#to hear about how difficult things OUGHT to be. all we have is how they ARE. and. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edenmemes · 9 months

Text

asoiaf: a feast for crows starters

❝ i’m sorry that i never trusted you. i don’t know how to do that any more. ❞ ❝ you make it difficult for a man to swallow his anger. ❞ ❝ history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. what has happened before will perforce happen again. ❞ ❝ the worst isn't done. the worst is just beginning, and there are no happy endings. ❞ ❝ words are like arrows. once loosed, you cannot call them back. ❞ ❝ you are a lioness, and it is for all the lesser beasts to fear you. ❞ ❝ anger is better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt. ❞ ❝ kind? how boring that would be. i aspire to be wicked. ❞ ❝ sometimes there is no happy choice, only one less grievous than the others. ❞ ❝ when i make a jest i smile. do you see me smiling? do you hear laughter? ❞ ❝ beauty can sometimes mask deadly danger. ❞ ❝ i know what a burden you bear. you should let me share the load. ❞ ❝ you would be wise to not take me lightly...and wiser still not to make of me a foe. ❞ ❝ i need to sleep, but fear to dream. ❞ ❝ i do not doubt that kindness and mercy and forgiveness can still be found somewhere in this kingdom, but do not look for them here. ❞ ❝ no fight is hopeless till it has been fought. ❞ ❝ open your eyes and look about you. the kingdom is in ruins. ❞ ❝ my hand is hungry for a sword. i need to kill someone. ❞ ❝ it does no good to speak of roads not taken. ❞ ❝ i begin to think that all your words of love were lies. ❞ ❝ i pray that i never offend you. you are terrible when roused. ❞ ❝ a sweet face oft hides a sinner’s heart. ❞ ❝ when i am with you, i...i can scarcely think. you are all i ever dreamt of. ❞ ❝ i used to be someone, but now i’m not. ❞ ❝ suffering is everywhere...and grief and death. ❞ ❝ you ought to be pleading for my forgiveness rather than seeking to provoke me further. ❞ ❝ i have been here the whole time, waiting for you to come to me. ❞ ❝ no one who wears a crown is ever safe. ❞ ❝ i have touched more men that i can count. some with my lips, more with my axe. ❞ ❝ i love you too, but you’re a fool. a beautiful golden fool. ❞ ❝ i have been despised by better men than you. ❞ ❝ i never wanted to see half the things i've seen, and i've never seen half the things i wanted to. ❞ ❝ that man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate. ❞ ❝ sometimes there is no happy choice. only one less grievous than the others. ❞ ❝ most have been forgotten. most deserve to be forgotten. ❞ ❝ heroes will always be remembered. the best. the best and the worst. and a few who were a bit of both. ❞ ❝ we all dream of things we cannot have. ❞ ❝ i do not know who we are, if truth be told, nor where we might be going. i only know the road is dark. ❞ ❝ you lie. worse, you lie poorly. ❞ ❝ do you even know what honor is? ❞ ❝ this is not real. this is another bad dream, and soon i’ll wake. ❞ ❝ the rain feels good against my face. it feels like tears. ❞ ❝ i need you as i have never needed you before. ❞ ❝ there is no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. ❞ ❝ it is a good thing that i thrive on chaos. ❞ ❝ the times grow ever more interesting, and when the times are interesting you can never have too many swords. ❞ ❝ curses are only in songs and stories. ❞ ❝ you will forgive me if i am suspicious, but the times are troubled. ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ be grateful that i have more honor than some. ❞ ❝ you do turn a pretty shade of pink when you blush. ❞ ❝ you would do well to ride with me. the roads are perilous. ❞ ❝ some doors are best left closed. ❞ ❝ it does no good to speak of things no man can change. ❞ ❝ why won’t they leave us be? we never did them any harm. ❞ ❝ i cannot die yet. there is something i still need to do. ❞ ❝ it’s time you told me the rest of your plan, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old. ❞ ❝ words are wind. they cannot hurt you. let them wash over you. ❞ ❝ you are not the only one with wounds. ❞ ❝ when the cold wind blows the lone wolf dies and the pack survives. ❞ ❝ i will teach them what it means to put a lion in a cage. ❞ ❝ better to mock the game than to play and lose. ❞ ❝ knowledge is a weapon. ❞ ❝ you know me. if you want sweet words, look elsewhere. ❞ ❝ you reckless fool. what do you think you’re doing? ❞ ❝ you’ll be safe here. no one will know where you are but me. ❞ ❝ sorcery comes at a cost. ❞ ❝ i have never taken kindly to chastisement, as any number of dead men could tell you. ❞ ❝ so you’re brave as well as beautiful. ❞ ❝ this will cause more trouble than you know, i fear. ❞ ❝ will you throw your life away for pride? ❞ ❝ the crows will feast upon us all if you go on this way. ❞ ❝ our time together is at an end, i fear. ❞ ❝ spare me your japes, i have no taste for them. ❞ ❝ war makes monsters of us all. ❞ ❝ you cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor warm your halls on a cold night. ❞ ❝ i have a hole where my heart should be. ❞ ❝ i thank you, but i have no need of your protection. ❞ ❝ trust is earned. like gold. ❞ ❝ a lie is not so bad if it is kindly meant. ❞ ❝ far be it from me to question the word of such an honorable person. ❞ ❝ i will bring the head of any man who would betray you. ❞ ❝ noble words, but words are easy. deeds are hard. ❞ ❝ my father is very good at doing nothing. he calls it thinking. ❞ ❝ if you do not go, i will spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if i had. ❞ ❝ the sea is never weary. i must be as tireless. ❞ ❝ it’s strength that’s needed here, not chivalry. ❞ ❝ i did not come to you for comfort. ❞ ❝ you see the wonders that can be worked with lies and gold? ❞ ❝ an age of wonder and terror will soon be upon us, an age for gods and heroes. ❞ ❝ a ruler gets no rest. ❞ ❝ if you share your plans with no one, no one can betray you. ❞ ❝ i have a confession. ours was no chance encounter. ❞ ❝ you have your mother’s eyes. honest eyes, and innocent. ❞ ❝ am i still a thief if i put it back and no one ever knows? ❞ ❝ i am weak and full of sin, and scorn is more than i deserve. ❞ ❝ when have i provoked any man...unduly? ❞ ❝ i have never met a man i didn’t provoke, you should know that well enough by now. ❞ ❝ that’s a cold suspicious look if i ever saw one. ❞ ❝ you’ve faced more things this past year than most men face in a lifetime. ❞ ❝ there is a difference between fear and caution. ❞ ❝ it is my look they will flinch from, my frown they must fear. ❞ ❝ you have been disappointing me for years. ❞ ❝ why? tell me that. tell me why. ❞ ❝ i am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles. ❞ ❝ go back. turn away. there is nothing here for you. ❞ ❝ you would do well to omit ‘must’ from any speech directed at me. ❞ ❝ a bad dream. did i scream? i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ i will not be afraid. i will not let them see my fear. ❞ ❝ you will never know how sick it makes me to see you. you will never know how much i despise you. ❞ ❝ i have seen terrible things in my time. ❞ ❝ only a fool makes threats he’s not prepared to carry out. ❞ ❝ stay with me. i do not want to sleep alone. ❞ ❝ sometimes it is best to study a game before you attempt to play it. ❞ ❝ why, do what you always do. do nothing. ❞ ❝ no man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap. ❞ ❝ what you meant does not matter. only what you did. ❞ ❝ is there any more that you would care to tell me? ❞ ❝ i can’t command you to be brave, but i can command you to hide your fears. ❞ ❝ tell me something useful. tell me of our enemy. ❞ ❝ go away. you are not welcome here. ❞ ❝ these are such fearful times. some nights i can hardly sleep, for fear. ❞ ❝ some wounds do not show. ❞ ❝ i have never looked upon you as a rival, even for a moment. ❞ ❝ go home. you have a home, which is more than many can say in these dark days. ❞ ❝ play me for a fool, and you will die screaming. you are aware of that, i trust? ❞ ❝ you must be more dangerous than you look. ❞ ❝ tell me. i want to know all of it, from the beginning to the end. ❞ ❝ i see you are as lovely as the tales. ❞ ❝ your hands are shaking. they would rather be caressing me, i think. ❞ ❝ dry those tears. have you ever seen a lion weep? ❞ ❝ come! come kill me, if you can. ❞ ❝ i never knew what love could be, yet now...i am afraid. ❞ ❝ the enemy of my enemy is my friend. ❞ ❝ young men are overbold, and think only of the glory of battle and never of its dangers. ❞ ❝ you are weary and sick of heart, that’s plain to see. ❞ ❝ some doors are best left closed. ❞ ❝ the world is full of horrors. you can fight them, or laugh at them, or look without seeing. ❞ ❝ i was wondering. are you drunk, or merely stupid? ❞ ❝ does it hurt so much? is there aught i can do to ease your pain? ❞ ❝ what i want is none of your concern. ❞ ❝ this must end, for your sake as well as mine. ❞ ❝ glory is good, but gold is better. ❞ ❝ please tell me who you are, and why you’re following me. ❞ ❝ many a man will drown in those eyes. ❞ ❝ the best lies have some truth in them...to give them flavor, as it were. ❞ ❝ what are you looking for? your destiny? your death? ❞ ❝ love can make a fool of any man. ❞ ❝ may i stay a while? i feel that we should talk. ❞ ❝ is that a beard, or did you forget to wash the dirt off your face? ❞ ❝ i’ll hear the truth, or you’ll wear chains. ❞ ❝ if you love me, do not leave me. ❞ ❝ only madmen fight wars they cannot win. ❞ ❝ you have a strange look in your eyes. are you unwell? ❞ ❝ last night, i had a dreadful dream. ❞ ❝ you have to help me. where am i to go? what will i do? ❞ ❝ i warn you, i am out of patience. ❞

#roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #rp starters

270 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: miss me in your bones | chapter 2

chapter 1

pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1961

summary:

When Joel Miller started his own contracting business, he didn’t expect all the administrative tasks that came with it. As a result, his budding business is in desperate need of help.

Good thing his best friend’s daughter is home for the summer from college. And sure, he’s always been attracted to you, but he can keep that under control.

It’s just one summer, right?

author’s note: slow burn? i don’t know her. if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider reblogging or commenting! and if you're so inclined, you can also send me coffee

AO3 | Joel Miller Masterlist

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (21f and 36m), no cordyceps outbreak, Joel is not a father, Joel's feelings of guilt about being attracted to his best friend's daughter, sexual tension, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, mild jealousy, pineapple as a pizza topping. let me know if there are any missing!

By the end of your first day in Joel’s office, you’ve managed to sort all the stray papers into more manageable categories and have booted up the ancient laptop he had gathering dust on the desk.

You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of the office when he comes home, surrounded by the fruits of your labor. He knocks on the doorframe to announce his arrival.

“How’s it goin’?” Joel asks. He’s rumpled from his day, shirt wrinkled and still damp from sweat earned in the Texas heat.

Christ.

“It’s good! I’ve got most of these organized. Do you have any finance software you’re using?” You ask.

His brow furrows. “Uh…no. Should I?”

“You’re running a business, you gotta have some way of doing invoices and tracking expenses versus payments.”

“I’ve got a notebook for that.” He looks around the room. “Somewhere.”

The stare you give him is unimpressed. “I’ll start with Excel, but I expect a subscription to Quickbooks by the end of the week,” you tell him. He gives you a quick nod.

“Listen, you gettin’ hungry? I was goin’ to order pizza,” he says. You shift around, sitting up on your knees.

“Pizza sounds good.”

Joel doesn’t reply. He stands there with his hands at his sides, dark eyes fixed on where you’re kneeling in front of him on the floor. You’re aware of the image you must make, denim shorts riding up your thighs as you spread your knees the tiniest bit further, watching as Joel’s eyes track the movement and his Adam’s Apple bobs with a strained swallow.

The tension in the room is palpable, pressing on your chest and making it difficult to breathe. After what seems like forever, Joel shakes his head and holds a hand out to you, tight smile on his lips.

“Come on, let’s get that pizza going and you can tell me what else I’m doing wrong,” he says. You grip his hand, palm warm and rough against yours as he hauls you to your feet with little effort. The action brings your bodies close together, your chest brushing his as he looks down at you. “Pepperoni and pineapple?”

“You remember,” you reply, voice more breathy than it ought be around this man.

“‘Course I do, darlin’,” he says, taking a broad step back, his hand slipping from yours. “How could I forget?”

________

You’re sitting across from Joel at his kitchen table, eating your slice of pizza as you make notes on a piece of paper of all the things that Joel needs to get his office and business in order.

“Why don’t you just come with me to the supply store? Go wild,” he says, biting into his own slice of pizza.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time if you don’t mean it, Mr. Miller.”

“Told ya to call me Joel.”

You blink at him. “Sorry. Joel.”

Joel lets the sound of his name on your lips wash over him. He wants to hear it more.

“We can go tomorrow mornin’. I don’t have any consults ‘til later. That work?”

“Sure.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and stand, bringing your plate to the sink and tossing away your garbage. “I better head home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” Joel says. You look at him over your shoulder as you leave the kitchen, smile bright.

“Oh, I will.”

Joel’s brow furrows as he wonders what that means. Did you have plans? Would you be going out somewhere? With someone?

And why does he care?

________

The thing about being Joel Miller’s neighbor is that you know the man isn’t one for keeping his blinds closed. When you were seventeen, you remember peeking into his bedroom, conveniently located across from your window, and seeing a shirtless Joel getting ready in the morning, or watching him step into a pair of fitted Wranglers, his deft fingers buttoning the denim at his work-toned waist.

When you get back home, you slide the sheer white curtains covering your bedroom window apart. Joel’s room is currently dark and empty, but that gives you time to prepare. Your dad is at his weekly poker game with some guys from the garage, leaving you a house that will be empty until the early morning hours.

You toss your bag on your bed and rifle through your still-packed luggage, digging out the baby pink lingerie set you’d packed on a whim.

Hey, you never know. And boy are you glad that you brought it.

Because you had a plan.

You were going to seduce Joel Miller.

The signs were all there. The man was attracted to you, and god knows you’ve had it bad for your dad’s best friend since you were still a teen. What’s a little harm in acting on your impulses?

Especially when they could lead to reward.

You strip out of your shorts and t-shirt, switching your more practical underwear for the lingerie - a thong consisting of barely enough fabric to be considered clothing and a sweet matching balconette bra with an overlay of lace that makes your tits look fantastic. You check yourself out in the mirror before pulling your clothes back on.

Now you wait.

________

Joel heads to his bedroom around 9 pm, the day finally catching up to him and leaving him yawning with exhaustion. His mind wanders back to you, conjuring up the image of you on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. He palms his cock with a groan as he enters his room.

He flicks on the lamp, bathing the room with a warm glow. Movement across the yard catches his eye and he’s surprised to see you in bed, laying on your belly with a book spread open in front of you and your feet kicking behind you. Your window is open and you’ve got something playing on speaker that he can’t recognize.

You turn over, arching your back as you hold the book above you. Joel’s eyes trace the curve of your body, the way your shirt tightens across your breasts and lifts just enough to show a strip of your tummy over your denim shorts. He can feel his cock getting harder now, the press of it more urgent against the fly of his pants as he stands near the window, mesmerized by you.

You set the book aside, standing beside your bed with your back to the window. Your fingers curl under the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head, tossing it to the ground. He gets a brief glimpse of your baby pink bra strap before his eyes are drawn to watch as you shimmy your shorts over your hips and down your thighs.

Joel’s breathing hitches, caught in his throat as he takes in the sight of you in only a thong, your ass on full display for his hungry eyes. He shifts closer to the window, trying to keep himself out of the direct line of sight.

You stretch your arms above your head, turning as you do so, and Joel gets his first glimpse of your breasts and the way they’re barely contained by the cups of the bra you’re wearing, pink lace highlighted by smooth, luscious skin.

Joel’s mouth goes dry as he watches you crawl back on the bed, ass swaying with your movements as you get yourself comfortable on your back.

Your hands start out by cupping your breasts, pulling the little fabric cups down just far enough to expose your tight little nipples. You pinch the buds between your fingers, your back arching into the sensation. Joel has to press a hand to the wall to support himself.

Your mouth drops open in a moan as you play with your tits, twisting and pinching and groping yourself. Joel hardly dares to blink as your hands finally move on, trailing down your torso until your fingers dip beneath the waistband of the scrap of fabric trying to act as panties. Your back arches sharply and Joel commits the visage of your first touch to your needy little pussy to his memory.

He unbuttons his pants, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers until they sit around his knees. He doesn’t want to look away for even a second to remove them further. This will have to do.

Your fingers circle your clit and he desperately wishes it was him feeling the slick slide of your cunt. Would you like it fast? Slow? Rough or gentle? He wants to find out every rhythm that makes you see stars.

You scramble to pull your panties off, tossing them to the floor in a rush to get your hands back to work. Your right hand stays pressed between your thighs while your left returns to pinching and pulling at your little nipples. Joel spits in his hand, fisting his cock with a harsh grip and giving it a single tug that has his knees going weak. He has to dig his teeth into his lip to fight back the groan that wants to escape.

You spread your legs obscenely wide, giving him a better view of the way your hand moves across your pussy. The fast circles you use to treat your clit, followed by the slow swipes to bring yourself back from the edge. He can practically see the way your empty cunt flutters around nothing, begging to be filled.

By him. Begging to be filled by him.

Christ, this is depraved. He shouldn’t be watching this. He shouldn’t be looking at his best friend’s daughter and thinking about how it would feel to sink his cock so deep inside he wouldn’t know where your body started and his ends.

His hand starts to move faster, twisting on the upstroke so that his palm glides over the sensitive, leaking tip of his cock. Your hips are moving frantically now, chasing your hand and the pleasure it’s giving you. You slip a finger inside and Joel can hear the moan you let out. He has to bite his lip so goddamn hard he tastes copper on his tongue so that he doesn’t echo your shouts of pleasure.

Your one finger becomes two, plunging inside of you with abandon as your chest heaves with ragged breaths. Joel can feel his orgasm building at a fever pitch and he silently begs for you to reach yours before he does.

Like the universe hears his plea, your legs snap shut around your hand and you shake with your release. He can see the quiver of your thighs and the way your mouth drops open in a moan.

“Joel!” You cry out. For a moment, he worries he’s been caught. But your eyes are closed, head pressed to the mattress as you ride out your orgasm.

Joel barely has enough time to cup his free hand over his cock, catching the streams of come in his palm as his orgasm hits him like a train, the sound of his name on your lips doing him in.

He sags against the wall as he tries to catch his breath. Finally, he uses his clean hand to pull his jeans back up his hips so that he can go to the bathroom and clean up.

When he returns to the bedroom, your curtains are notably closed. Joel swallows nervously.

Fuck. How the hell is he supposed to look you in the eye tomorrow, knowing what you look like when you come? Knowing what his name sounds like cried out from your lips?

He flops back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with sleep creeping at the edges of his vision.

That’s tomorrow’s problem.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #no use of y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel miller tlou #tlou fic

304 notes · View notes

maddogofshimano · 1 month

Text

The Value of Lies: Majima Boss Rush

Mild spoilers for Y0

A new Majima event! They added a few new cards alongside it

I had a moment of “huh, why’s Shimano from 1985 and not 1988? that’s too late for the YK2 flashback--oh NO............ during Majima’s torture in the Hole????”

anyways, Shimano is not in the event. sorry to the Shimano stans

Summary: 6 months into Majima’s stint as manager of the Grand, he’s still chasing after as much profit as he can and has scouted a new batch of hostesses. One of them seems lackluster, but there’s more to her than meets the eye...

[Half a year after Majima Goro had began working as the manager of the Cabaret Grand.] [The Grand's revenue had been steadily rising, but was still nowhere near the desired amount-- For the sake of further profits, Majima was aggressively scouting other clubs to refine his own business...]

<door opens, Majima walks in> Majima: ...Sawabe. How'd the new girls do today? (tl note: The name is 沢辺 which is pretty much just Sawabe or Sawanabe)

Grand Employee Sawabe: ...They seem to be doing reasonably well, the customers who like inexperienced girls have been asking for them. Majima: I see. Any gals seem like a standout?

Sawabe: I don't know about a standout, all of them have something special... except for one. Majima: ...Except one? What's goin' on with that?

Sawabe: ...There was one who just didn't seem very motivated. Her name is Arisa. Sawabe: But it's my job to make girls like that useful, so I've been trying to provide lessons. Majima: That's true. I appreciate the help. With how the number of customers keep goin' up, I'll take all the help I can get. Majima: Unfortunately I still gotta be out of the club, so you're my only hope for trainin' the girls here. Sawabe: Please leave it to me. Sawabe: I know that people are the same as water, if left alone they'll settle in low places.

Sawabe: I'll manage the new girls diligently, and make sure they're trained well. Majima: Please see that you do. Majima: ...And just to be sure, ya ain't gonna fall for some of the girls you're teaching and get handsy, right? Sawabe: ...Absolutely not. I could never allow my family to be on the street because I broke one of the club's rules.

[two weeks later...]

<the door opens, Majima enters> Majima: ...I'm back. How'd thing's go, and how were today's sales... huh? (tl note: TWO WEEKS DUDE???)

Sawabe: Ah, welcome back, manager. (tl note: oh okay Majima didn't walk in on hanky panky. my bad. sorry for doubting you Sawabe) New Girl Arisa: ...Well, I'm going back to the floor. Majima: ...Was that Arisa you were just talking to? Sawabe: Yes sir. She just lost her parents. But she still comes to work and does her training because she didn't want to miss any days... Sawabe: So I hear her out when she has difficult feelings that she can't express to the customers. Majima: .........I see. Sawabe: At first I thought she just wasn't motivated at all... I even scolded her a few times before realizing this was the case--she just couldn't get into the right headspace with all that sadness. Majima: ...And ya believe that? Sawabe: Huh? O-Of course. There was nothing to indicate she was lying. Majima: Gotcha. Majima: Seein' as she's havin' such a hard time, I ought to talk with her. <out on the floor> Majima: ...Arisa-chan. Ya got a minute?

Arisa: Yes? Can I help you with something? Majima: If you're makin' a play at Sawabe, it'd be best if ya stopped. Arisa: Huh? What are you talking about? I'm not making a play... Majima: ...Heh, I'm just sayin'. Majima: If ya have any troubles I'm also someone ya can come talk to. Arisa: Umm... Th-Thank you. If you'll excuse me. <she leaves> Majima: ............

[another 2 weeks later]

Sawabe: I'm sorry, Arisa. We can only meet up after everyone has already left. (tl note: I RETRACT MY PREVIOUS APOLOGY. SAWABE YOUR FAMILY!!!!!!!!)

Arisa: No, don't apologize. I'm the one asking unreasonable things... I know we can't let anyone find out about this. Arisa: Besides, I would be happy being anywhere with you, Sawabe-san. Sawabe: Arisa... Arisa: ...Still... The manager isn't going to be back today, right? Sawabe: Yep, he said he was heading straight home. Arisa: So then... it's really just the two of us. Sawabe: Yeah, just us two. .....But, is it alright if I do a bit of work first? Sawabe: It's the last day of the month, so I need to get our sales money so it can be transferred to the bank tomorrow. (tl note: Sawabe if you flake to go fuck a hostess and Majima gets the shit beaten out of him I'm going to throttle you on his behalf) Arisa: Okay, I can wait 🎵 Sawabe: I'm sorry. I'll get it done quick. <she leaves> Sawabe: Now then just gotta get the money out of the safe... <he opens it> Sawabe: ...Hmm? Oh, Arisa must have needed to use the restroom. Now then... huh!!?? <a bunch of goons rush in> Arisa: Sawabe-san. Thanks so much for opening the safe 🎵 ....Now I'll be taking allll the money in it.

Sawabe: Wh-... What the hell's going on? <a goon punches him> Sawabe: Guh... <he drops> Brawny Thug: That dumbass was a good mark for this... Have a nice nap. Arisa: Soooo cool 🎵 Thug's Pal: Hehe... Now we just stuff all this cash into the bag.

???: ...I went to all the trouble of warning you. Arisa: !? Majima: I already told ya, "If you're makin' a play at Sawabe, it'd be best if ya stopped".

Arisa: Wh-Why's the manager... Majima: I noticed ya gettin' awful cozy with Sawabe a little while ago. Majima: So I started doin' a little diggin' and figured out your plan. Had to be gettin' some thugs to rob the safe with ya--your parents aren't dead, your little brother doesn't exist, all ya've been doin' since ya got here is lying and cheatin' people outta money. Arisa: .......... Majima: And on top of trickin' Sawabe, here ya are tryin' to clean us out, which is a much bigger issue. Thug: Well... Even if all of that is true, how do you expect to get yourself out of this situation now? Thug: I don't see any cops around... Don't tell me you plan on handling this all by yourself? Majima: ...Of course I plan to. Thug: The hell? Are you mocking me! <goons rush in> Thug: That's just fine!! If you can do it, go ahead!!!!

Brawny Thug: N-... No way...

<he collapses> Arisa: ...! <Majima walks over> Majima: ...We're done here.

<he kneels down> Majima: Hey, can you stand? Sawabe: Ugh... S-Sorry... <they're both back to standing> Majima: Don't worry. I'll let ya off easy this time, since I knew what was happenin'. Think ya'll get tricked again? Sawabe: Th-Thank you so much...! Nothing like this will ever happen again...! Sawabe: But... I really didn't think Arisa would do something like this... Arisa: I'm sorry Sawabe-san, Majima-san... That thug was threatening me... that's why I... Sawabe: Eh...!? Majima: ...Are ya that stupid. Now I know ya ain't the kinda guy for this. On the other hand, you were the one that was trickin' that man, ain't ya? Sawabe: Eh... Wh-What do you mean? Arisa: ...Haa, I messed up. That guy said he was a former pro boxer, but he was way too weak.

Sawabe: A-Arisa... you... Arisa: I guess I can't fool you. Are you going to hand me over to the police? Majima: Heh, that's surprisingly upstandin' of ya. Majima: However, I ain't handin' ya over to the cops. Arisa: ...Huh? Majima: There's no profit to be made in that. Majima: I'd rather have ya work at the Grand again. Arisa: Work at the Grand...? Majima: Exactly. Of course, if ya run off or play hooky then I'll throw ya to the cops without mercy.

Majima: And you'll have to make yourself a diligent hostess and work hard--I'll forget about this whole thing if ya become a girl that earns more than ya were gonna steal from this safe. Arisa: ....... Majima: ...What d'ya say? Arisa: I will... return to working at the Grand. Majima: Heh, that settles it. Arisa: Sawabe-san... I'm sorry for deceiving you. I'll do my best from here on out. Sawabe: H-Hold on a minute, boss! I-Is that really okay? Even after all this... Majima: Mhm. Sawabe: I know I was the one who got scammed, so it might not mean much from me, but still... Arisa-chan has the worst sales out of the whole club.

Sawabe: And then she tried to rob us, so, is it really okay to hire that girl...? Majima: It's true that her sales were bad, but that's cause she was half-assin' it. Majima: You experienced first hand just how good she is at this, didn't you? Sawabe: ........... Majima: To keep up a deception like that, ya need all sorts of skills. Majima: You're much warier than most, but she still got her fingers on your purse strings-- Majima: Seein' that you're a very doubting person, she used a lie about her parents' death to get ya sympathetic-- Majima: Two weeks or so of keepin' up that lie, playin' the part of the girl ya'd want, all with the goal of slowly foolin' ya-- Majima: Even with the risk of "If I lose my job my family will be out on the street" ya still caved. Majima: Gettin' someone ya just met's guard down, gettin' them to open their wallet, lying to find out more about them-- Majima: And of course, keepin' up the lie so the person you're talkin' with doesn't catch on... Majima: To me, those are the ideal skills for a hostess. Majima: If she approached our guests with the same diligence that she went after you, I have no doubt that Arisa would be our number one. Majima: In order to make 100 million yen in sales, even though there's a risk, I'm not going to let a profitable woman like her go. Sawabe: ...You may be right, boss. Majima: Whew... Well, I'll see ya tomorrow, but... try not to get scammed again, okay? Sawabe: ...Y-Yes sir.

[Afterwards, when Arisa resumed working at the Grand, things went exactly as Majima predicted. With her ability to see through her customers and her skillful lies, she had one man after another captivated by her. Seeking to become the Grand's number one hostess, she has risen to the very top.]

Bonus stuff:

unrelated to this event they released a White Day Kiryu where he awkwardly gives you a return gift. I’m not even making fun of him that’s literally what the title of his card is

Ichiban got one too where he bashfully gives you a senbei

and then not a White Day card but still a guy giving a gift, we got a new KSR 1995 Nishiki

something I didn’t notice until looking through Nishiki’s cards is that they give a date on Nishiki’s new hairdo

ONE YEAR??? NISHIKI YOU ONLY HELD OUT A YEAR??????? it was Christmas in 1995 too so depending on when in 1996 this is it could be even less time. it does make it a kind of cartoonishly awful year for him to have experienced though, if you condense all of the flashbacks into that span. that’s rough buddy

enjoy him looking so sad and dejected (he failed to beat up Haruka)

#yakuza #like a dragon #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #Majima #Majima Goro #Goro Majima

51 notes · View notes

dagwolf · 1 year

Text

Recent viral images of Southwest agents getting yelled at and crying have resurfaced a valuable lesson about the nature of our economic system that’s worth examining this holiday season: the deliberate, built-in ways corporate “customer service” is set up to not only shield those on the top of the ladder—executives, vice presidents, large shareholders—but pit low-wage workers against each other in an inherently antagonistic relationship marked by powerlessness and frustration. It’s a dynamic we discussed in “Episode 118: The Snitch Economy—How Rating Apps and Tipping Pit Working People Against Each Other,” of the Citations Needed podcast I co-host, but I feel ought to be expanded on in light of recent events. Watching video after video, reading tweet after tweet, describing frustrated stranded holiday travelers yelling at Southwest Airlines workers, and hearing, in turn, accounts of airline workers and airport staff breaking down crying, is a good opportunity to talk about how none of this is natural or inevitable. It is a choice, both in corporate policy and government regulation.

There are three main ways capital pits workers against each other in the relationship we call “customer service”:

1. Snitch economy. As discussed in Citations Needed Ep. 118, we are provided with more and more apps, websites, and customer surveys to effectively do the job of managing for management—free of charge, of course. Under the auspices of “empowering” the consumer, we are told to spy on our low-wage servants and gauge the quality of their servitude with stars, tips, and reviews. Uber, DoorDash, Fiver, Grubhub—a new “gig economy” has emerged that not only misclassifies workers as freelancers to pay them less, but hands over the reins of management to the consumer directly. This necessarily increases the antagonism between working-class consumers and the workers they are snitching on.

2. Automation. Increasingly, even getting to the bottom rung employee to yell at is difficult. Under the thin pretense of Covid, increased labor power has exploded the use of automated technology that creates a frustrating maze to get a simple problem solved or task accomplished. Don’t go to the register, instead download the app and order. Scan the QR code, don’t wait on hold, go to our website and engage a series of automated prompts and maybe you can solve your problem. More and more consumers are being pushed away from humans onto automated systems we are told will “save us time,” but instead exist solely to save the corporation labor costs. So, by the time the average consumer does finally work their way to seeing a human, they are annoyed, frustrated, and angry at this faceless entity and more willing to take it out on someone making $13 an hour.

One recent visit to Houston’s George H.W. Bush airport portended our obnoxious “automated” future. To cut down on unionized airport labor, all the restaurants use QR codes and require you to order food and drinks for yourself. Per usual, it’s sold as an exciting new technology that’s somehow good for consumers, but really the basic technology is 30 years old. It’s just a screen—the same ones restaurants have had for decades. The only thing that’s changed is the social conditioning of having you do all your own ordering and menu navigation. The waiter hasn’t been replaced by an iPad, they’ve been replaced by you. Invariably, it’s clunky and annoying and reduces the union jobs that airport construction is said to provide to justify soliciting public dollars. The only winner is a faceless corporation with a Delaware LLC and its shareholders living in a few counties in Connecticut and Texas.

Automation not only annoys and adds labor burdens to the customer, there is also evidence that it is a significant contributor to income inequality. A November 2022 study published in the journal Econometrica looked at the significantly widening income gap between lesser and more educated workers over the past 40 years. It found that “automation accounts for more than half of that increase,” as summarized by MIT News. “This single one variable … explains 50 to 70 percent of the changes or variation between group inequality from 1980 to about 2016,” said MIT economist Daron Acemoglu, co-author of the study. Whether or not, under a different economic system, automation could be a force for good is a debate for another day. But what is clear is that, while both consumers and workers are harmed by this trend, there is a significant want of solidarity between them.

3. Deliberate understaffing. This is a major culprit in this week’s Southwest Airlines meltdown. In parallel with the increased use of forced automation, cost-cutting corporations, facing increased labor power, are gutting staffing to its bare bones and hoping their corporate competitors doing the same will lead to a shift in consumer’s willingness to put up with substandard service and conditions, and overall bullshit. “We apologize for the wait,” the automated phone prompt tells us. Of course a machine cannot be contrite, so the effect is both surreal and grating: You’re not fucking sorry, you don’t exist. You're a recording. But now, who am I yelling at?

...

556 notes · View notes

itsjaywalkers · 28 days

Note

jegulus & 71 pleaseee :))

i love all your writing btw!!!!

this prompt gave me an excuse to write this silly lil scene i've had stuck in my mind for days SO THANK U FOR THAT BABE

if u recognise what this is loosely based on . no u don't . i'm going thru something okay .

also !! thank u so much nonnie i'm very happy to hear it !! <3

71. "Kiss me, quick!"

Regulus doesn't know how he's managed to land himself a date with James Potter, but he isn't really complaining.

Or, well, maybe he is complaining a little bit, because, technically, it isn't a real date.

He thinks that, to all intents and purposes, though, it's absolutely a date. They're at a restaurant, sitting in the same side of a booth, and they keep gazing into each others eyes, smiling sweetly and giggling while they decide what they want to order.

Regulus can totally pretend this is real if he ignores the not-so-subtle glances James keeps throwing to the couple a few tables away from them. Or how he keeps whispering under his breath what he wants Regulus to do so they look more convincing. Or the fact that James chose to ask him to be his fake date through gritted teeth and a pinched brow.

He supposes it might be kind of his fault. Regulus hasn't been very nice to James, although there's been a considerable improvement since they met, which he believes should be more appreciated.

But, then again, the Regulus of seven months ago wasn't pathetically in love with James Potter.

Regulus misses him dearly. It was so much easier to keep his reputation intact when he didn't have to make an actual effort.

"I'm gonna put my arm around your shoulders," James informs him with a smile. It looks genuine, and it would've fooled Regulus if he didn't know the other man as well as he does.

He nods, offering a smile of his own that despite being considerably smaller, it's actually sincere. Regulus isn't too worried about it, though. Unlike James, he's an excellent actor, the best of their generation if he says so himself, and it's not hard to believe that he'd play his role perfectly.

Even if it's one as unbecoming as being James Potter's boyfriend.

As he said he would, James wraps an arm around him, and Regulus has to will his body to remain cool and relaxed but not too relaxed, or else he'll end up melting against James' body.

He's just so warm. Regulus reckons the other man ought to go see a doctor about it, get it checked, because it shouldn't be normal for a human being to feel so welcoming, so safe.

Regulus shivers, and he isn't sure if it's due to how disgusted he is by his own train of thought, or how well he seems to fit, tucked against James' side.

"I'm gonna put my head on your shoulder," he mutters, tone surprisingly even. Since he's already doing this, he might as well take advantage of it and properly enjoy it.

"Good idea," James murmurs, sounding excited, his eyes fixed on the guy sitting right in front of Macdonald.

Regulus thinks he'd feel more jealous if it weren't because this whole thing is a mere ruse to teach that asshole a lesson after breaking James' heart.

Still, he wishes James was paying attention to him. He's the Regulus Black, after all. It shouldn't be a choice in the first place.

"Oh," James gasps, squirming a little in his place and jostling Regulus' head a little from where it's resting on his shoulder. "He's finally noticed us."

Regulus can barely supress the urge to roll his eyes.

"Maybe we should turn it up a bit, then," he suggests, getting more comfortable and pressing even closer to the other man.

"You're right," James agrees without missing a beat, as if it's not completely unheard of, James admitting to Regulus being right about something. "I'm gonna whisper something in your ear, and you're gonna laugh about it. I know it must be difficult for you, but—"

"Pretending you're funny?" Regulus cuts him off, batting his lashes up at him all coyly. "It's nearly impossible, but unlike others, I do have the acting skills, so I think I'll manage."

James glares down at him, the gesture poorly disguised by a grin. The matching one Regulus gives him in response is totally genuine.

The other man leans down, until his lips are grazing Regulus' earlobe teasingly, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep an embarrassing noise from escaping.

"You're the most insufferable person I've ever met," James whispers, his breath hitting Regulus' skin with every word. "And I can't wait for this date to be over."

Oh, Regulus couldn't relate more. He's starting to come too close to popping a fucking boner for comfort.

He laughs, too loud and too eager, behaving like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush, and when realisation dawns on him, he does his best to ignore that he is basically a schoolgirl with a crush.

Regulus thinks that this must be what hitting rock bottom feels like.

"Fuck, he's looking this way," James says, still way too close to Regulus' ear, to his fucking neck. "He's actually looking this way. Oh my god, I can't believe this is working!"

"That makes two of us," Regulus huffs after daring to take a peek and discovering that James' annoying ex is, in fact, focused on them and their cheesy display. He even seems to be shooting daggers at them.

"Shit, Gideon looks so mad," James comments, positively giddy at the thought. "We gotta do something else, something that actually drives the message home."

"And what would that message be?" Regulus drawls, tilting his face the slightest bit, making it seem like they're actually having a Moment.

"Probably 'you're a fucking prick and I'm glad we're over and you're gonna regret playing with me like you did.'"

Regulus hums, considering, and then his mouth is opening before he even has the opportunity to think about it. "Kiss me, then."

James splutters, eyes widening comically and jaw almost dropping to the floor. Regulus wants to snap at him for breaking character after all their hard work, but now that James has decided to fuck up so badly, someone's gotta keep their charade afloat.

"What?" he nearly yells, and it's almost physically painful for Regulus, holding back his scowl.

"Fucking keep it down," Regulus hisses, his expression resembling a lovesick fool's. "How do you want this to look believable otherwise? Especially after sabotaging us like this."

James has no business looking as offended as he does right now. If anything, Regulus should be the one sporting that aggrieved frown, considering the circumstances.

"Shut up," James grumbles, all petulantly like a child. "I don't want to fucking kiss you."

Regulus swallows the sudden wave of nausea and the pieces of his broken heart, and arches a judging eyebrow.

"And you think I do?" he questions with a sniff. "I'm doing this to help, but if you'd rather ruin your own plan because of your stupid pride, then be my guest."

"I know you're not just lecturing me about pride, of all things—"

"James, I think he's about to get up. Fuck, what if he comes here? Shit, this is—kiss me, quick!"

"Excuse me, he's doing what!?" James whips his head around in mild panic, just to see that Gideon really is pushing his chair away from the table, all his attention on them.

"James," Regulus urges him, elbowing him harshly on the side.

It takes James a couple of seconds to return his focus to Regulus, at least a dozen emotions flickering behind his eyes. "I'm not—I don't think we—"

With a long-suffering sigh, Regulus grips the front of James' shirt and pulls him in, clashing their mouths together and swallowing James' surprised gasp.

He tries to tell himself it's fine, that he's kissed other people before when shooting scenes for his show, and this isn't any different. Regulus didn't feel anything back then, because it was just work, just another role, and in a way, this thing with James is, too.

But it doesn't matter how much he tries, how he keeps repeating these words in his head like a mantra. His heart still speeds up as he moves his mouth against James', who seems completely frozen on the spot. His cheeks still burn, the blush probably being noticeable from a distance. His body still relaxes against James', seeking more of that lovely warmth, more of James' touch.

It's over way too soon, but the other man isn't responding, and if he keeps it up for too long with James just sitting there and taking it, their audience is bound to notice.

Regulus pulls away with a truly idiotic smile, and he hates that he doesn't even have to fake it.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he murmurs, while James blinks down at him.

He's about to turn around, search for Gideon and hopefully relish in his jealous expression, when he feels a hand on his jaw. The grip is unforgiving, bordering on desperate, and before Regulus has the chance to question it, or swat the contact away, James is pulling him in for another kiss.

This one's different. Less performative. Regulus wasn't actually acting in the first one, because he's been wanting to kiss the other man for a few months now, but he was still hyperaware of Gideon, of what they were trying to do. Of James being completely unresponsive.

In this case, however, it's sort of impossible to focus on anything that isn't James, who's kissing him eagerly, hungrily, deepening the kiss the moment Regulus begins reciprocating. He licks at his lips, requesting permission, and Regulus grants it without a second thought, nothing but white noise inside his brain.

Their tongues tangle, and James makes a keening sound against Regulus' panting mouth. His fingers twitch around the material of James' shirt, a whimper on the tip of his tongue when their teeth clash in their desperation.

Once again, Regulus is the one that puts an end to it, even if it's more out of survival instinct than actual want. You see, they start to get too into it, especially considering they're in a very public place, surrounded by other people.

There's nothing wrong with a bit of snogging, and Regulus has seen way worse than their little make out session. But then James' free hand is gripping onto his waist, pulling Regulus in until he's nearly straddling his lap, blood rushing south at an alarming pace and hips twitching with the need to thrust in search of some friction.

Surprisingly, Regulus still has some sense of self-preservation left.

He captures James' lower lip between his teeth and tugs, dragging another obscene sound out of him, before finally breaking their kiss. Regardless, James doesn't allow him to get far, his hold on him tightening as soon as Regulus attempts to put some space between them.

"Yeah," James exhales, sounding absolutely wrecked. "That wasn't hard at all."

#silly little drabbles #jegulus my beloveds

45 notes · View notes

phoeebsbuffay · 2 years

Text

Imagine when the Republic falls and your life is deeply affected by it. Your husband is no where to be seen and you fear the worst might have happened to him, specially after news regarding Order 66 have reached you. Despite the bad omens, however, you decide to look for him. And what you might find will surprise you.

Warnings: drama, explicit smut, violence, angst, unburnt Vader.

Warnings 2: this got long. 👀🤭

Recommendations: “The Ghost of You” by My Chemical Romance.

No minors.

***

Intro.

It starts to rain and you are on the market when the hologram pops up. Whenever it happens, great news are expected to be told. You are standing amongst the crowd as a black hooded man is seen.

“Greetings to all, citizens. We salute you. News ought to be delivered in regard to the present situation concerning the clonic wars…” And here he tells how the Jedis are guilty for treason because they played a major role throughout the conflict, often betraying the Senate purposes.

“For this reason, as the common law dictates, every Jedi is a traitor and treason is punishable by death. However, in order to prevent chaos, if you spot a Jedi, communicate us as fast as possible.”

He goes on in announcing himself as Emperor, welcoming now the citizens of Coruscant as citizens of the Galactic Empire. Once he ends the communication, every one is mute.

What had just happened?

You fear for your husband. Having him in your mind, you drop your basket and leave your things behind. Discreetly, you pass through your neighbors and others and start to increase the rhythm of your pace.

You hear noises. Chaos finds you. Next thing you see is some sort of riot happening, sounds of blasters, screams of people, making it difficult to distinguish what they are screaming for.

Where are you?

You push these people aside, trying to make your way to the ancient Jedi Temple located at a farther spot from the center of Coruscant. You don’t mind the troopers, you don’t mind people. All you want to know is if he survived.

Perhaps it is fortunate that you are an invisible woman to all, a being who is unworthy the attention of the troopers. You remain ignored as you walk back your home, eyes already puddled with tears.

How many times did you not wish to be a Jedi? How often didn’t you wonder when he was away what would be like to follow him in his dangerous missions? How regularly haven’t you spent your nights wide awake praying for him going back safe and sound to your arms?

And he would frequently go back to you. He always kept his promises. But you don’t have enough time to think about it for you are forced to retreat back to your home since getting to the Temple Jedi is proving an impossible task. Once you do, though, he isn’t there.

He is not coming home. He is not coming home.

You refuse to take these words as part of your reality. You’ve heard whispers concerning the Order 66, whose main objective was to destroy the Jedis.

No. You are coming back to me. You are.

You start looking for him in every spot of your house, but he is no where to be seen. He is nowhere to be found.

As you stay outdoors watching the end of world, your knees weaken and you fall down. You burst into violent tears. Somehow you know. Somehow you become another loser of this war. You look up at the darkest skies and you sob.

“I’ll get my revenge, Emperor. Even if I die trying, I’ll get my way to you.”

And so you cry.

***

Flashback.

• The Twilight of the Clonic Wars (I) •

You are but a librarian who has nothing to do with the Force or the Jedis working at the temple. It’s a nice job, suit to your passion for knowledge. You love reading, it is how you’ve been raised by your parents: if you want to be free, Y/N, read; if you want to fight for yourself to get what you want, sharp your mind; books are any human being’s best friend.

It’s what your parents used to tell you. They were neither rich nor part of the lower class of Coruscant. They didn’t have the Force, but were an average part of the population. Nonetheless they were great parents who always sought to give you and your brothers everything you deserved. You couldn’t complain for having a nice life.

You fondly remember them as you organize the shelves. Because of the clonic wars, war eventually found a way to drag your father to fight for the Republic and your mother would follow him. Not too long after that, your brothers parted to serve too. In short years, this job was everything you had.

Despite the sadness of the situation, you are in peace with it. So here you are, moving on with your life. You are very thankful for Master Windu arranging this job for you. But your routine does not necessarily lead you to the Jedis. And you are fine with it. All you desire is to be occupied.

That is the context when he comes to find you. A tall man dressed in black robes, dark brown hair falling over his shoulders, who possesses the brightest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen tumbles against you.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You are quick to apologize despite the fact he is the one distracted. You take the books and prepare yourself to leave, but you miss the amusement in his irises.

“What for? Hey, are you new here?”

You look back, barely blinking. Is he talking to me?

As if reading your thoughts, he smiles at you.

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

You blush, feeling awkward in interacting with others, a trait you’ve never truly developed well. At least not during the war anyway where you lost your family and friends to it.

“I… Well, sort of. I’ve been working here half a year now”, you tell him. “Do you need my help, sir?”

The male finds you adorable to behold, intrigued to find a non-possessor of the Force right in the library of the Temple Jedi. You are shorter than him, your y/c hair is tied in a bun and the round glasses you wear hide the color that paints your eyes. Your face is covered with simple make up, an indicator that you are concerned with your public image. You dress a nice white blouse and black jeans.

There is something about you that, although at first sight might mistake you to a common lass of Coruscant, sparks an interest in the man. He is intrigued by you. Your presence is like an electric field against which he has little power to be apart.

“I do, yes.” He clears his throat, dismissing his first impressions. “I am not so sure you’ll know what I’m talking about, but are you familiar with the book ***? My Master recommended me to read it but I can’t seem to find here.”

You surprise him when you say:

“Oh yes, I know which one. Let me see in what shelf is in. New copies arrived yesterday, these are new editions with updates moves and instructions of how to use them.”

The man raises an eyebrow at you.

“You don’t have the Force”, he observes, his eyes glued at your back.

You smirk.

“No, I don’t.”

“How do you know about it then?”

You finally stop and turn at him. It is comic how this tall man, whom you promptly see as a Jedi, looks at you and you stand there with a hand on your waist.

“Just because I am not a Jedi doesn’t mean I cannot read about the Force or how the peacekeepers fight.” You tell him.

He chuckles.

“Very well. I am impressed.”

You side smirk at him.

“You don’t strike me as one who is easily impressed.”

Another laughter. You like the sound of it.

“No”, he agrees. “I am not.”

You offer your hand for him to shake.

“I am Y/N Y/LN. I am the librarian and I pray I can be of your use.”

He takes it before giving a shake, with a smile dancing on his lips.

“And I am Anakin Skywalker. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss Y/N.”

As you give the book he requests, you realize your eyes never for once left those blue of his.

***

Present Days.

It is difficult to pursuit the path of vengeance, to be bent to an unending grief in spite of an inexplicable feeling that he is out there, somewhere.

Perhaps you are waiting for me anywhere, Ani. I will find you, though.

You are wearing a dark cape over your shoulders and black robes as a result. You carry yourself a blaster, but you don’t use it. You walk amongst others as if you are a ghost. You even suspect the Empire has no records of you, otherwise why didn’t they come for you?

It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that I am Mrs Skywalker. Why didn’t they come to end with my life?

How suspicious. But you don’t waste your time thinking about it. You should be looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi or even Ahsoka Tano, but where would you look for them, assuming them to be alive?

In my heart I know nothing is lost. These three haven’t died. My love hasn’t been demised to the Order 66.

You steal a ship. Memories hurt you as when you remember the day Anakin taught you how to pilot one. His laughters and amusement at your primary attempts in doing so and how at each time you hit the ship bring you back to tears without your notice.

The salt there is in them reaches out for your tongue, a taste that has long been familiar to you. Once so patient and resigned, you are tired of sitting and waiting for things to work.

So you start piloting the ship, leaving Coruscant behind once and for all. You are clueless as where to go, though, and this only makes you desperate. It’s when you are soon reminded of something about Mustafar, the last planet where Anakin told you he’d go to. Perhaps that is where you should head to.

But how? You don’t know the routes, you’ve never dared to pilot into the galaxy before. It is when you recollect the day Anakin taught you how to contact the Force.

“All you have to say is: I am one with the Force and the Force is with me”, he instructed you. “But you have to say believing it, patiently. Otherwise you will not be affected by it.”

“Shouldn’t I possess the Force to do so?” You remember inquiring him.

He’d laugh and stroke your cheek before saying:

“No, angel. The difference between you and I resides in the fact that you were not born with it. But if you train it patiently, you’ll be able to fix it.”

“With you as my husband, I don’t think I am able to concentrate.” You said maliciously, earning some cuddles and tons of kisses from him, which made you beam.

But this is not the moment nor the time to dwell in the past, as tempting and comforting it is for you. What you have to do is check your emotions and try to follow your husband’s meditation’s exercises.

You take a deep breath. You close your eyes, emptying your mind in the process. It’s difficult for you, though. The tension makes your heart race and a lot of preoccupations mixed to anxieties seem to stand as impediments for you to reach the Force.

The words come out of your lips as you were once taught by Anakin, but every time they are pronounced, your thoughts dealign with your heart. You don’t know how much time you take, maybe some hours, but when you are exhausted… is when you finally succeed.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” You whisper like a small prayer, prompted to sleep in this ship, floating on the center of the dark space.

It’s when you begin to feel the weight there is in your heart to lighten, the burden you carry on your shoulders to be removed. A very strange sentiment that no words can translate it takes over you.

The more you repeat, the more you sense it showing you bits of different scenarios; until eventually you see through your eyelashes a masked man.

“By the Maker!” You yell at yourself, jumping out of seat.

You are scared. It feels like you are awaking of a nightmare. In situations as these, where old traumas came uninvited, Anakin would hold you close. He would fight away your fears and console you.

But he isn’t there to do that, is he? You swallow your tears and press the button of hyperspace. You have a bad feeling about what’s to come…

***

Flashback.

The Twilight of the Clonic Wars (II). •

He comes to see you again and again. You start to feed expectations, aware that you are being unreasonable and creating illusions. You tell yourself that Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi, a General this close to be given the title of a Master. This means you are not only lower than his station, but also you forget that one simple rule you know so well: Jedis cannot form romantic attachments.

This is what you are thinking about, lamenting for it when you hear his voice:

“Do you realize that I can actually hear your thoughts?”

You freeze. Little by little you turn around and spot Anakin standing before you. Your face has never been so red as it is now. Worse, he is entertained at the cost of your embarrassment.

“I-I-I…”, you clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. “I really don’t know what I was thinking. I have just finished a novel and…”

Anakin laughs. Aren’t you adorable when you lie? He crosses his arms, resisting the impulse to touch your cheek, wondering if your y/c skin is smooth as it looks.

“For someone who reads a lot and spends a considerable time in between books, you surely are the worst liar I came across with, Y/N. Come. Do you have time for a coffee?”

You are suddenly shy right under his gaze. Something about how he looks at you makes you flustered. But you smile back at him.

“I have, yes.”

And the next thing you know you are at a nearby coffeeshop with him. It is easy to forget that there is a war going on out there when the two of you are talking amenities and other things too.

So that afternoon, Anakin and you discover the many tastes you have in common. He does appreciate your wit, how passionate you can be when talking about the little things you love and what have you accomplished with your studies.

It starts like that. Small talks, small encounters, coffee breaks. Before you know, you are anxiously waiting for him. And worrying for him too.

“Ani. People talk about your recklessness again.” You are not usually one who gossips but you have ears. And they more than frequent capture things that set your heart at an uneasiness. Like, for example, when you heard someone saying that he flirted openly with Senator Amidala, which still sends waves of pain to your heart, however hard you dissimulate it.

“There is little need for you to worry about me”, Anakin tells you, cocky as he usually is. This day you have been released earlier from your duties so he took you for a stroll around the gardens. “I often know what I’m doing, honey.”

He smirks at the facility with which he makes you blush, lowering your eyes and smiling in secrecy, hoping he does not see you in such state. But Anakin does, and sees right through you. It makes his heart melt and his eyes are all over you.

“Even so”, you raise your face at last. “I do worry for you. I have read how dangerous and deadly are the missions you are assigned to. You may not give the worth my heart deserves, but believe me, it is far too sensitive to bare the idea you might not come back and…”

You suddenly realize what you are saying and quickly you shush. Anakin is smirking again as you just openly admitted that you are in love with him. He leads you somewhere away from the prick ears of the gossip Jedi that might be out there, so he can have an instance of privacy with you.

The sun is setting in the horizon in a most romantic scenario when he lifts your chin, searching for your eyes. This time you don’t part the gaze. You also take sudden notice your fingers are locked with his.

“You have every reason to be concerned. I would too if I were in your shoes.” He then uses his metallic hand to caress your cheek and he smiles when you lean into it. “But I will always go back to you, angel. I do cherish your heart and give the worth it deserves. Now I see I took too long to make it obvious.”

“And here I was thinking you were openly flirting with certain Senators.” You cannot help yourself, distrusting the words that reach your ears.

Anakin throws his head back and laughs, much to your embarrassment. He then cups both cheeks and, resting his forehead against yours, says he:

“You are the only one I have eyes to. There is no one else that could capture my heart the way you do, Y/N. I love you, always and for ever.”

You smile brightly, placing your hands over his shoulders.

“I love you too, Ani. For as long as I breathe and even beyond, this heart beats only for you.”

That being said, he kisses your lips passionately.

***

Present Days.

You land in Mustafar after a while in a state of exhaustion, both mentally and physically. Nonetheless, the pursuit for Anakin continues. You are scared, naturally, and fear follows your steps.

You throw your hood to omit your face, grab enough credits you have and carry two blasters with yourself. Your heart races against your chest to the point of aching.

Like a phantom, you leave the ship and try to ignore the unbearable heat of the volcano planet. The atmosphere burns your nose, making it difficult to breathe, and to worse all it is not welcoming you. Somehow it feels like death, it smells so.

Unbeknownst to you, this is the planet where Anakin fought Obi-Wan; where other Jedis were sent to die, where hell breaks loose. Whilst you think yourself to be a coward, moved by a sense of injustice you are desperate to amend whatever it takes, your bravery goes beyond your limitations.

In truth, you ignore you’ve been followed in secrecy by the same masked man who’s been haunting your dreams. You overlook the possibility that your steps are not covered, that insignificant as you see yourself, the Empire knows who you are and where you are. It is only a matter of time until you find this out.

“Anakin”, you mutter under your breath. “I know you are out there. I am not giving you up.”

You wish at times that the Order 66 would have taken you to death if this meant you’d never lost him. Your eyes blurry as you begin to wonder how could you have let that happen.

You feel you are being followed but thrice you check and there is no one to see. It is you and your shadow, you, in the depths of hell. Something about the lava captures your attention. It seems so tempting…

“No.”

You say to yourself. The pain the planet seems to plague at you becomes unbearable. You feel as if you are about to go mad. You retrace your steps, going back to your ship when you hear a very strange noise.

“Holy shit”, you curse.

Whatever it is out there, you sense it’s coming after you. At the end of the world, this is not the last thing you want to see if your final destination is the inevitable death.

I know you are alive. I know you are, Anakin.

You manage to reach your ship despite nearly tumbling in the rocks. You are shaking when you get to it. You turn it on and after a few tries, you manage to leave it right before a creature that is close to octopus but in a gigantic and devil form is about to take you.

You have little time to breathe relieved: electric storms are coming for you. Despite your fears, you find the boldness there is in you.

“Fuck it. If I am to die, here is a great moment to do so.”

You push the control and you scream loud. But you successfully cross through these dark clouds and leave the planet. You don’t find him there as you expected. Your heart weights with grief, you have no idea where to look for him now.

You stand there in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness. Hopelessness takes grip of your heart. Where to go now? You try not to feel discouraged, but you end up going to the next planet. You end up flying to Y/C, where you remember that Anakin went with Ahsoka.

As you finally find hope within you, after calming yourself in this complete mess, you begin to pilot away. It is when you spot this ship. At first you think it’s coincidental to find a black ship where you are now, but you realize you can’t pilot away. It soon engulfs your ship. You panic when you realize you fell in a trap.

Initially you fear you are about to be a victim of pirates, which means your fate will be either death or slavery. You start to get resigned at this prospective.

However, when you find the masked man of your nightmares standing in the ship where yours is being dragged into, you freeze.

Y/N, you hear the voice in your mind. We finally meet.

You pale. The voice sounds familiar to you. And when you are about to pick up the pieces of it, you get overwhelmed. Before the door is open, your mind is blank and you past out.

***

Flashback.

The Twilight of the Clonic Wars (III). •

You wait like always. But this time when he lands in Coruscant, he finds you at the place you both call home. You have just put your pajamas when a knock on the door is heard.

Who might that be? It is the first thought that occurs you, finding strange that at such an hour you get a visitor. So you throw over your shoulders some robes and go attend the door. To your delight there is Anakin.

“Oh my darling!” You beam before throwing your hands around his neck.

There is nothing better to him than being greeted warmly as he is by you. When he is engulfed in your arms and he holds you close, listening to your heartbeat, smelling your scent, reading your thoughts—how you longed for him, how you missed him, how you ached for him.

“I missed you, Y/nickname”, he kisses your cheek, then burying his head against your neck, his arms around you. “I missed you so damn much.”

“You came back to me”, you don’t intend to speak it, but these words roll out your tongue. “You came back, Ani.”

He gently parts the embrace to look at you. He cups your cheeks and smiles at you.

“Of course I did, my love. I am always coming back to you.” He takes your hands and presses a kiss in each, never letting go of them. “You know wherever you go, I will follow you.”

You two just have been recently married. When Anakin took you for a surprise travel to the galaxy—you’ve never been up at the space before and have always wondered what it was like, to see the countless planets and an infinite number of stars—, he landed you to planet Y/C, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen and there you were proposed. The following month, he surprised you by taking to a planet you longed to know—and that was where you married him.

15 months later and here you are, at your new home with the man you love.

“As will I”, you pursuit his lips in a tender kiss. “My heart is yours to command.”

Anakin sighs in content. He’s been having a couple of difficult weeks with the Jedis, culminated with Ahsoka’s trial and her refusal to go back to the Order.

You are aware of what’s been happening and it doesn’t help that you’ve been witnessing the arrogance of the Jedis even at the library. You don’t judge his sufferings and he appreciates you’ve always been there to console him, to listen, to give fairly good advices.

But tonight is not the moment to spend in stressing himself. He kisses you eagerly, willing for more. Anakin feels your lips twitching into a smirk, a move he does too. The connection one has with the other is evident.

You gently part the kiss, locking hands with him as you take him upstairs.

“Let me tend your needs, darling.”

He side smirks at you.

“When you start saying things like that… By the Maker, what do you intend to do with me?”

“You wait and you will see…”

The door closes and the night is about to start for you two.

***

Present Days.

Lord Vader is breathing mechanically, standing not too far from where you are. He senses your moves, an indication you are about to wake up. He is relieved for seeing you well, although this is rather questionable.

When he investigates your thoughts, he finds anguish clouding the sweet woman with whom he fell in love in the past. The memories he sees leave him baffled: where there is fear, there is sadness, angst and more. Vengeance paves the path for your suffering. The nights spent in tormented tears…

I should have come for you. I thought you’d deserved better, Y/N. Fuck. What have I done?

His gloved hands search for yours and you almost unconsciously lock your fingers with his. When you awake, you are perplexed to see it’s Anakin. You are quick to stand in the bed it was prepared to receive you. You don’t even realize your clothes are changed: Vader made sure you were well looked after.

You don’t care about it, not when you see Anakin standing right before you. His hair is slightly longer than the last time you saw him; curls dropped to his shoulders and when you placed one behind his ear, his eyes turn to yours: they are painted in yellow, no more the tempest blue that once dragged you to him.

You don’t mind that, despite placing your hands to cup his cheeks, but there are tears in your eyes.

“Anakin, It’s you.” It is only by feeling his skin against the touch of your hands that you know it’s him. You sob. “You are alive. You are not a ghost, you are here.”

He doesn’t respond, but he involves you in his embrace. The sound of your tears breaks his heart, it contains such a depth of anguish that reminds him precisely the day he fought Obi-Wan and rose to become a Sith Lord. He senses the same magnitude of pain that hisses inside you, but he does not wish to see you following the same path.

“I am not Anakin anymore.” Words come out in a whisper, but you still hear them.

You are pulled away from the embrace by your embrace.

“What are you saying?”, you ask, confused. “Is it related to the yellow that colors your eyes?”

Your innocence is painful for him. He easily forgets that you are not involved in this world where there are Siths and Jedis, even if you at times felt excluded from it—a sentiment he always tried to placate.

“I am a Sith Lord now”, he tells you, stroking your cheek, his hand moving to your neck. “They call me Darth Vader, Y/N. You deserve a better husband.”

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction. You are processing the informations, recollecting with what you’ve read in books—though you’ve read not many that discussed the Siths.

“How… How long have this been going on?” And without your notice, you sniff. “Is it something I’ve done? Have… Have you found a-a-another wife?”

Vader is taken aback by your thoughts. He tells you he is a Sith Lord and all you care about is whether he found a new wife?! He looks at you in a mix of astonishment and amusement.

“No, my darling. I love you with all my being. Fuck, you are the only one who softens me.” He whispers. “You are my weakness, you are the best part of me. You are the desire of my heart, of my soul…”

You like how possessive he is to you, how possessively he searches for you, his face now so close to yours, his fingers moving from your neck to your sides. You are strangely aroused by it.

Vader senses it too, a sly smirk twitching at the corner of his lips as he spreads your legs to get himself in between. But his eyes remain glued in yours.

“You know I feel the same”, you whisper, your fingers playing with his curls before stroking his cheek and moving to his neck and shoulders. Then almost unconsciously you start working at his fabric. “Why did you leave me behind? Why did you let me believe you were dead? Why did you never tell me any of this? All of those things you’ve never told me…”

You choke with the salt of your tears. A mix of feelings rises like volcano. Anakin watches you with interest all the while he helps to remove the shirt you are wearing.

“You deserved someone better than I. I was trying to protect you.” His hands begin to untie your bra, and there is something about how he speaks to you that leaves you soaked in between your legs. And when his gloved hands stroke your exposed nipples, you throw your head back and moan loudly.

“I don’t want to be protected from my own husband.” You lean back and have your hand finally under his pants. Whatever sadness there is in your eyes, there is no more. You smirk when sensing his subtle erection pumping into your delicate fingertips. Never before you felt so naughty. “I want you, as you are. No more, no less.”

He groans before pursuing your lips hungrily, a hand caressing your right breast all the while using the other to pull your hair. You have missed him for a very long time and now, Sith Lord or not, he is going to compensate for the misery you’ve been through.

You are momentarily distracted from what you are doing when his lips move to your neck, leaving bruises with his teeth in your skin before slipping his tongue to your breasts. To each, he takes your nipple with a devouring mouth, all the while he gives another use to his free hand, abusing the Force to remove the pants you’ve been wearing.

“Oh my Maker!” You squeak when you see the buttons flying to the floor. And you cry out when his metallic hand finds the way to your womanhood.

“All wet for me”, he hums against your skin. Vader smirks at how you are easily overpowered by him. “Oh the days you always succumbed to me…”

You are going mad with his treatment to you, your cries going louder as a result. You don’t think about anything that is not the husband you missed. Whatever identity he is now, he remains the same to you.

“Fuck me.” You curse loud, feeling his two delicious fingers moving inside you in back and forth moves before inserting a third one. It doesn’t help he uses the Force to you too. Your moans have never been so…loud. “Oh my husband, I’ve missed you!”

When opening your eyes and meeting his, you see he is now on his knees. Bloody hell. The mere sight of lust in his irises, mirroring the sly smirk you are so familiar, are enough to make your nipples harder than before and bring you to the core of your orgasm.

“I see you still succumb under my touch.” He says, arrogantly so.

You spread your legs wider, not minding begging to him for doing other things to you.

“Please, my love.” You beg him, eyeing his well built muscles and his erection that is close to leave the pants you unbuttoned.

Vader feels what you feel. For once he is complied to be told what to do. Usually the one who does so, only his wife could actually have such an accomplishment.

He feels his cock throbbing against his leather pants, but he doesn’t pay that mind to it when he is concentrated in giving you what you need. Soon where there had been his fingers, there is his tongue.

Your legs shake at the mere feeling of his tongue in there. You had missed how heavenly torturing was when he did these things to you. The first time he did it so to you, you were secretively making out at the library. He had to hide away when a Master came in—because your relationship was a secret back then—so you went behind a desk all the while he went under it and took the opportunity. After that, he would joke to you about how addicted you’ve become to it. You’d blame him for being so good in making you come undone.

You are also reminded that he liked to tease you in public, testing your limits. In a feast where Obi-Wan kindly invited you, Anakin made sure to eat you out when he took you to the gardens of his household.

And just like this… you are ruined again. Except you are allowed to scream loud. So as you ride his face, your juices get to his mouth and he swallows all of it.

You are still heavily panting when he rises and pulling you on your back, he is ready to dominate you as prompted as you are in being dominated when you feel his manhood throbbing into your pussy. Your husband pulls your hair back all the whilst his hand is holding your hip, occasionally slapping your buttocks.

“Did you miss this?” He asks you in a husky voice, his eyes eating you out. You feel yourself wet once more.

“Yes.” You answer breathlessly. “Oh yes, my love.”

You meet his gaze, kissing his lips hungrily before you turn against him and push him to the floor. And right there you mount his cock like you used to.

“You’ve never fooled me.” He whispers against your skin, bathed in sweat, hot as fever. “You are just like me.”

You moan loudly, partially aroused by his words, but more so for how righteously he fucks you.

“You are my other half.” You tell him, leaning forward to bite his bottom lip, digging your nails against his skin as you pull him closer to you.

He looks at you softly. He is still your Anakin, and to see that makes you smile. Vader knows it, hence why he kisses you passionately as you two slow down and make love on the floor.

But there is still a problem to solve, though. You know he is conflicted and your thirst for revenge is only half satisfied. All of the journey you’ve been through had the single purpose to find Anakin and arranging the death of the Emperor. Although this second option is as suicidal now as it was the day you formulated it, you are still unsure about giving it up.

“I know I am asking you too much.” You tell him. “In truth I don’t care what you are as long as you are happy, my darling. Is serving the Emperor contenting you?”

He stands at the window, contemplating the view of his quarters. In silence there he stays, so you stand and move to where he is.

“Vader or Anakin, I love you the same.”

“And if I kill him? What will be of us?” Vader asks you, insecurity remaining in his painful eyes to see.

You cup his cheeks and lean to kiss his forehead.

“We will be in peace, living the life we want it, far away from it.”

He hesitates, but when looking at how loving you are to him, when remembering the journey you’ve been through to find him… Every sacrifice must be rewarded even if you don’t expect it.

But for you both revenge can only be sealed with the Emperor’s death. It is only then peace can be purchased.

He takes your hand and looking right into your eyes, Vader kisses it. An unspoken vow is made by you.

***

Epilogue.

Anakin watches you play with your children at the farm you all live at the planet Y/C. By his side, the brother that was always like a father to him as well: Obi-Wan Kenobi. After a dramatic reconciliation post Palpatine’s death, the two reunited after you encouraged your husband to do so.

“Five children in five years.” Obi-Wan says impressed. “By the Maker, how you and…? Oh, I don’t think I want to know.”

Anakin laughs heartily, but he is distracted when Luke comes for him.

“Daddy! Can I go pilot with Ben?” He has his younger brother by his side.

“Uh, no?! You are barely six years old, young man.” He is on his knee to match the children’s height. “I can, however, take you for a ride… If your grandpa Obi-Wan here cares to join us.”

The boys chuckle because they know “grandpa Obi”, as he is affectionately called by the Skywalker children, is not very fond of flying with their father.

“I thought I have already cleansed my sins.” Obi-Wan sighs dramatically.

“Please, grandpa Obi!” Luke pulls his long sleeve. “We won’t let daddy fly very fast.”

Obi-Wan gives a quizzical glance at Anakin, who struggles not to laugh at the man’s expression.

“I doubt that, young man. Perhaps next time.”

In the meantime the young sons of Anakin are still trying to convince Obi-Wan to fly with them, the daughters you have with him are disputing who would be a better apprentice to Ahsoka in the future.

Anakin’s former Padawan, who is like a sister to you—the two of you bonded overall in the moment where she was obliged to spend a considerable time in the library—, has too been reconciled with your husband. And she is gladly now by your side, though she is usually out there helping to reestablish the Republic.

“Ahsoka is not taking any of you to be her apprentice”, you are telling Leia, Jeyne and Margery. “By the Maker, you are all very young for that. Leia, would you please stop pulling your sister’s hair?”

Ahsoka chuckles at the situation.

“Perhaps when they are older.” And giving you a look, she adds in a whisper: “You know your offspring has the Force.”

You sigh dramatically.

“Don’t bother reminding me, Ahsoka. I wish they did not, but look whom I married to.”

The two of you exchange looks of complicity and burst into giggles. In moments like these, time doesn’t feel like it’s passed.

Later that day, after the visitors left and the children are clean and in bed, you and Anakin finally have a moment to yourselves.

“My, the day was long”, you are telling blissfully as you put your nightgown and let your hair down. “Finally we live the life we want to.”

“It is a good life, isn’t it? I am surprised to actually content myself with it, although to be fair I am considering going back to the field.” He gets from you a long look. “What? Babe, you know quiet is not too much for me.”

You sigh heavily.

“You know, I am not surprised.” You take a seat next to him. “If it’s good for you, it works for me too. I think it’s time to get our lives back from what it used to be anyway. I’m considering doing something different now, though. I might invest in becoming a teacher, although this is hardly glamorous compared to you, the Jedi Master who is the chosen one.”

You snort, but Anakin holds you close and says:

“I don’t fucking care about any of that, love of my life. I want you to be happy. I want us to work together and have a functional family for once. Whatever is good for you, it is for me too. We are on this together.”

He begins to kiss your shoulder and then your neck, smirking when seeing the shivers that run in you.

“Are you sure?” You hesitate.

You tilt your head to the right, side eyeing as he puts the strap of your nightgown down, slowly working to remove the rest of it, as he kisses the back of your shoulder and neck, placing your hair aside.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Mmhm.” You gently spread your legs as he rests a hand in your thigh. “Oh Maker. I always fail in resist your seduction tricks. Little wonder why I get easily pregnant. Who would resist you, Anakin Skywalker?”

And that is how this time you dominate him and he gladly complied to your horniness, much to his delight.

“I am yours to command, Mrs Skywalker.”

And that night’s just begun…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine Star Wars #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #Darth Vader x reader #Darth Vader x you #Darth Vader x y/n #Darth Vader smut #Anakin Skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Anakin Skywalker x y/n #Anakin Skywalker smut #Hayden Christensen

954 notes · View notes

bloomingdarkgarden · 5 months

Text

What Bloomed in the Darkgarden

Chapter 33: Periwinkle

A very tender hurt /comfort memory of Azriel and Elain finding each other after Hybern’s war. Snippet below.

“How would you write your story?” Elain asked faintly. “What life would you choose, were you not born to be such a fearsome warrior of Night?”

Despite it all, the soft praise of her words coiled into a particularly male corner of his heart.

“An exceptionally boring one. I’d imagine I’d need to earn a living somewhere… normal,” he considered quietly. “Work as a smith. Maybe in a kitchen.”

Elain stared at him for a long, long moment.

And then she laughed.

Well and truly laughed, deep in her belly. The sound ringing liquid gold throughout the chamber. She laughed so hard it had his own mouth curling upwards, his shadows peeking towards her curiously.

She laughed until it leaked away from her, and then asked with total sincerity-

“Would you work in my kitchen?”

“Absolutely.”

No hesitation.

She laughed again, and Azriel’s shadows skitted back with delight at the melody of the sound.

Elain needed this, he realized. So did he, in truth. The distraction from ruined lives and the horrors of war. It was a different sort of medicine.

“Maybe we ought to run away,” she sighed, staring up at the ceiling, tiredness lacing her gaunt features. “Open a bakery somewhere.”

“I can be ready within the hour.”

A weak grin grew across her lovely face and it was a song of desperate, lost impossibilities.

“With great wide windows and wooden tables for tea.”

Azriel smiled, too, at the thought.

“Blue walls,” she whispered, “Will you paint the walls blue? I’m not sure I can reach.”

He’d steal every star from the night sky if she asked him to.

Azriel nodded. “Which blue would the lady prefer?”

Elain sighed again. “Pale, I should think.” Her eyes sparkled, adrift. “Paler than the moon. Like a goodbye. Like a memory.”

He had never, in all these long weeks, heard her speak this way.

He was going to fall in love with her if she kept speaking this way.

“Periwinkle,” he murmured.

“Periwinkle,” she repeated, with that same smile, blooming of lost hope. “We’ll serve everything on old plates from the market, none of them matching.”

“None of them?”

“Not a single one,” she chuckled. “There's something I’ve always loved about a cupboard full of dishes that don’t match. It’s rather a comfort, don’t you think?

Azriel watched her speak like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Fresh flowers for the tables,” she murmured distantly.

“You could grow them out back,” his voice was quiet.

“What sort do you think?”

Azriel considered for a long moment.

“Periwinkle,” he paused, “to match.”

She smiled then. “You know flowers, Azriel,”

He would die a thousand deaths to hear his name on her lips again.

“A few.”

She quirked an eyebrow upwards. “Vincas are difficult plants. They’re monstrously hard to keep from drying out.”

“My faith in you is unwavering.”

“Too-right,” her smile grew wide again.

“I’ll put you to work, you know. In the garden too. But we mustn't work one day a week. We must have a day to ourselves. To laze about and eat sweets.”

“Laze… about,” he murmured cautiously.

“You mustn't work every day, Azriel.”

A foreign notion to him.

She nudged his shoulder with her own over the bath’s edge.

“I’ll make sure you don’t anyway. Lure you to laze with me in the garden with those cherry scones you love so much.”

He glanced sidelong at her. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I notice,” she murmured. “All the things you finish first. Spiced quail eggs in the morning. Rosemary lamb at supper. Nuala’s winter stew. Seedcake. Cherry scones.”

Azriel swallowed, color staining his cheeks. “I was never permitted such things as a boy.”

“I know,” she murmured softly, “I know.”

The light was leaving her eyes again and he hated himself for being responsible for it. He wanted- needed to hear her keep speaking of beautiful, impossible things.

Which is why the shadowsinger parted his lips and said something he never in a thousand years would have said otherwise.

“Honeyed carrots.”

Elain glanced up to him. “Honeyed carrots?”

“Honeyed carrots. I have a weakness for them, just as you have a weakness for those sweet cheeses late into the night.”

“I do love cheese, really.”

“I know.”

She studied him with a tired smile. “How do you know?”

Because it was the first thing I watched you eat after months of wasting away, and I felt like I could breathe again.

He looked at her softly.

“How do you know I prefer cherry?”

The sorrow in her features was dissipating like fog into the night.

“We’ll eat it all.” Elain closed her eyes. “We’ll eat whatever we like whenever we please and grow old and fat and wiser than we’ve ever been.”

Azriel quirked an eyebrow at the prospect.

“I’ll need a day to train each week if I’m to be of any use on a battlefield ever again.”

“Nonsense,” she muttered. “I killed the king of Hybern and I’ve never trained a day in my life.”

Azriel laughed then. Warm and rich and honest. Because it was so impossible. Because it was so true.

Elain laughed with him, a golden melody, until the sound ebbed away from them both.

“Anyway the pies will be good,” she wheezed. “So good we’ll become famous for them.”

“The family will come looking for us.”

“Busybodies,” she waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll draw the shades. Bolt the doors. I can’t have Cassian stealing away my kitchen boy.”

Azriel would murder Cassian with his bare hands before allowing himself to be robbed of becoming Elain's kitchen boy.

“I expect the work will be demanding?”

“I’ll have you carving fruit and pastry from dawn to dusk.” She nodded to Truth-Teller, bloodied and bound to his waist. “I hear you are good with one of those.”

Azriel huffed a dry laugh because he was actually falling in love with her now.

“I hear the same of you.”

Elain grinned, scooping up a handful of bath foam. “It will be marvelous advertising for the shop, anyway.” She huffed a breath and softly blew the foam towards a nearby shadow, which writhed with delight.

“Knife wielders of the Night Court making pastries and all.”

This female, speaking of runaway dreams and bakeries like she hadn’t just slayed Prythian’s most ancient and formidable enemy.

Blowing fucking bath bubbles at his shadows.

He was undone.

“As my lady commands.”

She grinned wide then and sank slightly deeper into the water.

“I might frighten away all of your customers,” he muttered a moment later. Not untrue.

Elain scoffed. “You won’t frighten away the customers. If you just lessen your brooding and offer up one of those divine smiles every few weeks, people will line up around the block.”

A scowl formed on her face. “The females anyway.”

Azriel said nothing, a golden blush crawling up his cheek.

Elain’s chestnut eyes lingered on TruthTeller at his side before drifting to him again, her voice was barely a whisper.

“If you’re frightening, I’m frightening.”

The truth laid bare between them.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms.

“Yes you are.”

He spoke the words as if she were holy.

Because she was.

“You’ve killed dozens of people,” Elain whispered.

“Hundreds,” he corrected.

“I’ve only killed one,” she murmured, “but I made sure it counted.”

He would damn every star in the great night sky to kiss her now.

“Yes you did.”

“People will think I’m strange now, I suppose.”

His throat bobbed.

“Strange and beautiful. So much so, it might be difficult to look away.”

He did not look away. He meant every word, body and soul.

Something in Elain’s gaze glimmered as she beheld him. Something hidden deep beneath the devastation and loss.

And then Azriel heard it.

The quietest whisper of the song she usually emanated, lost in the dark, now reaching- reaching for the light.

“Promise you’ll paint the walls blue?” she whispered softly.

Tired and drunk on the ashes of war. He told himself they’d forget it all by the morning.

But just for tonight, stars above, let her be mine.

“I’ll paint the walls blue,” Azriel whispered back.

Read the rest on AO3

#elriel #acotar fanfiction #hurt x comfort #azriel #elain archeron #elriel fanfiction

48 notes · View notes

nexility-sims · 3 months

Text

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | QUEEN'S OFFICE, MID MARCH 1991

❧ 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Beatriz, like her grandmother before her, lived by the belief that Uspana was her true firstborn. When her daughter’s mourning period concluded, she returned to work on its behalf. She was not a simple figurehead. Her job was not to pose for pictures, to fundraise money for good causes, to lift the spirits of the weary with a benevolent smile. She did the work of a statesman, and she did it well. She was a politician. On any given day, her attention divided in a thousand directions—domestic versus foreign affairs, diplomacy and economics, tempestuously petty interpersonal dynamics on which national matters of life and death too often depended. Staff abounded to keep it all in order, but Beatriz had always been a hands-on executive. She knew what skeletons lurked in the closets of allies and adversaries alike, and she knew the details of bills and proposals less careful eyes overlooked. She enjoyed sparring with representatives. She harangued her ministers for sport. It wasn’t ideology that drove her so much as the desire to win. More than merely dedicated, the queen thrived in the high-stakes, head-spinning world of governance. It was one in which her weaknesses were strengths. The people of Uspana knew her reputation, but most of them credited it with the long era of stability that she seemed to have held together, almost single-handedly, through sheer force of will.

❧ TAKE TWO FUCK TUMBLR i took the screenshots for this ages ago, and !!!!! i wish that i’d had the time and energy to redo it, but :/ fine enough to just post. i wish i could say beatriz gets better, but ... idk, man, this is just who she is, which sucks sdkfshj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Conversation}

[L] She canceled again, didn’t she?

[B] Not quite. It’s business as usual, is all. They’re taking a coffee break in a moment, so she’ll see you for a few minutes then. [L] {scoffs} Of course.

[B] Look at you. Such a tired trio.

[B] I’m glad to see your faces. These last several weeks have been difficult for everyone. Time to come together.

[B] That’s what I wanted to share with you. Everything is the same for us—well, except for you three. How can we have orphans in a family so large? That’s how you feel, I presume.

[B] You don’t know this, but he had all sorts of inquiries about Safya’s estate within mere days of … Well. Mourning is over, and there is a definitive, sweeping answer. An eviction, in fact. That was her home, and I intend to preserve it as such indefinitely.

[L] I don’t understand. What about Gil and Mateo? [B] You would understand if you let me finish, Leonor. Anyway, this is hardly your concern. You wanted to live alone.

[B] Boys, you will take up residence at Nakawe Palace. Damian and Julian are there, Arnaut’s pair will be around … You will be with me, with your grandfather—right where you ought to be. [G] Mother Beatriz, will Papa be there?

[B] These apartments are for those who belong to the Crown. You belong. Some others do not. [G] Can he visit? [M] We’ll still see him, Gil.

[B] Before you get any ideas: don’t mistake this for a discussion. I was just going to send a moving van to pick you up, but your grandfather was convinced that would be somehow cruel.

[B] Leonor, give me a moment. I have something to say.

[B] Why would you go out like this? They’ll notice. [L] Who will? [B] Come on now. The papers, obviously.

[B] You look awful. To start, go home and wash your hair. These things matter.

[B] They’re going to eat you alive. Do you hear me? They will because they can, and there’s little I can do about it. [L] {softly} They already are …

[B] Exactly. This is my one warning. Let’s not disappoint.

[M] Why didn’t you say anything? [L] Why didn’t you? [M] That’s not fair.

[L] Don’t call him. He should hear everything from her people. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.

[M] Easier? You know that’s not true.

[M] Wait—where are you going? We have plans!

[M] Leonor!

38 notes · View notes

theficblog · 2 years

Text

HEARTS [chapter one]

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT ARE WE?

Pairing: Jeno x Reader [ ft. Jaemin, Haechan, Chenle, Renjun ]

Prologue: Jeno is just another friend, is all that you have been thinking, denying your feelings. It’s better to shut the emotions of the heart than to lose him. What happens when he learns a secret?

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU + Suggestive + Fluff + Angst

Wordcount: 2,547

Warnings: Suggestive Content [ rough + angry sex + nudity + biting + making out + moaning ] Language

▶ Previous | Next

And perhaps falling off a bridge would hurt lesser than falling for a friend. Your head and your heart would ultimately be confused and conflicted by an enigmatic companion. - The morning was unconcerned with the impending alarms, the warm yellow rays of the sun rising above the horizon were concealed by the heavy black curtains. An aura of sloth, sultriness, and wilderness floated in the room like the aroma of a freshly baked cake. The only source of light was the mood lamp that had been projecting the same seductive crimson and tuscany hues since the previous night.

Jeno hovered over you, placing kisses as he worked his hips just right. You gripped his face with your hands, soaking up every pleasure he gave you. It felt as though the world was dying since the two of you had been going about this business for so long and the only thing on your minds was getting each other to scream and react physically. You were familiar with every inch of his body like a road map that you had memorised, and you were also aware of the vital spots where even a light touch from your flesh would send him into a fit. Jeno was skilled in the same domain.

"How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickeys?" Jeno voiced as he rolled over his side, engulfing you in his arms as he nuzzled his face into yours.

"I don't even like biting but there's something about you, I can't control myself." You replied, letting out soft moans as he brushed his fingers against your naked body.

"Why is it so soft?" He gushed, bringing himself nigher. He started to place kisses all over your bare arm.

"You really like my moisturizer, huh?" You made a joke, which caused the boy to giggle softly yet deeply.

The alarm went off, signalling it was too late and better for you to be out of bed. Yet, it was difficult to come out of the dreaminess of addictive acts with Jeno.

"You ought to go." He twisted his legs around yours and tightened the grasp after hearing what you said, which made him pout.

"Can we not just stay like this? I love it so much." Jeno tried his best to earn a yes from you but even after domestic dynamics between the two of you, what you had with him was still not bound by any official terms of a relationship.

"Lee Jeno, think of skipping one more class and you're dead meat." You declared, pushing him away by the chest. He finally got up, his back offered you a spectacular view as he put on his hoodie. He was hot.

The classes began as usual. The vibe of the weekend could be felt and seen on everyone's faces as they walked towards their lecture halls. College was about to end soon, unlike the day that would turn out to be a long one.

Jeno came sprinting from behind, tapping you on the shoulder. "Lend me the notes from the past week. What did we do?"

You handed him a folder as you both kept walking. "Only if they taught football." He thanked you.

"Even if they did you'd barely come to class." You commented as you took his hand in his. He wore a plain blue shirt over a white tee and that was enough for the rest of the onlookers to feel jealous of you.

Business Majors was as dull as it sounded.

Where had the last three years gone? It would sound cliche to anyone but it in fact did feel like yesterday that you bumped into this athletic guy, the exchange of glances and phone numbers gradually led to things heating up between you. Matters started to range from baseball games to bedrooms.

But who was Jeno? A lover? A friend? An acquaintance? That's the complicated part. Friends with benefits.

What everybody else thought was contrasting. For them, you two were the hottest couple on the campus. After all, you did everything a couple would do and the best thing to do when unfounded rumours keep coming up like a creeper is to ignore them and take pleasure in the drama.

"Had you been three minutes late I could've won a new pair of headphones?" A young boy who had donned a red jacket with fluffy brown hair, seated right in front of your row cried.

"Don't you already have more than enough?" You questioned seating yourself and placing your supplies on the desk.

"Renjun, explain." He elbowed the other one beside him.

"He made a bet. Lost again, of course." Another boy in yellow explained. He didn't seem to be in the mood to skip the lecture and squander it engaging in the gossip and petty bickering that you and your friend loved.

"Haechan! Grow up!" You jokingly hit his head.

"Over there!" With a harshness in his voice, the professor snapped his fingers. "Lee Jeno! Explain this." He called him out as he pointed toward a phrase on the screen.

Jeno, who was seated to your right, glanced at you momentarily in an attempt to pick up a cue, but the timing didn't seem appropriate.

"This.." He began. "I kind of don't know." He earned a roar of laughter from the rest of the class, every single one of them but you.

"Out!" The professor shouted, his brows wrinkled.

You turned to face Jeno once more, this time with worry reflected in your eyes, but he did the exact opposite of what you expected. He gave you a wink and grinned as he slung his empty backpack over his shoulder and exited the hallway regretlessly.

This made you think about the Jeno you met three years ago, he wasn't at the top of the class, but he did secure one of the highest grades, never missed a class, and turned in assignments on time but that only lasted for a semester or two. It was like slow poison, it would start to spread slowly and gradually, taking its time in the best way possible until one day would come and everything would cease. Serene yet explosive.

This was what had you concerned.

There were other occasions when people criticised you, saying that you were ultimately responsible for doing this to a sincere young man like him, that you were taking advantage of him, and that it was not for the talks, but the fact that they did, in fact, ring true to you was onerous.

Given your social and financial status, you didn't think much of college and didn't care if you passed or not. If you fished a decent job placement or not. If your professors liked you or not and this was what had been going on ever since you could recall memories, things that appeared to be a hard-earned necessity to others were insignificant to you. There were a dozen more methods, good or evil, to do things, and if you didn't succeed, your family would step in and fix them for you. This was how life went by; the only reason you went to this esteemed university was to have it documented on a piece of writing that you put some work into. Worse things may be anticipated in a society where paper was valued more highly than the human conscience. Money was paper, after all, it sure was different from the other kind of knowledge-stuffed papers the others applied with, but well, it was paper and your family did not mind spending racks to fit you into an image that was not yours.

"Y/N? The class got over ten minutes ago." Haechan attracted your attention by abruptly waving his hand in front of your eyes.

"Oh, yeah." You murmured.

"This is why they say people go crazy in love." He commented.

"Shut the fuck up!" You were annoyed. Picking up your bag, you left the class, still in deep thought.

Life did not make any sense at that point and your heart was not helping either, you were a walking puzzle.

Love was not what you two shared.

Together, you did spend days and nights. Every time someone else looked at him, you grew envious, and Jeno too. You'll never forget how he pouted whenever you spent time with someone who wasn't him. There was a natural sense of belonging that you two had developed for one another, but perhaps that's what friends did. Every time Haechan brought in new acquaintances, you did experience jealousy; it wasn't as strong or as intense, but it was enough to persuade your heart. Only if hearts came equipped with remote controls would the world be a simpler place to live.

The one time you could not control your heart was when you told Jeno you loved him, drunk.

"I love you too, Y/N~" He replied back, not even in a sense of distinguishing colours or shapes, let alone feelings.

Because you were certain Jeno had no memory of it, and because you knew it would be terrifying to dig out the dead, you gave up trying to think about that time. Losing a friend as valuable as he was was not on your list because the only ghosting that could occur was from his end to yours.

This took you back to another night in your bed. You and Jeno were cuddled up, wrapped in blankets as he laid his head on your tummy, trying to watch Netflix but the only thing you could ever do was smile at each other's face, for no reason whatsoever.

"What?" You giggled, interlocking his hair in your fingers, trying to focus on the screen projected in the front.

"Can't I just stare at my-" He cut the sentence halfway, turning his face away to the movie. A scene of love confession was going on, the two main leads were oblivious, still in a denial, and you could swear that watching porn instead of that would have been way easier for you.

At least five times, if not more, Jeno looked up at you in the hope that you would say something, but you chose to ignore him like life troubles, as if they went away with your ignorance. And wasn't romance trouble too? You thought to yourself. No matter how bad you wanted Jeno, the more you thought of confessing, the more you denied your feelings.

No, it would still not count as love.

"Be careful where you go!" Someone's screams jolted you back to reality. "I'm sorry." You walked away.

"Y/N!" You turned your head toward the source, Jeno. He was already outside, waiting for you.

"Here!" He shouted.

You began to move in the direction of the blanket, pillows, and woven basket of food that he had already spread out on the floor.

He patted on a spot, asking you to take a seat.

"Jeno, this is a study date." You asserted while raising one of the soft pastel green pillows loaded with fur.

"Because of the way the brain functions, we need to get some rest before engaging in any kind of mental training." He laughed.

"How do you plan to sleep here, it's 11 am?" You pushed him away, laying beside him.

"Hmm because you kept me from getting any sleep last night." Right near to your ear, he whispered.

"I could say the same." You exhaled.

"Yo! Lovebirds, and then you guys say you are not in love." You cocked your head to the side only to see Chenle.

"Come, sit." You said getting up.

"I'm in a rush, Jeno I needed you to help me." He declared.

"With?" You questioned.

"You already forgot? Do you need a second invitation?" Chenle teased you while you were still confused.

"I told you I'm throwing a party tonight, nothing too fancy."

"Will there be booze?" Haechan jumped into the scene, startling you.

"Everything, Jeno!" He pulled him by the arm until he succeeded in taking him away.

"Hmmm." Haechan hummed.

"What now?" You questioned.

"I don't know what kind of kinks you have but sleeping under the open sky here at the campus is definitely a bad idea." The only thing holding him up was his elbow, he said as he laid down.

"You don't get to speak crude things just because you're single." You flicked at his forehead.

"You are also single." He was obviously on something today since everything he said struck you right in the heart; if it weren't for the luxury of being your closest friend, he may have gotten into trouble.

"Whatever." You shrugged him off.

You were in your room later that evening, contemplating what to wear to the party. Other significant life decisions were open questions for someone who struggled to make decisions about their clothing.

You saw a text from your mother when the phone's alerts appeared, but you chose to ignore it. Knowing what it would be, the wisest course of action was to ignore it once again.

Haechan also phoned, but because you were adamant that nothing would spoil this evening and Jeno was on the way, the two of you chose to go together.

KNOCK KNOCK! The door signalled a visitor, your favourite one.

"Jaemin Na—who the hell is he?" Before you could even see Jeno's face, he hissed. You were taken aback. How did he know about him? You never told him, did you?

"What- who told yo- Jeno what?" You sounded muddled.

"Come inside, let's sit down and speak about it." You suggested it after noticing the others in the hallway, and he stepped in.

"Who is he?" Jeno was tearing up, gripping you by your arms. Meanwhile, you thought of a thousand different excuses. There was no way you wanted Jeno to know who Jaemin was.

He was sobbing when you glanced up, but he was in a subtle rage. Why? Not as if he was yours. The two of you had nothing official, only lingering feelings and this would be the complete opposite of whatever was, and would happen between you and Jaemin.

You kissed Jeno impulsively, not knowing what else to do. And he kissed you back, roughly.

Two bodies breathing heavily, crying, yet never breaking the tongue contact. You were so mad at him, and surely he felt the same.

You pushed Jeno onto the bed, his eyes never meeting yours as you straddled him, sitting on his lap, forcing him to lay on his back.

"This is all because of you." He grunted.

"Oh, so now you are going to say this too?" You bit his neck, earning a groan from him. His hands rushed up and down your waist all the way back.

You ripped apart his black shirt, and moments later his pants met with the same fate.

You kissed and bit every part of his body like some bloodthirsty vampire, with zero control over yourself. The bed was a weird mix of fluids, including the sweat from the heat and the tears from the pain. Maybe they were right when they said sex was a great escape mechanism.

"Fuck you!" Jeno cursed, you had not seen him like this anytime before.

"You literally will."

LET ME KNOW YOUR VIEWS + ALSO SEE : MASTERLIST

↳ HEARTS MASTERLIST

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING ,TRANSLATING, OR POSTING OUTSIDE THIS PLATFORM.

378 notes · View notes

aotearoa20 · 10 months

Text

Far From Home

Elves, Boromir has learnt, pass through this world with no whisper of footsteps. In all the time he has been here, he’s not sure how long anymore, he has seen them slip in and out of the trees like shadows.

So when he hears the rustle of tree branches, as Legolas makes himself known some distance away, he knows it’s for his benefit.

He makes no move to beckon him over but nor does he push him away as the elf comes to settle down beside him. The silence that follows appears to cause him far more discomfort than his companion, though after a while he does speak.

“You seem uneasy.”

Boromir shifts in his seat.

“I mean no disrespect,” he mutters, “I just prefer the company of my own people.”

His eyes widen as he realised what he said.

“I did not mean… You are not… Well, I only meant…”

His stammering is cut off by a merry laugh and he sighs into his hands. Damn the elf and his strangeness. He could not understand how Aragorn could hold conversations with him long into the night. He had not a clue what to say. His eyes look like they have seen too much yet he looks as young as some of the newer recruits he had been training just before he had left.

He frowned. How many of them had died while he’d been away on this journey, too far to be of any help?

“I understand,” the elf’s voice steers him back to the waking dream of the present, “It is difficult find rest in an unfamiliar place.”

“It is not just that,” he begins, but says no more.

They had traveled together three months but Boromir still doesn’t know where to place the Prince of Mirkwood. He knows that he is kind, he has seen it. And he know that he is trustworthy and skilled. He’d be lucky to have him at his side in battle. Yet there are times he seems so distant, like he walked in a different world, near but never quite touching their own.

“While you rest here, your own people are fighting the darkness that would overtake your lands.” Legolas supplies, “And they are losing. You want to be at their side.”

“It is true what they say of elven magic,” he sits up a little, edging just slightly away, “You can read minds.”

Legolas laughs again but shakes his head. Boromir remains unconvinced.

“But I know anyway, for it is the same in my mind.” He frowns and looks out into the branches, “My realm was great once. But I too cannot remember a time where we were not fighting the dark. There are times of greater peace but still it lingers.”

Boromir nods slowly, “Always a shadow.”

Legolas sighs softly and in it Boromir can hear his own exhaustion. It brings sorrow and… something else heavy on his chest and he doesn’t trust himself to speak until Legolas does again.

“You will go back to your people?”

He nods again, “But you will not return to yours.”

Legolas chuckles, “My father would wish it I think but- “

“What - Oh forgive me,” Boromir cleared his throat, but Legolas smiles at him and after a moments hesitation he continues, “Your father, what is he like?”

Legolas leans back, soundless against the undergrowth. It’s like it bends around to accommodate him. His held tilts to the side as he considers.

“Proud,” he says after a very long moment, “Stubborn. And kind, as often as he is able.”

Boromir hums in acknowledgment. It is all the more difficult to be kind in these days. He tries to picture the Elvenking. His face in his mind is probably more like his own father’s than it ought to be but it settles his heart somewhat.

“I am scared for him most of all.” Legolas says suddenly, Boromir turns to see his face unusually pinched in worry, “And my brothers. That something should happen to them while I am away.”

Without really thinking he places a hand on the elf’s shoulder. He regrets it almost instantly. He has not seen the elves of this forest so familiar. Still it had seemed the natural thing. Perhaps he’s gotten more used to the elf than he realised. He seems more present than the others of this forest, who float about like memories of songs long forgotten. Whatever he thought, Legolas leans into the touch quite readily.

“But you will stay all the same,” he asks softly, like he was talking to one of his young soldiers and not an immortal warrior.

“I am more use here I think,” Legolas replies, “working to a final end.”

Boromir pursed his lips and looked away.

“Do…” his words come out unsteady but he’ll not back down twice, “Do you really think this quest will succeed?”

He turns back and knows immediately he’s made a mistake. Those starlit eyes are too old, too clever and far too far away to understand his fear.

“What other hope is there? We must succeed.”

Boromir wonders at what sort of a being could speak with such blind conviction. He doesn’t know whether he fears or envies it. Of course such a creature of light could not understand the strange and dangerous thoughts that plague his waking moments. It was foolish even to ask.

“What else but to cave to despair and the Enemies purpose?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Boromir snaps.

Legolas’ eyes widen as if surprised, “No I… forgive me I suppose I speak only of my own mind.”

Liar. He almost sighs aloud. No… Scheming creature trying to catch him in a lie. Enough.

Boromir shakes the voices from his head and gets up quickly. He cannot trust himself to speak to anyone when the whispers draw near, least of all a riddling elf.

“There is hope yet Boromir,” He hears the elf call after him and almost laughs.

“If there is I cannot see it.”

It takes an effort but he looks back. He had no idea what genuine earnestness looks like on an elf, but Legolas’ expression is as close as he can imagine. Part of him wants to go back to sitting in his strange, quiet company but it is if a gulf of shadow lies between them now. Even so his eyes soften.

“I have gone long without hope, Master Elf. And I have fought long and hard without it. You need not fear for me.”

Legolas’ lips part slightly, as though he were about to say more but instead he just nods and smiles faintly. Boromir gives a slight bow and takes his leave. He will sort out the mess of darkness that kept clouding his thoughts. Then, and only then he might be able to speak more easily with the Prince of Mirkwood.

#i love the parallels between these two characters #so much potential #boromir #legolas #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #my writing #lil fic #🥝

79 notes · View notes

isahorcrux · 9 months

Text

JILY WEEK DAY 5: MEET CUTE

As you can see, I'm really trying to post something once a day for @thegobletofweasleys' Jily Week. I whipped this one up whilst on a plane today. And yes, there's some thematic similarities to london is lonely...

Here I present... Presumptuous.

"This time around, it made me unexpectedly sad and then…"

Lily flipped the page of her recently checked out library book only to discover a in-flight drink napkin.

Weird, how’d that gotten in there?

Lily pulled the napkin from between the seams and set it down on her tray table, where it ought to have remained. Except, it wasn’t an in-flight drink napkin for American Airlines (the airline she was currently flying), but rather an in-flight drink napkin for United Airlines (an airline Lily actively avoided flying). And on said in-flight drink napkin, in much nicer writing than Lily could ever hope to produce herself, was a brief note.

Emma,

This might be incredibly presumptuous, but I thought we had some great conversation earlier and would love to continue it when we’re both back in LA. Here’s my number 310-555-7845.

-James

Lily quietly gasped. She didn’t think this sort of thing happened anymore. Obviously, the note wasn’t for her, but all the same it was rather exciting. She wondered what had happened. Had Emma ever contacted James? Or had James misinterpreted the whole thing and Emma simply shoved it into her library book never to be seen again (well, until Lily checked out the same book)? The possibilities were endless and Lily so desperately wanted to know. Maybe she knew this James. Or maybe she knew Emma. Or had a friend of a friend. Was it worth buying the in-flight wifi just to check social media? James had left his phone number, there were probably ways to track him down, right?

As it turns out, it is actually very difficult to find someone online with just their phone number. Googling was absolutely no help, nor was Instagram. Lily didn’t even bother with Facebook. She did, however, send a few texts to her LA born-and-raised friends to see if they recognized the number (perhaps they had gone to elementary school with this James fellow).

No one had.

Any normal person at this point would have appreciated the surreal connection that library books can bring to strangers and move on.

Not Lily.

As the plane bumped along the runway, Lily began to compose a text.

Lily Evans: This text is incredibly presumptuous, seeing as I am not Emma, but I just found this in my library book and just wanted to say how incredibly romantic I thought it was. Wishing you and Emma all the best ! xx Lily

Lily Evans: *Photo of James’ in-flight napkin note*

James Potter: hello library book comrade lily! how are you enjoying romantic comedy by curtis sittenfeld, by the way? were you as annoyed as I was that she thought danny was gen-z, when he is clearly a millenial??? just me??? I am however sorry to report that not only are emma and I not living happily ever after, but I actually never plucked up the courage to pass the note.

Lily Evans: Oh noooooo ! I guess romance is really and truly dead then. No, that thing about Danny annoyed me too, I’m still only half-way through, so no spoilers yet!

James Potter: wow, if i’d known the stakes I would have passed the napkin. as for spoilers, my lips are sealed. but please let me know when you’ve finished, would love to hear your thoughts :)

#jily week 2023 #meet cute #jily #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #muggle au

63 notes · View notes

demonofnowhere · 10 months

Text

Time’s Time: Time for Thomas (don’t interrupt him) & Time for Stelle (interrupt me ASAP)

* now, i once had a lovely introduction to this post. i did, honest. it discussed how twitter has gotten worse and worse, and how if things went well i will do my best to post more thomas stuff here, and even briefly mentioned what this post is actually about. . .

* then firefox crashed. * being new to tumblr, i had not saved a draft of my post. in fact, i found out you could save drafts mere minutes before firefox crashed. i thought to myself “wow! what a nifty feature!”, and then proceeded to not save it. this almost happened twice actually. i managed to save it the second time thankfully. i’m still livid though.

* thank you stelle, you are a really useless idiot.

* therefore, we’re not going to have that nice introduction. the only things you need to know from that post is that you can find me on Twitter (@DemonOfNowhere) for more of my usual infodumping, and that i’ve ditched my usual typing quirks in favour of making this post readable for you all. let’s get straight to the point instead. * greetings, i’m stelle, demon of nowhere (name change pending?), and it is unfortunately time for thomas.

Doesn’t it feel strange to see me type normally? With dignity? With even the slightest amount of respect for myself? Err, ahem, I mean... Thomas! I love Thomas. I love the ending of “Stepney’s Special” for Thomas.

Thomas tries very hard to maintain a very professional profile on his branch line. It’s likely something he picked up from Gordon, if his attempts to imitate him whilst he was younger are anything to go by (note “Thomas’ Train”). If you get in Thomas’s way, he kicks up such a fuss and holds it against you until either one of your gets a taste of Sudrian karma (”you” being Percy in this situation, usually). This all means that when Thomas is shunted to allow Stepney, a newcomer, fly past him with one measely coach while Thomas, Annie, Clarabel and their passengers crossly wait for him to pass, Thomas gets cross.

Really cross. Super cross. He holds it against Stepney and is still fuming by the time the next morning arrives.

Thomas spoils the effect of it very quickly though. Of course he does, he’s Thomas and he’s stupid. All Stepney had to do was give one compliment and next thing he knew, Thomas was telling him EVERYTHING about his branch like an eight-year-old telling their parent all about their cool new toy they got (don’t let Mattel hear about this). Stepney calls Thomas an expert once, and away Thomas goes, not only to stroke his own ego a little, but also just because he’s too happy to ramble about his prized branch line (which Percy and Toby clearly think is hilarious, based on the illustration...). He’s a bit like me in that sense; we like to ramble about things no one cares about, but we can’t stop ourselves. Please help me.

One of my favourite parts of this exchange is the following line: “Ah well,” said Thomas modestly.

“Modestly” is the funniest words ever used to describe Thomas the Tank Engine. You and I of course both know that, despite his good heart, he is anything but modest.

Now, there’s something else I’d like to talk about here too. If you’ve read my ramblings before, you know that I cannot type for five seconds without bringing up something else that I didn’t mean to bring up but brought up anyway. I’m silly like that.

If Thomas got mad at Stepney for interrupting his branch line’s timetable once...

...How would he feel about having a whole train that has to do everything in its power to NOT interrupt the usual services?

In notes of Ffarquhar’s layout, the land cruise enthusaist train is noted to be scheduled in-between regular services, and mustn’t disrupt traffic. This is implied to be more difficult than it ought to be, partially because rail enthusiasts are rail enthusiasts and getting them back into the coaches is a miserable experience for the station’s secretary, and partially due to shunting arrangements at Ffarquhar that are absolutely mind-boggling (a document I wrote up of Ffarquhar’s timetable, according to the Awdry DVD, can be found here!).

The moment the Bloomer, or whoever the enthusiasts’ engine happens to be, arrives, he has to square his fancy saloon coaches away to make room for Thomas, Annie and Clarabel’s next down service. So, imagine for me, what happens when Bloomer indulges the enthusiasts’ interest in him at the platform for a little too long, only for Thomas with his grumpy little face to huff into the station yard and start angrily shouting at Bloomer to Get Out Of His Way Or Else The Fat Controller Will Find Out And You Will Regret That.

Now, we of course know little of Bloomer, but I’ve always thought of him not quite as an old grandpa, but rather a showman who takes a lot of pride in his theatrics on a railway filled mainly of engines still in regular service. Bloomer doesn’t get to appear publicly very often, but when he does, he’s going to make it worthwhile. He’s going to bask in the spotlight for as long as he can, impressing everyone who is lucky enough to draw eyes on him, and he’s certainly no pushover. If Bloomer wants to spend time talking to the enthusiasts about his past life (though he has to keep SOME secrets, of course. Part of the act, a bit of mystery is always fun), then he’s going to spend as much time as he can doing just that -- which he always does.

This drives Thomas insane. A WHOLE TRAIN THAT COULD THROW ALL OF HIS TIMETABLE, ALL THAT HE’S WORKED FOR, OUT THE WINDOW SO EASILY? WHAT. The poor guy. He and Bloomer would be the ultimate enemies, egomanaics for different reasons that will forever butt heads while the other Ffarquhar engines would wish they’d just shut up for two seconds.

He cheerfully and dutifully shunts Annie and Clarabel along from the carriage shed... then he sees Bloomer’s ugly mug taking up the platform. “YOU,” Thomas hissed, grounding to a halt, “YOU’RE not supposed to be here.” “Ah,” Bloomer smiled sweetly, “Thomas my boy, I most certainly belong here. It’s part of my act for me to be right here, right now. ‘Tis merely part of my script.” “Right now!?” scoffed Thomas, as Annie and Clarabel chattered quietly behind, “Right now, you and your ugly great houses on wheels are meant to be by the cattle dock! Never mind your ‘act’, my Timetable is much more important! You always talk such nonsense.” “And you always talk ever so much, yet say very little,” mused Bloomer, “A script would do you well, improv is clearly not your strong suit, Thomas my darling. For such a famous little engine, you never seem to respect the life of a shining star. What a waste, what a waste. We Enthusiast Engines have far more than timetables to worry about, boy; we have fans to please.” Thomas wanted to retort, but was interrupted by a shrill, long blast of Bloomer’s whistle. “I hope you all enjoyed the first part of the show!” Bloomer called to his passengers, as he began to back away, “We shall return after our intermission, and I have no doubt you shall all be there to witness the Grand Finale of today’s display! Make sure to be there at 6 o’clock sharp. After all, Time’s Time.” Bloomer winked in Thomas’s direction. Thomas’s face was redder than Bloomer’s paint, and he had practically vanished behind a thick cloud of steam. “What a horrid engine!” he grumbled to Annie and Clarabel when he finally made it to the platform, “He thinks the whole railway revolves about him, and expects everyone to work at HIS pace! The shame of it, the shame of it...” Annie and Clarabel really thought it all rather ironic.

This is all made funnier by the fact that once the enthusiasts’ train leaves Ffarquhar for the junction, it crosses Thomas with Annie and Clarabel going up the line at Elsbridge. Thomas has yet another chance to start bickering with Bloomer, especially when the Ffarquhar secretary likely couldn’t get the stragglers into Bloomer’s coaches in time (and Bloomer of course didn’t help her one bit). Their next rowl shall be exciting stuff for all involved -- except Annie and Clarabel, who have tried reasoning with Thomas the whole time, but haven’t quite been able to get through to their stubborn engine.

Now, realistically, I had planned to do a bit more talking rather than writing a whole scene. However, much like Thomas, improv isn’t my strong suit, and I hadn’t at first planned for this to be a Bloomer discussion, and perhaps this has gone on for long enough. Whoops!

What have we learnt today? Well, personally, I’ve learnt that I probably need to get the hang of writing these posts. This probably hasn’t worked out super well. Those of you who are more familar with this site are probably cringing so hard at me right now, and you’re entirely right to do so. For shame, me, for shame...

Usually, I like to round these off with a nice, poetic conclusion about what we’ve discussed today... but really I didn’t know that this post was going in the direction it went into. I mainly wrote this to get my foot in the door and finally post something of substance here. Apparently my second to most popular post here is talking about how fucking funny Terence the Tractor here. Can we change that please? Terence the Tractor is funny but... I can do better than that...

Well, no, no I can’t.

...

You know, I meant to start using my typing quirks again at the end of the post.

But now we’re here, and it doesn’t feel right for me to start using them.

...

I’m doing an awful job at ending this.

...

Maybe Terence the Tractor IS the best I can do.

Hmm.

61 notes · View notes