#covert jewellery

[esti3]

* *

NARUTO ** -

++** +:) LOVE ! LIT **!++

#playboi #playboi carti #naruto #fan edit #opium #playboicarti #narcissist #whole lotta red #covert narcissism #rapper #rap #love #i love you #dopeart #jewellery #black #baby #listen #rappers #helicopter #beauty #joy #lil uzi eternal atake #lil uzi vs the world #lil uzi vert #bad #heart #uzi #blog #good

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

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

Gen 1: The One

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

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

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

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

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

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

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

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

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

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

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

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

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

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

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

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

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

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

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

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

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

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

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

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

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

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

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

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

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

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

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

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

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

Have at least one child with the married sim.

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

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

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

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

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

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

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

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

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

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

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

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

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

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

Gen 11: Invisible String

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

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

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

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

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

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

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

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

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

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

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

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

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

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

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

Gen 14: Betty 

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

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

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

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

Gen 15: Peace

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

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

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

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

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

Gen 16: Hoax

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

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

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

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

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

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

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

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

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

Complete the gemstone collection.

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

#ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #ts4 legacy #ts4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #the sims legacy challenge #taylor swift #ts4 taylor swift #the sims 4 taylor swift #folklore #taylor swift folklore #folklore legacy challenge #ts4 folklore legacy challenge

[chiefdirector]

Searching | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One

Two Years Ago

Tim felt his blood run cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

One Year Ago

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

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

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

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

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

——————

Six Months Ago

Life went on.

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

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

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

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

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

Part One | Part Three

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989

Tags are open

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #the rookie imagine #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

[orcasoul]

We don't talk anymore

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#pedro pascal #din djarin fanfiction #mando x you #din x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction

[hazellovesnuts]

Waltzing under the twinkling lights Part 1

Milady de Winter x Princess!Reader 🗡️

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲

Part 2

Eva Green & Characters one shots Collection

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗

Milady's POV

╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲

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

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

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

Edit (08/18/2023):

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

-Zel

#eva green #eva green x reader #milady de winter #the three musketeers #les trois mousquetaires #Milady de Winter x Reader

[annoyinglandmagazine]

All is Fair in Love and War

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#silmarillion #tolkien #curufinrod #curufin #finrod #finrod felagund #angst #nargothrond #beren #lay of leithian #Quenya ban #Bed sharing

[pissvvytch]

Hidden witchcraft!

Carve a sigil/intention underneath a candle

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

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

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

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

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

#witchy research #witchblr #witchcraft #pissvvytch tips

[samscompliment]

hi i am online and talking anyway the thing about getting into a relationship is that now i keep having to find increasingly covert ways to take off my jewellery before they can get my shirt off. one of these days i’m not going to be able to and they’re going to say hey whats the charm on your necklace and i’m going to have to kill myself so i don’t need to admit that it is the fucking. samulet

#it’s SO embarassing. but i like it :(

[mockiery]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Send me OC asks!

#phew this ended up long. tysm these were fantastic and so much fun to answer!! #qyre oc #wes oc #kier speaks #asks answered

[omg26lilly]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

19/4/24

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department

[ashesurnsjewellery]

Beyond Loss: Crafting Memories with Ashes to Jewellery in the UK

In this exploration, we delve into the profound practice of creating jewelry from ashes, challenging the conventional belief that clothing is the sole expression of individuality. Respecting and remembering loved ones take center stage in this ancient tradition, where filial piety intertwines seamlessly with style. "Cremation Jewelry UK" by Aura Star Jewellery offers various options, including the meticulously crafted "Eternal Sparkle Jewelry" that honors the memory of loved ones.

Crafting Memories with Ashes to Jewellery: Discover the beautifully crafted jewelry that holds a small amount of cremated remains, providing a unique and heartfelt way to honor and preserve the legacy of your loved ones.

Self-Fill Elegance with Ashes Jewellery UK: Explore a range of materials in Aura Star Jewellery's assortment, featuring covert chambers designed to hold a small amount of cremated remains, allowing for a discreet and personal connection.

Diverse Styles of Cremation Jewellery for Your Memories: Dive into the myriad styles of cremation jewelry, each serving a unique purpose. From discreet pieces with a small ash compartment to wristbands, bracelets, earrings, pendants, and keychains—these options allow for personalization and meaningful expressions.

Bracelets and Earrings Made from Ashes: Uncover the world of wristbands, containing a chamber for Ashes Jewellery UK, and earrings that offer discreet yet heartfelt ways to carry the memory of your loved ones.

Pendants to Hold Precious Ashes: Explore the classic pendant option, available in various shapes and materials, adorned with engravings, pictures, or additional charms. Choose to wear it on a chain, pin it, or attach it to clothing for special occasions.

Keychains with Ashes Jewellery UK: For those not accustomed to wearing traditional jewelry, discover keychains with a steel circle to hold cremated remains, providing a versatile and personal way to carry memories.

How to Wear Cremation Jewellery Properly: Understand the versatility of cremation jewelry, suitable for artistic rings, pendants, and wristbands that complement different outfits. Learn the simple process of filling and sealing the jewelry for a secure and lasting connection with the ashes.

Conclusion: Embark on a heartfelt journey of holding memories close with personalized cremation jewelry. Beyond paying tribute to a loved one's life, it offers a tangible item for solace and closure, making the spirit of your loved one a constant presence. Choose from a range of styles and customization options, and let your loved one's ashes become a timeless reflection of your enduring love, courtesy of Aura Star Jewellery. Visit us - https://www.ashesurnsjewellery.com/blogs/news/beyond-loss-turning-ashes-into-meaningful-jewellery

#Ashes Infused Pendants #cremation ash jewellery uk #cremation jewelry for ashes uk

[kazifatagar]

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

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

View On WordPress

#cash and jewellery stolen #drainage canal dig #thieves philippines mall

[turn-left-at-hell]

IMPORTANT!!! Australian's read

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

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

So, what can we do about it?

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

A type of barter system if you will.

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

Add other suggestions in comments or reblogs if you can.

#rebellion #totalitarianism #Rebel #Stand against the system #It's not broken it was made that way #Anarchism #Fuck the system #australia #Early stage totalitarianism #Riot

[artarina-com]

Aelalittel

Mysterious copper and green labradorite necklace. Artarina.com

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[snickerdoodlles]

impossible things

the patpran elementary (the sherlock holmes TV adaptation) AU i meant to post the other day. edited most of this in the hospital so i apologize for any mistakes that slipped thru, but hope u enjoy this lil bit from a WIP i’ll probably never finish lol

impossible things (working title) (2201 words)

They’re ten and hiding together in the meadow by the river. There, there is a tree right along the bank with a trunk big enough to hide their covert meetings from spying eyes and knotted root networks perfect for hiding their treasures. Today, Pat’s brought a new item to add to their collection—an old, worn book gifted to him by his father, a collection of English stories titled The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Currently, they’re in the midst of a fierce debate on whether it’s treasure or not.

Pat’s rather irritated by the whole thing. Pran had seemed equally engrossed in the stories earlier, pressed tight up against Pat’s side as he flipped through the pages slowly, right up until Pat had said he could be Sherlock and Pran could be Watson.

Pran’s stubborn dimple is showing as he sits obstinately on their treasure haul—a funny collection of odds and ends, from their old pair of can phones so they can still talk when the climb up the branches of the large tree, to a little box filled with Pran’s origami gifts to Pat, all tucked carefully away in a protective plastic shipping bag Pat had secreted away from Papa’s shop—and kicks Pat away from adding the book in with the rest.

“I don’t like it.”

Pat groans. They’d been having so much fun until Pran decided to be difficult. “Why not?! Watson’s the narrator!”

“I’m more clever than you.”

Pat snorts. “I’m more observant.”

“Are not.”

The two of them pout at each other. Pran juts his chin out stubbornly, and Pat yields with a mullish sigh. “Fine, then you can be my rival detective.”

Pran rolls his eyes. “That’s stupid,” he says matter-of-factly, “Sherlock doesn’t have a rival detective.”

“Pran,” Pat whines with a huff. He tosses the book away and pushes into Pran’s space. The other boy’s dark eyes go wide and his cheeks go dark as he backs away with a squeak, but Pat crawls after him until Pran’s pressed up against the trunk of the vast tree with nowhere to go. Pat smirks at the victory, Pran’s scowl a sweet prize.

“Then forget Sherlock and Watson. We’ll just be us.”

):)

“I can’t believe he did it,” Korn mutters beside him, voice low and thick with disbelief, “That crazy sonofabitch actually did it.”

Pat just hums as he examines Thada with detached, professional curiosity. The man had really given his all to his ‘Professor Moriarty’ charade, dressed like a proper professor, clothing and jewellery riddled with subtle spider motifs. Pity for him that Pat refuses to address anyone as something so dramatic as his nemesis, much less one named after a fictional character, of all things. Not that the man’s weakness for theatre or preferences for address matter much, not now when he’s dead.

Korn stands beside him and stares at the cooling body with an odd mix of disgust and horrified awe. Pat struggles to find similar interest in the man. A bullet to his head, delivered by his own hand just as promised, a thousand and one more little details Pat can observe and pick apart so he can slot them into the shape of the man’s life had he cared enough to do so.

“Why are you so calm?!” Korn demands. “This asshole’s been harassing us for months and now he’s dead—”

Pat hums and crouches down to get a closer look at the man’s hardwood floors. He feels Korn’s stare turn on him, but ignores it too.

“Dude—”

“He’s a dead sociopath Korn,” Pat cuts him off. He doesn’t turn away from his examination of the floor laminate, a far more interesting puzzle than the dead body of a suspiciously wealthy man who was by all accounts, a prick. “Who are we to say what his normal is or isn’t?” Pat’s eyes dart towards the body briefly. “Was.”

Korn stammers and fidgets for a minute, shuffling nervously between Pat and the body, before he pulls himself together. “Al-Alright.” Korn shifts uncomfortably. “When do you think Watson will be in?”

“Don’t call him that,” Pat says automatically.

Korn lets out a little huff. It probably would’ve been a snicker in any other circumstance—of everyone, Korn’s the one that’s gotten the most entertainment out of the stupid nicknames, even more than Pat’s supposed nemesis. “Fine, when will Pran be here?”

“Shortly. I didn’t text him.”

“Mhm—wait, what?”

Pat frowns and squats closer to examine a crack in the floor laminate. “We’re in a competition right now,” he explains.

He feels Korn’s stare on the back of his head, but Pat’s too busy to fill in the blanks for him. “O…kay?” Korn drawls uncertainly. He clears his throat and takes a step back. “I’ll go call this in, we’re supposed to let the police handle bodies.”

Pat snorts, mostly from habit, and Korn steps out onto the balcony so that Pat doesn’t have to listen to him try to pacify law enforcement. Pat waits by Thada’s body, fingers steepled together against his lips, and waits for another presence to join him in the room.

“Moriarty,” Pat says, and the presence stills behind him, “Are you here as yourself, or are you hiding behind another strawman? Actually, don’t answer that, I refuse to keep calling you by that stupid nickname, Pran.”

Pat turns and glares at Pran. He’s leaning casually against the doorway, hip cocked and hands in his pockets. “What’s so bad about it? You were the one that insisted on calling yourself Sherlock.”

“We were ten.”

Pran grins unrepentantly. “And you wanted me to be your rival, detective. I figured you’d like having a nemesis. You’ve certainly earned it.”

Pat pouts at him, but his heart’s not in it. He can’t keep this up, acting like they’re ten again and playing rivals on the playground so their parents won’t interrupt their time together, acting like seeing Pran confirm his worst suspicions with a grin on his face doesn’t drive needles into his heart. His breath hitches in his throat and Pat breathes out slowly, eyes itching with things he won’t allow to become tears.

“Aren’t you being a little smug right now?” Pat asks lightly. “Don’t you want to know how I figured you out?”

Pran’s smile fades into something stonier, something angry. “You already knew,” he accuses. “You’ve known for weeks, ever since the slip-up in the Rio case.”

Something in Pat eases, knowing the paint was indeed a mistake and not a cruel taunt. Still, his smile is brittle and full of glass shards. “Didn’t your mother teach you to count your blessings Pran? You know I trusted you. We solved that case completely, you weren’t tied to any of it.” Pat swallows harshly, throat tight. “You could’ve gotten away with it completely, all you had to do was stop.”

“Don’t do that,” Pran says, harsh like the crack of a whip. “Stop? And then what? Lie to you for the rest of our lives?” He snorts. “Don’t lie to yourself Pat. I don’t like it when you deny what you know.”

Pat takes a step towards Pran and a gun snaps out between them. Pat looks between the gun and Pran flatly, and takes another step towards him. The cock of the gun rings out between them, but another step and then Pat’s on him. The barrel digs into his sternum, hard and cold, but Pat just raises his eyebrow to match Pran’s cocky expression. “Either shoot me or admit the gun’s unloaded, but make it quick.”

Pran stares at him defiantly, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a harsh flat line, before a dimple flashes and cracks his facade down the middle. He pulls the trigger, and the gun lets out a dry click between them.

Pat snorts. Moriarty doesn’t like gun violence, and neither do you.”

Pran wiggles the gun with a grin. “No, but it does make a dramatic prop. I thought you’d appreciate the touch.”

“You seem to think I love drama,” Pat says drily, only whining a little bit. “What did I ever do to bring you to that conclusion?”

Pran presses the tip of the gun to his lips, as though in thought. “Would you like the list alphabetically, or chronologically?”

The harsh shtlick of handcuffs cuts Pran off. His smile falls away as his eyes sweep down to watch Pat cuff the other half of the handcuffs to his own wrist. Pran stares at them for a minute before his eyes slowly move back up to meet Pat’s.

Pat smiles sadly. “You know I can’t just let you go.”

Pran’s lips twist into a shadow of a smile. “I’d be insulted if you did.” Pran stares at him, eyes dark and shining beneath the thick sweep of his lashes, almost enough to distract from the hairline cracks in his poker face. “Pat—”

Pat kisses him.

It’s a terrible idea. He knows it’s a terrible idea, even before age old nerves and surging adrenaline mix together to make the world’s headiest cocktail. It’s not a deep kiss, just the firm press of their lips together, but Pran is finally, finally not running away from the growing elephant of their feelings for each other.

Pat pulls away first, heart in his throat. When he manages to open his eyes, he finds Pran already staring at him, something dark and yearning burning in the depths of his gaze.

Pat smiles faintly. “Couldn’t let you go to prison without doing that at least once.”

Pran’s lips twist into a stubborn moue, but Pat twines his fingers through both of Pran’s hands before he can do anything.

“Sorry, Mr. Pran,” he tuts, “but you can’t seduce me into letting you go.”

Pran snorts. “I wouldn’t, that’d be cheap,” he retorts before he presses to his toes and catches Pat’s lips in a kiss. A wild, ravenous, dangerous kiss, something sweet and passionate and heartbreaking.

Pat sinks into the kiss with a gasp and Pran swallows that down too, and it’s criminal Pat can’t cradle him close during this. Pran’s been holding back parts of himself for so long—now they only have moments left, and Pat’s determined to savour every one of them, even as his eyes sting with tears and the handcuffs dig into his wrist.

“Okay, they’re sending— FINALLY!”

Pat and Pran spring apart at Korn’s arrival, lips damningly slick and red. Pran pouts and too much of Pat’s brainpower is suddenly devoted to branding that image into every layer of his mind. Pat forces that into a box deep, deep within the recesses of his mind, and forces himself to focus back on his best friend, who’s looking excited and judgemental as his eyes dart between Pat, Pran, and the dead body still chilling in the room.

“We’ve been wondering for ages when the two of you would get your shit together,” Korn says gleefully, “I thought for sure I’d lose the bet with everything that’s been going on, but clearly I underestimated you horny dogs—”

“Nope, shut up,” Pat says, cheerful and brittle, because another two seconds of that will send him spiralling into what ifs and imaginations and other impossible things. Pat points his finger at Korn threateningly. “Not one word from you.”

Korn raises his hands in surrender, even as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Pat snorts as he lowers his hand— wait.

Shit.

The handcuffs click open and Pran spins him as he darts out like a snake to snap his cuff around Korn’s wrist.

“Eh?!” Korn gasps right before Pran knees him in the gut and he goes down with a grunt. Korn’s deadweight and a calculated kick from Pran takes Pat down as well and in the space of the next few blinks, Pran has Korn’s other wrist handcuffed to the air conditioning unit and Pat to the furniture.

Pat rattles the handcuff uselessly. Pran had managed to trap Pat with his arms stretched out and his hand in an angle too awkward for him to easily pick the lock. “Pran—”

Pran drops into his lap and kisses him. Pat groans, unable to help himself. Not even the twinge at the base of his shoulder blade or Korn stuttering beside them can peel Pat’s focus away from the way Pran’s tongue licks across his teeth or his hands combing through his hair or Pran sucking on his lower lip until he whines. Pran backs off with a smug grin, stare hot and glittering as he takes in Pat’s dazed expression.

Pran taps his cheek, playfully scolding. “That won’t trick me into staying long enough to be caught.”

Pat’s kissed-dumb expression drops into a smug smile before he steals another kiss from Pran. “I’ll bring you in one day,” he promises. He’d chase Pran to the ends of the earth.

Pran grins fiercely at the challenge. Pat hears sirens wailing in the distance.

Pran leans closer—oh, how Pat aches—and Pat goes cross-eyed trying to hold his smug smile. “Sherlock and Moriarty, huh?” he murmurs against Pran’s lips.

“No.” Pran kisses him, too brief, too much like a goodbye. “Forget them. We’ll just be us.”

And then he’s gone, more elusive than smoke.

):)  (:(

#bad buddy #pat x pran #patpran elementary AU #tfw you're torn between wanting more time to polish a thing and wanting to share ajfjfhj #ive been trying to finish several of my canon-verse wips before the month is done so NATURALLY my brain is hitting me with 2849358 AU thots #sighs #i have so many AU snippets ik im never gonna flesh out any further hjgjhgjhg brain why u hurt me like this 😂😂 #sorry lots of rambles i am So Sleepy as i post this #sharing this and then going to sleeps #tmr is going to be equally Weird but i should have at least a few of the pairings prompts to go up? tbh just gonna depend on how tired i am #they're written in le notebook but i gots to type them up yknow?? #anyways hope u like this weird indulgent thing ajfhjfhjhjf AM SLEEPING NOW GNIGHT FRIENDS

[tenthgrove]

More yandere ghiaccio x reader!!

Some Headcanons With Yandere Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio x Reader, Yandere, SFW

It's been a long time since Ghiaccio has truly felt affection. His parents never cared for him much, he had no siblings, and his trauma has left him unable to fully accept the platonic love bared for him by his team. That is not to say he never longed for love, however. It's always been somewhere at the back of his mind. As have you.

Seeing you again, one of his few sincere friends from childhood long since estranged from him, brought to light old feelings he could never put into words before. He loved you, needed you, and more than that you were in danger. He was convinced that, through some means he couldn't quite think of, your old connection to him was bound to be discovered by his enemies at you peril.

This is how you came to be imprisoned at Ghiaccio's apartment. There was little preparation on his part due to the impulsive nature of his decision to kidnap you, making the early days utter chaos. With no other option, Ghiaccio barricades you in a room by sealing off the door with ice, and generally lets you have this time to yourself to come to terms with what has happened.

In this sense, he is quite a patient yandere, who for a long time does not pressure you for attention. This however, changes when you try to flee from him. While he would never harm you his verbal lashing leaves him scared and remorseful, amplified by almost losing you to your escape. He is desperate for some affection to reassure him that everything is still okay.

When going about this, he tries to be covert at first, hoping you just won’t react if he slips his arms around you and pulls you close. You’re still crying at this point, burnt out from the stress of your attempted escape and its aftermath. Nonetheless, you still find it in you to bat him away angrily. The last thing you want right now is to be near him.

Eventually, Ghiaccio becomes impatient and holds you anyway. You struggle, for a while, before realising this isn’t going any further and giving up. You fall asleep in Ghiaccio’s arms. You’ve never known him to feel so warm.

After any serious conflict between you, Ghiaccio is keen to reconcile. He knows it’s only polite. He brings you gifts- your favourite sort of sweet, a bit of jewellery, something else that may bring you joy for a bit. It’s attached to a written note of apology, since he knows this will stop him from getting off track and potentially reigniting your conflict. The gift is left on your night stand as you sleep. He’ll be very nervous until you acknowledge it to him.

Something Ghiaccio loves to do is watch you entertain yourself. Whether it be playing a video game or doing something creative, he adores observing you, occasionally interjecting but never interfering. He’s always happy to get you more things to help continue your hobby.

Ghiaccio likes to keep you to himself, but he appreciates your need for socialisation. He will introduce you to select members of the squad who he trusts around you, namely Risotto, Prosciutto, Sorbet, Gelato and Pesci. That way you can have someone to be close to other than him, which he knows is important.

Though there are quite some many setbacks, Ghiaccio works hard to win you over and make things better for you. Abducting you brought him great guilt, and he will atone for that however he can.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #yandere cw