, much to your frustration. A wave of conflict sentiments washes over him. “No. I cannot do this.”

“What?” You try not to sound hurt as he begins to grow distant from you. “Skyguy…”

Frustrated, he turns his head and yells at you:

“I am not Skyguy! I am Darth Vader, Y/N! I am a Sith Lord and I am a monster! Get out of here whilst you can!”

You freeze. His eyes go back to the flaring tone that you’ve grown used to. Yet, they seem far frightening now that you see them burning in rage. You, however, remain where you are.

“No”, your voice breaks. “I am not going anywhere.”

“I am commanding you to!”, he raises his hand, but does not do a thing to you.

You realize he’s been scared. You do not need to think too much before connecting the dots: he’s been the one behind the Emperor to cause this bloody war that took away your family.

But why do you not feel angry to him? And it appears that Lord Vader is asking himself the same question since you are actually moving forward.

“Your heart’s been broken before as was mine. One thing I know, Darth Vader, which I’ve learned from that Jedi and Sith book you’ve disdained recently, was that fear leads to anger which leads to suffering.”

You gently take his hand, seeing how baffled he is as you show tranquility in your speech.

“Whomever you loved, whomever you lost, I am not here to replace them. I know I am insignificant: I am obscure, plain and poor. I am seen as a madwoman who lost all by her neighbors. Indeed, one might ask what could I possibly offer to the mighty Darth Vader.” You smile at his perplexity.

“I take you as you are, sir. I am not asking you to renegade yourself. I am not pleading you to pretend there had never been a past. I don’t care what you’d done. You are here. I am here. What is done cannot be fixed, but what we can do is what matters.”

Vader does not realize he’s been brought to tears until his knees go weak and you embrace him. It is a funny contrast to observe: a handsome lord in his dark robes and a peasant lass in white ones.

And there you remain.

***

You detest storms. As you contemplate the lightenings forming in the skies, the thunders that rip out the darkest clouds, a shiver runs in your skin before you close the window.

It is time to go to bed. You are emotionally weary after the confrontation you had with Darth Vader. You don’t need much to uncover his past: he’d been the great Jedi Anakin Skywalker who descended into darkness.

As you brush your long locks, dressed in a nightgown, you start to wonder if it’s selfish not to care about what he’d done or who he’d been with.

Or is it the wanting to be loved that clouds the reason? Maybe he’s been playing with my heart so I cannot escape the truth concerning his nature? But, oh, I’ve dived into those flaring yellow eyes and haven’t gotten myself burnt.

Has love shielded you thus? Or perhaps has made you a fool? You barely have time to contemplate it as you hear a knock on the door that startles you. You stand and grab some old robes to throw over your nightgown and move to open the door. You find Darth Vader right in front of you.

“I want you, Y/N”.

There is little need for excuses as you welcome him in his arms, his lips clashing against yours. You sigh in content as his body pursuits yours, his agitated hands removing your robes, the eager in his

Vader uses the Force to close the door as he leads the way to your bed. All the whilst he kisses you, your hands hesitantly push away his vine cape, working to remove his shirt, tossing away over his head before both of you collapse in bed.

“What took you so long?”, you ask him softly, pulling him over your body, your fingertips moving from his arms to his shoulders and chest before going upper his neck and resting in his hair.

“My pride prevented me from doing so”, he mutters under his breath, gently laying you down once he helps removing your nightgown. “You are so beautiful, Y/N.”

You blush at his words and Vader smiles at you for it. He leans forward to peck your lips before moving his to your jawline and neck, busying his hands with your body.

“Oh my!”, you sigh in content, though for a moment you do not know what to do. It’s not as if you have been with many men—in fact there had only been one you’ve been with and…

“My love”, Vader pauses when sensing the rise of your insecurities. “What is wrong?”

You cast him a fond glance as to how he addresses you, but the concern in his face forces you to concentrate in the present.

“There is something… I would like to discuss with you.”

He is on his elbows, waiting patiently. Seeing there is no judgement in his eyes, you feel at ease to confide him what troubles your mind. Once you do, Vader leans to kiss your lips as to reassure you this is not something he’s concerned with.

“You are mine”, you smile at his possessiveness towards you, which you come to find that mirrors the same sentiment you’ve been harboring these past months. “What happened before me is of little importance. We are together now, little one.”

He is not asking and Vader almost smiles at how you take pride of his words.

“Yes, sir. We are.” You kiss his lips hungrily. “We belong together and I do not plan to let you go.”

You tangle him with your legs and ensure to make your point by switching positions, alluring your lover how you suddenly earn confidence towards him, which pleases him to see.

You part the kiss to explore his neck, leaving traces of bruises as you move low. Vader groans in pleasure, not protesting under your loving caresses… although when you slide to the between of his legs, he is indeed surprised at your bold moves.

“Y/N… You don’t have to do so if you do not want it.”

“Your manhood seems to disagree, my lord”, you whisper as you grip his erection and make it gentle moves up and down.

The fact you are aroused by doing it turns him on. Once thought to be a machine, Darth Vader has been brought to life again. He is Anakin Skywalker once more as when he is with you. A deed only one woman had seen before.

***

You like when he’s dominating you, how he slaps your buttocks—as gently as it is— or wraps his hand around your neck. There is no soft side of you here and Vader enjoys seeing your darkness meeting his.

“Fuck”, he growls under his breath as his thrusts harder, matching your hips with his.

“It feels so good”, you moan, digging your fingers into his back, pulling him closer—as if possible—against you. “Seed me, love. Give me your seed.”

When his eyes meet yours, you notice how softened the yellow irises are… You think you spot some shade of blue behind them, but you are not sure. Whatever this is, you find handsome to contemplate. You cup his face and kiss his lips fervently.

“I love you”, you brush your lips against his.

“Y/N…” He hesitates at first, but can he resist you? When looking at a mess he made of you, he knows resistance is inutile now. “I love you. Is this what you want?”

“Yes. Sith Lord or not…” You speak between moans, arousing him further, completely breathless. “You are mine, Darth Vader.”

And that is how both of you reach the climax together, in an incomparable and unique synchronic move.

***

One question remains, though. As Vader watches you sleep, cuddled against him, he wonders how could a woman who knows so little of the Force, less so of Jedis and Siths love him.

As he wraps some of the curls of your hair around his finger, a question is posed: what side will he choose, you or the Sith? A question he now knows it is too cursed to avoid it.

Staring into the familiar darkness, is the existence of Darth Vader compromised? He sighs, pulling a blanket over your bodies, refusing to answer such questions.

For now, peace is enough. For now, the castle suffices his needs. You are his world, which only reinforces the balance of the Force.

For now.

***

Epilogue.

As you watch Luke and Leia play with his father, a sight that makes your heart skip a beat, you are barely able to believe how far you both have come.

“In the end Padmé was right”, you hear Obi-Wan telling you. “There was good in him.”

“There had always been, sir.”, you respond him with a smile on your face.

Obi-Wan smiles back at you, eyes still tearful.

“Thank you, miss Y/N. Thank you.”

You haven’t done much really, so you protest the attribution you earned for bringing Anakin Skywalker back to life. What had happened was that you merely healed him using what you had: simplicity, knowledge of verbs and…love when you fell hard for him.

The man you knew as Darth Vader eventually confronted his dark past when Inquisitors paid you a rather unwelcome visit. There had been a great fight. He was forced to leave to resolve this matter once for all and you were obliged to spend a few months living in secrecy.

Once Emperor Palpatine was defeated, though, and the Empire was dissolved, there were no more Siths to deal with. Anakin came back to surface, even though his Vader side never really disappeared. He had only reached the balance proving for all why he was the chosen one.

It was only then he came for you. By then, you had known the fate of your father: he was kept hostage under forces of the Empire but was eventually released only to die half way home. You wept at his funeral, but you never felt truly alone. Not when Vader was with you.

During this period, you two got married and you found out you were carrying his child. It was also when Vader reassumed his identity as Anakin and sought ways to amend his relationship with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. Which eventually led him to his twins.

And now here you are. Though not intending to replace Padmé Amidala, you did become a sort of maternal figure for those twins. You are very close to them. And they are now looking after their younger sister whom you named Amidala in her honor.

You watch the new scenario right under your eyes. A happy ending is all you’ve wanted and as Anakin flashes you a proudly smile, inviting you to join them, you know this is what he deserves too…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker #darth vader #Darth Vader smut #unburnt Darth Vader #unburnt Vader #Darth Vader x you #Darth Vader x y/n #Darth Vader x female reader

230 notes · View notes

blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

Photo

La tradition est un choix, un murmure des temps anciens et du futur. Elle me dit qui je suis. Elle me dit que je suis de quelque part. Je suis du pays de l’arbre et de la forêt, du chêne et du sanglier, de la vigne et des toits pentus, des chansons de geste et des contes de fées, du solstice d’hiver et de la Saint-Jean d’été, des enfants blonds et des regards clairs, de l’action opiniâtre et des rêves fous, des conquêtes et de la sagesse. Je suis du pays où l’on fait ce que l’on doit parce qu’on se doit d’abord à soi-même. Voilà pourquoi je suis un cœur rebelle. Rebelle par fidélité.

- Dominique Venner, Le cœur rebelle, Les Belles Lettres (1994)

A french master of hounds reminiscing at the end of the day of a hunt. Photo by Sarah Farnsworth.

#venner #dominique venner #quote #tradition #rebel #customs #heritage #society #hunting #hunt #huntsman #french #culture #european #countryside #rural living #sarah farnsworth

70 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 4 months

Text

Lil WIP of Chapter 15 because I guess each plot arc starts with a flashback

Primo [Irving] returns to the Ministry to follow through on his mother's final wish. He decides to stay for just a few days. Until he figures things out. Tags: Young Primo, Satanic Panic, 1970s Horror, Mystery Noir

Chapter 15: I Wanna Be Your Dog Comes Out Soon (Full Fic Here)

1972

They told Irving to wait, so he did. He watched the nun with pretty eyes and a firm walk sway down the hallway and out of sight, her heels echoing across the wide expanse of marble. He hadn't been to the Ministry since he was around ten, and even a decade on it felt just as huge as it was in his memory.

“Only for a few days,” he muttered to no one. Well, it wasn't no one, exactly. He adjusted the urn on his hip. Sister Nance, or at least what remained of her earthly vessel, had been there this entire time. When he packed up his car with items from the apartment he was certain he'd get evicted from. When he parked behind the diner. She was there, and he talked to her. “I'm leaving you here, then I'll be gone. But I'll stay just a few days.”

Nance had not spoken much about the Ministry with any enthusiasm until she got sick. Then it felt like that was all she could remember. She spoke about the grounds, the chores and how much she loved the garden there. She pulled memories from Primo that had long been buried by time. She said when she was there the words of her poetry poured out of her. The Void provided that, she said. It moved underfoot across the hallowed land, flowing deep below the Earth, eternal currents of limitless potential.

Ever since she left she said it was a struggle to write. Or, at least in her fading months, she felt that that was the case. She wanted to be there, after death, in the perpetual tides of creativity that ebbed and flowed from the Void itself.

He stood there for a few minutes more, debating how obedient he was going to be today. Perhaps if he walked just a few feet down the hallway, he would at least see if anyone was on their way and hurry back. He had a vague memory of the kitchen garden, of the cell he'd share with his father on his extended summer stays. Maybe a quick wander was in order, if only to see how the place had changed.

Irving strode a few feet down the hallway, admiring the sweep of stone archways overhead, the fifty year old hanging iron lamps fashioned to resemble globes nestled in batwings and claws. Through the walls he heard a bell ring from a distant tower, calling the congregation to what, he was unsure. He remembered a television program he saw, about some sort of convent or orphanage or someplace equally gothic and ecclesiastical. An orderly line of nuns in severe headwear processed while a bell rang. He thought back to his memories of his beatnik mother and wondered why on earth she ever thought that life to be appealing.

“L'amour est un oiseau rebelle, Que nul ne peut apprivoiser….”

A woman’s voice drifted down the hall. It was a familiar tune, from some origin unknown to Irving. It was one of those classical refrains, something that hinted at refinement and high art. He himself had the most crude understanding of both of those things, and yet the sound lured him forward.

“Et c'est l'autre que je préfère…Il n'a rien dit mais il me plaît…”

Like a dutiful beast he moved towards the sound, stopping in front of a closed set of doors. Should he…open it? Couldn't hurt, he reasoned as he teased the door open. Worst case he could pretend to be lost.

A figure stood silhouetted against the crown glass panes of the choir room. It was a tall woman nestled in a luxurious red silk cape, her blonde hair thick and long down her back. As she sung to herself her hands were outstretched, longing. The gloves were tipped with bronze claws, flashing as the fingers beckoned an imaginary lover.

“Si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime…Si je t'aime prends garde à toi…Prends garde à toi!”

She finished her song, chuckling to herself. Her voice was deep, low. It had a timbre to it that made Irving draw closer. She must have felt his approach, for as he stepped into the room she turned to face him.

He saw her skull.

He took a step back, jarred by the stark white on black. For an instant he thought it was her true face, but then after a few stunned blinks he realized it was a visage painted on her skin.

The eye was real though.

The whitened eye with the pinhole iris, staring. Dead but living, a step away from reality.

The Eye Knew more about him than he did himself.

The woman had an air of surprise that settled into a conspiratorial smirk. The eye burned. “Are you lost?”

“I think so. Sorry to disturb—”

“You did not disturb me at all,” she said. “I'm always available for my flock.”

“I'm not…actually…”

“Interloper then?” She stepped towards him with small movements of her feet that gave the impression of her gliding across the floor like a phantom. “Even better.”

She peered into him and seemed to drink up his silence, privately entertained by his puzzled expression. By the fact that even as horror flashed across his face, his feet moved him towards her. “I…am Mater Emerita Jocasta. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh.” Irving felt his face burning, and he knew from this point forward anything he said would sound stupid. “Is that…important?”

“What, the fact that I am the spiritual leader of this Church, Provider of our UnHoly Relic of the Void, Queen of Hell herself or the idea that I am pleased to meet you?”

“…both?”

She tilted her head with elegance. “I am more pleased to meet you.”

“I've come to…well…” he gestured to the urn under his arm. “My mother loved her time here.”

The Papessa’s brow furrowed, realizing with a soft frown. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“It's okay.” He smiled crookedly. “At least we got the ‘Meeting the family’ part out of the way.”

Jocasta paused. Her eyes widened, then she smiled broadly, her teeth almost bared. “You! Fiend!”

They shared a gentle laugh together. “What else can I do,” Irving said. “I'm Irving. Irving Olson.”

“I was certain your name was Primo,” she said. “You are Nihil's son are you not? You stoop like him. Pretending you aren't tall.”

“You were expecting me?”

Jocasta scoffed. “Nihil has done nothing but talk about you lately! You've come here to stay?”

“No…” Irving looked down, feeling a small smile on his face. “Are you and Nihil…”

“Close? Friends, yes. He is my mentor,” Jocasta said. Her face dropped into a smirk. She brought her hand up to the side of his head, drawing across his jaw with a single bronze nail. Irving felt the electricity shoot down his nerves through the touch of the cold metal across his face. “I prefer younger men,” she purred.

“I'm a musician too,” Irving blurted out for reasons beyond his own understanding. “Guitar. I sing…a little.”

“Oh? Runs in the family,” Jocasta said. “Your father inspired me to join. My first night in New York City, I see him play at a bar…” She sighed, wistful. “Haunting. Thrilling. I got off of one bus and onto another, bound for here.”

“But you did opera previously.” Primo found himself stepping closer to her, now nearly in her arms, growing in confidence.

“I was raised in it,” she said. “Throw a rock in Vienna and you will find an opera singer. It’s not that remarkable.”

The door opened and four figures stepped into the choir room. They were uniformed in black, their faces concealed by ominous metal masks. They didn’t settle on their feet like a human did, rather they simply stood there, hands lowered, their eyes shaded in shadow. “Yes, of course,” Jocasta said, as if replying to an unheard voice.

Primo held the urn a bit more tightly. “Who are they?”

“Oh them? Demons.” Her eyes narrowed in amusement. “Mass is shortly. You…and your mother are invited, of course. You get to see what I’m capable of. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I guess it would,” he replied. “I'm not staying here long.”

Irving thought he saw the smallest gesture of a lip bite. Of a seductive peek of the tip of her tongue across her painted lips. “Of course you're not. What is a few days anyway?”

He felt a sudden reluctance to leave.

#papa emeritus i #ghost fanfiction #young primo

7 notes · View notes

nemosisworld · 1 year

Text

Envahis-moi comme une armée Prends mes plaines, prends mes collines Les parcs, les palais, les salines Les soirs, les songes, les fumées.

Montre-moi comme tu es belle Autant qu’un meurtre et qu’un complot Mieux que la bouche formant l’O Plus qu’un peuple qui se rebelle.

Louis Aragon

77 notes · View notes

seventeen02 · 5 months

Text

favorite movies !

say you love me

a moment of romance

in blow

scarface

life is beautiful

death in venice

purple noon

mr and mrs smith

hackers

leon

girl interrupted

in the mood for love

days being wild

fallen angel

the beautiful person

the apartment

fuyajo

the black swan

the godfather 2

my own private idaho

two lovers under one roof

the scent of green papaya

vertical ray of the sun

stealing beauty

teorema

call me by your name

bonnie and clyde

fight club

kill bill

city of the rising sun

wheels of ashes

fruit of paradise

floating clouds

ghosts

inception

x movie

ley lines

the brown bunny

american psycho

platonic sex

last night in soho

emma

pride and prejudice

red lights

the dreamers

the wind rises

closer

six in paris

mermaids

garden state

on the occasion of remembering the turning gate

the doom generation

the girl on the motorcycle

open house

the place without limits

ratatouille

twin peaks

before sunrise

malèna

possession

all about lily chou chou

bride for rip van winkle

the lover

amelie

rebels of the neon god

as tears go by

a moment to remember

the hot spot

less than zero

edward scissorhands

eyes wide shut

un homme et une femme

the story of adele h

the last mistress

billboard dad

metropolitan

the pillow book

singles

la la land

mirrored mind

fatal frame

and then we danced

dear ex

tune in for love

one fine spring day

reality bites

running on empty

millennium mambo

lost and found

who's the woman, who's the man

mulholland drive

Jess + Moss

swallowtail butterfly

dorian gray

durian durian

hana & alice

40 days and 40 nights

l'amour braque

picnic

to each is own

guilty of romance

vagabond

city of madness

three times

mary is happy mary is happy

comet

sleepless town

like someone in love

hausu

house

46 okunen no koi

2046

l'enfer

cloud atlas

old boy

mystery train

the odd one dies

kedi

l'amour l'apres-midi

fire on the black hand side

le bonheur

fantastic planet

mirror

belladonna of sadness

daisies

lost highway

sweet movie

pearl

heathers

moulin rouge

suspiria

the rich man's wife

requiem for a dream

the others

return of the living dead

dracula

interview with the vampire

wir kinder vom bahnof zoo

le mepris

chi-n-pi-ra

chungking express

ashes and snow

shuttering island

the grand budapest hotel

the young girls of rochefort

the florida project

the edge of love

irreversible

crash

gone girl

bullet ballet

of love and shadows

minari

galaxy express 999

audition

lan yu

silsila

belle de jour

taal

dead or alive

videodrama

lost in translation

washington square

soulmate

summer lovers

barbarella

snake of june

a woman under the influence

mysterious skin

red eye

happy together

the walk

brick

l.a. confidental

love & pop

linda linda linda

swing girls

nana

the lover

hirugao

helter sketler

suzhou river

kaili blues

kamikaze girls

valerie and her week of wonders

comrades, almost a love story

naked lunch

endless love

whiplash

taxi driver

vivre sa vie

la collectionneuse

dog day afternoon

night in paradise

my mister

my name

better days

himizu

first love, letter on the breeze

split of the spirit

one million yen girl

juncchi mori

la belle

ITSAY

mermaid legend

blue spring

badlands

marie antoinette

aftersun

brokeback mountain

portrait of lady on fire

nostos: the return

shiki-jitsu

farewell my concubine

constantine

never let me go

bones and all

paris is burning

trouble everyday

memories of matsuko

pierrot le feu

taipei story

blue velvet

a woman is a woman

buffalo 66

the love witch

valley of dolls

the rocky horror picture show

7 notes · View notes

lisaalmeida · 1 year

Text

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui lit, d’une femme qui ressent trop, d’une femme qui écrit…

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme cultivée, magicienne, délirante, folle.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui pense, qui sait ce qu’elle sait et qui, en plus, sait voler ; une femme sûre d’elle-même.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui rit ou qui pleure en faisant l’amour, qui sait convertir sa chair en esprit ; et encore moins d’une qui aime la poésie (celles-là sont les plus dangereuses), ou qui s’attarde une demie heure en fixant un tableau, ou qui ne sait pas comment vivre sans musique.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui s’intéresse à la politique, qui soit rebelle et qui a le vertige devant l'immense horreur des injustices. Une qui aime les jeux de foot et de baseball et qui n’aime absolument pas regarder la télévision. Ni d’une femme qui est belle peu importe les traits de son visage ou les caractéristiques de son corps.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme ardente, ludique, lucide et irrévérencieuse.

Ne t'imagine pas tomber amoureux de ce genre de femme.

Car, si d’aventure tu tombes amoureux d’une femme pareille, qu’elle reste ou pas avec toi, qu’elle t’aime ou pas, d’elle, d’une telle femme, JAMAIS on ne revient.

Martha Rivera Garrido

24 notes · View notes

bobmorane · 6 months

Text

« Exister, c’est combattre ce qui me nie. Être rebelle, ce n’est pas collectionner des livres impies, rêver de complots fantasmagoriques ou de maquis dans les Cévennes. C’est être à soi-même sa propre norme. S’en tenir à soi quoi qu’il en coûte. Veiller à ne jamais guérir de sa jeunesse. Préférer se mettre tout le monde à dos que se mettre à plat ventre. Pratiquer aussi en corsaire et sans vergogne le droit de prise. Piller dans l’époque tout ce que l’on peut convertir à sa norme, sans s’arrêter sur les apparences. Dans les revers, ne jamais se poser la question de l’inutilité d’un combat perdu. »

Dominique Venner Le Cœur rebelle, Les Belles Lettres, 1994, réédition Pierre-Guillaume de Roux, 2014

7 notes · View notes

jeanchrisosme · 10 months

Text

Elle est comme ça. Têtue, fière, mais fragile. Tellement fragile. Elle ne pleurait devant personne, et s'effondrait seulement le soir quand elle était seule, et que ses démons revenaient se faire sentir. Elle est comme, ça.. Belle, rebelle, ambitieuse, têtue, fière. Et pourtant tellement fragile.

#relation #fragile #quotes #citation

13 notes · View notes

transparentgentlemenmarker · 1 year

Text

Dans le film “La Crise” de Coline Serreau sorti en 1992, l’actrice Maria Pacôme se rebelle contre ses enfants, joués par Vincent Lindon et Zabou

Maria Pacôme est morte le 1er décembre 2018 à l’âge de 94 ans

ainsi que l’a annoncé son fils François. Si les plus jeunes ne connaissent pas forcément le nom ou le visage de cette comédienne qui fit les belles heures du théâtre de boulevard, beaucoup se souviennent de sa bonne humeur et de ses rôles dans « Les Tribulations d’un Chinois en Chine », de Philippe de Broca, « Les Sous-doués », de Claude Zidi ou « Le Gendarme de Saint-Tropez ». Mais c’est la réalisatrice Coline Serreau qui offrit son plus beau rôles à Maria Pacôme qui, en quelques répliques et une apparition furtive, aura marqué pour toujours de son empreinte ce film dans lequel, en mère de Vincent Lindon, elle crève l'écran, et qui qui lui valu sa nomination aux César 1993 comme meilleure actrice dans un second rôle. « J'ai repassé vos chemises, lavé vos slips, surveillé vos études. Je me suis fait des monceaux de bile, je n'ai vécu que pour vous, qu'à travers vous. »

« Tes problèmes de boulot, tes problèmes avec ta femme, tes problèmes de fric, tes problèmes en général et en particulier, moi ta mère, je m'en fous comme de l'an quarante, tu m'entends ? Je m'en fous, mais alors je m'en fous, je peux pas te dire à quel point je m'en fous. Je n'en ai vraiment rien, rien, rien à foutre. » Dans ce films aux dialogues brillants, Maria Pacôme, sexagénaire fraîchement séparée après des années de charge mentale familiale, fait elle-même sa crise. Pour la première fois, elle balance à ses enfants son ras le bol de mère au foyer à laquelle on ne confie que ses problèmes sans se soucier des siens. Les courses, le foyer, son mari..., la senior nouvelle génération envoie tout valser pour vivre, enfin, sa propre existence. En 1993, la tirade fait mouche, et restera culte tant elle choque les uns en même temps qu’elle libère bien des frustrations enfouies chez les femmes en pleine émancipation.

« Pendant trente ans je vous ai torchés, nourris, couchés, levés, consolés, tous les trois. J'ai repassé vos chemises, lavé vos slips, surveillé vos études. Je me suis fait des monceaux de bile, je n'ai vécu que pour vous, qu'à travers vous. J'ai écouté toutes vos histoires, vos problèmes et vos chagrins, sans jamais vous emmerder avec les miens. Alors maintenant, je prends ma retraite. Toi, il te reste une longue vie devant toi pour résoudre ta crise ; moi il me reste très peu de temps pour résoudre la mienne. Alors tu permettras que pour une fois je m'occupe de mes affaires avant les tiennes

#la crise #cinéma français #cinéma #maria pacôme

22 notes · View notes

jamie-007 · 1 year

Text

Excellente nuit 🌟 🌟 🌟 💋

"Ne tombe pas amoureux.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui lit, d’une femme qui ressent trop, d’une femme qui écrit.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme cultivée, magicienne, délirante, folle.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui pense, qui sait ce qu’elle sait et qui, en plus, peut s’envoler;

une femme sûre d’elle-même.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui rit ou qui pleure en faisant l’amour, qui sait convertir sa chair en esprit;

Et encore moins d’une qui aime la poésie (celles-là sont les plus dangereuses), ou qui s’attarde une demie heure en fixant un tableau, ou qui ne sait pas vivre sans musique.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme qui s’intéresse à la politique et qui soit rebelle et qui s’abime dans une immense horreur a l’égard des injustices.

Une qui aime les jeux de foot et de baseball et qui n’aime absolument pas regarder la télévision.

Ni d’une femme qui est belle peu importe les traits de son visage ou les caractéristiques de son corps.

Ne tombe pas amoureux d’une femme intense, ludique et lucide et irrévérencieuse.

Veille à ne pas tomber amoureux d’une femme de la sorte.

Car, si d’aventure tu tombes amoureux d’une femme pareille, qu’elle reste ou pas avec toi, qu’elle t’aime ou pas, d’elle, d’une telle femme, jamais on ne revient."

Martha Rivera Garrido"

14 notes · View notes

phoeebsbuffay · 1 year

Text

Imagine you are a peasant who happens to save Darth Vader after his meeting with Ahsoka left him unconscious—and you have no idea who this man is. Part I.

Warnings: drama, unburnt Vader, angst—but fluffy endings as always, naturally.

Warnings 2: not recommended for minors or those who are sensitive to the themes aforementioned.

Warnings 3: slightly/loosely inspired in “La Belle et la Bête” (the one with Léa Seydoux).

Warnings 4: references to the “Rebels”, final episode season 2.

Recommendations: “This Love” by Taylor Swift; “These Days” by Foo Fighters.

***

Intro.

You are a daughter of a local merchant who is widely respected by the village that is located somewhere at the planet Y/C. You have two oldest brothers, being the youngest and only girl of the family.

You love reading. Books are a great passion of yours and your father, though he is not a man of great possessions, doubles his efforts in gifting you these seeing as precious as they are to him.

You delight in your father, he is your only family you have: your mother died in childbirth so you never met her. You are very attached to your family, devouting yourself to him. However, these are days of wars. You already lost one brother to the clonic wars and now that the Empire is rising again, another joins it.

It is you and your father until he is summoned to make a long journey to a far away part of the planet. So he leaves you instructions to take care of the household in your absence.

“If anything the neighbors will look after you”.

Back then, you are no more than six and ten summers of age. Despite your fears, you are eager to prove him you are as fierce and brave as your brothers.

“You will be proud of me, papa”, you tell him. “I will be able to take care of myself.”

He smiles at you, though uncertainty lies in his eyes. To leave a damsel such as yourself behind… it does cost him a great deal. But encouraged by you, the older man eventually aquiesces.

“I promise you, my dear, that I will come back as soon as I can.”

He assures you, placing a kiss over your temple. You say goodbye to each other, but as you wave, wishing him luck, you are struck with a bad feeling that he is never to return again.

***

Ten years later.

Empire rises and, as result, violence emerges. Yet, though you despise it, you learn to live in the shadows, far from getting in the sight of the stormtroopers. These are the men who serve Emperor Palpatine and are always present in your life, ensuring there are no rebellions against his power.

You know very little about it, though you do wonder about your father’s whereabouts. Where did he go? Why hasn’t he sent you any letter? The first years were moved by anxiety, with you trying to do all you could to find about him. But now you accept he is gone.

As you carry on with your life, you start teaching local younglings all the whilst you dismiss potential suitors. A young woman such as yourself should not live by yourself, you are often told. You smile and often are agreeable, but you bow to no one.

Such has been the quietitude you surround your life with: living on your own, reading books, teaching in order to pay your bills, making charities… Until one day your life turns an upside down. Not too far from where you are, an explosion is heard.

You, who often preferrers to be far from trouble, are somehow attracted to it.

“Miss Y/N! What you are doing? That tower over there was under attack of the Sith.”

You have read very little about Sith or Jedi, but you don’t care. What do you have to lose? Instead you smile and dismiss the concerns of others.

“It’s fine, Mr H/N. I am just checking if someone is hurt. The explosion might have hurt people there. I am not taking very long, I promise you.”

And that is how you don’t come back to people’s eyes again.

***

Lord Vader is unconscious, almost engulfed by flames that resulted from his conflict with Ahsoka. His former Padawan, the one whom he trained and was attached to… Seems to overcome him little by little. She is now his equal in many ways, as if they are two sides of the same coin.

“Vengeance is not the Jedi way.”

“I am no Jedi”.

And here he is. Defeated is not the right word for his situation, though when Lord Vader starts to open his eyes, he removes his broken helmet instantly. He coughs, weakened by the smoke, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck”, he curses under his breath, his curls dropping over his face as he tries to stand. “Fuck!”

Fire starts to spread in a clear point of explosion. The Sith Lord, however in pain he might be, manages to leave the destruction spot he’d been engulfed after a long battle with Ahsoka.

To stand amidst the ashes requests more than abusing of his physical force, which is limited…far more than he likes to admit, restraining it to scarce moves, is a task no broken pride bends to it willingly.

Yet, he rises. But at what cost? What did he lose? His mind is purged by its demons and his soul is tormented by an endless path of suffering. Accostumed to it, though, Lord Vader clenches his jaw as he slowly escape through the flames that seem to refuse to let go of its prey.

He coughs. Will the simply smoke wipe out the existence of the great Darth Vader? The mere idea makes him snort…and it costs his stability. He grows weaker and his eyes are blurred. The more effort he puts in it, the harder it gets for him.

Death does not seem to be so welcoming now. Not when the demons seem close to stretch their claws to grip his soul. It is only fair they do, so he thinks to himself.

His pride, however, accuses him of weakness: is he going to let it go this easily? Is he accepting the flames under the excuse to purge his sins?

His mind begins to get unclear. Words are dissociate of his own control. No more than being the phantom of a great Jedi, the existence of this great villain seems to cease to exist.

And his last words are:

“Forgive me, Padmé.”

But when he collapses, he does not so into the ground, rather so in somebody else’s arms. And his eyes finally close before making this last assumption: perhaps his late wife finally came for his rescue.

***

You are baffled by how you are able to carry a taller and heavier man in your arms to some nearby abandoned castle. It does exhaust you, though, but you are amazed by how you managed to carry him somewhere safe. And far more so to see how this castle is completely left to dust.

“Well, looks like I have a lot to do here”, you sigh in content. Your years in solitude have been boring to say the least and here’s an opportunity to make yourself useful.

You start cleaning the quarters where the unconscious man is going to stay. You do so rather quickly, removing the dust of it and making his bed proper to sleep. As you leave him there, you go to your own household and fetch your cleaning things—besides new pillows, blankets—before going back and assuring this castle is back to life.

It is rather a heavier task you take to yourself, one of that kind that involves dealing with neighbors who want to meddle in your business; a lot of dust, and looking after this mysterious man.

And as you do, you are at first starstruck by the sand shade that colors his curls, the scar above his left eye—as well as other scars in his chest when you helped him change his clothes for more comfortable ones that you got from your elder brothers—, the strength of his physique… all of which makes you blush.

It is when he notices your long gaze, the contemplation coming from your messy thoughts—who is this stranger?; how come did he stop by in the midst of destruction places?; what brought him there; how handsome he is, almost an angel…—which makes him open his eyes wide and hold your wrist with quite some intensity that makes you scream.

“By the Maker!”

“Who the fuck are you?”, he inquires you impatiently. As he stands, you realize how tall this stranger is, which makes you pale—specially when realizing his eyes are yellow. “Where am I? What are you doing to me?! Answer me!”

“S-Sir! I am not someone important! Please, Sir. I… I am just helping you! I took you out of the ashes and…”

Vader narrows his eyes as he reads into your thoughts. He is tempted to suffocate you: he does wrap his hand around your neck, but when pulling you closer, he discovers everything about you.

Yet, for some reason unbeknownst to him, his eyes scan your y/c eyes, your y/c skin, your y/c hair, eyeing up and down the simple gown you dress. You detest to feel the heat that paints your cheeks, but to his surprise you don’t run from his intent gaze.

“Very well, Y/N.” He lets go of you and when feeling exhaustion taking over you, he is surprised—so are you—when you help him take a seat. “Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t know.” You answer sincerely, your body shaking of fear despite the bold there is in your eyes.

An interesting contrast, so judges Vader. He lets go of you.

“You may leave”, so he demands, back to the bed he notices has been poorly cleaned. Vader takes a look at this wounds, noticing the bandage there had been none before.

“No”, your voice comes out softly, but your words are firm.

Vader is rarely surprised but you manage to get his attention. Others in your position would be thankful for the opportunity to be dismissed of his presence.

“What do you mean by “no”? I am not asking you to stay”, says he rudely.

“I heard very well in the first time. There is no need to say it again.”

Vader looks at you, perplexed. He could have killed you, but your courage earns him some degree of admiration—though he is not admitting that out loud.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No”, you answer sincerely, all the more getting from him perplexed expressions. “Should I?”

“I am dangerous”, he warns you.

You know he is willing to play that game. But what is more surprising is that you are prompted to play it.

“I can tell that. But you are also wounded, sir. Let me tend you, and after that…”

Vader shakes his head, his eyes glinting in between amusement and annoyance.

“Get out of here, I am saying one last time! I can kill you.”

“You can”, you agree with a small smirk twisting on the corner of your lips. “But you are also more likely to die if I don’t help you healing. Unless you have some ability to heal yourself?”

And that is how starts.

***

A week later.

Vader is pacing around this castle that, until recently, had been covered in dust, left to it’s complete abandonment. He perceives in the smallest details how the building has been carefully uncovered of darkness and local ignorance. He finds no need to discover that the locals thought this castle to be a residence of ghosts.

Considering whom he once was, Vader laughs quietly to himself. A beast to many, he was once a charming prince. The comparison draws him a disdain.

As he paces around this rather astonishing castle, detesting how his wounds are far deeper than he thought—which requires a more primitive medicine used by your skillful hands, something he takes no pleasure at—he comes to find you at an abandoned library.

To his surprise, you are humming as you clean shelf by shelf. Vader cannot look away from what he sees: your hair dropping in long waves of curls, the determination stamped in your features as you bite your bottom lip, looking at every book with delight. You do not content yourself with what you are doing, though: you want to know what stories lie behind the velvet covers.

Vader stands there, unnoticed. He is partially annoying by how you ignore him, unaware of his identity. Worse, you are not frightened by his presence, by the demons found in his eyes, assaulting his soul.

It is only when you twirl happily that you find him observing you.

“Staring is rude”, you point out rather shyly.

Vader is not going to admit he likes the heat that paints your face.

“Is it?”, his voice is soft for the first time.

“It is.”

There is silence hanging in between you two, which makes the whole moment awkward. It is then you notice the bandage you made in his arm is loose. So you move towards him, but when you try to fix it, he removes it away.

“Stop”, he says abruptly, threatening to suffocate you. “Or else you die.”

You levitate and your eyes go wide, but the fearlessness in them make Vader furrow his eyebrows and eventually let go of you.

“Please”, you ask him, softly so. “Let me heal you, sir.”

He snorts at you, yellow irises flaring with anger.

“I am not here to be fixed, Y/N. I am completely…” He interrupts himself, feeling a strange pain in his abs and arm.

“You nearly got yourself burned”, you tell him as you help him go back to bed. “Allow me to heal you.”

“There is better medicine to be put in use than yours”, he scoffs at you. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

You frown.

“I don’t like how you talk to me, sir. I am only trying to help you staying alive. If you feel like dying so soon, spare us time and let me know that is your true wish.”

The Sith Lord stares at you in bewilderment.

“Very few are bold to me. Those who dare to be so are not here to tell their tales.”

You sigh and shake your head. Ignoring what he is saying, you lie him down and start to looking after him.

Vader gives you a long look, annoyed, but says nothing—he is indeed in pain and, besides, you are not an entirely bad company.

“Why are you doing this?”, he asks.

You feel his gaze on you. But for some reason, you keep concentrated in what you are doing without looking back. It is safer for you, or so you think.

“Because I want to”, you respond him.

“Do you have no family?”

Vader knows it’s a sensitive topic by how you shuffle awkwardly on your seat. Your silence makes him sigh, so he tries again, unsure why he is trying to engage in a thread with you.

“You have no Force”, the Sith Lord observes.

You raise your head, frowning in confusion.

“What?”

For the first time in seven years, Darth Vader is brought to laughters. He gives you a quizzical look as a result:

“How on earth do you ignore the Force?”

You blush. Unaware of his disconcerting growth of admiration for you, you don’t understand why he is making yourself a fool. Part of you wonders if helping such a handsome man is worthy your time, but the good in you prevails such thinking. So you say:

“Excuse me, sir, but what do you take me for? I am but a peasant with scarce access to knowledge.”

“I thought you liked to read.”

Vader is amused for finally annoying you.

“And I do. But what does this have to do with anything?”

“I get you don’t read about that then.” Without taking second thoughts, Vader adds: “What do you often read?”

You cast him a distrustful look, but a smile softens your features. And as you look at him, you seem to start losing the fear of facing those yellow flaring eyes.

It’s how everything starts: with books.

(To be continue)

#star wars #star wars imagine #Darth Vader x female reader #Darth Vader x you #Darth Vader x y/n #Darth Vader #la belle et la bête #beauty and the beast #imagine Star Wars

126 notes · View notes