#this is actually my first champion of any kind & my first ever first!

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

So, I'm curious: What's your take on Aylin's experience after/if she kills Lorroakan?

Allegedly, there's some information floating around somewhere that said Aylin was angry with Selune after she killed Lorroakan, but I can't find where this info is.

If you saw posts about that here on tumblr it was probably posted by @justanotherignot! I've actually been meaning to gather up all the devnote tidbits about Selûne from Aylin and Isobel for a while now, so thank you for the excuse to do so and ramble a bit.

Player: I was just wondering what it was like in that cage of Balthazar's. Aylin: Let us not dwell on those dark days. Their memory is a vortex within my heart that leads directly to the Hells.

What is happening is, well, it's the century of unthinkable horror catching up to her. It's the Trauma(TM) - in one of the conversation options she's literally triggered by the mention of someone being run through repeatedly! It's the growing awareness that although she's been freed (and possibly reunited with her love), the secret is out and there are always going to be assholes gunning for her, aiming to use her as an "artefact" and power source to fuel their ambitions, without any regard for her, you know... basic personhood and well-being. Also, Lorroakan was blatantly lying. He didn't find any super special way to siphon her immortality with "no harm, no pain of any kind", he was just replicating Balthazar's soul cage (you can even find a letter from Ketheric to him, showing Lorroakan was pestering them).

On to the stuff from the game files! First, the conversation with Aylin directly after the Lorroakan fight in the tower. I'm going to be putting the context notes in square brackets next to the lines they apply to. I also plucked some audio out from the files for some of these because I love the delivery.

Aylin: The fire-haired fool is dead. Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel… sadness. Why? [Slow and curious, angry and confused by all that has happened.] Player: What kind of sadness is it? / I know something of sadness - or at least the ballads do. What does it feel like? Aylin: A gripping in the chest. As though I'd lost someone, something. [Lost in thought for a moment; confused.] Aylin: A paladin's fatigue, no doubt. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side. [Remembering herself. She is Dame Aylin.] Aylin: I will catch my breath, then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you. Player: Smiting is a weighty duty - sometimes it can be tiring. / Perhaps smiting has lost its pleasures. Aylin: Say it can't be so. For I am Selûne's sword. And ever must be. [She means it, but on the periphery of her consciousness is a tiny crack. Wondering about her fate.]

The above never fails to get me - she is Dame Aylin! Sword of the Moonmaiden! Glorious immortal paladin, champion of a righteous cause! She smites evil-doers for breakfast, that's, like, her whole thing! What do you mean she can't just pick up where she left off and go about her merry smitey way? What do you mean the thing that is supposed to be the literal core of her entire being (forever) doesn't feel good and glorious anymore, but just makes her feel sad and empty? No, no, no, we can't have that.

Player: One of the greatest tragedies of revenge is that it can only be taken once. / Because you won't get to kill him again? Aylin: Perhaps. Yet if I could run him through a thousand times, I wonder-- [Lost in thought, she's been triggered to remember her own fate being run through over and over.] Aylin: Battle has tired my mind, made me susceptible to flights of fancy. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side.

Aylin: I will return to camp shortly. I just need a moment to… to… [Lost in thought.]

She so very desperately needs some rest and a chance to come to terms with everything that happened and that was done to her. And it's clear it's going to be hard because she is defaulting to trying to deny anything is wrong, is clearly trying (and failing) to just be her old self immediately, has blatantly internalised a lot of that classic I Am A Sword stuff on top of everything (even though her mother is huge on free will and choice!), and is just really not well-equipped to handle any of this at all.

Next, this is the post-Lorroakan convo you get if you have both Aylin and Isobel in camp.

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just regaling sweet Isobel with tales of our prowess. Isobel: Very impressive. Thank you for helping Aylin - that wizard sounded absolutely dastardly. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - she's not sure why Aylin isn't herself.] Player: My pleasure. He had it coming. Aylin: He did, and it came. Now, my friend: bask in your victory. I will do the same. Aylin: But fear not: when the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Isobel and I will stand by your side. [Rallying her soldierly spirit, but still a little drained.] Isobel: We wouldn't miss it. Not for anything. Aylin: Go well, friend. We will see you soon. And with our great powers combined, this city will be saved. Player: Hopefully he'll be the last. Aylin: There are always more bastards behind bastards. But we will run through them all, each by each.

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: I always do, with darling Isobel by my side. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of Lorroakan's death in your mind like silkfloss.

If Isobel isn't there (meaning she died in Act 2), you get this version:

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just reviewing our fight against foul Lorroakan; your moves and mine. The victory was soundly won. Aylin: Don't you think? [Uncharacteristically, Aylin is seeking input. She's usually so confident about everything, but killing Lorroakan has not had the intended effect on her.] Player: Indeed I do. Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, But she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Player: We fought well - though I was a little worried about you afterward, in truth. Aylin: Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - it's true she's better now than she has been, but why does she feel so shitty, then? (She's in the beginning of reckoning with the trauma of what happened to her).]

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: Yes. I wish for the very same. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of our prowess in your mind like silkfloss.

So, a few things pop out for me here. First, you get the more explicit anger at Selûne if Isobel isn't there, as opposed to the "hahah, I will smite all the bastards who dare come after me, no matter how many there are" line. "How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?" just... damn, hits hard, even if you subscribe to the theory that Selûne simply could not intervene in the Shadowfell imprisonment beyond sending those poor people whose graves you find in front of the mausoleum.

And here Aylin really lays it on thick with the denial that there's anything wrong at all. Combined with the letter you get from her in the epilogue if Isobel is dead, it just paints such a bleak, sad picture. I can just see her going all out on the Sword of Selûne duty-bound paladin side of things, no rest, no healing, no stopping even for a moment, no dealing with anything at all, from the trauma to the bitterness towards mum. Until whatever horrible breaking point comes, a year or a century from now. The need for Isobel's humanising influence is so clear. I've touched on Isobel's side of things here.

Speaking of having a bone to pick with Selûne, if you're playing as a cleric/paladin of Selûne, you can get some extra very honest dialogue with Isobel in Last Light:

Player: Why has the Moonmaiden waited until now to take an interest in this curse? Isobel: Maybe she was waiting for one of us to find this place ourselves. Free will, and all that.

Isobel: Though if it were my place to ask why she let Ketheric turn; why she allowed this village to rot at his hands - believe me, I would. [A cold edge in her voice]

Player: Are you faring all right? It can't be easy holding a lone candle in such darkness. Isobel: All things with her strength. You know the litany. [A little sarcastically. She's got a bone to pick with Selûne but isn't being too overt.]

Side note: the amount of devnotes for Isobel's lines that say she's delivering them "with swagger" and being "cheeky" makes me smile every time. Love her. Love her snark.

Also, to get it out of the way: no, I'm fairly sure Aylin did not break her oath. I see this brought up a ton and I just see no way for it to be the case. There is nothing to suggest this outside of a wording similarity and it just makes no sense. Girl is clearly some flavour of Oath of Vengeance (she uses Abjure Enemy, so this is the case even mechanically, even though she's obviously an NPC and not a standard player-build paladin) and she killed a very shitty guy who was also explicitly after her in godawful ways. You can do far worse things in the game than her dramatic speech and backbreaker and not break you OoV.

#sorry this took so long! #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dame aylin #isobel thorm #lorroakan #datamine #voice lines #audio #i'm stopping myself here but i could go on about this FOREVER #time for the comfort part of the hurt/comfort let's goooooooooo #oathkeeper replies to things

[spanielfromspace]

third ride back was the first show on the school circuit, and i won my o/f class & got reserve champ in my division?? which in fairness is the one with tiny baby jumps, but until two weeks ago i hadn’t used these muscles in 10 years so this was wildly unexpected

#i feel kinda guilty about being in the lowest division and beating actual beginners #but their level qualification policies are all based on show results anyway and i never really had those #this is actually my first champion of any kind & my first ever first! #back when i rode for real it was mostly helping with other people’s babies #so i’d very very occasionally get to take them to shows #but yeah like max twice a year (more often None) & v green horses #best i’d ever done was 3rd #ANYWAY i’m absolutely not the only one comfortable jumping much higher than this in this div so it’s chill #also this is a horse blog now oops #Bowie (horse) #Tazz #my face #ALSO tagging reminds me - the one i jumped on was named Bowie so immediately blessed <3 #return of the horse girl arc

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

#billy batson #bruce wayne #shazam #batman #chromatographic #rinfic #wip: billy and damian and the whole soulmate thing

[rqgnarok]

music to my eyes - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 4,266

warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist. 

author’s note at the end!

Jamie’s so, so late.

Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.

He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner. 

He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever. 

Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket. 

He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.

“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”

“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”

“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.

She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed. 

“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”

Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.

“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”

Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”

A beat.

“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?

He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.

He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin. 

The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.

Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs. 

Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.

The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night. 

It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second. 

It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.

She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”

They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal. 

Keeley clocks it in immediately.

“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”

Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.

Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.

“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”

Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.

“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”

Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time. 

Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.

Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good. 

“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”

Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.

“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”

The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket. 

Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.

“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”

“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”

“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”

“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”

If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time. 

“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”

(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder. 

“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”

Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”

(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s. 

“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can. 

“I’ll be there.”

He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up. 

Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.

She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”

Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”

“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.

“It is. Do you play?”

“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”

He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.

“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”

She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…

“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”

“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”

(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”

Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”

He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage. 

“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”

Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him. 

He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?

Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does. 

Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant. 

His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”

Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.

(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.

By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.

It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”

Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.

Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”

“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”

Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”

Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later. 

He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.

She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.

Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.

“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”

“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.

“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”

Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.

She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her. 

“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”

(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.

“You want any company?” she wonders.

“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.

“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”

(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”

“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”

She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”

Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”

___

there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg

i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

#commissions and asks are open! #leo writes #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #phil dunster #roy kent #brett goldstein #rebecca welton #hannah waddingham #keeley jones #juno temple #sam obisanya #toheeb jimoh #i had so much fun w this i hope i do write more of them #reader insert

[devilishchaos]

Heyy idk if u take requests but can u do where the reader have a girl with ruben and they’re celebrating the ucl win on the pitch etc and the their child starts playing with ronny and they assume that the girl and ronny have a tiny crush on eachother yk cute moments etc🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Moments like this | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"

Word Count: 1 059 words

AN: Hello! idk if I take requests, I received this one and this is my first ever request, I loved it and thank you so much. <3 I unfortunately don't speak portuguese so I used google translate, if you find any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know. On another note - I absolutely love Ronnie and everybody from City! I kind of added a little bit more plot so I hope it is okay and I also made it kinda long, like why am I like this? but hey I loved working on this, so I hope you enjoy it :) x

p.s. while I was working on this Mr. The Sexiest Man Alive posts this picture..like sir, are you trying to unalive me or sth..respectfully tho..Rúben stop playing with me and let me have your kids <3 :p x

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Is your missus here tonight?” John asked his best mate Rúben, from across the room, as all Manchester City players were getting dressed in their kits and were preparing to attend the Uefa Champions League final tonight. Rúben turns away from his locker, trying to brush out a crease that had formed in his shorts. 

“Yes, she flew with the kids. They landed, like two hours ago.” He tells him, going to the mirror to begin fussing with his hair, even though he would just be pushing it back out of his face anyway. “This puts even more pressure. I’m basically obliged to perform well.” 

“She flew alone with two kids for what four hours?” Bernardo joins the conversation, grinning at Rúben. “She is a wonder woman.” 

“She definitely is!” John agrees, walking over to pat Rúben's shoulder comfortingly but he shakes his head, already nervous at the idea of his kids watching him. After the loss in the final 2021 and in the semi’s in 2022, Rúben promised his family to win the next time around. And now it was hitting him hard - he never breaks his promises. The pressure was definitely skyrocketing through the roof. 

*

It all happened very fast. You needed a couple of seconds to process that Rodri in fact had scored a beautiful goal. Which meant that City took the lead 1-0. There were approximately 20 more minutes and if City were able to handle the tension, that meant that the guys would complete a treble. You knew what that meant to them, to Rúben. Everything was at a very high stake. Your stomach was in knots and your leg bobbed up and down with anxiousness as you were looking at the clock, counting down the seconds until the end of the match, until the referee's final whistle. 

After what felt like the longest extra time that you’ve experienced in a match it was finally over, when the end of the match was announced everybody in the VIP sector (the families of the players) stood up and raised their arms in joy, cheering in excitement. 

“George. Azlia. Come on! Let’s go congratulate daddy!” you took them by their hands and somehow managed to get down to the pitch. 

The three of you push your way through the crowd on the soccer field. It was hard for you to see the way in the ocean of bodies. Then John taps lightly on your shoulder and points at a gap you can pass through. That’s when you see him. He has his back turned to you, engaged in conversation with a staff member. He doesn’t see you, but it’s like he feels you coming, and turns around, his gaze landing to you. Without looking back at the man behind him, he excuses himself and starts making his way over to you. 

“Papai!” George screams as he breaks away from your hand and runs to your husband, obviously he can't contain his excitement anymore. Rúben kneels down to be on the same level as him and he runs straight in his arms. You picked up Azlia as she was struggling to keep up with your pace with her little feet, because you wanted to get to Rúben faster. 

As you finally reach him you walk right into his open arms, your hands fisting his jersey. It feels so good to be holding him. 

“You did it! I’m so, so, so proud of you, amor! You did so good! I’m so happy for you! A treble, wow..unbelievable!” you said quite loudly in his ear with a smile that hurt your cheeks. 

You raised your head a little and he bent down a little, so you could share a kiss. As you pulled away, you gave him a kiss to the side of his mouth and ran your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Eu te amo, meu amor.” he said to you, looking directly into your eyes wanting to look into them forever. 

Not breaking eye contact you replied just a heartbeat later “Te amo mais.” 

“Da-da,da-..” Azlia babbled in your arms, reminding you guys of her existence. 

“Eu também te amo, princesa.” Rúben said as he kissed her chubby cheeks. 

*

The awarding took place very quickly. You moved away with the rest of the wives, girlfriend and family members of the players and found yourself jumping from conversation to conversation. Everyone was so excited. Except the kids. They didn’t understand what was happening and just ran away the second the ceremony was done. 

You were frantically looking for Azlia when you felt two big, strong hands on your waist, bringing you into a hug from behind. 

“What are you doing, love?” Rúben asked with amusement. 

“I’m looking for Azlia! I can’t find her! George ran away with Roman and Riaan, and I swear Azlia was standing right beside me and now she is gone.” you said while turning in his arms, to face him. 

“Baby she is a one-and-a-half-year-old, with tiny little legs. How far can she go?” he chuckled, as you continued to search for her with your eyes. 

“Oh, there she is. Taking pictures with the other kids.” you finally spotted her, taking a picture with Kyle, his sons and Ronnie. 

“Baby, chill. These kids are having the time of their lives. They can’t stay in the same position for more than 10 seconds. Look at them running around!” Rúben assured you. That made you smile, but not as much as when you watched Ronnie chasing Azlia around and the two pig tails on top of her hair were bouncing with every step she took.

“Aww, look babe, Ronnie is showing Azi his medal. How cute!” you pointed at them for Rúben to see. 

“He is now putting his medal on her..” Rúben stated quite shook “Yo, Foden, watch your son!” he then shouted in Phil’s direction, who stood all the way to the other side of the pitch. 

“Rúben! Oh my God! Baby..they are kids..” you hit his chest lightly, bursting into a fit of giggles. 

“I have a medal, too..I’m gonna go show it to her.” and with that he left you watching him attempt to come close to Ronnie and Azlia, but when they saw him approaching them - they ran away laughing.

#ruben dias #ruben gato dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #football imagine #football imagines

[meanbossart]

Alright, I am like 90% sure there is ONE line in A Novel Experience touching on Gale GTFOing rapidly, so I don't think there are answers in there for me. So I come to you and ask-WTF went on between Gale and Drow???

Alright, so

There are two versions to what happened to Gale in my first campaign (the OG DU drow campaign that this whole universe is based around), lets begin with the technical version. As I've only somewhat recently come to understand, my Gale was bugged. I had 1 interaction early in the game that slightly veered into romance which didn't go anywhere, and first chance I had I clarified that I was not interested in him that way (the whole reason why It happened in the first place was because i misunderstood his dialogue). Despite this, and despite me turning him down in every romantic interaction following, I kept getting them and my interactions with him were as if we were romantically involved. I even got one exchange (the one about muscles glistening and cheeks flushed) twice, and rejected him both times.

So, later in the game once DU drow and Astarion sucessfully 5d chess-ed their way into falling In love, I was surprised to still be informed i had to "break things off" with Gale if I wanted to get with him. Which I did. And he gave me a whole spiel about it.

Now it's crucial you understand this was early in the game's release, I went into it completely blind and I had never played a game like Baldur's Gate before, so I was not familiar with the mechanics at all, which... Kind of led me to believe Gale was just like that normally.

From that point on I was highly amused, but for roleplaying purposes I decided my drow would have been highly annoyed and a little creeped out. And so I proceeded to be extremely rude to the guy at every chance I got. This eventually resulted In him pursuing the crown of Karsus despite me (rudely) telling him that was a very dumb idea.

The second version of what happened, as I already touched on above a little bit, Is the Narrative one. As I mentioned I had no clue what was and wasn't supposed to happen, so I just... Went along with it within the role-play.

So our beloved DU drow gets worms. He goes on a grand adventure with this weird possy of people to find a cure. When the tiefling party comes everybody except Astarion wants to get into his pants (because I left him on the beach for like a week and then proceeded to be The Rudest to him, sorry babe, I didn't see your pale ass and the asshole dialogue options were Really funny).

Someone else who Didn't seem to wanna fuck him was the wizard. He said he just wanted to show him a magic trick and he (and, I'll admit, me) really thought that was just that. The scene unfolds, Gale tries to teach DU Drow to cast a spell but his 9 intelligence says No. The unsolicited date ends abruptly because Gale is upset that a champion fighter without a single cantrip makes for a shitty wizard. DU Drow thinks thats the end of that - It's Not.

Then what proceeds to happen is a long, annoying, somewhat unsettling dynamic where Gale continually tries to pursue him throughout the game, coming to the point where the guy I'm Actually interested in thinks we are together - and when DU drow tells him verbatim that he had no idea they were even a thing in Gale's mind, he has to hear him whine about it. Add to that the fact that all Gale talks about is his ex-girlfriend, DU drow is (kind of justifiably) led to believe he must be a Profound weirdo to whom he cannot ever say even a Neutral word to again lest he becomes any more infatuated with him - 0r whatever the hell is going on.

Whether it be DU drow's own inflated ego or the actual truth, when Gale begins to pursue the crown he also assumes he's just doing it to spite him - so he isn't the kindest to him about that either.

And within this narrative that I concocted around a simple bug that didn't let me end a romance, I cannot imagine Anyone getting on particularly well with Gale within my main party. Drow thinks he's madly in love with him, Shadowheart is probably a little confused but she trusts DU Drow's word on the matter more than the Wizard's, Astarion thinks... What Astarion thinks.

So, no, they didn't part on the best of terms.

Before anyone gets mad, I assure you - I've completed the game again since then, I realize this is Not the intended Gale experience. He's a hysterical and deeply interesting character and only Slightly clingy and weird.

But, you gotta admit, this is way funnier.

#ask #DU drow #i'm sorry for always weaving such a tale out of these kinds of questions #i like to have fun #bg3 spoilers

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment. 

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse. 

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand. 

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish. 

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger. 

How is any of this possible? 

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least. 

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room. 

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.  

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.  

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.  

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate. 

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?   

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.  

You had made all of this up. 

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day. 

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought. 

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this. 

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.  

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach. 

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.  

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it. 

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.  

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice. 

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly. 

They say you have done great though, so that is something.  

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.  

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.  

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice. 

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?” 

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand? 

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips. 

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate. 

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you. 

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry” 

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice. 

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around 

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”  

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”  

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’. 

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head. 

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel. 

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though. 

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you” 

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year” 

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming. 

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles. 

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?” 

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment. 

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.  

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right? 

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #carlos sainz x you #charles leclerc x you #lewis hamilton x you #daniel ricciardo x you

[jaded-jezz]

Shutter Speed

Jack Champion x Photographer!Reader

Part 1/?

☁︎ Fluff

Summary: y/n is a photographer for the new scream promo and Jack thinks she belongs in front of the camera rather than behind.

"Y/N did you double check the SD card was empty?" My best friend and work partner, Leah, shouted from down the hall. "Yeah it was the first thing i did this morning,"

Leah and I have been working together ever since college where we met during our photography course. We have been inseparable since both landing a job at a highly praised magazine company.

Today is going to be a great day as we have been given the front cover photoshoot with full creative control too. It has been my childhood dream to have even a small picture but another front page? The feeling never gets old.

Leah and I finish packing all of our equipment into the car and we start the drive down to the studios in LA. As it’s kind of a long drive Leah starts our little road-trip with our favourite song. We scream the lyrics and laugh when the people, in the cars that pass us, give us strange looks.

To save our voices from any extreme damage, we put on some less energetic music and go over the plan for the day. “Wait, have you seen the cast for Scream 6?” Leah suddenly asks.

“Yeh like sorta… no not really” I answer scrambling for my phone. “Well we know Jenna from the Wednesday shoot so that’s less worrying right?” I say as I wait for the list to load.

“Oh yeah I forgot you did that! Do you think she will remember you?”

(Scream VI Groupchat POV)

Jenna- how close is everyone to the studio?

Devyn- I’m parked outside

Melissa- the shoot starts in half an hour

Devyn- I LIKE TO BE EARLY OK?!

Jasmine- YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BRING ME THIS EARLY TOO THO

Liana- wait you guys drove together? You could’ve invited me 🥺

Jasmine- use that emoji again and I will become ghostface

Liana- 🥺sowy🥺

‘Jasmine’ has left the group chat.

Mason- Jenna this is your fault

Jack- What the hell did I just miss?

Jenna- HOW WAS IT MY FAULT?

Mason- YOU ASKED THE QUESTION

Jack- Jenna, Mason is the reason we are running late please don’t kill us.

Jenna- thanks for actually answering jack, mason I’m going to kill you

‘Devyn’ added ‘Jasmine’ to the group.

Devyn- see you guys soon!

(Y/N POV)

“ I doubt she will remember, I didn’t really speak” I answer, as I start to cringe over my previous shoots without Leah. Leah is literally my rock, and she knows this as she looks over to me. “You will be great, I’ll be there if things get too awkward, and you have all your notes on your phone and in your notebook.” I give her a smile as I reach for said notes to calm my nerves.

When we arrive at the studio I already see two of the actors and they wave as we walk past their car. I feel a lot less stressed as I see that everything is clean for us to set up our equipment. Leah and I finish in a record time thanks to my meticulously drawn plan of the placement for lights and tripods.

One of the producers walks in to check if we are ready. He lets us know that two actors are going to be late but it won’t ruin the shoot. As he leaves to alert the cast Leah stands next to me to make sure I don’t run away.

“OMG it is you!” I hear a voice come round the corner. “I thought I recognised your name, guys this is the talent who created all the Wednesday promo!” Jenna exclaims to the group before walking over to hug me.

“It is great to see you again Jenna! And it’s lovely to meet all of you too.” I say to the room. “I’m Y/N, this is Leah and the stylists are in the other room.” I start to explain the plan for the day.

“So any questions?” I ask after I realise I’ve been talking rambling for too long. “Oh last thing, sorry, if at any point you feel uncomfortable or awkward in a pose or something, just let me know and I will sort it as fast as I can.” I let the cast go to their stylists, who they knew from set, and walk towards my camera and laptop to make sure everything is loaded up and ready to go.

“She did remember you.” Leah said in a hushed giggle as my face starts to go red.

(Jack’s POV)

We are late. Mason is late. So I’m late. I hate being late to these things. Especially when it’s people I’ve never worked with before, although I think I remember Jenna saying she’s met one of the photographers before but that doesn’t calm me down one bit.

“Hey man, chill out” Mason interrupts my internal panic. “They won’t mind, you can charm them with your good looks yeh?” He suggests. I widen my eyes to show I don’t agree. “Fine, I’ll apologise in my own way and you do it how you want too.” He sighs, jokingly.

When we finally arrive we are pushed into the changing rooms so fast that I don’t get to apologize for our lack of punctuality. I quickly change into my costume before jumping into the makeup chair, next to Mason. Once the artist has finished I text my mum to tell her I made it and left it on the vanity. I headed out to the studio once Mason was done too.

"Look who decided to show up!"

Part Two will be their meeting! Or should I say meet-cute?

Also (shameless plug) I really want to be a photographer so I would mean a lot if you followed/checked out my Instagram:

@/no.stress_jess

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

#actress #actress reader #fluff #im so alone #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jaded jellyfish sting #marry me jack champion #oneshot #x reader #photography #photographerslife #photographer reader

[saintmagx]

Chamber of Horrors 😈

Grayson Waller x reader

an: just came across Grayson Waller on Chamber of Horrors with Scarlett and Shotzi and it gave me some inspo 👻 IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT, YOU SHOULD! He is literally polite, respectful, funny and hella scared. This story doesn’t follow the video exactly because my memory is bad and I started writing this so long ago I forgot so much stuff, plus trying to rewrite a video is kinda hard 🫣

‼️ Warning: swearing, bad story telling, cringe writing, not proof read, just rambles no actual good storyline‼️

“Our final guest of the night is the current WWE Woman’s Champion y/n!” Kayla says excitedly.

Walking out into the cozy studio my nerves settle slightly, I’ve never been on the bump before, nor had any kind of chat show interview before, so I’m a little overwhelmed. I make my way over to the other guests Scarlett and Shotzi and sit down next to them.

“So welcome to your first ever bump appearance, how has it taken us this long to get you here?” Kayla asks.

“Honestl-”

Cut off before I could even answer, a strong accent fills the studio, Grayson who was also a guest - who was joining us via video chat - had to pipe up - it’s what he does best.

“Let me answer that.”

“You see, yn wouldn’t come on the show unless yours truly was also a guest. I mean can you blame her, who wouldn’t want to be on the same show as the Aussie icon.”

“Ah yes Grayson of course, every time they asked me to come on the show I would say unless you have thee Grayson Waller on your show, I ain’t interested.”

He smiles and slightly chuckles, unable to retaliate.

We continue to hype up the next PLE. Shotzi and Scarlett then go onto speak about the release of more episodes of Chamber of Horrors.

“Yn we would love to have you as a guest on the next season! It would be so fun.” Scarlett suggests.

“Absolutely not.” I say - little too quickly.

“I might come across as someone who is tough but deep down I’m scared of most things. And being in an area that is high on the paranormal activity is a definite no for me.”

“We would be there, nothing would happen to you. It’s completely safe.” Shotzi tries her best to convince me to appear in the show, but her words fill me with little confidence.

“I’ll go on if you do yn.” Grayson declares.

“What?”

“If you do the show, I’ll do it with you. Moral support and all that. Plus if you get too scared you can always hold my hand.” His signature smirk creeping onto his face.

Feeling like my back was against the wall I agree to appear and anyway they might not ask me to be on it for a long time and we might not even go to somewhere that is extremely haunted. I was unfortunately wrong on both fronts.

The call to appear on an episode of Chamber of Horrors came all too quickly. It was decided that we would go and see Bloody Mary in New Orleans, which involved a seance and an independent ghost hunt around the haunted house.

Sitting around the table in a circle, Bloody Mary describes how the evening will go and says a few incantations to start of the seance.

“First we will go around the table and introduce ourselves to the spirits. Squeezing from left to right on our hands.” She tells the table.

She introduces herself then squeezes my left hand. My turn I guess

“My name is yn.” I then squeeze Grayson hand for him to start

“My name is Grayson Waller, Maddison square garden main eventer.”

“I’m Shotzi”

“I’m Scarlett”

We continue to hold hands until Bloody Mary continues. She introduces us to a doll named Henry. Scarlett picks him up and places him onto a clearly uncomfortable Graysons lap.

“He likes the ladies, he’s a bit of a flirt.” Bloody Mary explains to us.

“Aw yes lad! We could be brothers.” Grayson says, “however I have to move you closer to Shotzi and Scarlett, can’t have you making moves on people you shouldn’t be.”

I look at Grayson confused, why would he say that?

“So is it true someone at this table hasn’t seen a horror film.” Bloody Mary questions. Looking around the table I find it hard to believe. Shotzi and Scarlett are literally horror queens and I’ve dabbled in horror movies myself, like who hasn’t. That only leaves Grayson…

“You haven’t seen a single horror movie? Like ever?” I quiz Grayson.

“Nope, I just like laughing. Why would I watch something that would make me scared?”

Stunned.

“The fact you haven’t seen the all time classics, I’m shocked. We have to change that.”

With a playful glint in his eyes he reply’s “are you asking me on a date? I mean I suppose if you were there to hold my hand I wouldn’t mind watching a scary film.”

And that right there is the famous Grayson Waller charm. I roll my eyes and laugh off his flirtation.

“I’ll ask theory to show you some of the classics. It’s gonna change your life.”

“I’d rather you show me them. I think I’d appreciate them more with you.”

He smiles slightly and shifts his attention back to Bloody Mary. Not noticing how his response had affected me.

The part I had been least looking forward to, the ghost hunt. We had been given free rein around the house to look and interact with any spirits we may encounter.

There had been a few words here and there but nothing that was concrete evidence that the spirts were among us. It could all be explained or passed off as a coincidence until I heard Scarlett and Grayson in the bathroom.

“Shotzi, yn come here quick.”

We entered the bathroom and were met with both Scarlett and Graysom standing in the bathtub. We join them without question and wait.

“Can you tell us your name” Scarlett asks the spirits

“Zach”

“Zach is there anyone else here with you?” She continues

“No”

“Killed her.”

“Sorry”

Scared, I find myself gravitating towards Grayson who instinctively grabs my hand. I’m not sure if he sensed my fear or if he too was scared however in that moment we were a comfort for each other.

“Killed who?” Shotzi asks this time. However there is no reply.

“Hey Zach can you say hello to Grayson?” She continues

In a mimicking tone

“Hi Grayson”

The mood is slightly lifted and I can’t help but chuckle this spirit has went from confessing to horrific crimes to making fun of Grayson and I’m here for it.

Unamused Grayson replies “oh, you think you’re funny do you?” The spirit did indeed think it was funny.

We move to a different room due to the activity in the bathroom dying down. The room we enter is a playroom, legend says that the small cupboard is where a small child still plays. We decide to have a game of rock paper scissors to see who will go in the cupboard. Shotzi is our first, then Scarlett.

“Can’t you just go in the cupboard? I think I would die of fear if I had to go in.” I say pleading with Grayson.

“Sorry love, fairs fair. Ready?” He replies.

Rock, paper, scissors shoot. I went with paper and Grayson well he went with rock. With a smug look I go stand next to Scarlett and Shotzi awaiting for Grayson to climb into the small cupboard.

“I’m literally in skinny jeans, I can’t do this.” He complains while backing into the small enclosed space. Not even a minute later he is screaming and scrambling to get out of the cupboard.

“Something touched me. Something touched my leg.”

“What?” We all ask.

“When I was in there I felt something grab and pull my leg.” He reiterates.

Finding his way next to me, he slides his hand into mine, again to find comfort. I squeeze his hand as a reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Looking down at me I can see the appreciation in his eyes.

Scarlett sits on the floor and asks the spirits some final questions - much to our dislike.

“Do you like Grayson?”

“No”

Grayson on hearing this throws a little tantrum

“I’m here, I’m trying to learn, I’m being respectful” before he can continue the spirt cuts him off

“Nerd”

The mood once again has been lifted at the expense of Grayson.

Shotzi continues to question the spirit.

“What about yn? Do you like her?”

“Yes”

“Pretty”

“You’re damn right she’s pretty. But ima have you ask you to back off mr ghost, she’s off limits.” Grayson replies

Shotzi and Scarlett share a knowing glance while i remain calm and composed- on the outside that is. On the inside im screaming.

That has got to be the most frightening experience of my life. The cameras have stopped rolling and we are standing in front of the Bloody Mary’s ready to part ways.

“Okay, I’ll admit it was kinda fun, however under no circumstances will I ever come back on your show.” I tell them.

They both laugh and tell me I’m a baby.

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight.”

Grayson jumps in “oh I don’t mind helping you out there. I can think of a few ways to help you sleep.”

Scarlett and Shotzi dismiss themselves sensing we need some time alone.

“What’s with the heavy flirting? You’ve been at it all night?” I question.

“Well what normally happens when a guy flirts with a girl?.”

“You’re not just any guy though, you’re Grayson Waller. Serial romancer.”

Slight offended he replies “I thought my actions would have been louder than my words? I like you yn, I like you a whole fucking lot. My mind, body and soul is captivated only by you.”

Silenced by his confession in struggle to think of the right words to say. I want to tell him I feel the same. I want to tell him how my every fibre and being yearns for him. Slowly I see the hope in his eyes fade as I’m taking too long to reply.

“Listen if you don’t feel the same way just say it I need to”

Before he could finish his sentence my lips meet his. He returns my kiss with a need and passion I’d only ever read in books. This is what he needed, this is what we both needed. Each other. Pulling away our foreheads rest on each other while catching our breath.

“How about a nightmare on elm street? A classic franchise to break that horror movie virginity of yours.”

He chuckles “as long as you’ll be there, I’ll watch anything.”

I honestly dunno what this turned into but here we are…….if you would like tagged in any of my stories let me know and I’ll add you to the list.

Tagged:

@jeysbae

@blueflowermentality

@co-sharkie

#wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #wweedit #grayson waller x yn #grayson waller smut #grayson waller x reader #grayson waller imagine #grayson waller #grayson waller fan fiction #grayson waller x you #wwe x you #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe

[mintchoccy]

THE GIRL WITH A BROKEN SPINE

NMIXX Lily Morrow

actually this is my first oneshot differently from my "Untitled" series. enjoy! (ps. inspired from this one heck of a piece. another version from that piece has been published by my friend @elryuse in their Wattpad. go check those two out!)

"get over here!"

Lily grabs the hem of your shirt, dragging you to the stockroom owned by the PE faculty. You don't expect this behavior to your senior, who was the smartest student in the school, as well as the school's singing champion.

For a quick rundown, Lily Morrow, is your senior. Right after you enter the campus on your second year of high school, you fall in love with her, but you can't express it directly. During your first school assembly, you were starstrucked on her beauty alongside her powerful voice as a member of a girl group named &Nixx.

As the school year came by, you and Lily had little or none interactions as you are focused on your studies, so does Lily. During school assembly, you always see her performing with her group and you could only just watch there, and admire. Only admire. As she goes to perform, you could shout for her attention.

“LILY-SUNBAENIM, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” “LILY, I LOVE YOU!”

The second one could only hit her hard, as she started to lose some focus as she tried to find the source of that voice. The voice that found her happiness, that kind of admiration. However, as they finished the performance, she could look for nothing. But until then, a guy came to her, who is coincidentally trying to find her as well.

“Lily Morrow, from Performing Arts?” you asked. “Y/N Lee, from International Studies.” she replied.

As you hand her some liquids and your handkerchief as her refresher, you had just shoot your shot for her. Sounds cheesy but it was your first time to make a move on a girl for a long time. You can see that she finds it funny, but you don’t mind because that’s the way of trying. Nothing seems to go wrong, right?

Wrong. Ever since that incident, you thought she found it annoying so you decided to stop approaching her during her breaks, or even eat with her for lunch. Oftentimes, you go the other way when you see her approaching you, making her mad at you. Lily would think to herself why she feels like you annoyed her at times but in reality, it just makes things even easier for her to love you.

It would get worse when Kim Jiwoo, or Chuu, your best friend's friend always hangs out with you, making the case more difficult with her and you on her goal to get your heart.

In the school comfort room, you are inside in one of the cubicles, fapping to porn. Lily, on the other hand, is currently on her not-so-normal activity of fishing you out where you could have go. This time, you are in the men's CR, and she quickly entered inside silently.

Confusingly, you immediately halted on what are you doing because maybe there's somethin entered, but unbeknownst to you, Lily silently locked the door, putting a sign saying "under repair" to avoid suspicion. After a few minutes, you return on what are you doing.

Playing the video again, you take out your cock, and gently stroking it, imagining it was Lily's hand stroking you. "Oh god, Lily, please stroke it more", you muttered. Lily, on the other hand, was turned on at what she's hearing. Yes, she always masturbated for you, but from your voice itself really hits right to the bone.

To your cubicle, Lily sneaks at the front of the cubicle door, silently hearing those moans. "Fuck! Oh yes, that's the spot! Keep sucking me with your tongue!" You moaned. Lily wasted no time and she pulls down her panties, putting her fingers quickly to her clit.

"Mfffff, ohhhhh" Lily moaned, but not as loudly as you moaned. She muffled her moans in order to not get any attention from you and caught her jerking off to you as well. Exchanging moans back and forth, uttering out each other's sexual pents to each other.

"Fuck, you're so good Lily-ah, please suck me more!" you moaned. "That's it baby, eat my cunt even more! Fuck, feels so good!" Lily moaned.

Both of you cum intensively, with Lily falling into her knees, dragging her down to the ground, behind a closed door where you are staying.

After the session, you immediately cleaned yourself, and put the soiled tissues on a bag you brought for later disposal. However, while leaving the cubicle, you found someone who is oddly familiar to you.

"Lily?", you asked, finding her half-passed out, her skirt wet and panties ruined. From that point, you know it's checkmate.

Lily on the other hand immediately woke up and instantly looked up to you. Shocked at your state, fully clothed and ready to leave, but yet puzzled face. She then pulled you in back to the cubicle, didn't care the puddle on her spot.

"Now, I heard you moaning for me?" Lily asked. You could only send a glare on her, speechless for her aggressiveness. "Well, if you won't talk, I'll drain you again", Lily added. She won't be kidding, as she unzip you down, fishing out the cock you've just been beaten for porn. She would care at all.

Starting to stroke it up and down, she started to lick her lips, admiring the size of your dick. For her perspective, she finally had the chance to submit. But for you, you are still clueless.

"W-why are you doing this? Is this some kind of a joke for you to do against me?" You started to spew out, as she kept her hands on your length.

"No baby, this is just my first step. Remember, you are finally mine. You get it?" Lily replied. She doesn't care if you call for a thousand saints.

Keeping the pace of her hands, she could only jerk your cock off. Looking at her face, she could be the biggest winner as she only looked up and down on her precious prize, and decided to gulp the meat, savoring the taste of it.

Looking back, you could only feel the pleasure, and the electricity jolted your body for the new sensation. Sure, Lily wasn't this type of girl but for you, it was surely the weakest point you've become. No people to call to, nothing at all.

Lily worshiped your cock like a toy. Playing with her saliva, she kept sliding your dick to her mouth, then jerking it at a fast pace.

"Will you cum for me baby? Will you cum, will you cum, will you cum? I know how much you love to cum for me baby. You are my toy. You are my precious, little toy. Now brace yourself, 'cause shit's gonna be in my favor ahihihihihi.....", and with that, with the help of her saliva, her hand, and her tongue. You came harder than a pitcher throwing a 120 mph fastball as streaks of cum splattered on your owner's face. Some of it splatters to her eyelashes, her nose, and her cheeks. She then cleans your cock with her tongue, sucking until it's squeaky clean.

"Thanks for the meal, baby. Please have your things packed, you're going home with me", Lily stood up and cleansed her face with her fingers. "Hmmmmm, delicious. can't wait to taste it more later", she added with a wink.

Since then, you were bounded to her. No asks, no reasons, just she took you to her home, only to be her so-called "boyfriend" in front of her friends and family.

However, behind all that, she could only make you go down for her, doing some kinky things for her. On a leash, licking her feet, and even eating her ass whenever she's stressed out during rehearsals.

But at the same time, she would prevent you from talking with your friends, even talking with her own circle. Even in class, she would tell your teacher that you should do your work alone than in groups. You would complain, but you would likely be punished by her afterwards.

It's been 6 months since that incident, and it's Valentine's Day. Sure, no one would likely give you something like chocolates or letters. But for Lily, she received a ton of them. Being the most popular member has perks, but you don't care because she deserves it all.

Walking down the hall, some run to you, and seem to want you to know her feelings.

"Oppa! Please accept my letter. I wrote it all night for you." she said, running away again.

"Odd," you could only reply. Opening the letter, you saw the name of the sender. “Chuu? As in Kim Jiwoo from the culinary arts? I’m too flushed”, you could only say. As you keep reading the contents of the letter, someone on your way just can’t wait to confront you, and decides to drag you out of the scene.

“WHAT’S INTO YOU? WAIT! DON’T DRAG ME SO HARD LIKE THAT!” You could only cry out as your clothes started to stain with the dirt from the shoes walking around the corridor. You then looked at her face, and you know she’s not happy when you talk to other girls.

"Get over here!" said Lily, dragging you to a stockroom. Looking around the room, this is where PE teachers used to stock all of their sports paraphernalia for future use and for the Intramurals.

“Now, look at me~ you said you will not look at other girls other than me, yeah?” you only nod. “Then why”, says with diction, “you”, with anger. “Disobey”, with madness, “my rules?”, with something lewd, something I heard from the ASMRs that I watched. What is it again? Yeah, yanderes.

“Hey, don’t look away, I’m still talking to you”, grabbing your chin to look at her. “Now, what should I do to you to obey me at once?”, she added.

“I don’t know Lily, I don’t know!” You replied. Even though your muscles are quite thick, you can’t still let go from the grasps of the Australian yandere.

Laughing, she then tears the buttons of your shirt down, revealing your body. Just for the record, you even had body fats, but slashing down the visceral fats worked due to months of cardio in the gym and football practices.

Smirking, she only added insult to injury by plucking down your belt, pulling down the pants and boxers altogether revealing your cock.

Looking at it, you can’t say if she’s just taking your attention to her. But in reality, she’s too focused on taking you and your virginity away to be hers and hers only.

“Look at you, dipshit. Didn’t you know I was the reason why I kept you out of all the classwork, I kept you all from interacting with others? It’s because I want you to focus on me. ON ME! But why suddenly, you refuse to accept my offer, huh? Right now, I’m going to take you, and your cock, and your life away from them. Don’t you see, I am the only person who only loves you?” She whispered to your ear. The eyes started to turn pink, as if she’s like a real-life yandere going wild for her senpai.

Nothing to say at all, she decided to sink her way into you by lining her now naked pussy, plunging it down inside her. Muffling your moans, she found it addicting that you are finally inside of her, and no one would stop her from doing so.

“Well baby, can’t you see? I am the only one who can make you feel like this. I am the only one who can make you happy. You are the only one who can make me happy. I am the only one who can marry you. I! AM! THE! ONLY! ONE! FOR! YOU!” she said in every pound she makes against you, she speaks as your brain starts to melt from her tightness.

In deep agony, you think that this torture is endless. Thinking about it, it was the worst dream that you can imagine. You wish to the gods that this would never happen, but they didn’t bother you to listen. Every slap of her thigh to you seems to be a torture, as Lily didn’t bother you to listen to your plead, still covering your mouth from moans or pleads of help you may mutter.

She kept going and going. Pleasuring herself on the human meat dildo on her lap, the person was immobilized by her hands making you stay still, her hand still on your mouth. So maybe you’ll ask, “how I can’t use my other hands to set myself free?” Well, my other hand was crushed on the back when I got thrown out earlier, and I can’t take it back. Well, tough luck.

As she rides you, the impending orgasm leaves you in a hallucination phase. You’ve become lightheaded as Lily kept riding your cock, her orgasm after orgasm. Strike one, her eyes start to glow more pink hearts. Strike two, your back and even chest are scratched by her nails. Strike three, all hell broke loose.

“Baby?” She asked, still your dick is inside her. “You know, I always dreamt of this moment. Don’t you worry. After this, we are bound forever. And no one would ever stand in our way”, she added. As if the clock strikes twelve, so as her. She slammed on you deep, a sign that you’ve cummed, a moaning mess all over her face as she clung on your neck.

Detaching herself from you, the overflow of cum all over her pussy was leaking. Scooping and eating the leak, you could only see her face turn into a deep obsession.

“You’re officially mine”

(notes: finally, after over a year, this piece will be finally out. the wattpad version will be out too after this piece goes live.)

#nmixx #nmixx smut #nmixx lily #lily morrow #yandere #kpop yandere

[jqnehr]

les améthystes du ciel | neuvillette — part 11

two individuals under pressure to marry. one has the hydro archon on his back, and the other has her matchmaking friend pushing her along. when the two meet at a ball, and both in dire need of peace from two meddlesome females, what better arrangement is there than their own betrothal?

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader warnings : uhhh idk, this is sfw. word count : 4.9k note : another shorter one 💔

! not proof read

! do not copy, redistribute, translate, or use my work with or without credit in any way. thank you.

part ten ⋮ masterlist ⋮ part twelve

ao3 ⋮ playlist

...

A week passes by in a blink, and the tea party is just around the corner. Your opinion of the Iudex increased greatly at that kind notion of his to send you that cake, and you felt strangely encouraged—and, for some reason, you weren’t apprehensive of the upcoming tea party at all anymore. 

Perhaps it’s because Navia jovially announced how she would also be attending. Or maybe it’s how you felt reassured with Neuvillette by your side. Or, even more possibly, it’s the fact that Neuvillette had sent you a letter a few days ago saying it was time to begin your act in front of the Hydro Archon.

Some things had changed within the plan—alterations you and the Chief Justice yourselves had made. Instead of sticking to the original scheme of Wriothesley’s, you both opted for something that would dash Furina’s spirits even more.

Neuvillette reiterated Wriothesley’s plan in his letter—you were, initially, to act way too over-the-top; to act utterly and stupidly in love with the Iudex, and annoy the hell out of Furina. You were also to appear overly-friendly—something that would fray the Hydro Archon’s patience towards you, ultimately (and hopefully) ending in her insisting on your divorce with the Iudex and your expulsion from the Palais. 

Now, things are different.

‘When in Furina’s presence, make sure to speak ill of me,’ the letter had stated. ‘Make it seem as if you have an exceptionally low opinion of me, and attempt to disillusion Furina into thinking we really aren’t compatible after all. I believe I can leave the rest in your capable hands. This was not the method I ever wanted to resort to, but we both agree that we must end this debacle she’s thrusted upon us A.S.A.P.’.

Well, that’s simple to do, is what you thought once you had thrown the letter into the fire, but now, as you stand in front of not only Furina herself, but Champion Duelist Clorinde, maybe you and Neuvillette’s plan was much easier said than done.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Clorinde,” you greet, extending your hand to shake hers. She takes yours in a firm grip and gives a single shake before letting go. You find yourself feeling quite envious of Clorinde—she’s beautiful; with a tall, shapely figure and an undeniable elegance about her. Her hands are small and graceful, and the message she effortlessly conveyed through the handshake was clear—she is no one to trifle with, and she does not doubt her own capabilities.

You admire that about her. However, her presence has become quite a setback in the executing of your plans. There’s no way you’d be able to talk smack about Neuvillette and harshly discourage the Hydro Archon right in front of the musket-wielding, sword-slinging Champion Duelist of Fontaine. You know that she’d march you off for detainment and interrogation immediately at your disrespect.

“Likewise,” she voices the same single word she gave you when you first met at the ball. Clorinde kind of hides behind her hair, only her left violet eye visible and staring right at you with unabashed circumspection. “Congrats on your marriage to the Iudex.”

Your brows shoot up. You didn’t expect her to know. “I—thank you, Miss Clorinde.” You’re also surprised at how she actually acknowledged you—although it was about something you’d rather not be associated with, it’s still the most you’ve ever heard her say—apart from calling Wriothesley an idiot back at the ball—and probably the most she’s ever said to you.

“I thought I’d invite you both over for tea as you haven’t met yet!” Furina claps her hands, oblivious to the fact that you both did meet at the ball—the one where this entire fiasco had started. Neither of you move to correct her, though—she’s already babbling on about how much she’d like you both to be friends. “You both have such similar temperaments! Elusive, unreadable, mysterious…”

You internally wince at her words. They aren’t words you’d use to describe yourself at all. They make you sound interesting—and you don’t believe you are. At least, not as interesting as Clorinde comes off as.

Clorinde does seem elusive, unreadable and most certainly mysterious. She’s almost brooding. And, well, frankly, you wouldn’t mind becoming friends with her. She’s cold and inscrutable, but does not rub off as unkind.

“At any rate, I think you two will get along.” Maybe the side-glances you both give each other in unison at her words is a first sign of such, but you quickly brush it off. Clorinde doesn’t appear to be too thrilled about being here. Neither are you. 

“Well, then! As it’s just us ladies today, shall we eat cake to our hearts’ delight?” Furina, always the master at diffusing awkward atmospheres, claps her hands once more and swivels around to prance over to the nearby table. It’s already all nicely prepared—an assortment of varying desserts laid out across display trays and small plates. It smells wonderful, but the sight strikes you with an unpleasant sense of familiarity—you’re reminded of the stormy argument that blew out of proportion mere months ago now. A tinge of embarrassment pricks you at the memory of your, frankly, unruly behaviour from back then. However, what’s done is done—and you’re just glad Furina doesn’t really seem to remember it.

“These look lovely, Lady Furina,” you say, also trying to make the atmosphere a bit more amiable. “Is this the cake that only has 16 slices available for a day?” You had only a few bites of the cake back at the meeting, for your appetite was dashed. Today, you intend to enjoy it.

“Of course, it is! I wouldn’t hold such an occasion if it wasn’t available.” She seems pleased with herself, humming jovially as she elegantly holds the teapot with her two small hands and pours the steaming liquid into her teacup. “Goodness, we have much to discuss today. Too bad Neuvillette couldn’t make it. Miss Clorinde, will you attend the tea party Baroness Aillet is hosting?”

“Erm, I never received an invitation…” Clorinde occupies herself with pouring her own tea into her teacup. You have a feeling that she doesn’t really want to go. “And, well, I can’t show up uninvited…”

“Oh! No matter, I believe I have a spare invitation somewhere.” Furina picks up her purse and rummages through it. Sneaking a glance at Clorinde, you see her purse her lips slightly and sigh almost inaudibly through her nose. Yeah. Clearly, she doesn’t wish to attend. And fair enough. “Here we are! I think it would be wonderful to see you come along. You have many fans wishing to meet you, Clorinde.”

“…I see.” She accepts the small invitation and places it into a pocket somewhere. “Thank you for your generosity, Lady Furina. You needn’t have given your only plus-one invitation to me.”

Furina waves a dismissive hand. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’m sure the baroness would be thrilled to see you there. Now, [Name].” She links her hands together and leans forward, placing her chin atop her fingers. “How has it been with Neuvillette? Are you two enjoying married life?”

Ah, right, you cast a subtle glance in Clorinde’s direction, whose expression seems interested, as she places a single sugar cube into her tea and stirs it gently. Clorinde, nor anyone else, knows about the true nature of our marriage. “It’s…going well. He sent me a cake the other day.”

“Really?” You instantly regret opening your big mouth the instant Furina slams the table with both palms, rattling the cutlery, already halfway out of her seat. She half-smiles, half-gapes at you, face practically glowing with joy at the news. It’s not that big of a deal. Yet she’s acting as if you just announced a pregnancy—a pregnancy that will never happen. “Oh, isn’t he a darling? I knew he’d treat you well.”

You have to physically restrain from cringing. “Uh…yes, I suppose so.” I guess the best I can do for now is to not act very enthused at the mention of him, if I’m going to put up any kind of act at all. “It’s not like he talks to me much.”

“What?” Furina seems to have forgotten all about the secondary presence in the room—Clorinde—who now has to listen in on a—frankly—personal conversation (or gossip session) about your husband. A conversation she likely wouldn’t want to hear, and one you don’t really want her hearing.

Furina begins to rant. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not like he talks to me much’?! You’re married! I told you two to enjoy each other—in all ways!” Your face flares with heat, her words the poker to stoke the flames. You’re about to protest and implore her to correct her wording, but she persists. “That knucklehead! He can’t ever get into that thick skull of his that finding love and having a wife is a good thing. I want to be an aunt—!”

“Lady Furina, would you please,” your tone is nowhere as severe as you’d like it—in fact, the embarrassment of her crude words has left your voice croaking like a dehydrated frog’s. You notice Clorinde’s brows are sky-high, her cheeks also tinged pink, and that augments your humiliation even further. “That is no matter to discuss over tea or before guests. Neuvillette most certainly wouldn’t appreciate this either.”

“Oh—m-my apologies, I got a little carried away there…haha…” You think? She awkwardly scratches her cheek. “I just…well, Neuvillette’s never had someone by his side, and—”

“I understand.” You reach for the handle of your teacup, bringing it to your lips, blowing on the hot liquid inside softly. “However, such matters are very private between a husband and a wife.”

Clorinde speaks up, something you’re surprised at. “I…never thought Neuvillette would marry, much less for love.” Her words perturb you inexplicably. She turns her piercing indigo stare to you. “To think it’s happened in my lifetime. But, I will say this, Madame…” Madame is still something you’re not used to being called; and you find yourself tensing in anticipation for her to continue. “When I watched you two dance that night, I, along with likely all of the attendees, saw sparks fly.” She ahems, tapping the teaspoon she was using to stir her tea lightly against the rim of her cup awkwardly. “Please excuse my…tacky wording, but I do agree that you’re a good match.” 

On a normal day—or, if you felt normal at all about this entire blunder anymore—you would’ve adamantly disagreed and denied such a thing. But, for some reason, you find yourself falling silent in thought. Could she be right? You have only known the Iudex for a few months, but the whole time, he has treated you with nothing but respect and care. I mean, I won’t deny that I feel something too…but what about him?

You don’t want to get your hopes up, and you still want this marriage to end as soon as it can. So what if there’s ‘chemistry’? It wouldn’t work, anyway—you, along with every other citizen in Fontaine, know that he has no human lifespan. He’d outlive you, and things would end in shambles if you were to stick to one another.

“Well, I suppose it’s because we do get along.” You take a sip of tea. “He’s a considerate man.”

“I should hope so,” Furina huffs, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “At any rate, this tea party we will be attending will be good for you to ease into this nation’s high society. Believe me when I say the nobles are quite insufferable.” You only just manage to catch Clorinde’s soft grunt of agreement as Furina rolls her eyes. “And as you’re a commoner, they may not take too kindly to the announcement of your marriage to the Iudex. Do you know how many marriage proposals he gets on the weekly from desperate fathers of airheaded daughters?” She shakes her head in incredulity even at the thought. “All I’m saying is to prepare yourself. You’ll have a few angry and affronted nobles eager to pick a bone with you at any event you attend with Neuvillette.”

You’d surmised as much already, but you’re grateful for her warnings in advance. “I will take heed of that, thank you, Lady Furina.” You’ve dealt with snotty nobles plenty of times before, especially when you’ve attended the occasional ball with Navia and had to bear with their disdainful looks at a commoner being present for the evening. You really don’t get how they always think they’re superior to everyone else just because they have money and a title—a title that, in the end, is just as empty as their fake niceties.

“But I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You’re uncertain whether to be complimented or concerned at how much faith she appears to have in you. “You seem to know how to deflect all kinds of irking remarks made by any and everyone.”

“…Yes.” It’s not hard to tell slimy men to push off—although, they usually target the more attractive young women. Another perk to being rather plain. And now, with the Chief Justice of Fontaine at your side, you won’t be bothered again. 

“Now, I’d like to know what the next two events that you’ve prepared for Neuvillette and I are.” You suppose it wouldn’t really matter if Clorinde listens in, as she isn’t privy to the true context of the matter. And she doesn’t seem bothered either—Clorinde appears to be someone who minds her own business, and does not pry.

“Ah! Did he not tell you?” He might’ve, but you can’t recall much. You did pass out on your bed after eating the cake he sent you and the meeting. At any rate, it would pay to have confirmation from her. “Well, your first little date is the tea party, the next is a banquet I was able to snag some invites to, and finally—just as a nice little reminder of the past of how you both met—your last event will be a ball!”

“Oh…alright.” You select a macaron just to occupy your mouth with something other than speaking, processing her words. She seems excited—elated, even—while your stomach continues to swerve and roll about in apprehension. A ball, of all things. We’ll probably be the centre of attention! How on earth will I manage it?

“You look a bit green, [Name], dear.” And now she’s calling me an endearing name? It really is getting a bit overwhelming. Oh, if only Neuvillette was here to handle her. Why won’t Clorinde talk more to occupy her for me? You ahem, while she continues. “Here, have some ice-cold water. The sort Neuvillette would like.”

You glance at her from beneath your brow, still coughing softly into your fist. “Aha, thank you, Lady Furina. Uh, will you be attending the ball?”

“Sadly, no,” she sighs defeatedly, as if truly disappointed. “I really wish I could. I would be able to die happy seeing Neuvillette finally dance with someone—his wife, no less. However, just knowing he will do such is enough for me. Duty calls! Someone’s got to keep this country running.”

“…Of course.” You nod, finishing off the last of your tea. Doesn’t look like I’ll be able to leave any time soon. “That’s a shame. What about you, Miss Clorinde?”

“Well…I will see what I can do. Wriothesley will probably drag me along to it, anyway.” She swirls the liquid gently around in her cup as she speaks. “Am I also invited to the banquet, Lady Furina?”

Her tone gives away how much she’s hoping Furina will say no—but, alas, the Hydro Archon perks up and beams, humming in delight as she finishes off her slice of cake before responding. “Of course! You simply must attend, Clorinde.” She then smiles at you, and you’ve come to understand that as never a good sign. “I will be in attendance for the tea party and banquet. Isn’t it exciting? Oh, they will all be so honoured to be graced with my presence.”

Hm, yes, they would have to. You cut a piece off of your slice of cake with your fork, allowing yourself a bit. It really is a wonderful cake—not quite as good as the black forest one Neuvillette sent you, baked by the Palais’ own chef. “Are you sure you can’t make it to the ball?” You’re only being polite. Please tell me yes! You’re certain even more trouble would ensue if she were to be present.

“Yes. It’s so unfortunate.” Speak for yourself! Neuvillette would likely be pleased with the news, if he doesn’t already know. “Oh well! You will all have a wonderful time, I’m sure.”

“Absolutely.” However, nothing is guaranteed for smooth sailing. And while you’re on this rocky sea of marriage and nobles and meddling fellow women, the boat very well may be engulfed by its dark waves, dragging you and Neuvillette down with it.

・・・・

“[Name]~!” 

You immediately perk up at the familiar voice—there Navia is, waving merrily in your direction, beaming. You quickly approach her, greeting her with a happy smile of your own. “Hey, Navia. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“So am I.” She pulls you in for a brief hug, soft and sisterly. “Are you nervous? Don’t be. You’ve got me and Neuvillette. Say, where is he?”

“Over there, somewhere.” He had gone to greet some other acquaintances you didn’t know. Many other nobles and wealthy commoners are milling around, gathering into small groups to chat with one another. Until the official announcement of Neuvillette’s marriage, he had said that it’d likely be best to remain apart from one another. You agreed, and now you are here, arm-in-arm with your best friend, sauntering over to greet the host. “I think he’s talking with Duke Wriothesley.”

“The Duke’s here?” Navia sounds surprised—and you were too, when you’d seen his dark mop of hair and broad shoulders making their way through the crowd. And you’d seen the young women quickly have him surrounded, fawning over his attractive figure and devilishly handsome face. The look of clear regret for ever coming was painfully apparent on his features.

“Yes, and he’s been cornered by the women,” you stifle a laugh, turning your head to try and spot him. You quickly do, his tall frame only just visible above the sea of girls battering their lashes and fanning themselves with their hands and fans alike. He looks wildly uncomfortable, saying something to try and make them give him personal space, but they just keep placing their manicured hands on the bulk of his forearm seductively.

Navia also tries not to giggle, the back of her hand against her mouth in an attempt to silence it. “No wonder he’s never seen out. The stuffy air of the Fortress protects him from his salivating fangirls.”

You have to bite back your laughter as you both arrive before the host of the tea party, Baroness Aillet. You both curtsy, expressing your greetings and gratitude. “Bonjour, Baroness Aillet. It’s such an honour to have been invited to this wonderful gathering.” 

She turns, the middle-aged woman’s face breaking into a welcoming smile. “Oh, please, girls, it’s only my pleasure to have such lovely guests today. Thank you for attending. Please have a seat at any table anywhere.”

The two of you curtsy once more in thanks, murmuring polite words of appreciation before heading off, leaving the noblewoman to greet other guests. It’s quite the crowd today, the Baron’s estate gardens almost too small for forty guests. You spot the familiar sunglasses-clad right-hand men of Navia’s, Silver and Melus, wandering about the crowd, watchful eyes observing everyone and Navia. You smile at them in greeting when you catch their eye, of which they return.

“Ah, there’s Neuvillette. Oh my, is that Lady Furina?” Your attention is drawn to wherever Navia gestures towards, catching sight of Neuvillette’s familiar broad back and his resplendent silver hair, Furina’s smaller figure beside him. She’s animatedly talking to him about something, the Iudex staring down at her with a stiff posture, clearly not pleased about whatever she’s saying. She smiles; his lips are pursed in displeasure. As you both make your way over to them, you faintly hear him sigh and say, ‘Fine’.

“Bonjour, Lady Furina,” Navia greets the Hydro Archon first. “C'est un plaisir de vous voir.”

“Oh—uh, bien sûr, it’s a pleasure to meet the Demoiselle of the Spinda du Rosula once more!” Furina seems a bit awkward—perhaps due to the embarrassment of being called out on her hogwash by Navia herself when Lyney and Lynette were put on trial. “So good to have you here. The more the merrier! Haha…”

Navia smiles like the sun before greeting Neuvillette politely, dipping into a curtsy. “Et bonjour à vous, Monsieur Neuvillette. Comment allez-vous ?”

“Ah, je vais bien, merci, Demoiselle Navia.” He bows his head in greeting. “How has the Spina du Rosula been?”

“Business is booming once more, thankfully.” Despite that, Navia still looks a bit tired. You make a mental note to pester her about whether she’s been resting enough. “Now, I haven’t heard too much about how your—ahem, marriage—” she lowers her voice considerably, as to not alert other, eavesdropping guests close by. It’s clear everyone is shocked that the reclusive Chief Justice is in attendance for yet another event today. “With my dearest friend [Name] has been.”

“Aha, well, things have been…smooth.” He shoots a glance your way, amethyst hues clearly imploring you to help him out here. “We get along well.”

“Yes, we do.” You fidget with your purse’s strap. “Although, Neuvillette’s awfully busy, so we don’t see each other much.”

“Well, that’s to be expected, no?” Navia already knows the reality of the situation, but there are appearances to keep up—especially when the time for the announcement arrives. “You must make the most of the time you have then.”

“Well said, Navia!” Furina giggles in delight, turning to you and Neuvillette. “Run along, now, you two. You have an announcement to make, yes?”

“Ahem…I…suppose so.” Neuvillette gives you a subtle, wary glance, and you, with a resigned sigh, step forward to take his arm. “Let’s get this over and done with,” you tip your head up to murmur in his ear softly. He inclines his head down towards you and nods. “I’ll go up and begin the speech; you wait in the crowd until I call you, yes?”

“Alright,” you quietly reply, and he quickly departs, making his way toward the Baroness. You watch as he says a few words to her, to which he goes ‘oh!’ and nods, picking up her skirts to rush over for the front of the garden—or, really, the marble deck overlooking the place. She holds up her wine glass and taps the side of it three times, silence soon falling across the yard as everyone’s attention is drawn towards the front. “Everyone, if I may have your attention, please—His Honour, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, has graced us with his presence today, and has an announcement to make. Please welcome him up.”

Polite clapping ensues as Neuvillette strides over to the Baroness, thanking her and bowing his head in acknowledgement to the crowd. “Thank you, everyone. I apologise for disturbing your conversations with your companions. However, the matter you are all the first of the commonplace to be privy to is of the utmost importance.” You observe him from the sidelines, somewhere he can see you clearly and gesture for you at the right time. You note how stiff and almost nervous he seems—he’s used to that high, exalted chair in the Epiclese, where he is commanding and in his element—however, here, in front of a tiny crowd compared to that which gathers in the courthouse on trial days, he is far from his comfort zone, addressing something miles away from that of hearings, and instead is about to announce something that will likely make everyone faint from shock.

You sense a presence come to a stop a respectful distance from you, beside you. You turn to look up at Duke Wriothesley, who bobs his head in greeting to you. “Madame.”

“Your Grace,” you politely greet back, your voice a murmur. You both turn to refocus on the front where Neuvillette is speaking. “This news will be…shocking for you, I’m sure. However, I will say that it is good news. You see, recently, headlines have been going crazy over the fact that I danced with a woman at a ball months ago. There was even a photo captured of the moment. A moment I…” He trails off, considering his words for a second. “A moment that changed my life—one that has been, frankly, long and arduous. And when people say that the topic of this matter is a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ experience, I find that I agree. I have lived centuries, dutifully fulfilling my role as Chief Justice, and to think I would have the opportunity to experience the miracle of love…” Neuvillette pauses once more, allowing the crowd to whisper and gasp about themselves. He’s putting up an impeccable act. “…Is something that is foreign, but never unwelcome, to me.

“And then, only about a week—maybe two—ago, another photo was taken of a woman and I alone on a street. She and I…were shocked at the headline. When did they get this photo of us? was our question.” With every word of his, your heart rate escalates—and it positively jumps at the look that crosses his face as he comes to stop in his words once more. He glances down at the ground, a soft smile gracing his mouth. One you, and anyone else with eyes, would immediately take for the unmistakable look of love. He’s…an amazing actor. “But it has proven advantageous. It has brought me here, today, to now—to introduce you all to the woman who has turned my mundane, routinely life into one of sunlight. So, my dearest wife, will you please join my side up here?” Now is the time. Neuvillette turns his piercing mauve hues towards you, his hand outstretched towards you. With an anxious swallow and deep breath in, you stride forward, head held high. Again, the crowd ripples with gasps and whispers and murmurs, every eye on you. You gather your skirts into one hand as you walk, the other extended, falling into his gloved one; coming to a stop at his side before everyone. 

Your blood rushes in your ears, your hand clasped in his; Neuvillette’s hand is warm and large and engulfing yours fully. He’s my anchor. He faces everyone once more. “Please welcome my wife, Madame [Name]. She is a wonderful woman—strong, level headed, and, most of all…” He pauses, turning to you, lifting your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, eyes pinned to yours—before leaning forward and pressing one to your cheek. It’s tender, unimposing and adoring. You catch yourself in time before you can reel back and exclaim in surprise, wits scattered. He whispers a barely-audible I’m sorry in your ear before straightening again, noting the way the onlookers’ jaws have long clattered to the ground in shock. “She is the one to remain by my side. We have been married for only a few months, but they have been the most joyous few months of my life.”

You take that as your cue to speak. “Th-Thank you all—and thank you, Neuvillette.” Ugh, this is so hard! I’m about to faint from that kiss! You mask your trepidation and lean your head against Neuvillette’s bicep, smiling up at him. “This man is all any woman could possibly ask for in a husband.”

And, suddenly, the entire crowd bursts into thunderous applause, whistles and cheers reverberating all across the yard. Taken aback, you glance up at Neuvillette, who merely smiles down at you. Right, the act’s not over until we leave. “Shall we, my dear?”

“Oh, yes.” You take his arm and you both step back down onto the grass of the garden, nodding in greeting and offering thanks to everyone around who wishes you well. Well, I think this is as close to a wedding reception we’ll ever get. As it sure feels like one. I wonder what their reactions will be when our divorce is announced next year?

Wriothesley comes along and pats the Iudex on the back, while Navia hugs you. What the heck. This is all way over the top. It’s pretty much the last straw for you when Furina shows up, squealing in delight. “My goodness! The chemistry between you two up there was out of this world! Wow!” She claps her hands, beaming. “I knew you were both such a good idea!” 

Left with no choice but to humour her, you and Neuvillette do your best to address everyone who comes up to speak with you both, expressing their congratulations and well-wishes. You actually overhear someone say that an old woman fainted in shock at the announcement. It’s all so overwhelming. Now, you are the centre of attention—something you wish to go away—and you’ve been forced to adjust in such a short time. When do we leave?

You weren’t sure whether to be glad or have your spirits even more trampled upon when Navia came rushing up to you, blue eyes blown wide and her expression one of unadulterated distress. Maybe you should’ve been happy for the distraction—if the news wasn’t so frightful.

“[Name].” She pulls you to the side, away from everyone, hands shaking. “This is bad.”

“Wh-What’s wrong?” It’s rare to see the composed Navia so ruffled. “Calm down. Are you okay?”

“I just got news back about something related to you…that I’ve been investigating.” Alarm bells are blaring, but you force yourself to remain silent and allow her to continue. 

“[Name]...” Her voice falls to a whisper. “André’s dead.”

And the whole world caves in.

any guesses as to who 'André' may be? 🤭

sorry for yet another shorter chapter 💔 this was fun to write tho ahaha

taglist!

@shiroonekoo @just-here-reading @avyakaslana @eternal-dokja @confusedparticle @xitrinez @tanspostsblog @vcatson @sek0ya @loving-august @mxyarylla @ultigoblin @constantlyoverthinking @pvbbyb0y @lynettezzp @esthelily @furblrwurblr @sangoqueenkoko @lacunaanonymoused

© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works

#genshin impact #neuvillette #genshin #chief justice neuvillette #fontaine #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #neuvillette x you

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hi! hope you are having a nice day :D

Can you please do Jhin x gn! reader headcanons! SFW and NSFW if you want. Please i´m lacking Jhin content :,)

Thank you! Take care <3

✦–Random Jhin headcanons.✦ SFW & NSFW

✦I will definitely not let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content!

✧ prompt: ✧ totally random headcanons that just appeared to be in my head, because I tend to think about League of Legends hot champions TOO MUCH.

✧ champions: ✧ Jhin, the Virtuoso.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ As I stated, I will definitely NOT let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content, even if this means I have to actually WRITE something AND share this. I’m a 300k+ Maestry Jhin main by the way, from the times I actually used to main adc. A very painful backstory, as you see. (As always, please ignore any mistakes. Let’s say I’m tired.)

masterlist

✦SFW:

First of all, you are Jhin’s muse. You are his everything. His inspiration, his devotion, his deepest desire.

That’s the first reason why must you be protected at all costs, kept safely in his mansion. The word ’jealous’ is not worthy of his exquisite person, therefore he prefers being claimed as protective - he is obsessed with you.

It is somewhat between the thrill of keeping his precious muse close to himself (always skulking, always taking care of them) and the repugnant fear of losing them.

You are aware of his perfectionism, but it does not mean that you always have to be on the alert, be the best of yourself, always present your virtues - for Jhin, you are the definition of perfection, you embody the word of ideal creation. He claims you as the noblest person in the world, despite your free opinion on yourself that can sometimes let you down.

Jhin would never let you think of yourself as unworthy of his love, unworthy of life, unworthy of your body (if you ever even caught a glimpse of that feelings).

He cherishes it, your body, and wants you to see yourself in the same light as he does.

Because Jhin is well aware of the fact, that he is the only one who can gaze at you admiringly and see the whole concept of your person, most true and undisputed. He would never be mistaken if it comest to you, to your goregous person, the one he worships and adores.

So Jhin is a romantic lover. He sees no world beside you, no colors and no inspiration. It wasn’t a long time after he realized that his surrounding becomes dull and monochromatic whenever he finds himself missing you.

✦NSFW:

Body worshipping is not like a thing he enjoys, as an artist, a virtuoso, a connoisseur - he thinks it is crutial, obvious. He treats your bodies like an artwork, a composition of two perfectly fitting sculptures.

I would call him a soft dom, though sex itself is a way to express himself for Jhin. In the end, trivial human desires are nothing in the face of performance.

The moment with him is always intimate; I think he would be against any kind of public sex, taking the risk of being caught as aggravating.

But he enjoys gun play. Whisper is a fundamental part of his life, though it is only a weapon- no, not even a weapon. A tool destined to paint his canvas. It has to touch you and you must shiver from the cold feeling of metal against your skin.

I don’t think Jhin is a rough type either. Eventually, he is a sensual lover, placing a great impact in foreplay and the scene around you, so it can be perfect and remain undisturbed.

He appreciates you being needy, though. Jhin finds it amusing to see you squirming for him, maybe even begging. You can always take advantage of his soft spot for you and those little sounds you make.

He is very talkative during sex. Moreover, it is not only teasing, but also reassuring words and sweet promises.

And he is a man of word. You can await him fulffiling every of these dark whispers, sooner or later.

#✦demosthenes writes #league of legends #lol #league of legends x reader #league of legends x you #league of legends jhin #jhin #khada jhin #jhin x reader #jhin x you #league of legends khada jhin #khada jhin x reader

[blorbocedes]

Hi there, I might be kind of obsessed with the idea of rbr charles or rbr lestappen so I need to hear the thoughts of some people who might not be in the "lestappen gate 2023" bubble as I am :)) Do you think this can actually happen and become reality? (After all Charles is better of with rbr than ferrari, that's for sure.)

And please be honest. Thank you!

in my opinion, it's not happening babes x

redbull have never had 1-2 teammate finish before this year. ever. it doesn't make sense to fire the driver who finished 2nd in the championship which is exactly where you want him. if checo's lawyers were worth any salt im sure he had a stipulation like you can't fire me for this unless you're willing to PAY pay. checo has a contract til 2024 which redbull is willing to play out. if you've heard newey, he said next year's car is supposed to be even better 🤞 somehow

if checo completely forgets how to drive next year and the grid is super competitive, I can see him being midway switched into the season which redbull is known to do -- but they would do it with someone internally, like they did with kyvat and max, or alex and pierre. as in, they'd be looking at daniel or yuki, since liam lawson is already waiting in the wings.

now 2025 is the Great Unknown, many contracts are expiring apart from max's. here's why it doesn't make sense for charl to go to redbull in 2025: regulations change in 2026. presumably redbull is gonna be fucked by it, like they were fucked by 2013 reg change or merc was fucked by 2022. both maxywaxy and horner have raised some concerns about the reg change. they're getting Ford as their new engine partner, with no clue how that's gonna effect the car -- cause the current Honda is what they're winning the championships with. we can expect redbull domination until 2025, but after that it's anyone's game. so if charles is signing with redbull in 2025, he's coming into a very strong car and a team that's been centred around 1 driver for 9 years at that point. and that's his one chance for sure to fight for the championship. he doesn't even get 1 season's grace period of acclimatising as max's teammate because he doesn't know what 2026 regs will do to the car, if he has another shot. that's a lot of pressure, where even p2 is seen as a failure.

one of the reasons charles is so highly rated is because he puts up a fight against max, like the first half of last year when the Ferrari was faster, or this year when the redbull is slow on certain tracks. if charles moves to redbull, p2 is the MINIMUM of what he's expected. look at how fans do not rate any of max's teammates, cause unless you beaten him it doesn't count. everything chal does in redbull will be held with max's yardstick measure, a team where max has been longer, the only car max has had to drive while charles needs to adjust to it.

I don't think anyone is unbeatable, lewis wasn't, max isn't. but max is the best driver in that redbull.

redbull doesn't want or need 2 drivers fighting for the championship. they need a competent second driver. the valtteri or mark webber buffer. charles is very much the face of ferrari and regarded as the better driver, why would he go to redbull to play max's second fiddle? charles has world champion ambitions, redbull already has a world champion they're happy with -- why invest in another very expensive driver? when they can get a more willing team player, or even look for a younger talent they can move to the seat for 2028? redbulls favouritism predicates on performance, so if charles outperforms max you can expect redbull to be in "let them race" mode, like they did when rookie max outperformed daniel. but that means charles only has 2025, his very first year in redbull, to not only adjust as max's teammate but also beat him.

finally, we don't know if charles wants to move to redbull. we know he loves ferrari, for better or for worse. before max's extension to 2028, charles got the longest ever f1 contract extension with ferrari -- and that's before charles had anything to his name beyond being called predestined.

you've seen how the mclaren went from p19 p20 earlier this season to genuine podium contenders. this is the kind of magic turnaround every team is hoping for. if mclaren are championship contenders next year, every team will know you can change shit up in only 1 year. that's sunk cost fallacy if charles makes a high risk little reward move to redbull and suddenly the ferrari is a championship contender.

the tifosi love him, he wants to win a championship with ferrari, he already got a taste of what it feels like by winning Monza and the first half of 2022 season. I truly think as long as ferrari will have him, and as long as charles can endure, they're in this marriage of misplaced devotion. because the love and childhood dream is so strong for him. seb didn't leave the team until they fired him, you think he wouldn't waste another decade in the ferrari if they'd have him? and that was a 4x wdc.

If you enjoy lestappengate, if you want to speculate on it -- go forth and find your peace and joy. that's none of my business. it doesn't make sense to me, but that doesn't mean it can't make sense to you.

#IS Charles better with redbull than Ferrari? do you know what redbull famously does to their non golden boy drivers? #rbr!lestappen #the other side of things #once again: my opinion and take on things. if you enjoy your perspective on things then continue! #blorbocedes ask

[gabessquishytum]

So we all agree that Hob is the World's Greatest Lover, 600 year reigning Pussy Eating Champion, etc etc. But think of the comedy potential if instead he was just...kind of mediocre at sex. After all these centuries he's still satisfied with a quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, and he's not a particularly generous lover. A lot of the sex he's had over the years has been with prostitutes, so he doesn't feel very guilty about not making sure they finish, and his wives and long-term partners have mostly been a bit prudish/sheltered because of the time periods they lived in (some of them may not have even been aware that female orgasms were a thing). But none of them ever complained, so he assumed he was pretty good at sex.

And sure, he's had experiences with men (he's been a sailor at times, after all), but back in his day oral sex with any gender was kind of unhygienic and gross (cue the "ripe smegmatic sausage" meme) so the man's never given a blowjob in his unnaturally long life. Now, he *thinks* he knows all there is to know about sex because, to be fair, he has probably done it more times than any other human alive. But the reality is, his idea of "kinky" is any position other than missionary.

So he's surprised (and his ego is a bit bruised) when Dream seems disappointed but amused after their first time. He's worried Dream is going to dump him (and he's beating himself up, thinking he's so stupid for ever believing he could live up to Dream's standards), but Dream just smiles fondly at him and promises to teach him everything and train him to be a worthy lover for an Endless.

So after that, every night when Hob is in the Dreaming they work on his sexual education. Training montage: Dream makes him practice sucking his dick and eating his pussy until he really is the Pussy Eating Champion. Dream expects to come at least three times before Hob is even allowed to think about his own orgasm. Dream fucks his brains out and makes him a plug and a cock cage out of dreamstuff to wear in the waking, so he's always ready and can't cum unless it's on Dream's cock. Hob is, of course, a very eager and studious pupil, and he's more than happy to do anything Dream wants; he's realizing he's actually a lot kinkier than he thought. He loves being dommed by Dream, and Dream considers his education to be complete when Hob is able to successfully Dom *him* (which may or may not have been his goal from the beginning). The student has become the master, etc etc.

I love it here, you guys are so good to me <3 bad sex is so one of my kinks, especially coupled with a lil humiliation kink.

It's entirely fair to believe that Hob might have got a little bit too comfortable over the years. Recently his sexual experience has very much aligned with his modern image - middle class, a little boring, would probably rather just have a cup of tea. He's been sleeping with women mostly, and sadly he's been lulled into a false sense of security when they assure him that yes they did cum, honestly. Even in the decades before that a lot of what he did was drug fuelled and he can barely remember most of it.

Dream is a little disappointed, but on the whole he's amused and quite looking forward to giving Hob an education - after firmly telling him that his dick is nothing special and he really needs to work on his stamina (Hob is sitting there in stunned silence wondering how on earth this conversation is making him hard.)

Hob spends the next few months not being allowed to put his dick anywhere near Dream anyway. He's only allowed to pleasure Dream with his mouth, and only very occasionally allowed to cum. Dream is the strictest of teachers and resorts to corporal punishment when his student doesn't behave (spoiler alert, Hob also enjoys this more than he ought to).

Slowly Hob picks up the skills that he either lost or never had in the first place, and Dream becomes much more agreeable with him. After nearly half a year Hob is finally allowed to fuck Dream again, only this time he's wearing a cock ring and his purpose is only to bring his lover pleasure. Dream is so pleased with his progress that he even lets Hob cum inside him.

Before long Hob is coming home from work, grabbing Dream by the waist and hauling him over the sofa to tongue-fuck him until he screams. Which was more or less what Dream was hoping for during their first encounter. He's quite happy to sit on Hob’s (admittedly quite nice) dick these days, because he knows that Hob’s primary objective will forevermore be to make him cum.

Even if he does occasionally have to tie Dream up to do it. Oh yes, Dream needs to be educated too - about the perils of working too much and not letting off steam. Hob is only too happy to take on the role of teacher, this time.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw humiliation

[possibilistfanfiction]

Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. I love the universe you've created for ava and beatrice. I could have said Avatrice but the thing is you write them so beautifully as individuals, all their triumphs and losses, that it doesn't feel right not to acknowledge them as they are on their own as much as they are as a couple. Anyway! I pretty much have bookmarked all your work and I keep suggesting your fics on Twitter, I'm pretty much your unofficial publicist at this point, proudly so 😆

I just finished the multitude of loving and once again you made me laugh and smile and cry and you made my heart warm and for a while, my depression didn't feel as debilitating. So thank you. I don't know what you're gonna write next whenever inspiration strikes, but if you ever do another outside pov, would you mind writing one from Diego's? I guess I'm biased because aside from your fics, I've been obsessed with do a flip by sunsafe and it warms my heart to see Diego in fics because well, I think it's safe to say that he was the one who loved ava first, he was there by her bedside and all and so it would be lovely, to know how he feels and thinks about ava and beatrice, after all the years of living his own life, after all the years wishing to see his sister, his best friend, his... Ava, because there's no traditional title that really fits them, after all the years wishing that ava is okay and... Alive, more than just surviving because even when he was a child he knew, ava was meant for such a bright and grand life, just because she was all that herself.

Anyway, just an idea, of course. My rambling is not in any way meant to pressure you into writing it 😆😅 I hope you're having a good day wherever you are. Cheers!

[first of all i love do a flip!!!! 100/10 recommend if anyone hasn't read it!!

anyway, here's a little diego pov in the butch bea universe. he's like 18 or 19? idk. yknow just roll w it :) ]

//

university is busy as hell, and it's cool that they pay for your doctor's appointments and, when you actually started getting the care you needed, you were able to do basically everything in the normal, big wide world with regular meds and check-ins �� but mostly you just want to play rugby and flirt with girls (not well, but you're 18 and always kind, so who cares your success rate) and pass all of your classes. when you got adopted it had seemed like a miracle, and so you don't take any of this time for granted — not the bright sun or the grass stains on your knees or how rachel plays with your hair when you hang out in her dorm.

you don't think much of it when you get a random email from beatrice gu-knight, partially because emails are a pain in the ass and partially because nico brought over a six pack of stellas and his nintendo switch — you're the mario kart champion, undisputed — but, in the morning, when you open your phone, you think your heart might stop in your chest.

Hello Diego,

I hope you're well. I know it might seem strange to get an email like this from someone you don't know and have never even heard of, and, if you don't wish to follow up or connect, please just let me know, and that will be the end of it.

But, in the hopeful chance that you do: my name is Beatrice (she/her), and I'm reaching out to you because Ava Silva is my life partner. We've been together for a few years now and she talks of you often, and fondly; I know from her stories you were an extraordinarily joyful and sustaining part of her life at St. Michael's, and, if nothing else, I hope you understand my deep gratitude for that. I work in tech, so I was able to find this email address for you in the hopes that you might want to reconnect with Ava. We live in Los Angeles, and she's, as I'm sure you remember, wonderful. Maybe even more wonderful now, as I hope you are too.

Again, if you are at all uncomfortable, please feel no pressure to engage in any way; I won't let Ava know, so don't worry about that. If you would like to reconnect, though, you can respond to this email, or call or text me at my cell listed below. Thank you.

Warmest regards,

Beatrice

it takes you a few seconds to get it together, because, what the fuck, first of all. second of all, ava — one of your favorite people ever, and someone you miss every day. who apparently has a very proper and seemingly kind partner named beatrice, and lives in california. ava is alive, and probably really happy. the last time you saw her she was scared and upset and you had thought she died before that. you had thought you would never see her again.

Hey, this is Diego, you text the number on Beatrice's email. you think about the time difference, and, sorry if it's the middle of the night for you

it takes a minute or two, but then your phone vibrates. Diego, wonderful to hear from you! I'm glad my email wasn't too intense.

and, like, maybe it was a little, but your calc III professor is a fucking nutcase, so you kind of have a high bar.

Ava works late sometimes, so don't worry about the time difference right now

it's sweet, you think, that beatrice doesn't work late, or, whatever, maybe she does, but she's up because ava is awake. because ava will be coming home, or finishing up in an office. you wonder about their life, what their home looks like and if ava's laugh is still just as awesome. and, like, what is ava's job? is she still paralyzed, or can she walk like she had the last time you saw her? you're glad for her, honestly, that her partner is a girl, because ava thought boys were hot but also seemed to like girls more — so, like, how did they fall in love? it's funny to imagine ava as a grownup, with a partner and a home and a whole life, but it's also the best.

do you want to facetime tomorrow or something, you text, because you don't really know what else to say, but you want to find out: about your sister, and the life she's apparently built. you think — if ava is anything like how she had been when you were younger — you definitely want to be in it.

I would love that, beatrice responds immediately. you work out the details and, eventually, you go to class and try to have a normal day. but ava is out there, happy, in california, with a partner who clearly cares about her. it feels like a gift, even to know. it feels like a gift, to get to be in her warmth again.

/

beatrice, when you answer the facetime call at exactly the second the clock hits 7 pm your time, is beautiful. it doesn't surprise you, not really, because you remember ava being pretty, and, even more than that, fucking awesome. beatrice is younger than what you think someone with that formal a name would be, with short dark hair that flops into her eyes, which are kind of gold in the light through the window of whatever room she's in. 'hello, diego,' she says, and, yeah, ava probably loves that accent.

it makes you laugh, but, like, in a nice way, to know that ava has a whole partner. a whole entire person who shares a life with her, who helps her with stuff and — beatrice is a saint for this — laughs at her puns.

'hey,' you say, feel awkward and a little sloppy in the face of the chic big oil painting behind her, the hoodie you know is expensive because your friend artur had had it marked on his stockx for, like, months now. 'uh, i'm diego. nice to meet you.'

beatrice smiles, and you see her freckles, and you realize, in a flash, a truth you know implicitly — that ava loves this person. ava picked this person to spend her life with. the world is cruel, you know better than most, but the world is also so, so kind.

'i'm so happy you responded to my email,' she says, less formal and with a slight laugh, mostly with joy. 'ava is the best, and i know that — she misses you. she loves you, a lot. i've always wanted to meet you.' you kind of don't know what to say, and you're relieved when she shakes her head. 'sorry, i'm being a lot again. believe it or not, this is my first rodeo with something like this.'

first rodeo sounds foreign from her, and it inexplicably makes you laugh. 'you're doing fine.' you realize that beatrice is just as nervous as you are, maybe even more: she loves ava. she has a whole life with ava. 'i — does ava want to talk to me?'

'i haven't told her yet. i wanted to see how you felt first, without any pressure, and i didn't want her to feel disappointed. but i know she will be... overjoyed, to have you in her life again, if you want.'

'yeah.' you think of ava's jokes and how full of life she was, even when she didn't have access to much of it herself. you think about the clumsy drawings you had made her, and how happy she was every time she got to go outside in her wheelchair. 'i do, want that. a lot.'

beatrice's smile is relieved and grateful. 'i can talk to her, then, and then maybe you two can set up a video chat? i know she'll be beside herself with excitement.'

'yeah,' you say, and you can't help but smile looking forward to it. it doesn't sound like ava's changed much, in the good ways, which is super cool. 'i'm excited too.'

/

your palms are clammy and you feel like you might throw up, but beatrice had sent you a link to a zoom and asked if the evening worked for you; you're so thrilled but also, like, what if ava doesn't like you anymore? what if she's way way cooler than you, or too grown up, or just bored by your life? it had been one thing, to lose her when you were young and confused, to have to grieve her absence so obliquely — but it would be an entirely different thing now, to know she's alive and has a life of her own and just doesn't want you in it. you don't really know how you would handle that. ava was your friend and ava was your sister, in the ways that really matter.

but, you realize very quickly, all of your anxiety was for nothing, because ava's face pops on screen — older, and her hair is shorter, and there are slight laugh lines settling into the skin around her eyes, but she mostly looks the same — and her smile is so warm and then she starts to cry and laugh and, yeah. if you do too, it's fine. no one else is in your dorm room anyway.

'hey,' she says, the first to get any words out. she's sitting up, and she waves, and you feel like you're seeing a real life miracle, right there on your computer screen. 'you look so old. i really missed you.'

'you look so old too.' she grins. 'i really missed you.'

it's a little stilted at first, probably because you're both overwhelmed, but then it's just... the fucking best. ava is a bartender, 'mostly for fun,' she says, which, whatever that means, and she still loves the beach. they apparently have a house right by the water. she starts crying again when you tell her you got adopted, that you're not so sick anymore because you have good doctors and caring parents, that you're in school to become an accountant.

'the family business?' she says, choked up, after you tell her that your adoptive mom is one too, and that she wanted you to be able to take over one day if you were interested.

it's as unbelievable to you some days as it seems to her, on bright mornings or when you get to go skiing in the cold snow, when your friends pass around a joint or when you get to go to a museum, whenever you want. 'yeah,' you say —  a family; you learn ava has one too. 'it's pretty incredible.'

/

'holy shit, ava.'

she just laughs, letting you go in front of her into her house. well, her and beatrice's house, you guess. you'd facetimed and texted a bunch with ava in the past two months, so you had figured out they were kinda loaded, and they'd both picked you up from the airport in a very sleek, fancy volvo, but, like —

'this is nuts.'

you think you might immediately cry again when you notice, right away, how there's not a single part of the house you can see that isn't accessible for someone in a wheelchair. ava had told you that she can walk but some days has a lot of pain and a hard time with mobility, and that beatrice was awesome and she had a good chair and even a van and a service dog, but you never could've imagined this. their house is huge and beautiful, like something you'd see in an AD tour you like to watch when you're stoned. ava has a cane today, and beatrice trundles in with your bag — she had insisted, quietly, but with a look that told you it would be totally pointless to argue.

'your house is awesome,' you say, to both of them.

beatrice smiles gently. 'we redid it last year, for accessibility. i think it turned out great.'

'wanna see the best part?' ava says, using her cane to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and you have to clear your throat because you had known her for so long. you had loved her for so long, your best friend in the entire world, who was smart and funny and bursting at the seams to feel it all, to really get to live.

'dude,' you say, 'of course.'

'i'm going to put your bag in your room,' beatrice says. 'and then i have a work call. but i should be done after the hour, for whatever you'd like to do, if you want me to join.'

'of course we want you to join,' ava says, and beatrice blushes and then gathers herself and kisses the top of ava's head before she offers you a thumbs up — nerdy, and it makes ava snort — and then lifts your bag like it weighs two pounds or something. 'love of my life,' ava says. 'definitely doesn't have a work call, but she's been stressed all week about making sure she gives us time to ourselves but doesn't seem aloof. huge weirdo.'

'she's hot.'

'ew, diego.'

you shrug. 'all i'm saying is that, like, i get it. not for me, because she's, like, super gay, but you know. for you.' you take a breath. 'sorry, i'm just excited.'

ava laughs. 'bea is super gay, it's true.' she points to a button on the wall nearby and then floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the living space from the patio. 'now, check this out.'

it's pretty fucking wild that ava went from the horrible orphanage, and tons of abuse that you were too small and too weak and too scared to stop, to a whole house that opens up to a day bed and an outdoor kitchen and dining area and a hot tub, a small patch of grass, and then the sea behind — but in the best kind of way. the kind of way that makes you want to tell everyone you meet that things can get better. that good things will happen to good people, at least sometimes. at least ava, who is the best of all of them.

ava motions for you to come with and walks outside, and then it's, like, genuinely the best thing ever when a black and white dog — korra, who ava sends you pictures of all the time and has featured in multiple zoom calls — who was napping in the sun, perks her head up and you swear she, like, dog-smiles at ava. 'hi, good girl,' ava says, and then claps her hands once and korra obediently, and happily, comes to ava's right side and sits, leans her little head against ava's thigh.

'i can't spend this entire time crying,' you say, and ava laughs. 'can i say hi?'

'of course,' she says. 'she's not usually formally working at home, unless i'm having a really bad day. which, you know, i'm not, but they do happen sometimes.' she shrugs and you kneel down in the sun and pet korra's soft ears as she nuzzles your face.

'she's so cool,' you say, and then kiss the top of her head and her nose. 'hey korra! i'm your uncle, i guess?'

'yeah! uncle diego.'

it makes you beam, to sit on the patio with ava as she shows you some of the tasks korra has been trained to do, and tells you about her bar you'll go to later, and points toward their outdoor shower with a sly smile. you do her the courtesy of fake gagging, although you really are just mostly happy for her, with her partner and her dog and a house that was built just for her.

eventually, beatrice comes outside, carrying a very intense charcuterie board. she places it down on the day bed, between you and ava, korra happily snoozing at your feet.

‘hi baby,’ ava says and scoots closer to you, then tugs on beatrice’s hand until she sits. ava kisses her temple. ‘this is very extravagant.’

‘well, we have a guest,’ beatrice says. ‘there’s wine inside, if you’d like a glass.’

‘i know nothing about wine,’ you admit, ‘but if there’s one you think… pairs? well with, you know —‘ you gesture to the elegantly laid out spread of food in front of you — ‘then i’ll trust you and go with that.’

ava grins. ‘yes, beatrice. be our resident sommelier, please.’

beatrice rolls her eyes, again with a blush, but then stands, ignoring ava’s pout. ‘i’ll be right back.’

‘she’s, like, really nice.’

ava lays back with a grin. ‘well she’s on her i was raised by diplomats and nannies most proper behavior right now. i don’t get charcuterie boards like this… ever.’ she takes a bite of cheese. ‘but bea is wonderful. she’s brilliant and funny and so, so kind. she’ll loosen up. i’m really excited you get to spend time with her.’

‘i’m thankful she reached out. i — i’m so happy to be here, and to see you.’

‘me too, my dude.’

beatrice comes back out with fancy real crystal glasses and a bottle of wine she explains is a vintage napa chardonnay, which mostly just makes you think it’s expensive. it probably is, with the way she efficiently uncorks it — ava practically drools, annoying, and you elbow her in the ribs — but it’s, like, really good. at least compared to the cheap wine you sometimes have with your friends when you order greek food.

‘diego,’ beatrice says, measured and anxious and, if ava’s stupid expression is anything to go by, endearing, ‘as you know, i like to surf. although it’s quite early, i was wondering if you might like to join me tomorrow? one of my best friends is an excellent instructor and the wave report looks ideally calm. ava thought you might be interested, if you’d like to learn?’

‘yeah,’ you say. ‘of course. that sounds sick.’

beatrice grins, relaxing a little. ava squeezes her hand. ‘i find it quite fun. it can be hard at first, but it’s nice to be in the water.’

‘diego gets his astounding athletic ability from my side of the family,’ ava says, patting you on the knee.

‘your side of the family?’ beatrice arches a brow.

‘yeah, the orphan side,’ you say, an old joke coming back to you, and ava gives you a high five.

‘i —‘

‘don’t think about it too hard, beatrice. diego also gets his bisexuality from my side of the family too.’

‘now that i’m willing to believe.’

ava winks at you, and then settles back into beatrice’s side.

/

admittedly, you're exhausted, so the mezcal margarita — smoky and just the right amount of sour — is hitting harder than you thought.

'okay,' ava says, 'boys are easy to flirt with.'

beatrice rolls her eyes.

'they are, bea,' she insists, then looks to you. 'sorry, diego, but boys are just... simple. they see someone hot, especially me, and there's, like, no thoughts.'

you think of the way luis had kissed you one night at a party — with his strong hands and his strong jaw and the rough, delicious scratch of his beard — after you'd just offered him a drink politely, so. honestly, that tracks.

'girls, though, diego.'

you laugh.

'you know, people who aren't men.'

'yeah, of course.'

'difficult. i just — whew.'

'aren't you, like, basically married?'

'well, yes, we're domestic partners. but beatrice is horrible at flirting. she's just lucky she's brilliant, and beautiful, and handsome, and funny.'

beatrice rolls her eyes again, although a blush spreads across her cheeks. 'i think i have more women try to flirt with me than you.'

ava huffs. 'that's because you're just — ugh.' she turns toward you. 'bea has grown into being a lesbian magnet. i once was superior. plus, boys flirt with me too.' she claps you on the back. 'either way, between the two of us, we'll teach you everything you need to know.'

'they won't,' one of their friends says, sliding in next to beatrice, who smiles and kisses him on the cheek. he's maybe the hottest person you've ever seen, with tattoos down both arms and a neat fade, probably a few years older than beatrice. 'i'm keiko,' he says, and offers his hand. his handshake is so strong and you feel yourself blush. 'i own the dojo beatrice goes to.'

'my favorite sparring partner,' beatrice says. 'partially because i have never lost.'

keiko waves her off.

'uh, i'm diego.'

ava laughs, delightedly, at how flustered you clearly are.

'well, if you want advice on boys, i am quite successful.'

'i'm sure you are.'

ava gives you a high five, mortifyingly. 'that's my man.'

'i'm cutting both of you off,' beatrice says.

'one shot, bea, please. come on. all we have to do is walk home.'

beatrice sighs dramatically and runs a hand through her hair, and keiko nudges her in the shoulder. 'for once in your life, beatrice, have a little fun.'

it takes a moment, but she laughs. 'fine. one shot, and then home.'

/

you surf the next morning, early as fuck, but you’re kind of jetlagged anyway and it’s really beautiful to watch the sunrise while you rest on a board. you haven’t popped up and you got tired pretty fast, but beatrice’s friend, ray — and beatrice herself, obviously — are patient and relaxed and don’t seem to care at all.  ava wanders out eventually, setting out a towel and drinking a to-go cup of coffee. she waves happily and blows a kiss in beatrice’s direction, who blushes. it had made you laugh, quietly, when she had put a special bucket hat designed for surfing on after she situated her wetsuit.

‘i don’t want to get sunburned,’ she explained, and then handed you a bottle of spf 100 sunscreen and a zinc stick.

eventually you ride a wave in on your knees, laughing, and then go sit by ava while you watch ray and beatrice and the rest of their little crew surf the next set, bigger on the outer break. you can tell beatrice shows off, for ava and, maybe a bit, for you. it's still early, and ava's happy to sit back in the easy quiet.

'hey,' you say after a while, during a break in sets, 'so, beatrice introduced me this morning as "ava's little brother".'

she turns to you, studies your features carefully, just like she always would when you were in the orphanage, trying to pay close attention. 'did that feel okay?'

'other than the fact that i'm taller than you —'

'— hey —'

'— of course,' you say. 'i love being your brother.'

ava scoots closer to you and bumps your shoulder with hers; you have your wetsuit down around your waist and she has one of beatrice's hoodies on, but you've mostly dried off by this point so you put your arm around her shoulders and tug her to you.

'do you, uh. sister? sibling?'

ava smiles. 'either is great.'

'okay.'

'thanks, diego.'

'nothing to thank me for there. i should be thanking you, honestly. all expenses paid trip to a bougie beach house in california to see someone i've missed so much? the dream.'

she sniffles. you don't know all the details but you know ava has been through some real shit after she — came back to life, you guess? 'i missed you too, so so much.' she clears her throat and wipes under her eyes. 'in the spirit of being your cool older sibling, what mild to moderately wild things do you want to do here. i don't want your parents to be mad at me so consider wisely.'

'tattoo.'

'do you have anything planned that you would want?'

'well, no.'

ava laughs.

'what? beatrice has cool tattoos.'

'she is a staunch believer that you should plan your tattoos in advance. but think of something and then next time we'll get you all set up with her artist, if you want.'

there's a level of maturity and care that's a little unexpected but, like, really cool? really nice. it's kind of weird and makes you a bit emotional, because ava is grown up. she's still an idiot, and constantly annoying, and very funny — but she's gotten to get older, and so have you.

'we could dye our hair,' she says, shrugging. 'easy to rectify, if it's a disaster.'

'i'm so in, man.' your hair is darker than hers, and you have no idea if she knows what she's doing, but you trust beatrice — with her neat hair and neat house and neat clothes and seemingly undying love for ava — to monitor the situation.

'maybe we can do the bi flag.'

it makes you laugh, imagining how silly it would look. 'what about just purple? like, a light purple situation.'

'i've done that before,' she tells you excitedly. 'loved it. definitely time to return.'

'deal. also, i want to try california weed.'

ava grins. 'we would have let you last night, you know, but you were actively falling asleep at the bar after one cocktail.'

'it's the time difference, i swear.'

'sure it is.'

'well, bea loves her edibles. she's very particular about them. i'm... much less particular about joints, but we can start off chill. maybe this afternoon. and then we can have tacos.'

'that sounds like a perfect day.'

she smiles. 'yeah,' she says. 'even more perfect because i get to share it with you.'

'gross,' you say, although you might suddenly cry. 'sappy.'

'yeah, yeah. whatever.'

you keep your arm around ava's shoulders and watch beatrice and ray trade tricks the next set, and then they both call it and walk, laughing, toward you. ava struggles to stand with a frown, and you offer your arm for her to take if she wants. she does, smiles quickly in thanks and then, you know too, moves on without a word. she kisses beatrice soundly on the mouth, then pushes her goofy bucket hat off her head, fastened around her neck and resting on the back of her shoulders, and then gratuitously unzips her wetsuit while ray rolls her eyes.

it's a whole big world, you learn more and more every day. ray joins you for breakfast and then ava takes you shopping while you're pretty sure beatrice just naps. ava uses her chair and brings korra, which is mostly just the coolest thing in the world to you, because she has a whole van customized too, and she just — you had known, when you were younger, when ava would get to go outside in her chair, that nothing was limiting her other than care, and access. you had been limited too, and you ached with it. you ache differently now, because ava navigates her day fully and independently: a wheelchair lift for the stairs, and a huge, beautiful closet and kitchen where she can reach everything without having to stand, and korra, who can turn on lights and open doors and brings you a juice from the fridge when you sit down and mention you're thirsty; ava grins with the command and then praises korra, and you scratch her soft head and even softer ears.

beatrice does supervise when you and ava dye your hair, but ava mostly knows what she's doing, and really gets distracted the most when she looks over at beatrice in lowslung joggers and a cutoff tank and a beanie, leaning against the doorframe quietly, a fond expression on her face. ava wears crop tops and wideleg pants and expensive sneakers and you both end up laughing when you have your matching lavender hair.

you eat edibles that make everything feel lush and slow and perfect, and beatrice laughs softly at ava's ramble about her arms, and she orders a ton of her favorite chinese food that you eat on the patio at sunset. you take some pictures on your film camera, at sunset, and beatrice takes a few of you and ava. you wish you could go back in time and tell both of you, when you were small and sad and scared and abused, that things would be this beautiful one day. that things would be this good.

ava and beatrice eventually say goodnight before they head inside to their bedroom. there's too much light pollution in los angeles to see many of the stars, but you know they're there all the same.

#wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡 #they just get to have such a good life #diego is just like ... wow ... !! ava is so stupid. i love her so much

[bizabumblebee]

tell us about yunobo

why's he ur funky lil guy

id love to hear why

This is a very good ask I don’t think I’ve ever actually told anyone why I like Yunobo so much

Preemptive spoiler alert for both Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom by the way

(Also this turned into a bit of a character analysis on Yunobo I’m so sorry it’s so ridiculously long lmao)

Personally my favorite Zelda “race” or whatever has always been gorons, huge fellas who mine rocks and eat rocks and are rocks, just big ol walking boulders with kind souls, I think they’re very silly and cute. But I really like Yunobo because he’s not really like any of the other gorons (He’s not like other girls!!), because he’s so much more… emotional? I guess? In each of the Goron race’s appearances throughout the Zelda games they’re portrayed pretty much the same way, either tough and brave and heroic (Like Darunia, Daruk and Darmani), or chill and generally nonchalant (Like… pretty much every other goron). Though they are kind and playful, they’re also tough and unmoving as stone. Yunobo (on a surface level), is neither of these things. When you first meet him in BotW he runs and yelps in fear, and a great portion of the fan base calls him a coward because of this. He’s very unsure of himself, and unsure of a lot of things in general. In the artbook “Creating a Champion”, his description is as follows:

“Yunobo is the grandchild of the Champion Daruk. He has an adult body but still has some growing up to do. He is easily frightened by monsters and isn't exactly what one might call brave, but, driven by thoughts of protecting his people, he gathers enough courage to aid Link in quelling the Divine Beast Vah Rudania. He is earnest and naive, readily believing nearly anything anyone tells him.”

So yeah. He’s a scaredy-cat. He’s a pushover. He’s incredibly naive and a bit childish.

AND YET.

He helped save his people, and the entirety of Hyrule… TWICE. Because he is brave. Bravery is not an immediate heroic desire to face any danger for the sake of the greater good.

It is action in spite of fear.

He is afraid. He’s unsure, and he’s flighty, and he’s defensive. But he swallows these fears and chooses to act in spite of them, helping link to take back control of Vah Rudania, and saving his people. For me, seeing the journey Yunobo takes to find his courage is a lot more satisfying than if he were just already a brave go-getter from the moment you meet him.

And then things get even more interesting in the second game (again, spoilers for TotK ahead).

After he helps Link take back Vah Rudania and Calamity Ganon is defeated, Yunobo goes right to helping his people recover from the the post-calamity craziness. He’s incredibly devoted to them. He’s a helper through and through, willing to do anything it takes for the sake of others. His loyalty knows absolutely no bounds. But unfortunately, this can get the better of him.

Like when his good friend “Zelda” shows up and gives him some weird mask and tells him to put it on.

Honestly, when I saw Yunobo for the first time in TotK, I was one of the many people who was terrified that Nintendo might have made him an asshole for no reason. I mean, they gave Sidon a wife so people would stop shipping him with Link, I wouldn’t put it past them (totally backfired though lol, now they’re just a polycule).

But instead they had actually put him into one of my favorite character tropes: self-conscious but good-natured character easily susceptible to corruption (See: Luigi [SPM], Bolin [TLoK], Locksley [AS:TNC] -they’re all also green for some reason? Crazy). I really like this particular trope because it shows the very real (and frankly scary) way that those with the best intentions can most easily be led astray. As someone who’s kinda struggled with having a people-pleaser personality (incredibly susceptible to peer-pressure, neglecting my own needs over the needs of others, not able to set boundaries, etc), this trope is a relatable cautionary tale for me. Those who just want to help more often than not end up helping those with bad intentions without realizing.

Buuuuut I won’t go too far into all that (it’ll get sad fast eugh)

My main point is that Yunobo is brave, kind, and loyal (even to a fault), and for me that’s a wonderful formula for a character as nervous and dopey as him. Yeah he’s got rocks for brains, but he’s got a heart as big as a lynel’s. I don’t throw this term around liberally but I would say he could definitely count as a himbo.

Ugggghhh this is getting too long ffs. I’ll just list a couple more reasons why he’s important to me specifically.

He is… very large. Ahem. I like big fellas. You know how it is. ANYWAY

He’s a bit dopey but he’s definitely not incompetent. He’s the president of a highly successful mining company and he’s helped save Goron City (and the entirety of Hyrule) TWICE. That’s pretty cool. I’ve seen a lot of people shit on him in the first game for “always getting spotted by the drones” but like. Dude that’s your fault. He told you he would come when called and stop when told to, it’s on you if he walks into a searchlight.

He’s got very intriguing lore (to me at least), that leaves a lot of room for speculation. Like, he’s the “grandson” of Daruk, but how does that work?? Gorons are born from the mountain itself, they don’t give birth. There’s a pair of Gorons in TotK that call themselves “brothers” (still a bit confusing since most gorons throughout the series call each other brother anyway), but they explain it was because they were born in the same cave at the same time, so they’re like family. Does this mean Yunobo was just born in the same cave Daruk was, and therefore inherited his “genes” and his magical abilities? Maybe! Maybe it’s a really cool special cave, right at the summit or something, where his whole lineage was born all the way back to the first sage of fire. Cool stuff to think about!

He’s not the leader of his people, in either game. That job belongs to Bludo. In the second game he’s definitely got a lot more influence and does occupy a position of leadership, but he’s not the chief. He’s just some Goron. The role of aiding link in both games is thrust onto him entirely because of his lineage. But he takes responsibility for it. He understands the power he holds, both as a champion’s descendant and as the Sage of Fire, and he steps up to the role. He feels a responsibility to his people and his city, even despite not being its official leader like the other champion’s descendants. That’s pretty cool.

He’s very sweet! I’ve talked about how kind and caring he is already but there’s a difference between doing it with a stoic sense of heroism or duty, and doing it with a big dopey grin and a genuine care for those he cares about. He’s often unsure and self-conscious, and yet he’s surprisingly optimistic about most things a lot of the time. He has a big smile (most gorons do), but he has an absolutely heart-melting laugh. I often tear up during the cutscene in which he sees the spirit of Daruk reclaiming Vah Rudania, him laughing and waving with such genuine joy and excitement, aghhhh it’s too much. Joe Hernandez certainly did a great job putting authenticity into Yunobo’s (and Daruk’s) emotions, this cutscene especially.

He has the best secret stone ability (gameplay wise). You cannot change my mind. Tulin is great for mobility and the other two are fine for tactical combat stuff, but none of them even come close to the versatility and power of Yunobo. Don’t have any good rock-breaking weapons and don’t want to use up bombs or zonai devices? Yunobo! Using a control stick-operated machine and can’t pull out your bow to snipe that pesky aerocuda? Yunobo! Wanna separate a big group of enemies from each other without wasting bombs? Yunobo! And don’t even get me started on the fact that when he’s on a vehicle, he’s got zero cooldown. You can hop on a hoverboard and decimate a molduga just by dribbling Yunobo on its head like a basketball.

All this being said I certainly think Yunobo is too often overlooked by fans for “being a coward”, or just… being a Goron? Gorons in general have often been a bit neglected in favor of the other more serious, conventionally attractive and *cough* slimmer *cough* Zelda races. It’s a bit disheartening seeing the amount of fan artists who don’t even have a clue how to approach drawing Yunobo or Daruk, simply because they don’t know how to draw bulky, fat or muscled characters. But I won’t preach too much on the subject, haha.

Long story short, I love Yunobo a whole lot and I’d love to give him a big hug and a smooch. That’s about it :))))

Also here’s a little sketch I made of him as a bonus for reading all that haha

#loz botw #loz totk #botw #totk #yunobo #gorons #text post #totk spoilers #dear god this is so long I’m sorry #I just have a lot to say about yuno!!! he’s very cool #ask #my art