#@grima i love you you dumb bitch
Note
Hiiii! May I request for M!grima robin?? Angst ask no. 11 and 17 combined please I need something to fuel my angst needs :") thanks in advance
NOTES: angst for my dragon boy ??? absolutely !!!
WARNINGS: injuries; kidnapping
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
m! grima + “nobody’s seen you in days” &&. “if you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart” under the cut !!!
Grima can’t help but feel a little proud of himself as he returns triumphant from the solo mission you sent him on. It was long and hard, and at times a little trying, but he managed. After all, you were the one who told him that you couldn’t entrust this task to anyone other than him. Thus, armed with the memory of your words and your hands on his shoulders and the determination and trust in your gaze, how could he possibly fail?
Where he expects your smile and your warmth and your praise, he finds only the Order of Heroes in a state of panic and the loss of your presence in the halls.
Immediately noting that something was off, he confronts Commander Anna, a soft hiss of your name punctuating his unasked question. Where is the Summoner?
She shakes her head, looking more haggard than he’s ever seen her, replying with, “Nobody’s seen the Summoner in days.”
It’s strange to see the Fell Dragon so agitated over another’s life, much less the life of the insolent worm who summoned him here and disrupted the chaos he was creating in another world. Though Grima tried as hard as he could to continue to hate you, to loathe you for bringing him here, he very quickly failed in the face of your kindness and genuine concern and how easily you accepted who he was despite of all he’s done and destroyed.
(“If Breidablik says you’re a Hero, then that’s good enough for me,” you announced when he was summoned, your tone holding a certain sense of finality that said that that was the end of the conversation.)
Naturally, of course, he draped himself all over you. You were his prey, after all; his and his alone. There was never a moment since he was summoned that he wasn’t by your side. He was with you when you oversaw the training for the Heroes and went over the Order’s inventory. He accompanied you when you summoned new Heroes to join Askr’s cause, scowling at the new additions all the while (his scowl was particularly nasty when you summoned a wielder of the Falchion). He sat in tactic meetings even though they bored him to no end, but secretly, the small part of Robin still left in him delighted in these meetings, and Grima would often end up offering a particularly clever maneuver that had you sending a bright smile his way.
The one time you needed him, however, the one time he could’ve protected you, he wasn’t there.
Suddenly, an overwhelming anger fills his body. There’s an ache that builds up in his chest, strangling his lungs and his words, right where his shriveled heart should be. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, ignoring the pain and ignoring the ache, as he snarls, “You better find the Summoner, Commander, before I end that worthless life of yours.”
Anna looks unfazed as she nods tiredly. That was not the first threat she’s received since you’ve gone missing, and frankly, it wasn’t the worst.
With a harsh exhale of breath, Grima turns on his heel and seeks solitude in the place where your scent is the strongest—your room.
He lets himself in with the key that you gave him not so long ago—“Just in case you get lonely,” you told him playfully—and the pain in his chest increases as he’s hit with you and how you’re no longer beside him. He staggers over to your bed, sinking down into the plush covers and clutching a hand over his chest.
As he looks around, he sees phantoms of you hovering around your room. There’s you sitting at the desk by your window, turning to see if he was still listening to you talk about your stupid problems and concerns (as if he could be troubled with hearing them). There’s you huddled under the blanket beside him, having taken a nap after he forced you to. There’s you looking out of the window and into the world, watching the sunset, highlighted by the orange glow of the sun, or watching the stars, the constellations imprinting themselves into the color of your eyes. He sees you sitting beside him in the light of the moon, watching the moonlight caress your features as if it, too, were fascinated by you and the curve of your cheek or the quirk of your lips.
The ache in his chest multiplies tenfold at the sight of your ghosts flitting about your room, the forms of you he can’t touch and can’t talk to, and he can’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed with his annoyingly human body. He’s the Fell Dragon, the destroyer of Ylisse and the cruel master of destiny. He is able to strike fear into the hearts of men and erase futures in a single blow.
But here he is, unable to cope with the loss of the presence of one measly, mortal life. He even feels a pressure behind his eyes, and he paws angrily at his closed lids. He should be happy that you’re gone, should be happy that you’re no longer there to command him, to tell him what to do, to control him with your stupid divine weapon, and yet…
Why does he feel so alone?
He sags even further into himself. Curse this weak, human vessel. Curse the emotions it makes him feel, the wrenches and tugs and pulls at his heart, the single tear that manages to slip through his iron will and streak down his cheek.
Suddenly, he feels a ghost of a touch across his shoulders and a whisper of a voice—your voice—
Come and find me, you tell him, cupping his face between your palms, come bring me home.
He wipes savagely at the tracks his (wretched, weak) tears left, and nods to himself.
I will.
❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜
It takes Grima less than a day to find you again, following the dredges of you that linger in the air and all around him. Your perfume here, strands of your hair there, and once, a splatter of your blood against the trunk of a tree.
(The latter made him livid—the thought of another harming his human, enough to make them bleed—and he’ll make sure to return the favor.)
He finds you in an abandoned watch tower a long ways away from the castle. Quite honestly, he almost missed it, with how well it was hidden into the forest and blended in with the trees, had it not been for the waves of your scent emanating from it.
He doesn’t bother with stealth, with quiet, with finding cover, because he plans on taking them all.
He busts down the hidden door to the place, startling the petty criminals that litter the area and interrupting their plans of what to do with you. Once every eye has turned to watch him, his mouth curls into a smirk, flashing the barest hint of his teeth. “Did you worms really think that this would work out?”
He gives them a moment to think it over.
Then, the real fun begins.
❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜
Your unconscious form lies in a room just up the steps. Some of your hair is matted with blood, sticking to the wound on your forehead that disappears into your hairline. Your wrists and ankles are raw and angry from the ropes that dug into your skin. He growls, ready to turn back to the corpses that decorate the other room, livid and ready to tear them apart piece by piece when—
“… grima…?”
Your lashes flutter against your cheek as you force your tired eyes to open and see him, framed by the wooden doorway and darkened by the early dredges of sunlight shining behind him. He stands, frozen in place, fists clenched, and covered in blood.
You cough, trying to free your voice from the confines of your scratchy throat. “G-grima, is that… is that you?”
Your voice is barely a whisper, but he can hear you loud and clear over the pounding blood racing in his ears. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of you, tearing through the ropes and setting you free. You look at him like you can’t believe he’s here, that he’s come to save you, that he took the time to find you, and he feels the words stab through his heart.
You repeat his name again, feeble and wobbly, stretching your now free hands to cup his face. Once the tips of your fingers brush his skin, once your hands follow the curve of his jaw, you burst into silent tears.
Grima doesn’t ask if you’re alright, if you’re okay, because even a complete idiot could tell that you weren’t. Instead, he lets you cry, watching as the tears stream down your face and wanting to wipe them away. He doesn’t know how to be gentle, and the Robin side of him—is there even a difference between the two anymore?—is terrified of hurting you any further.
You’re the first to break the silence, to fill the quiet with your voice.
“Can… can I have a hug…?” You ask him wetly, speaking through the tears that line your face and the inside of your throat.
He startles. The “What?” that leaves his lips sounds harsher than he intended, and you flinch, drawing your touch away from him. He misses it immediately. He wants to capture your fleeting fingers and place them back to where they were before, please don’t go—
“I-if you don’t hug me right now, I t-think I’ll fall apart…” Your voice sounds even smaller than before as you draw your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He hears the silent plea in your confession, the I need someone to keep me together that comes from your words.
Carefully, slowly, he wraps his arms around your shaking form, one hand against your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up into his arms. He holds you a bit tighter than necessary, but you don’t seem to mind, because your tears fall with renewed vigor and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder.
He doesn’t know how to be gentle, he admits, but he thinks he can learn for you.
#fire emblem#fire emblem heroes#fe#fire emblem imagines#fe imagines#fire emblem grima#fe grima#reader insert#(do i tag this as grima or robin ?? or both ???)#i like to make him feel dumb human emotions tee hee#@grima i love you you dumb bitch#hoo boy this is long sorry#no editing we die like men
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If you ever wrote a Griomer fic set in modern times, what job would Grima have? What car would he drive? What kind of beer or wine would he drink? Where would he live? What would he do to relax? How would he and Eomer meet? Curious minds would love to know :)
A BEAUTIFUL, BOUNTIFUL THOUGHT.
May your crops be watered and your cows plentiful.
Ok so the first real question is setting. I’m going to go with Portugal. Lisbon, to be exact. Because I don’t know any modern AU that takes pace anywhere other than America and England. With a few exceptions that just prove the rule.
Grima works for the government in the legal department of one of the ministries. Maybe Foreign Affairs or Finance - something in that vein. Is he on the take? Probably. Can you get things done by shoving him a handful of dirty 100 euro bills? Yes.
He was also absolutely was running a book during the dust up between that one anti-masker judge and the director of police over Covid. When the judge challenged the police director to hand to hand combat saying that if he won the police director would have to publicly state “I’m an idiot, a puppet and the government’s bitch.”
Grima LIVED for that whole hot mess. He also absconded with all the funds from running the book because Grima is here for that sweet sweet cash money.
But yeah, he works in a government legal department and people just refer to him as “Grima from legal,” as if there are other men with his name running around. Mostly people avoid him, yet somehow he keeps climbing up the ladder and no one understands how or why this is happening.
He is a riot to have on calls though because when people are like “if we pass this legislation would that contravene the constitution” he always answers “I can make it so it won’t”.
Examples of a day with Grima at the office:
Grima: I’m not sure I like this language in the contract as it stands - it makes it seem that we would be liable to pay the local municipality a bucket of money. And we’re not going to do that.
Random civil servant: That language came from the city’s mistrust of us at the central government.
Grima: Completely fair, I don’t trust us either. But we’re taking it out. The municipality is on their own. Shame them with their bad fiscal planning if they kick up a fuss.
[...]
Civil servant: Can we even do this? Like, are we actually allowed to pass this kind of legislation?
Grima: I mean you can. The courts will hate you and you will have judges out for your blood. But you can. Theoretically, government can do anything.
Grima: Anyway, there are regulations already in place to support the legislation’s implementation. We’re cart-before-horsing it here but trust me. It’s fine.
Civil servant:
Grima:
Civil servant:
Grima: I mean, I do maintain that it was a mistake to pass the regulations so quickly but uh .... things got out of hand. Which is typical.
Civil servant: Got out of hand? The regulations are a mess.
Grima: They’re a mess because we’re just making it up as we go along.
-
As they’re in Lisbon I suspect Grima takes public transit or walks to work on the average day. Also, I don’t know enough about cars to have an opinion of what kind he would drive.
Grima, as a contrast to other Portuguese people, prefers wine to beer but will drink whatever you put in front of him. I enjoy head-canoning that his preference is for rose and he tells people who judge him about this to go suck a metaphorical dick. That said, I suspect his table wine/what he always has in the house is red. Probably from the Duoro region. Also your bog-standard liquor collection.
That said, those little 15cl glasses that beer comes in Portugal. He finds that acceptable.
I think he’s a snacker. Like he just snacks through the day instead of eating real meals. Five minutes between meetings and he’s casually eating a sandwich. Where did he get the sandwich? Who knows. Why is there a bag of chips suddenly appearing? Magic.
I head-canon, in both universes, that Grima a) likes pickled things, b) hates asparagus and walnuts, c) consumes vast quantities of coffee and d) has a serious sweet tooth. How many pastéis de nata can this man consume in a single sitting? So many.
For how he spends his free time - he does like the football and has many spicy opinions about everything relating to it. Especially the latest fiasco in the UK. Also, the UK in general.
Grima: England was a mistake. Shouldn’t have happened.
Eomer: Guess we’ll just visit Ireland and Scotland.
Grima: Why would we do that? It’s cold up there. I want to go to Croatia or Naples.
Eomer: We went to Naples last year.
Grima: ... Your point?
Though he pretends to be disinterested in it for Reputation Reasons, I suspect he’d be a big fan of Eurovision and does one of those March-madness style betting pools with his siblings over it. It’s the only time he talks to his brothers.
Christmas? No. Civic holidays? No. World Cup? No. Eurovision? Yes.
Eomer thinks this just demonstrates that Eurovision is the solution to most problems.
In terms of day to day hobbies/way to spend spare time - lots of reading. Many books. Eomer is like “One day we’re going to be eaten alive by your books. There are so many of them.”
As it’s Grima, he has a chaotic organizational system for them that makes sense only to him. Also, he never re-shelves them so there are very neat and precise stacks of books around the flat which he finds rather soothing. He makes upset noises whenever Eomer tries to tidy up.
Eomer believes in de-cluttering. Grima does not.
Puzzles - I firmly believe Grima likes puzzles. And those crazy ones too, like 7k pieces of the moon. So it’s all white and grey.
Also strategy board games and trick-based card games.
And for where he lives? I assume a flat - one bedroom, nothing too fancy those he has Aspirations and Dreams of being filthy, stinking rich one day and being able to spend money like an American.
-
Oh man, how did they meet? I feel like they’re on opposite sides of some legal issue or argument. Like Eomer works for the Lisbon government and there’s a jurisdictional dispute and Grima’s representing whatever Ministry is involved and it’s all knives out.
Then afterwards they keep running into each other because Life is Full of Trouble. Grima’s like “can a man not drink his coffee and eat his pastries in peace?” and Eomer slides into the chair across from him, “How’s my favourite corrupt government lawyer?” Grima gives him a rude gesture.
Grima’s all, “Excuse me, I’m busy.” Proceeds to take out a deck of cards to Very Visibly play solitaire.
Eomer is thinking, Oh my god what a freak. What comes out of his mouth is, “So you want to grab dinner or something?”
Grima, “No.”
Eomer, “Drinks? Go for a walk?”
Grima:
Eomer, “.... I know a book store with a cafe in it that sells really good croissants and does like an overly fancy charcuterie board”
Grima, “I’m free next Friday at 8.” Immediately goes back to his cards.
Oh he’s also permanently attached to his cellphone. Like it’s probably glued to him at this point. An additional limb coming out of his left hand.
Eomer: We’re on holiday.
Grima: government never stops babe.
-
Thank you so much for this ask. I love them so much they’re both so dumb.
<3 <3
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actually. actually let’s talk about diversity in fantasy let’s give that a go. im mad and im gonna be that way for a while
don’t want to read all this? fair. tldr: fantasy writers who rely not only on the medieval europe model but also hide behind historical accuracy in 2020 (fuck it, from ‘95 onwards) are lazy and unimaginative and should be held accountable no matter how many white 20 year old dudes jerk off to whatever power fantasy is embedded in the plot. so lets chat about that lads. (slightly) drunk rant under the cut
now prelim shit: we know fantasy is used both as escapism and as a way to deal with various traumas via magical metaphor. staples of the genre. even if jk rowling busted out the laziest and at times offensive metaphor for ww2 and racism ive ever seen, she still adhered to time and true tropes. whatever.
so why have we, in this post game of thrones era, become insanely obsessed with realism? i can hear sixty 20-something year old men crying at me rn like oh ohh oh its based off the war of roses oh wahh all medieval fantasy fiction is based off england and the crusades anyway so women should get raped and people of color should be demonized its not racism its xenophobia and also gay people dont exist and disabled people are systematically killed off and if we stretch the magic fixes mental illness thing a LITTLE further we have straight up eugenics.
we all know where the england but myth thing came from. now the thing about tolkien is that while i will always absolutely love lotr, looking at the LAZY state of fantasy? damn i kinda wish he hadn’t revolutionized the genre. the bitch was still racist. he still didnt give a shit abt women (eowyn was just a vehicle to show how much he fucking hated macbeth anyone holding jrrt up as a feminist icon for that needs to sit the fuck down and explain to me why i can count the woman speaking roles in lotr, a story with a name and fleshed out backstory for every minor character, on one hand but thats! another post). he had something to say abt class with sam i’ll give him that but he is still 100% NOT what we need to hold our standards to in 2020.
i dont want to talk about old school fantasy, like 80s early 90s cause theres literally no point. its sexist, racist, ableist for sure, this we know. david eddings (not even that old school tbh) can rise from the grave and explain himself to me personally and i still wont forgive him for ehlana.
so let’s talk historical accuracy. quick question. who the FUCK gives a shit? WHO is this elusive got fan who’s out here like blehh actually??? this method of iron production is TOTALLY anachronistic of the time. ummm these vegetables in this fictional world were NOT native to english soil so how are they here? cause i know this is the classic argument but ive never actually met someone who cared about the lack of dysentery as much as they care abt the women getting raped on screen/page.
god forbid you have to worldbuild for a second god forbid you can’t rely on the idea of fantasy readers already have in their head god forbid you have an original idea god forbid you spend more than two seconds thinking about ur setting (oh i should mention i dont....really blame GoT for its setting cause of how long ago it was og written but trust me i sure as hell blame grrm for writing a 13 yr old giving ‘consent’ to sex with a grown man within the first couple of chapters)
If we accept the basic premise of fantasy as escapism, and i AM drunk so i will NOT be finding fuckin. quotes and shit for this but come on tolkien said it himself and as much as i’ll drag him he crafted the simplest and most powerful fantasy metaphors on the board rn. But if we know its escapism. If we know. then who is it escapism for? certainly not for me, the gay brown woman who busted through all of GoT in 10th grade.
modern fantasy lit used as an excuse for that white male power fantasy is literally disgusting. calling historical accuracy is so fucking dumb ESPECIALLY cause we, as ppl in the 21st century, KNOW women have been consistently written out of the story. poc ppl, gay and trans ppl, anyone with a god forbid disability has been WRITTEN out of history as we know it, INCLUDING the fucking war of the roses so HOW can we hold up testimony we know is flawed to support our FICTIONAL. STORY. just to??? support the white power fantasy?? literally noah fence but if you are a white guy who felt really empowered by every time jim butcher described a woman tell me: how do you think that’ll hold up in classic HisToRiCaL fantasy. you think thats a fucking noble pursuit? or are you grima wormtongue out here.
(side note: jim butcher stop writing challenge i dont need to know abt every woman on page’s nipples. anyone who hides behind subgenre like that? ‘ohhh its a noir story thats why hes sexualizing everyone’ shut the fuck up an author isnt possessed by a fuckin muse and compelled to bust out 500k they have agency and they have choice and they MADE the choice to reserve said will for none of their female characters)
which brings me to point 2: target audience and BOY is the alcohol hitting me rn but WHO is this for? this isnt the fucking 80s we know poc and other marginalized folk read fantasy FOR the escapism. on god ive had a cosmere focused blog for nearly three years and. im just gonna say it im interacted with A LOT of yall and ive managed to talk to VERY few white straight ppl as compared to everyone else.
like....who deserves to see the metaphor on homophobia or racism. joanne rowling? the bitch who literally tried to sell us happy slaves and the disgusting aids metaphor and the worst case of antisemitic stereotypes i ever saw in an nyt bestseller? yall think that was for US? or was it for the white guilt crowd.
literally white people can find any book about them that they can relate to. but hmmm maybe theres a reason gay women care so much about stormlight archive’s jasnah kholin, a brown woman who’s heavily coded as wlw. or kaladin, the FIRST fantasy protag ive ever seen with clinical depression. hmm i wonder why a bunch of millennials are vibing all of a sudden. im not saying sanderson is perfect--but its the best ive seen from a white author tbh
maybe theres a reason a lot of poc vibe with a literary way to express trauma, and maybe thats why i specifically get so pissed when its not done well. theres a REASON books about outcasts pushing through and claiming their own lives are popular with people who arent white and straight and able bodied. Junot Diaz had a point. maybe lets STOP catering to those assholes who think theyre joseph campbell’s wet dream personified. ive lost respect SO many authors who are objectively talented. pat rothfuss can write so beautifully that ive cried to bits of name of the wind but literally i will never pick that series up again (not just because of the felurian. women in general tbh. mostly the felurian ngl) cause 1) i personally KNEW men whod jerk off to that shit and 2) there was no need for it there was no plot reason for ANY of that shit
so like obviously thers an issue with authors of color specifically not getting recognized for fantasy and genre work but on god??????? im still mostly mad at the legions of white authors churning out the same medieval england chosen one books year after fucking year. have an original thought maybe. also im sorry that you as an author lack the basic empathy needed to examine the way that women? or any group of people that youre explicitly writing about see the world and would specifically see YOUR made up world.
yes your fantasy should be diverse, but more than that it should be kind. if you as a writer cant respect groups of people who deserve it....what the hell are you doing in a genre that traditionally is about finding ways to express injustice through metaphor? tolkien’s hero was sam. fantasy was NEVER about the privileged. yall know who you are so stop acting so fucking entitled. peace out.
#disclaimer ive had a bit to drink. and instead of getting ridiculously emotional like normal and plud in a trek movie#im mad! surprise shes mad now. not at BS specifically dont worry this is still a cosmere stan zone but im mad and im gonna talk about it#if no one reads this ur valid but if you do im gonna be mad or another two hours before i force myself to#man idk feel free to talk tho#this is so stupid im sorry i got so heated i plugged in the BoP soundtrack#and like just#well youll see
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Whos your fave FE dude?
Completely outside the realm of kinks and just enjoying as a good character, it's gonna have to be Pelleas. He just struggles so much in part 1 and completely falls back on Izuka and Micaiah (the former being a very awful choice and oh no to the people who played PoR) and it costs him big time in part 3. But he gets better! He actually tries to make decisions for himself and even goes through with sacrificing himself despite Micaiah urging him to reconsider. (And the game is MEAN cause Pelleas's death is completely pointless and the game kinda rubs it in for a few sentence but then forgets all about Pelleas 😔)
But then NG+ allows you to save him and now he's playable in part 4 and an enemy in part 3. His battle convos in part 3 are also just so great. Especially Ike's convo with Pelleas with Ike just confused about Ashnard's "son" being such a wimp. Meanwhile, he's trying his best to stay strong. And in part 4, he's given dialogue to show how much of a wimp he is, but he's still trying to contribute! (Kinda wish he get a bit of extra dialogue considering he's in Tibarn's and Elincia's group) and he slowly gains a backbone, getting mad at the Begnion Senate and even kinda losing it against Sephiran mentioning that Pelleas is just some random orphan that Izuka found on the streets and that he played an excellent role in leading the world to ruin.
He's just good and I literally recited this all from memory ahdvsssjjs I just love Pelleas and I should write some kink stuff of him,,,
If you mean kink wise, then Grima. I just want that dumb bitch fattened. (though I will admit that he's a pretty flat character! And that there's nothing wrong with enjoying characters without some depth)
This got long lol but like, that just happens whenever I get asked about my opinions on FE cause I am a dumb opinionated bitch
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QON quick review - spoilers
TQon is a mess. Jude and Cardan were both unlikeable.
It was the biggest disappointment of my reading life.
What I liked
★Prolouge
★Taryn killing locke
★Locke dead
★Jude punching Cardan in the face (twice) yes queen
★KAYE PUNCHING NICASIA yes please queen
★Jude pretendenting to be Taryn part
★The Ghost and his true name
★Cardan snake theory - breaking the course it was ok, exactly how i imagined it to be
★ a little bit EPILOUGE?
★ ok but Taryn and Ghost? Interesting idk
★ Jude and Cardan rulling together
★ Cardan being the great ruler from prophecy
What I didn’t like
★ EXILE WAS A STUPID BAD JOKE- terrible idea Holly, i am pissed off, yeas even makeing Nicasia ambassador was just for Cardan’s caprice 👏👏👏👏, no mourning brother etc
★ Cardan’s explanation of exile - “it was a trick” boy, i hated it, it was dumb
★ Pardon herself theory - i hated this theory and it’s in the book
★ sex scene - hated it, the wicked king scene was waaaaay better
★ Nicasia and Cardans supportive relationship (no fucking holding hands please, this girl tortured you wife),Cardan’s weakness for Nicasia, they are good friends blablablah gtfo , Cardan talking with Nicasia about Jude - couldn’t hate it more
★ Nicasia’s huge role in QON - why is this bitch still alive, Nicasia’s talking about the dresess and how Cardan is soft,*rolling my eyes it hurts* WHAT A MESS IS THIS HOLLY
★ Vivi’s gift- nothing really important
★ Jude forgiving Taryn so quickly
★ Grima Mog being so cute and kind, more like a servant than legendary grand general
★ Taryn taking part in faerie orgies or smth ???
★ Jude making all the mistakes
★ Jude - i used to love Jude with my whole heart, but she was annoying in QON, rightful queen omg it was all such a mess
★ Cardan’s “that’s my wife” just like in the memes lmao
★ Madoc
★ Jurdan relationship, conversations, love confessions etc
★ Cardan’s love-letters
★idk this book was just bad, i can’t explain it
★ EVERYTHING WAS SO FAST AND STUPID , This book should be 100pages longer and it will maybe makes more sense to me
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