#share bazaar

[sapnabazaar]

Irfc Share Price Target https://forexbinaryoptions.pro/irfc-share-price-target-2025-to-2030/

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

The Princess of Wales. 🙌🏼💐

[starryeyed-seer]

I do rp a bit while playing, deciding to do so has added to my play experience. but ultimately on my main I still lean towards certain stuff based on what find most interesting/like, and that beats rp

this means from an rp perspective i AM playing as enoch cazlor, but for reasons unknown to him, he keeps being compelled to support that f---king crab. enoch does not care about the bazaar. enoch is NOT allowed to pick a destiny that isn't passion.

(this isn't canon to them as a character of course it's just a funny detail of 'I resolve most stories/decisions in chara but ofc bazaar stuff esp I am picking 100% of the time')

[ophierian-vp]

[larebiscornue]

Right now I struggle to draw old people, I gotta improve it, but still attempted to give a go to a human Kerubim cause he's the best grandpa-dad

(more info in my tags if you wanna learn more?)

[iceunhie]

[ 3 + 1 ].

premise. in which entails your daily life being in a relationship with the one and only eccentric wanderer. (alternatively: wanderer's love for you comes in many forms. you welcome them all the same.)

warnings: established relationship, hurt-comfort, slice of life, wanderer is called kuni. jealousy (wanderer), angst. FLUFF fluff fluff. wanhida family goals

a/n: ITS SCARAMOUCHE WANDERER SEASON his event broke me btw [in tears]

BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX !

# observation one: unconventionally clingy

early on in your relationship, this side of the wanderer remains quite privy to himself alone. this is because he has a very, very uncanny similarity to an aggressive and guarded cat that hisses when given an ounce of affection.

this does not mean he doesn't like your outlandish and grand displays of affection, though; its actually the opposite. (LOL)

the true crux of the matter lies in his inability to let down his guarded pride to admit that he thinks your affection is his lifeblood. (basically, “ew, affection... do it again”)

he's a menace (affectionate), and if you were one for critiquing that aspect of his character, you wouldn't have been in a relationship with him by now, anyway.

however—there is always a however when it comes to him—this does not mean that wanderer doesn't come across points of anxiousness over the fact that his less than affable personality may be something you will grow sick of one day.

he knows he isn't the best choice of a romantic partner; seriously, what were you even thinking... but when he establishes that you are indeed now an irreplaceable part of his life (which will take a long time, good luck), he clings to you with a fierce desperation underneath all that thorn and bristle.

this is part of his visceral fear of abandonment—you are the one thing that he adores, cares for with his entire being (nahida as a close second), and to watch you slip away from him due to his own misgivings will spell out a death sentence for him.

(so please, treat him gently; cradle his cracked palms and broken psyche, and slowly, emphasis on slowly, but surely, he will learn to return in kind.)

this ‘clinginess’ comes forth in his proximity to you. once he has felt comfortable with your relationship, wanderer is quite unafraid to show how touchy he is in his own way.

whether that is to get groceries in your shared home, following after you like a second shadow when you go to the grand bazaar, or even shooing away people that harass you (tba), the wanderer's gaze and all his efforts are always directed to your will.

(you dubbed this as ‘scary cat boyfriend privilege’—and are rewarded with a painful flick to the forehead. ouch.)

—☆★☆—

“where are you going?” the slender hand that stops you from leaving your comfy bed does little to help your need to fall back into the blissful arms of sleep.

“just going to go get some water, kuni.”

waking up to the sight of the wanderer in all his divine glory certainly isn't one of the things you expected in your life, but you welcome it all the same. leaving a simple kiss to his forehead, you pry your hand away with a gentleness you reserve only for him.

he flushes, a lovely red adorning cheeks, to the span of his neck. oh, how you love seeing him melt.

“you won't take too long?”

he doesn't need to breathe, but he sucks in a breath anyway, face twisting to a deep set frown—your telltale sign that your kunikuzushi had a nightmare.

an unanswered question. you won't leave?

your hand caresses the silky soft strands of his purple hair, that in which wanderer nuzzles into. he doesn't seem keen on telling you, and you respect that. you'd wait for him as long as he'd like.

“of course i will. not going anywhere, silly.”

why would i? you convey in that same gesture. i love you.

the tightness of his face relaxes, his grip on your hand loosening. right—you weren't. (you were not going to abandon him.)

“hurry up and come back, then. it's far too early.” his voice is still thick with sleep, though that doesn't temper his signature sass at all.

i love you too. goes unsaid.

your grin sharpens, teasing. “aww, don't miss me too much, okay?”

anddd there's the signature scowl. “...never mind, don't come back.”

“hey!”

shuffling to hide his face from you, wanderer sports a genuine smile, hidden from your sight.

because in your presence, the wanderer stills, and all thoughts of a doomed eternity fall short of how he commits himself to you—wanderer loves and loves, loves you, for you nestle in the space his heart was meant to be, holding onto the mere wisps of your identity and weaving it into the mosaic of his soul.

it's silent save for when you plop yourself back to the bed, bearhugging wanderer and complaining about waking up early again because you stayed up all night playing tcg with him. (he's at 10 wins and 5 losses and he was not going to be caught lacking).

“you do realize that's entirely your fault, right?” he gloats. “it's not my fault my card bested that lawachurl of yours.”

“what?! no way, mister! my all geo team is still superior, mind you-”

once, wanderer wondered about the concept of infinity.

everlasting devotion. of unabashed care and trust. as he listens to your ramblings as the night falls to day, he figures that what you currently share fits that concept just fine.

# observation two: (very) jealous tendencies

it isn't in wanderer's intention to be jealous. well, so he says.

really, he isn't! after all, what was there to be jealous of? absurd! looks, intellect, an extensive range of vocabulary not limited to insults and creative verbal attacks; wanderer boasts quite the sizable number of pros that get most people falling at his feet. (his outward personality leaves much to be desired, however, but his snark does have a certain charm. probably).

and of all the bashful akademiya seniors and well-intentioned young women (and men), you managed to get into a relationship with this black cat of a derisive puppet. this is an achievement worthy of celebration, for not just anyone can take the wanderer and burrow into his many, many guarded walls and claim the title of being his lover.

yet, wanderer is the more jealous one in the relationship.

he knows that you won't cheat on him, and trusts that you won't look at others in such a way. but still, your boyfriend can't help but doubt. be patient when working out his jealousy, for it is a double edged sword—on one hand, wanderer was so adorable when he was jealous; sulky, clingy, hot you name it! and it was very flattering, knowing that he loved you enough to want to keep you all to himself.

but, the other side was quite... a piece of work. should you attempt to tease him about such a thing, it ends in three ways. one, him flying off to god knows where and leaving you alone (😐), two, restricting you from hugging and giving him affection (😭), and worse, giving you the silent treatment (😨). choose your ammunition wisely.

and from this, be prepared for the wanderer to monopolize your attention all to himself— with said admirers mysteriously off the grid or too afraid to approach you for fear of his wrath. i'll say it once: a jealous wanderer is a force to be reckoned with. (and we love him for it)

(he was chided endlessly by nahida for this; “you're scaring all the researchers that want to do a thesis review with [name]!” she says.

a sly smirk was his only reply).

—☆★☆—

“what, and here i thought he had more bark left in him.” wanderer huffs haughtily, with the researcher dashing away as if his life depended on it.

“you'll get scolded by nahida again, you know. i don't think the dendro archon's trusted aide should boast a terrifying reputation.”

he snorts. “lesser lord kusanali has better things to do than chide me for harassment.”

“but you don't have better things to do than scaring away poor kimiya?”

that gets you an eye roll that could reach massive highs of ‘what about it?’ from your boyfriend. “you're overthinking.” (translation: you're right).

“uh huh, sure i am.”

“whatever. who you talk to and interact with is none of my concern. it's not like i care about such things anyway.” he retorts. “i'm not possessive.”

so he says. “by the way, his pickup line was pathetic—‘are you anemo because your beauty blows me away’? atrocious.”

your eyebrow raises in return. really, who was speaking about “not caring” and then judging right after? well, it's fine because he was kinda right.... cyno would definitely get along with that guy.

“it was sincere! i think he has to be commended for his efforts, no?”

“you call that effort?” his face scrunches to a dissatisfied frown.

kinoya, kimiya—he doesn't even remember his name anymore. wanderer doesn't care for those that waste his time, and more especially to those that attempt to get close to you in particular. honestly, what a cheap trick.

and you! you were seriously humoring that moony researcher earlier. you even smiled at him! wanderer seethes, crossing his arms. “its quite irritating, knowing that they flock to you under the guise of—what was it he said? right, ‘shared academic pursuits.’ it was too obvious.”

“first of all: that's rude, second, he really needed help! anyone would feel sorry for him.” you tut, pinching the smooth of wanderer's palm. you wisely decide not to comment on how he immediately interlocks hands with you.

you snicker. “and he was only asking for advice on his research topic, silly.”

“hah! how nice — you're defending him now.” it's incredible how wanderer has the uncanny ability to be just like an annoyed cat that dunked itself into a bucket of cold water; and the way he frowns at you only makes you let out an even worse fit of laughter.

wanderer drinks in the sound, resonating it with the beat of his soul, your laugh the heartbeat echoing deep within his veins. he is reduced to nothing with you—with you, his face relaxes; wanderer may be indifferent to humans, but with you, your mere existence is enough for him to falter like a human, weaken like a human.

and weakly, perhaps in an attempt to save face, he speaks, “you didn't deny it.”

“deny what?”

“...defending him.” (if he were a cat, his ears would definitely fall flat right now).

you let out another light laugh, but sparing your lover the torment, you cling to the side of his arm instead.

“i never had such intentions.” stating it quite firmly, “i'm only saying that there's no competition to be made, darling.”

he gives you a skeptical look in return. “was there even any?”

“none at all.” you lean closer to him, and the wanderer leans into the touch of your hand on his cheek. “since you're winning.”

the flustered blush you receive and the subconscious squeeze of his hand in yours conveys all you need to say.

that did the trick. wanderer's smile is satisfied—smug. “clearly, you managed to make the right call for once.”

“well, i could hardly resist you.”

afterwards, you note that the wanderer's pace doesn't seem as fast as usual anymore. no matter the jaw dropped stares of others at the two of you cozying up together, he never let go of your hand once.

(the next day, kimiya comes to you with a sheepish smile saying that he'd like to focus on his own without your help.

“was it your doing?” you look at the wanderer by your bedside table fastening his vision in pace, voice deadpanning.

“hah? why would i waste my time over some insignificant mortal?” he replies, but as he's putting on his hat, you see him smile to himself.

that little...)

# observation three: secretly? protective/considerate (green flag!!)

if you ask anyone who knows the wanderer on a personal note, you'd find out that he is, indeed, quite considerate—hidden underneath alllll that snark and aloofness and haughtiness, the wanderer cares for those who have helped him in some way, and with you as his partner (romantic), that care is multiplied tenfold hundredfold.

this quality of his, despite being endearing on paper and practice, is reminiscent of that of an aggressive mother hen; if you count wanderer as a hen that pecks someone incessently to show his care.

he chides you like an exasperated young maiden, but the soft way he handles your bruised arm littered with injuries from your recent run in with some strange fontainian seahorse contradicts his harsh scoldings.

(“bested by a fish? are you serious?”

“excuse you, i needed to get it's horns for materials, okay?!”

“...remind me why i'm stuck with an idiot for a companion.”

“uh, because i have a great personality, and you love me?”

“a decision i've made that's quite hard to defend, honestly.”

you stick your tongue out at him. yes, his habits also become yours.)

or how he tells you you're hopeless at cooking, but always manages to excuse himself to cook for you the moment he notices even the slightest decline in your health. one concern though; he throws the bento towards your head—so minus points for domesticity. (...he has cut heart shapes into the vegetables before and has never been the same since.)

if there's anything you can count wanderer for, he will do it. you could ask him to attempt to pluck the very fabric of reality for you, string together the stars and leave them at your feet, and he will do so, huffing all the while (he never means it). he's just smitten like that; not that he would ever verbalize it—yet. his hushed and vulnerable whispers of asking you to let him stay by your side are your closest road to his admittance.

he will not serenade you with ‘shallow declarations of love,’ as he tells you, but you know that he will always be there for you, for better or for worse.

—☆★☆—

fury is an emotion wanderer was once very accustomed to—it reminds him of electric violet, of three betrayals and of yearning for a constitution he was never fated to reach.

and fury tugs at the strings of his being the moment he sees the droplets of tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision.

“who did it?” something bitter and violent manifests in his countenance, his vision pulsing angrily with gales threatening to harm. (it does not harm you, though. it never does.) “who did this to you?”

his grip on your shoulders tightens the more you refuse to answer, both from anger and fear. you're never this silent; and his panic increases when you opt to bury yourself in his neck. wanderer sighs.

“hey. i'm asking who made you cry like this, idiot.”

“...”

“fine, i won't call you an idiot, then.” but impatient way he speaks the syllables that make your name betrays his worry. “just talk to me.”

“...can we just stay here like this?”

“....”

“sorry, that was a little-” you say, voice strained, pulling away; but the wanderer tugs you close, allowing you to hide from the world that seems so out to get you. (he knows that feeling well, after all.)

it's he who entangles himself with you, listening to the steady rise of your heartbeat, wiping away your tears.

“i didn't say you couldn't hug me, stupid. it's fine. do as you like.”

if it were a person that did this to you, that would've been better murder was never really out of the table with him, but when faced with something he is unable to solve for you; whether it be a bad day, bad luck, or even something he cannot control, wanderer finds himself at a loss.

because the concept of love, with you, is foreign—terrifying, even. betrayal and scorn were his guiding compass, and to be rid of it and to be seen by you, held by you, and to know that you were not going to follow in the footsteps of those he once clung to was far too good to believe. (yet he tries. for you.)

returning your embrace only passively, he tries to scramble for words of comfort—and when he fails to find the nerve to do so, he does the only thing he can allow himself to do.

with the kindness and gentleness he fostered (still fosters, thanks to you) from his memories as the kabukimono, the wanderer holds you, if only to remind himself of his place by your side, unchanging and adamant—as you remind him of his place beside yours.

he leads you to calm yourself down, albeit roughly as he tells you to stop fussing over trying to help him get you something wipe your tears with—and for all his flushed visage, he lets you cling to him, seeking his comfort.

i'm here, it goes unsaid. wanderer knows you'd pick up on it anyway. please talk to me.

(“if i die from this, i'll come haunt you as a ghost.” you shake like a leaf in his arms, clutched tight and staring at anywhere but the ground. who comforts someone by putting them almost 80 feet up in the air? heights are so not your thing.

“like i'd let you.” wanderer says, rolling his eyes. “and you're shaking too much. just keep your eyes on me, will you?”

“...was that flirting?”

“i will drop you.”

“wait, i'm kidding!” a particular breeze leaves you in goosebumps, with wanderer tightening his grip on you. “don't let me fall, please?”

“are you stupid?” he snaps, but urges you to look at the sight of the sunset on the horizon. his hold is more gentle this time, too. “why would i let you fall? now stop shaking and hold on to me.”

you think you fell just a little harder for him that day.)

—and if you decide to press a kiss to the back of his nape as a way of thanks, you're rewarded with a playful gale and a little zap to deter you in response.

“watch it, [name].” he says, but the shifty eyed way he doesn't meet your eyes isn't fooling anyone here; neither is the red on his cheeks. “you're too close.”

“hehe, sorry, sorry, couldn't resist.”

nonetheless. he supposes the growing smile on your face in place of your tears are sufficient payment for wanderer's efforts. hmph.

he'll let it slide for today.

(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)

# deciding conclusion: totally in love with you (real not clickbait)

saying it outright: being with the wanderer is not a smooth road. it is full of hardships, hurt, and learning. there will be many times when his built in self destruction (read: abandonment issues) will kick in, hurting you in the process.

getting him to say ‘i love you’ will seem impossible at first, and there will be times when his doubt pierces your heart and renders it tattered to pieces. he's doing his best chat, pls help him

he will not be able to utter sweet words of adoration like you do, or return your embrace as easily as you would with him—and there will be many moments when he will feel as if he's not enough.

but nourish your affections, stay consistently by his side, show him that he is worth loving, worth staying for, and like the foundations of a steadily built tower, his trust and love for you too will grow.

(it will sometimes feel tiring, it will feel hopeless, and it's more than what you've bargained for, but it will all be worth it in the end.)

because you know he cares; it's in the way his expression morphs into helplessness when he sees your face fall in an argument, how he doesn't push you away when you kiss him and shower him with hugs, and when his hands lock tightly in yours in a sea of people, with you only in his sights. how his eyes betray him to look at you with fondness and warmth.

(it's wordless whenever wanderer decides to hold you tight at night, hugging you like his last lifeline. especially after a disagreement, with only the quietude of the night to observe.

he said some hurtful words today. that much he knows.

“are you asleep?” his voice is muffled against your shirt, and he may not need to breathe, but he inhales your scent anyway, memorizing the sight of you in his arms like a promise. “...you probably are.”

silence. “i'm sorry.”

“.....”

his lip trembles, his grasp on your arms bruising if not for your non-awareness. there's a wetness growing against your shirt, and small sniffles.

“i'm sorry.” and gently, so gently, wanderer presses his forehead against your shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of your body. “i shouldn't have snapped at you and told you those sorts of things.”

i'm sorry i hurt you.

please stay.

please don't let go of me.

i need you.

i love you.

when morning comes, you wake up to the sight of the wanderer in your bed, face nuzzled in your chest.

there are tearstains on his face.)

getting him to be open and vulnerable is akin to keeping a rusty, torn boat afloat; it will not be easy, no, but you know that he tries, (so very hard) to make it work. that he fights desperately against his own clumsily strung tethers and rebuilds himself anew, if only to understand and perceive you—to love you as you deserve.

and when that time comes, wanderer will cling to you, desperately, completely, and make sure your efforts will never ever make you regret giving him the chance to open up and be with you.

—☆★☆—

“what would happen if we ever broke up?”

dropping such a bombshell in the middle of having the wanderer on your lap was not how he thought things would go to, granted how pleasant the atmosphere was—he'd agreed to going on a much needed date (your words) with you after lesser lord kusanali had just graded him on one of his essay papers. (he got an a, obviously)

you don't think you've ever seen such a distraught look cross wanderer's face—aside from the time you finally beat him at tcg (5 out of 4); and you've never seen him look so angry either.

rather, he looked scared.

“what brought this idea on?” he tries to lodge out the words, trying to act coherent. but underneath, a storm brews—his hands are shaking. wanderer feels like he's swallowed a bag full of needles.

am i not doing enough? was i too harsh on them when i scolded them for fighting that damn mechanical desert robot? he's scared. or... do they really....

the mere idea of you being tired of him—sick of him, and ready to leave him behind leaves an ugly, disgusting feeling. like acid on his skin.

perhaps, you don't love him anymore? wanderer panics, senses going overdrive. was it that argument months ago when he hurt your feelings? he knows you know he apologized, and he's doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn't repeating that mistake anymore—but why would you say this out of nowhere?

or maybe it's because he didn't notice you feeling uncomfortable in your relationship? no, you would have definitely told him if so. then what is it? you don't just say things like this out of nowhere so seriously-

“i mean... at this point, i think i wouldn't ever want to break up with you.”

“...what?” wanderer blinks.

“you heard me.” cupping the sides of his face with your hands, you restate your words with more vigor. eyes determined. “i don't think i've ever loved someone so much as i love you. heck, not even close! kuni, if we break up, i might actually never recover.”

and the wanderer falls. how could you even say such a thing?

“that's... you're shameless.” he states it like an insult, but his hands go up to hide his eyes, hiding his embarrassment from your romantic words. “why would you even say something so out of pocket like that? you utter fool. you almost made me think i-”

- would lose you. even thinking it made him feel nauseous.

“why are we still dating then? but really, i mean it. i love you too much.” you coo, and that, in return, leads the wanderer to release an exasperated, weary sigh. if he were human, he's sure his blood pressure would never be normal because of you.

but contrary to his attitude, he relaxes his face and allows you to hold him. lightens up, even. you continue, rambling on, “be honest, you know you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

and that brings out such a bright and dazzling smile on your face that the puppets sarcastic smile is replaced by a real one when you huff and smack at his head. (all is well.)

“you're so unromantic.”

indeed, being with this strange, eccentric puppet was certainly a challenge in more ways than one. nonetheless, you know he cherishes you—because with you, the wanderer is different. he's bristly, infuriating, and honestly a pain (lovingly), but he cares for you.

he tells you to stop ogling at his pretty face and do the dishes, yet he never minds the attention at all. he tells you that you were a fool for accidentally getting yourself injured by eremites because you wanted to save some fungi, but follows you anyway and makes sure no one messes with you.

he says he probably wouldn't miss you while you're gone, but is always the first person you see when you return to sumeru city. it's these little things that make you love him, and you know the feeling is mutual—even if he'll act indifferent about it in the meantime.

“hey, kuni?”

wanderer's eyes are closed, serene. once he knew that you were not, in fact, going to break up with him, he relishes the feeling of his head resting on your lap. it was safe, warm, and everything to him; but he'd rather let the world burn before he tells you. “what?”

“thank you for letting me love you.”

....

“...idiot.” is all he says. you can feel him shift to the side so you won't see his face. “you don't have to thank me for that. that's so sappy...”

(and if you ever saw the slight sheen of glossiness in his eyes, you keep it to yourself.)

i should be thanking you. he thinks instead. i'm glad you love me.

so many things pop up in his head for this, so many unspoken words—and he may not be able to convey such things to you; he might never be able to, but you know that he loves, loves, and adores you.

because you accepted his past, his sins and his imperfections and treated him with tenderness and care. and you know that no matter how many sides of the wanderer you have yet to explore, you will love each one.

and that is enough for him to never let go.

a/n: IM CRYING I FINISHED THIS RIGHT ON TIME AFTER HIS EVENT and his growth has come so far,,, so proud of him 🥹

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[toriaaniin]

Lock It Down

We've been here before, haven't we? You know... analyzing Nicola's lock screen, trying to figure out who's picture she keeps in this special location. And it is special because as we know, this woman looks at her phone a lot!

This time though - especially after the hullabaloo and bickering between the Lukola and Jakola ships back in November 2024 (Harper's Bazaar "Woman of the Year 24") over the man's image and name - we Lukola lovers didn't want to spend energy on something we knew no one could properly solve. Besides; we know her man is Luke, so why bother?! Ha!

Yet there was something about the lock screen image in the photo below that niggled at my brain. I'd pick up my phone to look, then shake my head and swipe away... and again a few times more. Then it came to me = there was an overlaid image down in the bottom right hand corner!

I immediately connected with my friend F @mrsfingertondepanini and asked her opinion. "Maybe?" was her response. "Hmmmm", I thought. A busy momma of scrambley young boys, that's all I got from her. So I sat with it a bit longer, unsure about sharing with anyone else because I knew that anything lock screen was so November 2024!

Eventually I shared the theory with my other chat-group friend Angela. She says to me, "I can never see anything! Let's see what you've got." Wouldn't you know it; she could see it too! We even spent a bit of time speculating on what the image might be.

Fast forward to today (Saturday, April 5th). I shared the theory during one of my regular Lukola Love Livestreams. Angela was on panel with me, as well as Lindsay from all.things.bridgerton (TT & IG - amazing edits!). Between them, and those participating in the live's chat, we all agreed that something was there...

...and we even agreed on what image it was!

After attempting an inadequate quick side-by-side, who should chime in from chat but my friend F mrsfingertondepanini: "I can do a quick overlay fade video!"

Yes please F!!!

Here are the amazing results... then scroll down to see the actual gorgeous, heart-eyes 😍 photo.

To say that I am absolutely thrilled with this discovery would be an understatement!!

My Lukola loving friends: On March 26th - one week ago! - Luke and Nicola were living on Nicola's lock screen. I don't know about you, but I think that deserves a dark red heart!! (IYKYK)

Aaniin Xxx

P.S. Jake and Antonia who?

[starryeyed-seer]

Its not relevant to my love of the Bazaar but I do think it's funny I DO got that "gets overly attached to buildings and locations" type autism.

I still feel close to the place i worked 5 years ago and the area around it, I like visiting areas I'm attached to and showing people them, I feel... idk, a personal bond to locations I go to a lot or used to. My memory is very bad, but that psychic link remains where I just want the best for it.

In another life maybe I'd be one of those guys who marries a building. If I lived in the Neath i Would be one of those guys who attempts to marry A Certain building

[ririleil]

osamu “i know a place” miya. he said those 4 words like it was a secret, a promise to take you out on a date that was spoken with his usual deadpan tone. 

you expected him to drag you to a food spot or just a simple food date at home, really. those kinds of things are just totally osamu. if there was anything you could count on him, it would be that osamu's idea of romance would come out making onigiri or baking sweets for you. 

but what you didn't expect was that he'd take you out on a full blown food bazaar/market. one that is filled with life, light, and laughter. 

the moment you stepped past the entrance, past the row of fairy lights strung overhead each stall that reminded you of stars, it hit you. the scent of food and the chattering of people. the scent of everything was everywhere, curling in the air. it settled into your hair and clothes in a way you know you'd secretly love later once you arrive home.

as you and osamu found a place to sit after wandering around the food stalls for a while, you take in the sight to look around you. there were people in every direction— family sitting shoulder to shoulder at picnic tables, couples sharing skewers as they walked under the lights, kids gobbling candy with sticky fingers, and food vendors calling out the name of their customers, shouting out that their orders were ready to be served. 

normally, this would make you itch a bit. too much noise and too many people would've made you want to escape and search for an exit for a little bit. or atleast a quiet corner to shrink into. but this time? it didn't. not tonight. not with osamu who walked beside you earlier, his hand grazing yours every often just to remind you that he's there. that he's always right here with you. 

and knowing that, as you looked all around you, something inside softened. a kind of feeling that you couldn't really quite explain that bloomed in your chest as you watched a little girl give her dad a bite of her takoyaki or the way a pair of older women clinked their cups of sake, giggling like they were years younger. 

it comforted you, being surrounded by many lives, and still, you had your own place in your own world right here. right next to him.

and osamu noticed.

“you look pretty like that.” he said.

you turned to him, caught off guard. “like what?”

“like what you're doing right now.”

“i'm literally just looking around, doing nothing.” 

he gave a small shrug and a smile. 

“exactly. you still look pretty, even when you're doing nothing.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to play off the smooth words, but your heart gave a small flutter. he said those words like it was the simplest truth in the world.

and in that moment, bathed in the golden hue of the fairy lights, laughter, and the aroma of food, you believed in him. 

maybe it wasn't just the place that felt like home.

maybe it was osamu. 

a/n: i honestly had no idea where i was going with this and you could tell i didn't really put any effort into this but i wanted to write a drabble of osamu taking the person he likes out on a food date. i'll write a better one next time hehe. i love food markets guys they're so full of life.

temp. m.list

divider: @/enchanthings

© RIRILEIL 2025 | do not copy, repost, or translate without my permission

[ophierian-vp]

[joy99x]

Stupid, Emotional, Obsessive

💋Yandere！Kaveh x Reader

Tw!!! Emotional manipulation, obsessive love/yandere behavior, extreme emotional dependency, jealousy, gaslighting, anxiety episodes, self worth issues, implied threats of sh, power imbalance

Kaveh is sitting on the edge of the couch in your shared apartment. Well—not really shared. He never officially moved in, but his toothbrush is here, his books are stacked in the corner, and his jacket still hangs by the door. That’s enough to make it both of yours in his eyes.

The sun had long vanished beneath the edge of the desert, and the sky over Sumeru had deepened to violet. Lanterns flickered along the edges of the bazaar, casting wavering shadows across colorful awnings and tile roofs. Music still played somewhere below, faint strains of a sitar drifting up into the dark, but in your house, silence reigned — heavy, aching, and stretched far too thin.

Kaveh sat alone, elbows resting on a scroll-strewn desk, eyes hollow and red-rimmed, hands shaking where they gripped the edge of the table. A stack of untouched architectural sketches sat beside him, smeared in places where teardrops had fallen.

Your scarf was still draped over the back of the chair. He’d reached for it at least three times in the last hour. Once to smell it. Twice to clutch it like it could summon you back.

You were supposed to be home.

You’d told him that morning — with a soft smile, hand brushing over his sleeve like it meant nothing — “Nilou invited me to see her dance rehearsal. I won’t be long, I promise. I’ll be back before the sun sets.”

He remembered how you smiled when you spoke her name.

Nilou this. Nilou that.

Nilou’s dancing. Cyno’s jokes. Sethos’ kindness. Tighnari’s intelligence.

You told him he was beautiful often. Even when he cried, especially when he cried. You told him when the sun hit just right, his hair looked like it was made of gold. You tell him he could fall and shatter and you would still be there to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

He believed your words when your hand was on top of his. Hell, you can tell him the sky is fake and he’d believe it.

But now, hours past sunset, you were still with her.

The thought made his chest ache with more than worry. It was jealousy — green and bitter, acidic enough to burn through his lungs. And enough to make him nauseous. His thoughts spiraled: what if you’d stayed on purpose?

You don’t understand what it’s like. The second you smile, he feels lightheaded. You laugh and the air is knocked out from his lungs. When you two lazily lay in bed, legs tangled and your naked chest pressing into his, he wishes he could die right then and there so he would die happy.

But when you stay out too late, come home too late, it feels like he’s been thrown into a void; gasping, drowning in the fear of abandonment he can’t shake of no matter how many times you say “I am not going anywhere, sunshine.”

Because one day you will, you will get sick of his whining and crying and you will leave. He would grovel at your feet when you pack your bags, maybe break some stuff and even pathetically put himself between the door and you to keep you here for just a few seconds more. Like those seconds would be enough to change your mind

And that day, would be his last. He told you that many times.

He stood up too fast and nearly knocked over the inkpot. Pacing. Wracking his mind.

He remembers Alhaitham’s words—“You’re too emotionally dependent. It’s suffocating.”

He hated that he was right.

Should he go to the theatre? Walk straight through the square and demand to see you? But what if you weren’t there? What if you were at her home now, laughing over tea while Kaveh wept alone like a fool?

“No one will make it their life goal to fix you.”

He hated this. Hated how weak he felt. But he hated even more the idea that someone else might get to bask in your presence while he trembled in your absence

When the door creaked open, he swung his head so fast he nearly heard a crack.

You stepped inside, wind-tossed and slightly out of breath, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sorry I’m late,” you said. “We stopped for dessert at a tea stall—”

“With Nilou?” he interrupted sharply.

Your smile faltered.

He was already walking toward you — eyes wide, face stricken. “You were with her this whole time?”

“I told you I would be,” you said gently. “Kaveh, what’s wrong?”

“You said you’d be back before sundown,” he choked out, and just like that, the first tear fell. “You promised. And you were with her for hours—do you even know how long I waited?!” Even though he didn’t want to, he raised his voice at you. You warned him many times you didn’t like it. Yet still, like an unwanted and stupid teenager, he did.

He was brilliant—his designs legendary, his passion unmatched. But now, all that intensity was directed at you, like sunlight through glass, burning everything it touched. Was it devotion or destruction? Mm, who knows?

You tried to step closer, to soothe him, but he pulled away.

“Is she better than me?” he whispered, voice raw and broken. “Is that it? You look at her the way you used to look at me. Every time you say her name, I feel like I’m losing you.”

You paused. Just for a little while.

“Kaveh… You’re so hopeless… Did you really think I wouldn’t come back?” You purred, a little cynical and a little lovely.

“I-I just missed you.”His voice cracked mid-sentence.

He collapsed onto his knees in front of you, burying his face in your robes like a broken thing.

“I thought something happened,” he sobbed. “Or worse—that you realized I’m not enough. That you’d found someone else who wasn’t so… pathetic.” He tried to smile and it came out broken, like it hurt to fake so.

You knelt with him, holding him tight as he shook with grief and insecurity.

“You know I like it when you miss me.” you say, stepping closer, voice low and steady. Your hands roaming through his hair with feather light touches. Slow and deliberate

He gasps, eyes wide and glassy. “You do?”

“Mhm.” You cup his cheek with deliberate slowness, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “But next time, don’t make me feel like I have to comfort you just because you got lonely. I’m starting to think you only keep me around so you have a shoulder to sob on.”

He gasps even louder at that, hands grasping at your waist like you’re the only thing tethering him to the world.

“N-no! I would never! I’m nothing without you… ı don’t want anyone else,” he breathes, voice thick with emotion. “I just want you. Always.”

You hum, smiling lazily as you drop your hand to his nape, tracing circles and shapes with your nails

“Good boy.”

You feel how he shivers under your touch— like he’s being seen, praised, insulted and known at the same time

Your fingers trail down his throat, lingering at the dip of his collarbone, feeling his heartbeat stutter against your palm.

“But if you ever make me feel like I’m just your emotional support again,” your voice sharpens just enough to make him flinch, “I’ll start wondering if someone else would cry prettier for me.”

He shakes his head wildly, tears spilling anew. “No, no, no, please. I can do better. I can be better. I’ll be anything you want. Just don’t look at anyone else. Please, I’m begging you.”

The candlelight flickered between you, fragile and fluttering like his voice.

You kiss the corner of his eye, tasting salt. “Then stay on your knees, sunshine. And don’t forget who you belong to.”

“I won’t,” he promises, breathless. “I swear, I won’t. I’m yours. Forever.”

And he means it—every word, every vow, every shattered syllable. Because even if it breaks him, even if it turns him into something hollow and trembling and utterly yours… he’d rather be broken at your feet than whole anywhere else.

“Then prove it.”

Your lips finds his, your grip on his neck getting tighter. He sobs again, this time with something dangerously close to joy.

[hyperstell4r]

No Church in the Wild

Finding yourself in a new world, you worry that your status as an outworlder will raise suspicion among the people in Teyvat. However, as you befriend the many characters you meet along the way, there seems to be a special connection between you and this world - you realise you worried over nothing. (or: isekai sagau headcanons with creator!reader) Words: 798

Sunlight pours through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting a warm glow on your skin. You expect to see the familiar ceiling of your room when you open your eyes, however, the soft chirping of birds and the faint chattering of squirrels tell you to expect otherwise.

When you sit up to take in your surroundings, the sight that lies before you is not that of your room, but a massive tree providing shade in the otherwise empty plain. Taking in the gorgeous scenery, a glowing teal butterfly catches your attention, leaving a trail of sparkles in its wake.

You soon realise what you saw is actually a crystalfly, a creature that should only exist in -

Oh this cannot be real.

Processing that you've somehow been transported to a world that should only exist in a game is an adjustment, to say the least. Deciding you need to find work if you ever want to live a normal life in this world, you join the Adventurer’s Guild. It pays well and gives you the chance to travel to different nations on the pretence of completing commissions. 

When you’re out late at night in Liyue Harbor, you find yourself gravitating towards the Wanmin restaurant. Xinyan looks up from taste-testing Xiangling’s new recipe to wave and call you over. Ever so thoughtful, Xiangling quickly makes you a bowl so you have something to eat while you talk to them. The two of them let you sit down and talk whenever you need them to lend an ear - bless them. Sometimes when you visit the restaurant, Shenhe is there too. She appreciates being able to relax in your company, seeing how you never force her to participate in the conversation while you respond to Guoba's cheerful chirps.

Nilou's dance all but mesmerises you when you watch her practicing a new choreography, perfecting her steps. You only realise you’ve been staring by the time she finishes her dance. The girl stops you from apologising for your rudeness, inviting you to watch her next performance at the Grand Bazaar. From then on, you attend as many of Nilou’s performances as you can, always bringing her water and snacks for the both of you to share while you celebrate another dance well done. There's an especially important performance one day. When you present to her the bouquet of Padisarahs you so carefully prepared, they are the most resplendent flowers that the dancer has ever seen. She almost wonders if you witnessed the Padisarah bloom for the Goddess of Flowers all those years ago.

Of course, being a member of the Adventurer’s Guild, you often have run-ins with Bennett, Fischl, and Razor. You join them on their picnics, admiring the scenery together as you tell them stories from your world. Your friends listen intently while you speak of horseless wagons made of metal and buildings that scrape the sky. It's hard to tell whether they are just being polite, or if they are extremely invested in the concept of electric toothbrushes. Nevertheless, you always enjoy these times you spend together. The weather is always perfect and you never see monsters around, as if nature itself wishes to please you.

Beidou warns you to be careful when you sit on the edge of the Crux, your legs dangling above the water; but she can't help the smile that comes with watching you and Kazuha excitedly exchange songs and poetry of the respective worlds you hail from. Your voice carries an indescribable peacefulness to it as the world seems to bend to your song. A gentle breeze blows through your hair, and you swear you can hear a faint whisper. There's one time you fall over the edge and start plummeting towards the ocean below. Kazuha reaches out to catch you a moment too late; but before you hit the water, a gust of wind lifts you up. The whispering is more apparent this time, almost as if the wind is giggling, teasing you endlessly. Kazuha, seeing your flustered expression, can't help but smile as he thinks, so you can hear it too.

You find Kirara makes an excellent adventuring partner. You often run into each other, sometimes deciding to go fishing together as a break. You opt for a rod from the Fishing Association while Kirara prefers to rely on her feline instincts, jumping into the lake. When the sky grows dark and you're sitting on the beach enjoying the grilled fish you prepared, the courier points out how brightly the stars are shining tonight - as well as how much they resemble your eyes.

In your new life, the people of Teyvat are ever so good to you and you hope for this peace to last forever, but it seems you have spoken too soon.

[skywlkrhoney]

A Goodnight Kiss

Jake Hill Conley x Lisbon!reader

Fluff!

Warnings:none

Literature class was always quiet.

Jake always sat two rows behind her. Always. He’d watch her narrow shoulders, the way her fingers nervously flipped through pages, the pen between her lips when she was deep in thought. She barely spoke to anyone, always heading off to be with her sisters during breaks. She didn’t really have any friends.

Whenever Jake saw her, she had a book in her hands—reading like she was starving for it, like the real world didn’t matter.

That Tuesday, the teacher handed out a sheet of paper with a bold title across the top: Assignment – Psychological and Social Analysis of “Carrie.”

“Pairs. Find your partner and turn it in by next Tuesday. That’s it, you’re dismissed,” he said, and the room exploded like someone had lit a match in gasoline—whispers, chairs scraping, people rushing out the door.

Jake watched her get up from her desk calmly, her expression as quiet and distant as always.

She didn’t have friends. No one really dared to talk to a Lisbon—people were always whispering about them, saying Cecilia’s name like it was some kind of cursed spell. But Jake didn’t believe in curses.

So, he left the classroom and searched through the crowd for her locker. When he found her, she was standing in front of it, sliding a couple of books inside. She took a deep breath, like the weight of the day was pressing down on her back.

He walked up slowly and tapped her shoulder lightly with the tip of his finger.

“Y/n, right?” he asked, and she turned to look at him, slowly, like she wasn’t even sure who she was.

She nodded.

“Wanna partner up? I mean—for the Lit project,” he said, stumbling over his words, his voice catching awkwardly in his throat.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. For a second, Jake wanted to say: “I’m not like the other guys—I don’t care what your room looks like”, but he stayed quiet.

“Sure,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips—and it warmed something inside his chest he hadn’t realized was cold.

“Well… you could come over to my place to work on it. I can talk to my mom,” she said in a shy, quiet voice, and Jake had to lean in to hear her over the noise of the hallway.

“Oh—yeah! Yeah, that’d be great. Is tomorrow afternoon okay? Or whenever you’re free,” he said quickly, trying not to sound too eager. She gave a soft laugh, and he smiled too, noticing how her cheeks scrunched a little when she laughed.

“Tomorrow afternoon works. Jake, right?”

He nodded, still smiling.

She nodded back, her gentle eyes meeting his for a moment.

Then the school bell rang—sharp, loud—snapping them both out of the calm bubble they’d somehow slipped into.

“See you tomorrow, then,” she said, closing her locker with a soft click before disappearing into the hallway crowd.

Jake stood there for a few seconds, staring down the hall like he’d just woken up from a really good dream.

The Lisbon house was quiet.

The other sisters had gone out to help Mrs. Lisbon with a church bazaar. Mr. Lisbon stayed in the living room, watching a football game with the volume turned low. And, by some divine miracle, Jake was alone with Y/n Lisbon.

They were in the bedroom the sisters shared. The atmosphere in the room was both melancholic and delicately feminine.

If the boys at school knew he was there, they would definitely crowd around him the next day, asking stupid questions about what he’d seen inside—what the Lisbon girls’ room was like, what kind of dust mites lived in their pillows.

But Jake wouldn’t be able to answer any of that.

Because the only thing he could see was her.

Y/n Lisbon, sitting cross-legged on a faded floral bedspread, her hair loose in a graceful mess of strands, flipping through the pages of Carrie like she was searching for something very specific.

“Well… we can start the social analysis now,” she said softly, eyes on the marked page and the notebooks spread out before her.

Jake blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Right, yeah,” he replied too quickly, shifting awkwardly and trying to look more focused than he actually was.

She glanced at him for a moment. A tiny smile—barely there, without showing her teeth—touched her lips and faded just as naturally as it had come. Then she turned her attention back to the book, flipping a few more pages with delicate fingers.

“Have you ever read Sylvia Plath?” she asked, gently, still not looking up from the paper.

Jake took half a second to respond, more absorbed in how the light from the window traced her profile like a charcoal sketch.

“Just The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. It was required reading at another school… but I liked it,” he admitted, a little embarrassed.

Y/n nodded slightly, like she approved.

“That’s a start.”

Jake found himself smiling for no reason. Everything about her seemed so absurdly calm and, at the same time, so full of something he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was sadness. Maybe strength. Maybe both.

He watched her silently, eyes tracing the line of her nose, the curve of her lashes, the way her brow furrowed just a little when she was concentrating.

She was like some ancient sculpture—one you ache to touch but know you can’t. She had the beauty of something sacred, though not unreachable.

He felt like he could really love her, if she let him.

“What is it?” she asked suddenly, still not looking directly at him.

Jake blinked, caught in the act.

“Nothing… it’s just… you seem to really like books.”

She gave another half-smile and murmured,

“I do… I like the feeling of being a little outside of reality,” she said, straightening her posture and letting out a small sigh.

Jake nodded, and they returned to the assignment.

Even though, for Jake, it was impossible to focus on writing—

—not with her soft voice reading lines from the book like a lullaby.

Jake walked down the stairs of the house.

Outside, the crickets had begun to sing, and the sky had turned a deepening shade of blue as the first stars timidly began to shimmer. The Lisbon house was glowing from within, its lamps casting a warm, golden light that softened every corner.

The sisters had returned from the church bazaar with Mrs. Lisbon and were now helping prepare dinner — light footsteps, hushed voices, and the scent of something baking in the oven filled the air.

She was walking ahead of him, guiding him to the front door. With each step, Jake watched how the lamplight spilled across her hair, making each strand glint like gold.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” she asked softly, eyes on her own feet, her arms gently crossed behind her back, as if trying to hide the nervous energy in them.

“Don’t worry… I promised my mom I’d be back in time for dinner,” Jake replied, now standing too close, feeling the air between them grow thick and quiet.

He opened the front door slowly, letting the cool night breeze brush across his face.

Before stepping out, he turned to her one last time. He smiled without showing teeth and ran his hands down the front of his jeans, trying to calm himself.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was pounding from the way her eyes looked at him.

She gave a soft laugh, and the sound stayed lodged in his chest.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, checking that no one was around. Then she turned back to him — slowly — and stepped a little closer.

Their breaths met in the chilly air of the open door. Without saying anything, she leaned in and placed a feather-light kiss — just off to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night,” she whispered, pulling back slowly, her eyes shining beneath the warm light of the house.

Jake stood frozen, eyes slightly wide, lips parted. But then he collected himself, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“G…good night. See you tomorrow,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiled back — a smile that showed the most beautiful teeth he had ever seen — and gently closed the door, leaving behind only her light scent and a racing heart beating on the other side.

[xxthisisabadideaxx]

Spoilers for Sonic 3

Stobotnik is the epitome of "not friends, not lovers, but a secret third thing" because, do I think they actually kissed ever: no, not really. But do i think that Stone is going to crash out in Sonic 4 and become a super villain, who's design elements and motivations are solely based on his dead boss, with whom he shared a bazaar unprofessional relationship with? Abso - fucking - lutely my friend.