#but really he's referring to all the souls following you because he can see them because he's a Watcher too

[ampleappleamble]

so does anybody else ever get big feelings thinking about how Valbrendhür and Vatnir's voices sound almost exactly alike? yeah because they have the same voice actor but also because Valbrendhür found and raised Vatnir from infancy, so he must have picked up Valbrendhür's accent and speech patterns and vocal quirks growing up? or is it just me

[blueywrites]

'cause I ain't had nobody hit it like you hit it (2/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part one here.

3.6k

cw: 18+. smut, references to hard drug use, unprotected piv, situationship becoming something more, shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, eddie embarrasses the fuck out of reader but don't get it twisted, he's down bad, no y/n, no physical descriptors

an: sorry for leaving y'all on that little cliffie in the first part. I hope this makes up for it! 😉 also, make sure you check out the fanart if you haven't already - there are some specific allusions to it in this part, and it'll enhance the experience if you've checked it out. accreditation: I attribute those clever details to the very talented artist 🩵

now, enjoy the utter filth! xx

The sound is a bucket of ice water down your spine. Your back stiffens ramrod straight as your grasping fingers find the front of Eddie’s tank, fisting it up tight in a startled search for comfort. Eddie separates his lips from yours with a loud click, an annoyed frown already marring his brow as he cranes his neck to look around you toward the closed door. When the knocks come again in quick succession, there’s a split second you think he will tell you to get off him, and your stomach swoops with something just short of devastation. But Eddie doesn’t even bother asking who it is; he keeps cupping your cheek even as he barks harshly, "Busy, man. Go take a walk, come back in ten minutes." 

After a brief pause, you hear the creak of wood followed by the plodding steps of whomever had come calling descending the porch stairs. It’s somewhat of a relief, but the interruption has disturbed the haze you’d fallen into. You almost want to ask who that was, if Eddie’d been expecting any visitors or customers other than you, but you bite your tongue, not wanting to dampen the mood between you two even farther. As your heart keeps racing while you attempt to regain your composure, your eyes search his face. They flit about before being captured by deep brown, ensnared by the look he’s leveling you with. Eddie’s gaze bores into yours, dark with longing and mischief as if he’s daring you to defy him. 

As if he can see through your eyes straight down to your soul and all that it longs for.

The tension returns in an instant— sticky and hot as your thighs flex around Eddie’s hips, and the subtle shift reminds you he’s still buried inside. Your desire for him simmers like an ache low in your belly, plaintive and wanting. And he must read that on you, because despite the clock ticking down the seconds until his visitor returns, Eddie just has to tease you.

"Yeah?" His voice is a low whisper, a teasing challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. "S’like that, huh? You want me to make you cum now?" He glances up at the wall behind him, drawing your eyes to a row of scrawled lines— a tallied record of the pleasure he gives. It’s yet another way he’s found to rile you up, a reminder displayed in a place you can’t help but see every time you visit him. "And you think you’ve earned another tally?"

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his gaze again. "Need it, Ed..." you whisper, your heartbeat rabbit-fast at the prospect of him really giving it to you.

His smirk widens, a flash of smug satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "Aww, baby needs it so bad," he teases, his tone laced with mock sympathy before it darkens. "You're such a fuckin' whore. But only for me, right?"

A heady mix of desire and shame courses through you, slinking through your veins, burning you up inside. Because, for all intents and purposes, he’s right: you are a whore, giving yourself to your dealer like this. And this thing between you and Eddie may be more than that to you— may be more to him, too, though you don’t know for sure— but on the surface, that’s exactly what you are. A whore, only for him.

It’s demeaning and nasty and so fucking arousing all at once. 

"Mhmm." A strangled hum of agreement is the most you can manage through your mortification. Even so, you know that won’t be enough for Eddie. 

"Tell me," he demands, his voice a low growl that makes your pussy flutter around him; his fingers tighten on your hip, blunt nails biting in, dimpling your softness. His expression doesn’t change, but you know he likes being able to affect you with just the sound of his voice and the things he makes you say.

"I-I'm a whore for you, Eddie..." you admit, forcing out the words though they make your face positively burn. "I'm your whore—"

His hand crawls into your hair, pulling you back, and you moan as your neck stretches tight. "That's fuckin' right," he says, licking up your throat. You gasp and tremble. "My good little whore."

The teasing is becoming too much; you’re so turned on, you’re nearly beside yourself. You need to move; need him to move. "Please," you cry, whiny and pathetic, your eyes prickling with frustrated tears.

It’s all part of the game, of course-- his casual dominance, your needy desperation. But a harsh exhale against your chin shows that Eddie isn’t as unaffected as he wants to appear. Without ceremony, the still-smoldering joint, only half smoked, is ground out against the edge of the wooden coffee table and dropped into an old bottle. With both hands now free, Eddie pulls you into his chest, his grip firm and possessive, his palms spanning great swaths of your back and his fingers stretched wide. 

Low and husky, he murmurs, "Hold on now, kitten.” 

Hastily, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as his hands dip, dragging down until his fingers dig into your bare ass cheeks. You moan quietly at the rough neediness in the gesture as he manhandles you up so he can slide himself down further on the couch, planting his feet wide on the carpet, his dark jeans and checked boxers pulling taut just above his knees. He’s still stretching you out on his dick, and you bite your lip at the duality of feeling: the dull pain where your skin dimples under his hands, the low pulse of pleasure as his shifting presses him deeper into you. 

You’re anticipating it, and still you choke on a gasp as Eddie uses his grip to slam you down onto his lap just as he thrusts up into you hard— once, twice, again, quickly setting a brutal pace that, if you weren’t so wet for him, would ache in quite a different way. As it is, this ache is exactly what you need— bruises on your ass from his blunt fingertips, burns on your knees from the scratchy cushions, and the battering of Eddie’s cock bullying deep into your pussy, making you feel so fucking good. 

He grunts as you dig your nails into the sturdy, smooth lines of his shoulders, holding onto him tight; you bury your whimpers in his neck, the sound muffled by the heat of his skin as he pounds into you with dizzying ferocity. But that just won’t do, because Eddie wants to see you— wants to see the way he wrecks you. Briefly, one hand leaves your ass to pull you back by the scruff of your neck. You whimper as you lose your hiding place but you don’t fight him, obeying despite the desire to burrow away from his discerning stare. 

"Just needed my dick all the way inside you, stretching this wet little hole out, didn’t you." Eddie chuckles, his gaze burning into yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, hitching with every bounce of his thighs against your ass. "I know you did. You’re always so fuckin’ desperate for it."

You shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze, the heat rising to your cheeks as you try to avert your eyes, but you know he sees right through you. Every movement, every glance, every subtle shift of your body betrays the desire that burns within you.

Mercifully— or maybe unmercifully— Eddie goes on without expecting a response. "Comin’ over here, wearing your tiny little shorts, sittin’ on my couch, staring at me when you think I don’t see," he continues, his voice a low rumble that makes your scalp tighten as he leans in and murmurs in your ear. “No one else is givin’ it to you as good as me, huh? That why you gotta beg me for it?” As he mocks you, you squirm in his grip, embarrassed even as your pussy squeezes tight, your body betraying you with its unrelenting arousal. 

"Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good," Eddie mutters quietly against your cheek. "Love your little pussy." 

You go boneless on him as the embarrassment mixes with adoration. You tuck your face against his neck again, and this time, it’s not to hide. Your hands snake down his tank to claw at his back, nails dragging lines across his skin as you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over his throat, lavishing him with the depth of your feeling. His words vibrate under your lips. “That’s right, just like that. I gotcha. My pliant little fuckdoll.”

"Oh," you moan, your voice barely above a whisper as you surrender yourself to him completely. "Fuck—"

"Could do anything to you, hm?" Eddie rasps, never faltering in his pace as he fucks up into you.

As your breasts rub against his clothed chest, your hard nipples quickly become oversensitized by the friction, spurring you to meet him thrust for thrust. "Yeah, yeah," you gasp, your voice trembling with need, nearly overwhelmed by his words and the feeling of his fat tip kissing that spot inside. He’s working you so quickly at this angle that you nearly see stars. "Whatever y’want,” you slur, well on your way to being cock drunk. “M’your good girl, Eddie."

He chuckles, amused and fond. "That’s why you get the free ride, babe,” he tells you. "Cause you’re just so good."

There is no deliberate thought driving you anymore, just instinct as you ride him with abandon— tits shaking, ass rippling, head thrown back, mouth open, fists in his hair, drool on your chin, arousal leaking onto his thighs. Your lashes flutter, eyes half rolled back as you start to ascend.

“Jesus Christ, I swear, you’re—” Eddie pauses, swallowing harshly, like he’s gulping back what he almost said. “You’re so sexy like this,” he rasps finally, breath ragged, biting his lip when you throw it down harder on him. “So sexy. All mine.”

My whore. My fuckdoll. Mine, mine, mine. That sentiment makes you bold. You summon all your faculties to pull your face back from his neck and tip your head coquettishly, looking down at Eddie like you own him and not the other way around. 

“Yeah, baby?” It’s a little breathless with effort, but still, you manage to sound sultry in a way you almost do not recognize. “You like that?”

Eddie’s pupils blow wide. He chuckles breathlessly, but he doesn’t look amused. “Go’n, fuck me,” he grits out, and his eyes are pitch black with desire, but as you keep looking down at him, there’s a flash of something else— something more akin to awe. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

And you do, more than you ever have before. The room collapses to nothing but the slapping of skin on skin— furious, sweaty, gasping plunges downward met with equally sharp upward thrusts that gradually have him sinking lower on the couch. By the time Eddie’s ass slips to the edge of the cushion, you’re slumped over him, hands squishing up his cheeks, lips mashed together, kissing like you need him to live. Each time he punches in, you keen like a wild animal, the sound garbled and mixed with his low, rasping whines. There’s salt in your mouth and you don’t know whose sweat it is, his or yours. Eddie’s breath puffs from his nose like he’s sprinting for his life; one of his damp curls tacks to your cheek as your bodies writhe together all slick, sticky, wet. You’re fucking each other so hard it almost hurts—

And then it does hurt, because on your next desperate bounce, Eddie’s ass slips off the couch, toppling you both to the floor.

Buzzing with adrenaline and on the knife’s edge of your orgasm, the fall only radiates dull pain for a moment before you’re over it. You lift your face from the carpet to see Eddie’s head all wedged up at an angle against the couch’s leg, his arms splayed, legs still caught in his pants and boxers like he’d tripped taking a piss or something. Your eyes hone in on his cock— wobbling in the air, flushed and slick with you down to the matted-curl base, miraculously still hard and, most importantly, entirely unharmed. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie groans, his face contorted in a pained wince. If you weren’t so close to cumming, you’d ask him if he was okay, but as it is, your only thought is to crawl on top of him and hastily throw your leg over his hip. Before he can even blink, you’ve impaled yourself on his cock, engulfing him in the heat of your throbbing pussy with a filthy, wet squelch. 

“Oh, fuck!” It’s a ragged moan this time as his mouth falls open, the cords of his neck pulling tight on an even more strangled sound as you go right back to fucking him like he asked you— like you mean it.

Pleasure returns in an even more potent swell as you consider how feral it is that you and Eddie are now fucking on the floor like animals. You’re making sounds of pained ecstasy, punching them out of yourself as you slam down on him until he’s hitting so deep you can feel it in the back of your throat. Your muscles are quivering, burning with effort, so much so that you can’t help but collapse forward, bracing your forearm against the edge of the couch cushion. You whimper as the move changes the angle, dulling your pleasure, but you can’t find the strength to hoist yourself back up while still chasing your orgasm— and you need to cum so badly now that you want to fucking cry. 

But Eddie’s got you. When you slip, he’s there the next moment tilting his hips, matching you thrust for thrust, hooking an arm around your back and pressing his forehead against your sternum. His skin is hot, sweaty and tacky, and his breath huffs ragged over your bouncing chest for a moment before he presses his face into the plush curve of your breast. 

And then you hear it: Eddie’s voice breaking as he moans out your name against your skin. 

Dizzying flutters burst in your chest just as pleasure twists violently in your belly, a throbbing ache you can feel pressing at your walls, clawing its way up to break the surface inside you. You heave a tight sob as you cum, back arched, neck straining, consumed whole by the intensity of the feeling. Distantly, as if through a tunnel, you register a brief flare of pain; your spasming pussy clenches around Eddie’s kicking length as the pleasure peaks at the sensation, breaking in waves that gradually gentle and then finally ease. And it’s when you collapse weakly against Eddie’s chest, quivering as his arms fold around your back, that you realize the pain you felt was Eddie’s teeth sinking into your breast as he came with you.

When you finally have the strength to open your eyes, you're both still breathing fast, Eddie's bare arms bunching up your disheveled tank and sticking to your lower back as he holds you, panting into your mouth. "Shit," he mutters, chuckling under his breath. "That was..." 

He leaves the sentence unfinished, but you understand his meaning. It was really fucking good— better than usual. And maybe it was because there was a thrill in trying to finish before his visitor returned, but maybe... maybe it was more than that.

“Even the part when you fell on your ass?” You whisper, smiling when his eyes crinkle.

“Sure,” he offers. “Even that part.”

You hum, nudging your nose against his, and when you pull back, there's a strange glint in his eye— something fonder, sweeter than it had been before. You smile at him again, and maybe he sees something in your gaze too, because he doesn't kiss you filthy, nor peck you as a quick punctuation to your fucking. Instead, he strokes back your hair, his brown eyes darting down to your lips. And as he leans in, your heart thumps—

That infernal pounding starts up again, louder this time and accompanied by the muffled sound of a male voice calling impatiently, "Hey, Eddie, open up— I ain't got all day, man!"

Your stomach lurches. Has it really been ten minutes? 

Not that it matters, you berate yourself, ‘cause he’s back, and you’re still naked on the fucking floor. You dismount Eddie quickly, collapsing down to all fours so you can reach for your clothes where they’re bunched under the other side of the couch. As you scramble to your feet, tearing your panties and shorts up your legs, you hear Eddie curse quietly under his breath. 

"Gimme a goddamn second!" he snaps, still lying on the ground, lifting his hips and shimmying up his boxers with a level of nonchalance that belies the urgency of the situation. 

You climb onto the couch, your chest heaving from adrenaline and exertion as he pops up in front of you, hopping several times to get his tight jeans the rest of the way up. He flops down on the other side, spreading his legs comfortably, seeming content to just let his belt hang open like he can’t be bothered with it. You glance at him skeptically to see he’s already looking back at you with the same expression, though his is also tinged with some amusement. It takes you a beat to realize why, but when you do, you rush with prickling panic. Because your top’s still rucked up around your collarbone, leaving your bare tits, complete with the new impression of Eddie’s teeth, on full display. Miraculously, you manage to yank it down just as the front door knob twists sharply.

And then, to your horror, the door pops right open.

Your jaw goes slack as a guy around your age— rail thin and pale, dressed in an oversized flannel and a ratty pair of jean shorts— steps into the trailer. Eddie grunts a casual greeting, nodding at the visitor as he lopes up to the couch just as casually, slapping Eddie’s lazily outstretched palm like they’ve done this a million times before. You’re still attempting to process the fact that the front door has been unlocked this entire time when the guy casts a cursory glance your way, his eyes quickly flicking you up and down. You snap your mouth shut, your lips pressing into a flat line as you pull your legs up like they can shield you from his appraisement.

“Hey, man,” Eddie says, cracking his neck to the side. “How was that rock I hooked you up with last time? Good shit, right?”

Obviously a customer, then. You try to ignore the exchange, but you’re inescapably conscious of the fact that this guy could’ve walked in on you and Eddie fucking at literally any point in time. That awareness prickles as you shift, trying to mimic Eddie’s casual posture, though your attempt fails miserably as you feel a small gush of wet warmth leak between your thighs. You blanch as you realize Eddie’s cum is probably dampening your shorts; quickly, you adjust your legs, hoping to conceal the telltale spot. But your traitorous mind can’t help but consider how you likely look— hair mussed, lips swollen from Eddie’s kisses, one strap of your stretched-out tank top sagging down your arm. Like I’ve been totally fucked stupid, you think sourly, casting a flat look toward Eddie who, aside from a sweaty face and lips that are just the slightest bit puffier than before, appears no worse than normal.

Your fingers tap an impatient beat against your knee as you wait, eager for them to finish up so this awkward situation can be over already. The exchange drags on until the guy is finally pocketing his product as Eddie counts his money. 

“Alright,” Eddie says at last, leaning to one side to stuff the bills in his pocket. “Pleasure doin’ business.” You hold in a relieved sigh as he jerks his chin up in a nod, flashing his customer a friendly look that’s half warm eyes and half sharp teeth.

The guy’s about to turn toward the door when Eddie speaks again, and the feigned innocence in his tone makes your stomach sink.

“Oh, shit, almost forgot—”

His ringed hand stretches out, rooting around on the messy side table for a moment before snatching up a ballpoint pen. Your eyes widen in disbelief as he glances behind him, casually reaching up and scratching another line into the wall— drawing everyone’s eyes to the tally marks and, in particular, to the words written above them.

Cum counter.

All you can do is stare at Eddie, utterly at a loss. "Now get the fuck outta here," he says to the guy, his eyes never leaving yours. "My baby's tired, and it's time for her nap." 

And that motherfucker smiles at you— so wide his cheek dimples.

Not his whore; not his fuckdoll. His baby. Your heart swells behind your ribs even as your body heats several degrees with mortification; the customer’s long gone before you can decide whether to kiss Eddie or kick him. 

It’s a decision you’ll have to make a lot from now on.

[enchanted-wildflower]

On animism

One of my teachers at university told us something today, that I believe to be relevant to animism and therefore also witchcraft:

He explained that in the West we see everything as occurences, whereas in some languages the same happenings are described as actions. Meaning that in the West we tend to imply that there is no agency involved in whatever happens, while some other languages tend to imply that someone activily causes things. His example was that in the West rain is understood as something that just happens, no one causes the rain. Whereas in Mesoamerica it was believed that it rained because some god was crying.

While the idea of a literal crying god causing it to rain on earth might be outdated, I find it really interesting how these two perspectives - events vs. actions - might shape our relationship with the world. If rain is not just an occurence, but someone acting with agency, rain becomes another part of the community we live in. The community then doesn't only consist of humans anymore, but of everything that surrounds us. Suddenly there are all these new players that actively affect your life with their actions. Other-than-human persons that you can interact with and with whom you have to keep a friendly relationship. If the tree in front of your house isn't just an object, but a being with agency, you actually have to be at least respectful and might even want to build a relationship with them, get to know them, learn from them.

I think that's really the core of animism. Descriptions of animism are often reduced to the believe that everything has a soul, but I think believe doesn't even factor into it. You don't need to believe that there is a non-physical aspect to rain, mountains, stones. It's about how we interact with them. I don't even have to ask myself the question if the tree in front of my house has a soul in order to learn about and from them or to interact with them. In my opinion animism is something that is done, not thought or believed. It's a perspective.

Listening to my teacher also reminded me of the following part of Braiding Sweetgrass (great book btw) which explains all this really well:

A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa - to be a bay - releases the water from bondage and lets it live. "To be a bay" holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive. Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the lan- guage I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us.

[...]

This is the grammar of animacy. [...] In English, we never refer to a member of our family, or indeed to any person, as it. That would be a profound act of disrespect. It robs a person of selfhood and kinship, reducing a person to a mere thing. So it is that in Potawatomi and most other indigenous languages, we use the same words to address the living world as we use for our family. Because they are our family.

To whom does our language extend the grammar of animacy? Naturally, plants and animals are animate, but as I learn, I am discovering that the Potawatomi understanding of what it means to be animate diverges from the list of attributes of living beings we all learned in Biology 101. In Potawatomi 101, rocks are animate, as are mountains and water and fire and places. Beings that are imbued with spirit, our sacred medicines, our songs, drums, and even stories, are all animate. The list of the inanimate seems to be smaller, filled with objects that are made by people.

[...]

The language reminds us, in every sentence, of our kinship with all of the animate world.

- Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants (2013), p. 78-80.

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward. | yan! criston cole

soft yandere / obsessed au

fem! targaryen princess reader

synopsis. the knight’s death wasn’t convenient, but at least now you knew the lengths Ser Criston was willing to go for you.

part ii.

note; this is an au where rhaenyra/criston never happened ! he is reader’s sworn shield. reader is written with targaryen features and is kind of a sick and twisted brat (we stan). ALL CONTENT ON MY BLOG IS FICTIONAL.

WARNING(s): possessive/obsessive tendencies, violence, minor character death, unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19, criston is around 27), references to size difference, reader knows abt his tendencies and takes advantage of them, nsfw content but not full smut, allusions/references to sex, subby criston cole, dom-ish reader, praise-kink??, breeding kink??, mocking, usage of “dog”

“I know how you think of me.”

Do you really? Do you know how much he thinks of you, how he craves you? How he wants nothing more than to steal you away so no one else can ever see you again except him? He wants you to be his, only his. That’s all he wants.

“You can’t get me out of your head, can you, Ser Criston?”

He knows you emphasized his title on purpose; he was a member of the Kingsguard lusting after the Princess, and yet he couldn’t feel any guilt from behind the overwhelming desire he has for you. It’s not just lust, it’s so much more than lust. He wants you; mind, body, and soul. He wants you to look at him the way he looks at you. He wants to grow old with you and fill you up with babies. Babies that will have his dark hair and your violet eyes, or maybe even the opposite.

“You would do anything for me?”

Yes, gods yes he would. Ask for anything and its yours. Please, please, please ask something of him.

You’d noticed his peculiar behavior months ago, but you suppose it hadn’t gone far enough for you to say anything about it until now. You noticed how his eyes never left your figure if you were in the room, how he stiffened when you stood even remotely near another man, how he followed you around like a lost puppy. It was endearing at first, but tonight he had killed someone for you. Not only that, but he did it violently and in public. In all fairness, the hedge Knight was creepy and invasive, you didn’t like him. But Criston was a member of the Kingsguard, he couldn’t go around killing people just because he wanted to.

There was a tourney to celebrate your older sister Rhaenyra’s first pregnancy. She was married to Laenor around 6 months ago, so most of the family found it pleasant that she was already pregnant. Though, you knew it wasn’t Ser Laenor who was the father (or at least you assumed it wasn’t). You were rather close with your sister and her husband; you knew well what they got up to and what they didn’t. All was well for you, you found Ser Harwin to be a lovely friend.

Although Criston Cole was your sworn shield, you insisted he enter the tourney for the entertainment. Many had entered from all over Westeros, and your shield had always succeeded in physical competitions in the past.

“I’d just like to see you win.” You told him, batting your eyes. He was quick to obey your request at that.

Ser Criston received your favor right before his first round, and won the tournament just as you knew he would. A hedge knight from the Reach came in second place to your shield. He seemed nice enough and was a rather good sport about losing, but frankly he was annoying. He wouldn’t stop following Criston around, which eventually lead to him introducing himself to you as Tion Gracefeld. His presence didn’t bother you at first, but you could clearly tell how much Criston hated it.

After the event ended, there was celebration all throughout King’s Landing, so there was a bit of chaos on the short journey back to the Red Keep. Tion took advantage of this, trying to get closer to you. Of course, Criston was there to push him back each time, telling him “please give the princess some space” through gritted teeth.

His jealousy was a bit cute to you, so you let Ser Tion continue with his behavior. It wasn’t such a bother, but as you approached the castle, his words became less playful and more… sexual. Foul, even.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened for certain, the violence was too quick, but you knew that he grabbed your arm before Ser Criston murdered him for it. The Dornish Kingsguard grabbed Tion, pulling him from you and throwing him to the ground. You were sure the beating was bad, considering it was enough for him to die from his injuries, but you refused to look.

Criston was eventually pulled off the man after a couple minutes, and now here he was. Sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, hands and armor splattered in blood.

“Look at me.” You told him. You had to give him some credit, he listens to you so well, “Why did you do it? What made you angry enough to kill him?”

You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you stepped closer, only to stop directly in front of him.

He took in a quick breath before answering, looking up at you with frustrated eyes, “He was talking to you like- like you were some… whore. There was no respect. He was trying— to touch you. I’m your sworn protector, Princess, I was only doing my job.”

He didn’t want you to know about his sick obsession with you, trying to hide it using his position as an excuse for his behavior. Unfortunately for him, it was incredibly obvious. You could tell how angry he still was from the interaction; his hands shaking, chest heaving, and jaw clenched.

“You know,” You started, looking down into Criston’s eyes and leaning closer to his face, “I didn’t really like the guy, myself. But you’ve gotten me into quite the situation. You should be charged for your crimes, I’m afraid.”

Even seated, he was so close to your height that you didn’t have to lean down much to meet at eye-level.

“I’m sorry, my Princess” was all that left him, drunk on the lack of space between you.

“That’s all you have to say?” You whispered, your breath hitting his lips. His pupils were blown impossibly wide, making you smile. As disturbing as this whole thing was, he was almost too attractive for you to care. Almost.

“I don’t want to be taken from you.” He whispered. He didn’t care that he killed someone, he wasn’t sorry, he just didn’t want to be forced to leave you. Tion deserved his wrath; he got too close to you.

You smiled slightly, standing back up to your full height. Using your knee, you pushed the man’s legs apart so you could stand between them. Your hands moved from your sides to his chest, “You won’t. I’ll fix it for you, I truly don’t mind. My father will believe me when I tell him Ser Tion was harassing me, and that you just stepped in to defend my honor.”

Criston gulped, taking in a deep breath to surround himself in your scent. He didn’t say a word.

Your hands slowly creeped up to his shoulders, then into his hair, “Do you ever think about kissing me, Ser Criston?”

His eyelids dropped slightly, the euphoria of your hands running through his locks reaching him.

“As your Princess, you’re sworn to tell me the truth.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, “Please, Princess. I am soiled with blood, I don’t want it touching you.”

“No? Then perhaps you should’ve exercised more self-control.” You quipped. Deciding to make things more difficult, you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs. There was a lot less blood on his legs than on his chest or arms, but you could still feel a bit of it seeping into the gentle fabric of your silk dress. Good thing you were wearing red.

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter. Self-control you had said. Was this a test? Did you want him to sit still? Then he would. His bloodied hands were balled up in fists beside him.

“You defend me fiercely,” You said. “kind of like a dog, don’t you think.”

It wasn’t a real question, he knew you were just mocking him for his behavior. You knew about him. You know how sick he is for you.

“My fierce dog,” You grinned, “protecting me from any man that speaks his filthy words to me.”

You were perfect, so perfect. His goddess.

“Do you want a reward for your behavior? For protecting me?” You asked. Criston was amusing to you. It was boring at court, having so many people try to flatter themselves into gaining your favor, men trying to marry you for power. But Criston Cole was different; he was genuinely dedicated to you. As a member of the Kingsguard, he had nothing to gain from being with you.

“Reward?” He rasped, his eyes fluttering open, curious. You had never look so pretty as you did in this moment; smiling at him whilst sat atop his lap.

“Yes, a reward. I can give you a kiss, if you’d accept?”

“A kiss?” He questioned, shocked at your proposal.

You giggle at him, moving close enough that your noses are touching, “Is that a ‘no’? Do you not want a kiss from your princess?”

He does. He really does. But how could he dare dishonor you by accepting? A Princess of the realm should not be kissing her guard. Your reputation would be ruined if anyone were to find out.

“Can’t.” He eventually sputtered, his forehead resting against yours.

“And why not? Do you not fantasize about it? What other fantasies do you have?”

His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could hear the smirk in your voice. “I— yes, but Princess….” He cut himself off before he finished, you must save your affections for your future husband.

He held back a snarl; he didn’t want you to have a future husband, at least not one that wasn’t him. But he was not allowed to be married and even if he were, he was not high-born like you. Your father would never approve.

“Answer me, Cole, tell me what you imagine occurring between us.” You were getting frustrated with him, this was supposed to be easy, “Look back up at me properly.”

He did as you said and more; finally letting his urges control him, he pushed his lips to yours. His hands, the blood now beginning to dry and stick, gripped at your waist tightly. You gasped into his mouth, quick to reciprocate with your hands pulling at his dark locks.

“‘Think about marrying you,” he muttered against your lips, “keeping you safe, an’ you thanking me all pretty. So pretty, you’re perfect.”

Placing your hand flat on his chest, you pull away by just an inch, “Thanking you, huh? Is that what you want?”

“‘Just want you to love me. Want you to be mine, just for me. I could— I can give you anything, just ask. We can leave here— and be together—!”

You giggled, “You’re getting too excited, Ser Criston. I’m a princess, you know.”

“There— there are places, my Love,” he let out a shocked huff as you pushed him onto his back, “in Essos, where titles do not matter.”

“Is that so?” You moved up his body before settling on his stomach, which was still covered in tainted armor. “And what would we do there? Build a farm? Have babies?”

“Yes.” A part of him could tell you were only teasing, but it was overshadowed by the part of him yearning for a life with you.

You slowly bent down, your body flush against his, and whispered into his ear, “You want to put a few babies in me?”

Not thinking, he reached up a hand and held the back of your head to keep you in place, “More than a few. They’ll inherit your beauty, my Love.”

“Mmm,” You grabbed his hand and sat back up, “your eyes and my hair?”

“Or the opposite.”

Laughing, you tilted your head back, still gripping his right hand between yours. Your laugh eventually subsided with a happy sigh, and you looked back at him. You had so much power over the big man laying happily beneath you, it was funny. He was staring at you obediently, waiting for you to say or do something. Slowly, you slid the black glove off his fingers and pulled his hand up to your lips. He watched as you placed soft kiss to each of his bruised knuckles. His hand was so large beside your features.

“I’m quite fond of you. What should I do if my father refuses to see reason and executes you for your crimes?” It wouldn’t happen, you both knew. But he was happy to entertain your questions, just so long as you were talking to him and touching him.

“I would only ask that I’d be buried where you can visit. I do not desire to be far from you, even in death.” His hand gripped yours tightly at that.

As morbid as the conversation was getting, Criston had never felt so good. You were truly seeing him in this moment, and you didn’t even mind his sickness. You weren’t afraid, you liked it, even. You liked that he would so easily kill for you and how he’d die for you without issue just as long as you would keep him in death.

You hummed in satisfaction, “You’re giving me very good answers, are you sure you aren’t trying to trick me?”

“I would never deceive you.” He sat up, suddenly serious. His quick movements shook you physically, but you didn’t seem surprised. In order to hold on and keep from falling as you slid back down to his lap, one of your arms wrapped its way around his neck.

You snickered at his reaction, placing a short kiss to his lips, “‘Was only a jest. I know you would never do such a thing. You would never upset me, would you?”

“No.” He whispered, kissing from your lips, down to your jaw softly, “I love you.”

“How much?” You breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“More than anything— anyone.” He kept going, sure to reach every bit of open space he could, “You are the very center of my existence, nothing else matters. You’re everything to me. I want you like this forever.”

“Forever? No matter what I do to you?”

His mouth was now below your ear, gently sucking a mark into your skin, “You can do no wrong, my Love, everything you bring me is a gift.”

There were droplets of red still on his face and neck from the blood splatter, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you seemed to care any longer about the gore; the way your red dress was now soaked in it from touching his armor.

You still hadn’t yet released his right hand, and he never dared to pull away. Humming from the pleasure, you slowly brought his hand to rest on your thigh. He immediately adjusted himself so that his fingertips were digging into the soft skin, afraid to move otherwise. Very slowly, you began to rock your hips against him. You could hear his already intense breathing pick up.

“And if my father decides to marry me off?” You whisper into his neck.

Criston lifts his head, dark obsessive eyes boring into your own, “Then I shall kill whatever Lord he chooses.”

x

- venus

[silent-browser]

*sigh* oh the tragic romance of a merfolk x human story. Neither can be with the other without giving up something important. Usually fins for legs. Also usually their entire family to simply love and exist with this person in a different biosphere. Rarely legs for fins if we wanna go a reverse little mermaid here.

But what if it was different. And no one had to give everything up. And maybe yandere. With a bit of soulmate shenanigans thrown in for flavor.

Imagine if you will, a walk on an empty beach. Headphones in, listening to your favorite song and sining along. Kicking up sand and the smell of the ocean air. Just minding your own business and having a good time by yourself.

Or so you think. Because not far from where you are walking a single quiet audience member hides behind some rocks, wondering why your song, your human song, sounds so similar to their soul song.

The song that they would normally perform for other merfolk in hopes of attracting their perfect life partner. But they had never garnered any attention for it.

So how did you, a weak and squishy human get them so immediately. No creature had ever been so close to repeating his own soul song back to him. And with your own little twist too. Human words and slightly different notes in his soul song. Your song. Our song. He soon found himself refering to it in his mind.

It takes a while of them impatiently waiting for your return and slowly learning your 'walks on the beach' schedule for them to finally make their move.

On the day that changed the rest of your life, you were simply walking along and humming softly to your favorite song once again when you heard the most fantastic voice start to follow along the melody with you. They matched your tone and moved their voice in such a way that it felt like an instant musical connection.

They were worried that you would stop and run away when they started but tried not to let that fear taint their song. If you ran further inland they would have a very hard time following you. Not impossible but certainly difficult. So they took your continued humming as a good sign and continued.

They began to dribble their emotions into the notes. The lonelyness. The fear of an uncaring ocean. The rush of affection they felt when they first heard you singing. The need to see you. Hold you.

Slowly, what started out as a dribble became a riptide of intense emotions they never knew they were capable of feeling. Longing. Jealousy. Want and need so powerful he felt like he would wear out his voice singing it all. By the time he stopped he was mortified that he put all of that on you. And before the first courting gift too! He suddenly felt awful. He gutted his soul when he never ment to and you weren't even singing anymore. What if you didn't want them? What if it was all too much for you? What if you left and never came back!?

You were stunned. Breathless. The emotion. The raw intensity. No words were ever sang and yet the song resonated in the very depths of your being. You felt intimidated to ever even think of humming ever again after that impromptu masterpiece. You wanted to respond but couldn't find the words to, much less the notes like they had. So you instead made your way to the shore where the music seemed to come from and searched. Looking for this person who simultaneously swept you off your feet and explained their life story in one song with no words.

Two star crossed lovers. Separated by the sea. One filled with obsession. The other with curiousity. Both wish desperately to meet and yet both are not quite ready. How strange that love can both bind and seperate. How strange indeed.

Idk where to go with this so no continuations for this one unless I suddenly get inspired. Also the end feels really jarring to me. Mostly because I originally intended for this to continue but I couldn't come up with anything so I just cut it lose. I hope you like it none the less.

[julianalvarez9]

hot n cold / rúben dias

summary: being in the will-they-won't-they stage with rúben was confusing, to say the least. maybe a bit of rain during the treble parade can make things clearer for you.

wc: 1.1 words.

author's note: just a lottttt of pinning and tension that doesn't really get addressed, i'm sorry 😮‍💨 but they KNOW!!! 🙏🏻 also, lots of soft rúben for my soul 🙏🏻

rain in manchester. it shouldn't surprise none of you, part of the whole team that organized the parade, but still, it does.

first, the answer is to delay it. but, you all know the achievement is too big to overlook, so cancelling it isn't an option, with the fans and team all ready to celebrate the huge achievement only done once by a previous team. a direct rival, nonetheless. and considering there are already a sea of blue waiting for their home heroes, the answer comes rather easy: do it anyways. under pure, manchester weather.

the rain comes pouring down on all of you, and it almost feels predestined: like there was no other way of doing it. but also, you're freezing cold, rain soaking all your clothes and glueing them to your body. you couldn't care less at the moment, too focused on not missing a thing, which was difficult to do when jack was putting on a show for everyone to see.

your back clashes against somebody's front, and you want to turn desperately to offer your apologies, except, two big arms wrap around your figure, effectively immobilising you. "fuck, you're freezing" is the first thing the person says, and by his mere voice you know who it is.

you're not only dripping water with the sassines that can be perceived coming out of your lips. "i think that's the expected result when you're standing in the rain for one hour, rúben," you deadpan, and try to get out of his hold. you don't really care about prying eyes from fans right now, because the bus just got to its destination, so the coast is clear, one could say. but still, feeling you flush against him feels wrong, just because you know you're enjoying it far more than you should. he's a colleague, after all.

"come on, come here," he insists, and you can't really get out of his grip with the force he's caging you in now. you two are so close together that you can feel the medals hanging from his neck, and resting comfortably on his chest. his voice brings you back, and you feel like you've been caught staring, when in reality, you've not. "i'm hot. i can warm you up" he resonates, and although he doesn't refer to him being hot, but rather, his body temperature, which is notoriously higher than yours currently, you can't hel but laugh at the connotation. "wasn't really a secret that you're hot when you're shirtless, dias".

he tries to stifle a laugh, but still, the smirk painted on his lips, which enhances the little dimple he has in his cheek, betrays him. "anyways, you'll freeze to death," you say, turning a bit to get to see his face when you're speaking to him. you notice now the way that he's looking at you, so lovingly, that you're almost forced to turn around again to avoid getting flustered in his gaze. especially, when he shrugs your statement off. "wouldn't be such a horrible way to die, right?". thankfully, john comes before you can answer anything to the portuguese.

"come on, lovebirds, we have a treble to celebrate!".

you freeze at his words, and rúben is the one to move you forward when he starts walking, still holding you onto him, as if you'd leave his side at the first chance you had. that's what you would be supposed to do; but everybody's too drunk to remember any of the ruled you must follow, so you decide to follow that path too. except, you know that rúben doesn't have a drop of alcohol on his system, and you're not really in for drinking while at work: so you two are completely sober. "don't listen to him," he whispers when john's out of sight, and you realize you two are the only ones still in the bus. "but he's right. we have to get you warmed up. can't have my favorite staff getting sick, can we?".

ruben doesn't leave your side at all. not when you get down the bus, not when you enter the building. you don't see any of your colleagues, and your first instinct is to go out there, and search for them. for sure, they're all in place, doing their job, and you feel guilty not being there.

rúben gets to catch your wrist, just barely. "where are you going?" he asks, his eyes big and questioning. you only get to point with your thumb, signaling back towards where the exit to get to the stage is, but he's clearly not pleased with your answer. "you're not getting back there without a dry shirt" he says, giving you the blue shirt he had in his hold, and the towel a staff member had somehow dumped on him in a hurry. your eyes clearly spoke before you needed to, because ruben answered before you even muttered a word. "don't worry about me. see you out there, yeah?".

you're too focused filming and taking pictures to even see when rúben gets out, but the way the crowd cheers his name alerts you of his presence on the stage. the first thing you notice is the clear contrast between his shirt and the one the rest of his teammates are wearing. he has a nice, white shirt that hugs him just right, at the same time that marks him as a champions league champion. instead, the rest of the guys are wearing a light blue one, with light blue and neon yellow letters accentuating the fact that they're treble winners.

no one seems to notice the slip up, or at least, think it's accidental, but john sees you, and he knows. after all, it's not too complicated to put two and two together. he nods approvingly, like a proud father, only to shift his focus to clap rúben in the back. it seems to be a bit too strong to his liking given how fast he turns around, browns knitted together in confusion.

your focus gets taken out of their little interaction when jack does the next thing that has the crown roaring, and get reminded, again, of what your job here is. not to fool around with rúben, you chastise yourself, but still, can't help but look for him a few minutes after. this time, he's looking at you, and it makes your cheeks grow warm. he tugs his shirt and points at you, making a little thumbs up. rúben seems to mouth "looks good on you", and you playfully roll your eyes at him. "it's because it's yours".

[ketterdamskaelishprince]

episode 100, mr raven what the fuck

obviously since i'll be talking about episode 100 i'm going to just put it out there that if you haven't read episode 100 yet then do not read this. then again, this is all in vague reference to the episode and i'm mostly just using bits and pieces to back up my previous idea.

(this is taken from ep 99 pls chill i'm not dishing out spoilers)

anyways, if we continue to ep 100, we see MORE EVIDENCE FOR THAT WIERD DEER THING BEING THEO.

"and for you, especially" shouts to me specifically about this. as previously stated, i have the most insane and stupid thought that the weird deer-monster-bone-tree thing from episode one (you know what i'm talking about), is theo's spectre.

as stated before, the most compelling evidence i have for this is the fact that theo was known to hunt deer a lot, and the thing we see in episode one looks a lot like a deer skull, just with loads of red eyes placed into the cracks and such. and we know from the first episode that it seemed to flock towards lenore and annabel. or at least i think it sort of seems to go towards them.

and you, know i could've been wrong– except look at this from ep 100:

now, obviously the first part practically proves the fact something is following lenore, and that this something is (potentially!!!) theo's spectre. but i think what proves it more is what mr raven says next.

"close as a second shadow"

someone on tumblr (i cannot remember who) pointed out that annabel and lenore's like fates are almost reversed? and how lenore who once had nothing to loose now has everything, and annabel is vice versa. and you know, first of all, amazing take. delicious. fantastic. whoever this was, please please please make yourself known to me pookie i'm gna worship the ground you walk on because you've given me thoughts !!!

from this "second shadow" talk, i wonder if the idea of reversal spreads through more than just lenore and annabel's relationship. in life, theo was the star violinist whilst lenore was the accompanist, the piano player.

musically, lenore was his shadow.

of course, this is a very generalised take. as somebody who plays both piano and flute, i'm not going to go out and say that the piano player is just background noise when it's a duet, but more often then not the piano stands aside so that the violin (in these situations) can shine.

n life, lenore lives behind theo's shadow, and when he dies she's haunted by it.

when she looks in the mirror, she sees theo as she cuts her hair. she sees him everywhere. in his life, she was the the dark shadow that loomed– but in death he always behind her, always the dark looming figure that follows her. her guilt binds with his memory and forms that dark looming thought that nobody wants to discuss.

and so, to me, it makes perfect sense that this little deer-tree-bone-monster thing is theo.

but then, obviously, as i look at all of this, there is the glaring question of why in the first episode this monster looked like it really wanted to chomp on lenore and annabel's limbs. and you know, typically, siblings don't want to cannibalise each other.

i see your point, and i respond back with these three panels:

lenore goes on to explain that their bloodline has been plagued by madness, misfortune and death. then, take a look at what the raven says of how spirits "oft" are "driven to madness" by their desire for souls.

i think this connects, because idk i just think it does. could be totally wrong, but i think (???) theo (???) somehow escaped to try get back to lenore and go to the threshold (???) but got trapped in that spooky place, and his only defence left was his spectre (???) and so, by staying in it too long, he too was "driven to madness" which probably wasn't helped by the vandernacht curse (???). he might be half forgotten in his own mind, but he knows one thing right now: he wants to find lenore, his sister. he might not remember her as his sister, but he knows her name and an image is there in her mind. so when she arrives, he must get to her.

anyways guys, that's it. ignore me. i yap a lot. i know i don't know a lot and i'm sure there's a few fastpassers out there who are laughing because i'm being silly, but let me delude myself :)

[yuri-is-online]

Hello Yuri!! Congrats on 500 followers!! You deserve it, your writing is amazing and makes me so happy whenever you post something new! (・∀・)

If it’s alright, could I request Ace Trappola, Ruggie Bucchi and Cater Diamond with prompt four if that’s okay? About the reader meeting someone at the ball and ranting to the boys about them.

Thank you so much in advance, and congratulations again!! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually, wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello Rhea! It's always a pleasure to see you in my notifications, though you did give me a bit of whiplash with how fast this request came in (;ﾞ°´ω°´) It makes me very happy to hear I have managed to make you happy, I hope you like this post too. Also thank you very much for the kind words, they made me feel much better.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, I know the prompt says "quiet" but these three are sort of the chatty type so it's more like dodging the question (sorry), the other event requests can be found on my masterlist here. There's a movie reference hidden here (kind of) that if someone gets I'll probably scream idk.

Ace

There is a god in some sort of heaven and he hates Ace Trappola. Well maybe not a god, maybe it's just Riddle, and he certainly doesn't hate him, Ace is just being dramatic. But there has to be some sort of rule Riddle is breaking here, seriously what beacon of morals and etiquette sits pretending to sip tea while obviously eve's dropping on what should be a terribly private conversation. It's a nightmare made substantially worse by just how long he has been wanting to have this talk.

"Honestly I wasn't expecting to have so much fun, I thought Crowley was just going to put on a cheap tacky formal, not an actual ball with proper costumes." You feel light headed with joy for a change, technically half of the things you've experienced in this world you never would have in yours but a real, fancy Masquerade somehow felt more surreal than the overblots or flying brooms. Maybe it was because you had seen pictures of real ball costumes and masks that made it feel more tangible, like this was something you really were meant to be a part of.

"The costuming was indeed very impressive." Riddle swirls his cup just gently enough to avoid spilling his precious tea whilst making sure to pour Ace's all over the Heartslabyul lounge. "I was surprised at how impossible it was to tell who was who."

"I know! That's the whole problem." You practically jump up from the couch, before remembering yourself and settling down again. Ace notices you still move subconsciously closer to him, even if your silly head doesn't know just who he is. Or would it be was?

"Is it really?" Ace really wishes you weren't so used to ignoring his whining. "The entire point of a Masquerade is to be anonymous, isn't that why you and Deuce thought it was 'romantic.'" He had wanted to have this talk in Ramshackle where it was guaranteed to be private- scratch that he wanted to have it last night while he was trying to imagine what your eyes looked like under your mask. What they would look like if he moved his aside and just said what he was trying to for once instead of flirting more with the subtext than you.

"Well yeah I guess." You mumble. Your chest has been tied up in funny knots and Ace's unenthusiastic tone isn't helping with the pain. "But it's driving me insane to think I could have met my soul mate and all I know about him is that he makes a really attractive clown." Riddle chokes, tea cup clanking onto it's saucer as he politely tries to pass off his laugh as a cough. "Well not just that..." you mumble, closing your eyes to conjure up the memory of the jester who had produced a rose from behind your ear and insisted on leaving it there for luck.

"What sort of luck?" He held onto the rose just a second too long for your poor heart to bear, you swear he could feel it if he pressed his fingers that much closer to your pulse point.

"Well mine of course, how else am I supposed to find you when this is over." It's odd not to see the man's lips, your heart tells you it suspects he's smiling but it won't confirm it.

"That's not luck!" You laugh. "That's cheating!" He shrugs, as if to say he knows, that's the whole point. As if to say it's worth it to break the rules where you're concerned. It's daring, the way he holds you as you dance, the way your heart is screaming for you to just-

"I should have kissed him." You groan, remembering how Grim had charged in between you and your date screaming about how he'd never approve or something dumb like that. Just who did he think he was anyway?

"Well then why don't you!" Ace cringes as he says it, neck beet red as you go to sass him back before the oddly serious nature of his tone and the implication of his syntax force you to stop. Riddle's exit barely registers as you stare each other down, Ace from the corner of his eye and you with the full force you can gather.

"Would you have let me?" You whisper. A familiar touch lights just behind your ear, pressing in this time to trace the speed of your heartbeat.

"Only one way to find out, prefect." You expect him to run. Make some sort of joke about how he was pranking you, or say kissing before marriage being against the rules. But he doesn't. He waits, perhaps in the way he has been since the first night he showed up at Ramshackle, collared and crabby, just waiting for you to close the gap.

And embrace you as you fall.

Ruggie

Ramshackle was closer to the main castle than Savanaclaw. That was the excuse Ruggie had used to get you to agree to let him crash there, in his mind anyway. Really, all he had needed to do was ask, but you know that's not exactly how he works. Your relationship has always been a series of scratches, offers of give and take that tend to be minor but offer just enough of a technicality for true feelings to remain hidden just out of sight. That doesn't change how surreal it is to see him here so late, or the sharp contrast between all the stiff collars and plaster faces you both had been drowning in just a moment ago and the worn gym clothes you both wear for pajamas.

"Man I'm beat." Ruggie says, sinking into the couch. You aren't in much better shape, if he wasn't taking up a part of it you would be sprawled face down across the length the couch. Instead, you satisfy yourself with curling up into the far corner. You have a dreamy smile on your face, content like how he usually looks when he eats a large meal, or when he thinks you aren't looking.

"I think I found your soul mate hanging around the buffet tables tonight." You lazily tease, tracing nonsensical shapes on the floor to amuse the nervous energy from your earlier encounter.

"Oh yeah?" Ruggie sounds vaguely intrigued, but he doesn't move much. If anything he settles his neck more firmly into the sofa back, eyes intentionally trained on the ceiling. "What makes you say that?"

"He was stealing all the apple fritters." You say, dreamy smile widening when Ruggie snorts. "Too bad I intend on stealing him from you."

"Do you now." He murmurs, head tilting back down into his palm. He rests his elbow on his knee, but he doesn't look at you, not immediately. Your well into your little rant before he does.

"Well at first I was just going to steal the food-" that was the whole reason he had wanted to stay here, the two of you had hatched a plan weeks ago to smuggle in some containers and smuggle out as much food from the banquet hall as possible and it just made more sense to take it to Ramshackle "but he offered to give it to me so long as I danced with him." There is a container of said fritters in between you both, sticky with caramelized sugar and a good reminder of just how expensive the Masquerade Ball must have been to throw. It's odd to have food last so long in Ramshackle, odder still with Ruggie so close.

"Nice try." You said. "But you won't trick me like that. My friend trained me well and I need to bring those back to him."

"Are you sure about that?" The man's voice is muffled by his mask, white plaster forming three faces obscuring any meaningful detail of his real looks. He's radiant, something about the way he's managing to thread the needle through the crowd despite his exaggerated mask is holding all your attention despite Ruggie's warnings. You're supposed to be competing to see who would bring the most food home, but instead you're dancing in the arms of someone else, laughing as he kisses your hand when he dips you in tune with the song. "Your friend is missing out, I have the best tasting thing in the ballroom right here."

"I'm sorry I was so distracted I only managed to snag a couple things. Did you get anything good?" You roll out of the corner closer to the center, just out of his reach but oh so obtainable.

"Nope~" he says, letting the word pop and looking away with more shame than you have seen on his face... ever now that you think about it. "I uhh. I may have... also.. gotten distracted." Both of you look at the single container of apple fritters, suddenly very much aware that neither of you actually brought anything else back to your dorm.

"Laugh with me." You try to protest but Ruggie has both your fingers up to your lips, his trademark smirk looks good on you, he wishes he could take a picture. "Embarrassed prefect? You shouldn't be so worried, I told you how I felt didn't I?"

"But you don't know how I taste!" You manage to wail and he finally cracks, shaking with laughter and letting you curl your blanket around you in a ball of embarrement. You stay like that for a good long while, trying to beat down the smile that twitches at the corner of your mouth until Ruggie reaches over to unwrap you casing and pull your head into his lap.

"Well then, maybe you should let me test you." He's wrong you think as your lips meet, Ruggie has got to taste much sweeter.

Cater

"Well someone looks like they had fun last night~" Cater says and you giggle in response. He allows himself to pause before he continues, Cater really hates the sound of his own voice. How anyone can stand him is beyond him, and he knows the conversation he's about to have has a pretty good chance- no.

It's going to destroy the carefully built illusion he's woven around your "friendship" even if you react positively. Losing you would be painful, but keeping you in the dark would be even worse. He has to play this smart, play you correctly so he can try and keep your eyes with him even if they only look at the superficial face he wears.

Yes, Cater has to play you carefully, but he is off to a bad start. You know before he sits down that something is wrong, it's written all over his face sewn into his unwashed hair and dark circles under his eyes.

"I want to say 'you too' but honestly you look exhausted Cater, you sure you want to be awake right now?" You don't want to press him in case that makes him run, but you also know Cater a bit better than he wants to acknowledge. You don't really think the bit of yourself you have to share will help soothe him, but he goes along with his script anyway.

"Seriously, you worry too much!" He can't say about me because he wants your worries, and he knows that denial would crack his mask. "Besides I've just been dying to hear about the dance, you seemed really excited to go!" There's a sparkle in your eyes, a flush to your cheeks that he desperately wishes he had put there.

"It went well." That’s all you can bring yourself to say as your hands go to fiddle absent mindedly with the sleeves of your blazer.

"That's good?" He tries to poke at the topic but you don't go further. "Or was is it not good and you just don't want to think about it?"

"No! No it's just. I met someone. Or I think I did anyway." Cater blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just for luck because he knows, or at least he thinks he knows, that he was the only one with you all night. What you're saying just can't be right, there's no way you didn't know it was him all night. "He was just so easy to talk to! I completely lost track of time and didn't meet up with anyone else..." Your little embarrassed smile confirms it, you didn't know. He laughs.

"Sorry," he doesn't mean that "you're just too cute Yuu." He pulls his phone from his pocket as you desperately stutter.

"Look I'm really sorry I know I said I'd look for you, Riddle, and Trey but I was just... I don't know, moonstruck?" He laughs more, practically chokes as he quickly types an apology to Trey and savors your embarrassment just a moment longer.

"Don't you mean starstruck?" He teases and you suddenly find a bit of your fight back and fiercely shake your head.

"No way! That's for famous people. Moonstruck is for when you're overcome with ridiculous love for someone even if you don't know them." You pout and Cater looks at his phone, not to do anything really just to center himself and his thoughts. He has a choice to make, and he doesn't know where either path will go.

"Are you alright?" Cater should have known you would find him, there should be something scary with how unconsciously in tune with him you are. He doesn't say anything, but that doesn't seem to discourage you. You settle yourself next to him, sitting quietly keeping him company until he's ready to speak.

"It's all just a bit too much." He gestures vaguely at the room, uncertain why he's decided to speak about this now and not run from it. "Everyone's here wearing masks and hiding themselves like it's a fun thing to do."

"It can be." You say calmly. "But always dressing like this would be a lot." You look over the crowd with the stranger, the conversation lulls, and you try to examine the man's costume for a hint of what might be best to say. "You know," your voice is uncertain, but the words that come to you aren't ones you don't believe in, "everyone wears a mask sometimes, especially when they're afraid or lonely." The man says nothing, but something about the way he sits suggests you still have his attention. "You're not obligated to remove those masks for anyone, it has to be done when you are ready to accept the consequences of how other people will see you."

Cater isn't ready. He somehow doubts he ever will be. He wishes there was a way to confess this with a guarantee that the consequences won't burn him.

"You weren't the only one moonstruck." You look hopeful almost, exactly like you did when you'd pulled him from his corner to dance. Exactly the same as when you had when he had teasingly pulled your mask aside to kiss you, the same cute look he would never be sorry to see on your face. "Say are you busy prefect? I think there's something I need to tell you."

[dreamwritersworld]

On the run (? X Reader)

* means it’s referring back to an old memory

During the past few weeks Y/n coudlnt held but stay silent to the Sully’s. She had so much time to think now, she sat and wondered a lot..

Would Neteyam be the one?…I have loved him my whole life

*

Their puppy love was the sweetest when they were younger

He didn’t fail to make Y/n smile and she didn’t fail to give him butterflies. Everyone could see that they liked each other, but Neteyam denied it..forever wanting to keep his feelings secret.

Neteyam knew what love was, how it looked..he saw it on his parents. It was the fact that it was Y/n, she was who had his heart. They grew up together, played together, trained together, occasionally slept by each others side, sharing warmth and comfort between their bed.

Having Y/n there during training put his mind at ease, because once it was over…

“Neteyam!”

“Y/n!”

They grabbed each others hands as they lifted each other off the floor running in a circle, laughing like children..

It wasn’t just that but when they slept beside each other Neteyam would graze his hand on her face as she did the same, smiling at each other…so in love.

*

Was all that just something she imagined?..Made more than what it was? How about all those times Neteyam treated her sweetly? All those times he was a gentleman..

*

The two sat in silence, listening to the sweet sound of the forest and their bodies relaxed, comfortable with just sitting next to each other.

Neteyam spoke first, he always did..his voice would only bring her out of her daze.

“So, when I was training I found this for you.”

he opened a bag and, pulled out gemstones that were so beautiful they were able to match Y/n’s eyes..

“..for you!”

Y/n accepted the gift, admiring it

“thank you, it’s beautiful..”

Around him, y/n spoke softly and calmly. It didn’t take long for Neteyam to smile shyly looking down.

Y/n embedded those gemstones into her hair, she still has them.

*

…and then everything went crashing down

*

They had walked into his home, seeing both their parents seated..staring in silence.

“Ah Y/n! Neteyam! Just who we’re talking about!”

Neteyam and Y/n’s hand remained on top of each other, both were confused and scared for their next words

Their parents had dragged the conversation on for awhile..until they finally said it.

“…you too will be promised to each other.”

Y/n gripped Neteyam’s hand until he tugged on her hand to let go. That’s when her heart began to shatter..was he not happy? Of course this was sudden, but at least she wasn’t fully uncomfortable with the situation..

“What? You can’t do this father.”

“We have to Neteyam, you have no other women beside you to be a leader to this clan. You have no one worthy of this position besides Y/n, she is best for the future. You two spend quite some time together.”

“Yes! Because she’s Y/n dad. We’ve known each other since we were children-“

Y/n’s father made an abrupt interruption to Neteyam’s statement

“That Makes this relationship between you two even better. There is no discussion about this Neteyam. Y/n is yours.”

Those final words rang in Y/n’s head, louder than ever…it felt as though she was drowning. Her entire life, body and soul would be Neteyam’s and he wouldn’t be able to be satisfied.

Neteyam gave one last look to Y/n before walking away , Y/n followed.

“Neteyam! Neteyam! Please stop!”

“What?!”

“We can make this work Neteyam, I understand that this isn’t what you want-“

“Of course this isn’t Y/n! I wanted to choose my mate, this is my life.”

“And this is mine. I respect that but..just please Neteyam we have no choice, we can make the best of it-“

“Really? The way I see it, is that there’s no way out, what more does this deal have to offer?”

“A chance to connect on a deeper level Neteyam…I know you, I’ve known you for all my life..Neteyam I-“

“You what? You love me? You can’t say that when we literally just got set up to be mated? We’re already promised with no choice, it makes no sense to admit feelings right now Y/n.”

“Neteyam..”

It was the cracks in Y/n’s voice that hurt Neteyam, but he couldn’t help it..it was how he felt. Maybe his feelings for Y/n weren’t real, they were just surface level emotions that never seemed to leave …but how could he ever explain to her the way he felt? Y/n was everything to him and now their relationship would go down the drain, everyone was rushing them to be together and Y/n needed someone ready and stable to protect her. Neteyam felt he couldn’t fufill that need, he wasn’t ready to be committed to her…he had his own plans and his own timeline for them.

*

…did all the running we did mean nothing?

*

“I just want to leave, get away from all the training and find my own way.”

“If you go Neteyam…I will too. We can go on the run”

The pair smiled to each other shyly. Weather Neteyam realized it or not Y/n’s way of showing love to him was everything.

acts of service

Words of Affirmation

Physical touch

Y/n had it all and she was able to grant it to whoever won her heart, Neteyam had all her love.

Their love was sweet..

*

He won’t play, he’s no fun…

*

Tuk was dragging my arm urging Y/n to play with her, so she did

The young girls laughed as they chased each other, neteyam watched from afar.

He wanted so desperately to join but he feared that Y/n wouldn’t be ok with it, not after everything that was said and done. He never was one to show deep emotions so he never did, he never let go of his sadness. That certain emotion is one he kept hidden, especially when he watched his relationship with Y/n fall apart. Neteyam’s stares caught Tuk’s eye, as she ran to him grabbing his hand to play with them.

“Cmon Neteyam! Play with us!”

“No Tuk. I have to get back to work.”

Y/n watched Neteyam walk away, it hurt that he disassociated himself with everything. neteyam used to be the man who would give up whatever he was doing to spend his time with his little sister and …with Y/n.

*

Y/n’s thought came to an abrupt end, Lo’ak urged Y/n to pay attention and hurry off to training with them, saying “Tsireya would want us there bright and early!”

On the outside of it all Neteyam and Y/n seemed somewhat normal, they kept their problems in their relationship hidden once they got promised. They seemed as though they had a perfect love story. However, if you focus on their flaw you’ll notice all the cracks ready to burst in the relationship.

Neteyam rushed to Y/n’s side, both of them standing tall and confident side by side. It was as though they were a power couple, never to be broken..

“Hello guys! We’re going to do diving training today!”

Tsireya yelled louder than ever, excitement within her voice as the group smiles at her warm welcoming. Ao’nung however couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/n, he hated it. She was the most breathtaking navi he’d ever seen and yet he hates that newcomers have came to his home…not her though, she was a gift.

Tsireya was going to group everyone with specific partners until Ao’nung signed to her to let him go with Y/n, he made up an excuse to go along with it of course; gullible Tsireya believed it.

“…and Y/n you’re with Ao’nung!”

Y/n’s body unintentionally reacted to this, her ears went up when she heard his name and her tail swayed side to side under the water; Neteyam was furious. It had been a few weeks and it somehow always ended up with Y/n and Ao’nung being partnered. The entire time the pair interacted, he watched and it bothered him that he couldn’t even hear them.

“I’ll put the shells at the deepest part of the sea and you can dive down to take them ok?”

“Ok! This is going to be easy!”

“We’ll see”

The pair exchanged challenging smiles, Ao’nung diving down to place the shells. Y/n didn’t even wait for him to say go, she just dived right in..

Y/n was under the water swimming for what felt like hours, but that could’ve just been because Ao’nung missed her sweet face. When she finally rose she had more than the shells she was tasked with..

“Wha-what is that? I thought i told you to get-“

“Just the ones you put out, I knowwww. But i found this..”

Ao’nung dazed off, admiring Y/n’s face, he was pulled out of it when Y/n motioned him to take the most beautiful gems he’d seen. All he could think was how Y/n was able to connect with the ocean and bring the most beautiful things to the surface with her…

“For you! For teaching my family your ways!”

“I-i don’t need that-“

“I insist!”

He grabbed the gems with a shy smile, attempting to keep his cool. It bothered him that she said “my family” as if he hadn’t noticed how distant she was with her own promised mate. Ao’nung hated the idea of her being stuck with him, he didn’t even appreciate her the way she deserved..

“..thank you..so i was thinking about instead of you know? Being with your family for dinner, you’d come to our home, you and Lo’ak..considerate as a peace offering.”

The words slipped right out of Ao’nungs mouth without a thought, he gave a cold shoulder to any of the Sully’s but Y/n consistently held his heart captive.

“Just a peace offering?..ok, that sounds great! Would the others be able to come or exclusively me and lo-“

“Yes just you and Lo’ak…you know since we’re the closest to you two”

“Oh of course!”

Y/n smiled, turning away so he wouldn’t noticed her excitement. The two sat and discussed about everything and anything for what felt like hours, Y/n even got to know more of two of Aonung’s greatest friends. However when she walked home she couldn’t help but feel sick to her stomach, she was happy. In the longest, for the first time ever she was excited and blushing, oblivious to the conversation happening while she was gone..

“She’s nice and whatever but something tells me she’s more than just a friend-“ (Roxto)

“More than a friend? Please their already mated with that way their speaking.” (friend 1)

“No-“ (Ao’nung)

“Don’t deny it Ao’nung! You just can’t help it and that’s fine man. I see the way you talk to her when we’re training, the way you look at her” (Roxto)

“We aren’t anything. She has a promised mate-“

“What?!” (Friend 1)

“Shh! I don’t think their too open about it, Neteyam isn’t what she needs. I mean he can barley make an effort to show her off.”

“Ah but it doesn’t mean anything Ao’nung..you know that right?” (Roxto)

“What do you mean? She probably just loves him in private she wouldn’t just-“

“Dude I’ve heard Kiri tell Tsireya about it. Kiri says their relationship was good when they were younger but for some reason once they were promised it fell apart-“ (Roxto)

“No, cmon Ao’nung don’t listen to Roxto . Just enjoy her from afar, she’s promised-“ (friend 1)

“Well..maybe your right-“ (Ao’nung)

“No?! he isn’t. Neteyam’s own mother did the same thing when she was young. She was promised and mated with a demon blood. If she can do it, Y/n can too!” (Roxto)

“That’s different, Neytiri did that on her own terms , she wouldn’t want Y/n to do that to her son-“ (Ao’nung)

“Like you said, “Neteyam isn’t what she needs” so maybe..? Just maybe, Y/n will recognize that.” (Roxto)

“Your insane man, she won’t have an affair-“ (friend 1)

“They aren’t mated yet!” (Ao’nung)

Aonung sighed as he laying on the same with his back as he smiled to Roxto and his friends encouragements of just how much Y/n was happy with him

“She smiled brighter than ever Ao’nung!”

…the picture perfect life with Y/n was installed into Aonung’s head…

That night while Y/n laid in her bed smiling, fear began to seek from under her. Neteyam’s hand rested on her hip as she thought about another man, it had been so long since she felt excitement..yet she felt guilty.

-💕-

Hope you enjoyed love!

@jackiehollanderr @itsemy01

[beanghostprincess]

What makes you believe cross guild will respect buggy more?

I think this is one of the theories I believe in the most? It just makes sense to me and if it doesn't happen I am going to be so disappointed. Because Buggy is a character that, despite his depth and obvious abilities, has been always put in the spot for comedy relief. And I think that after chapter 1082 (manga), you can see a bit of a change in how Mihawk and Crocodile perceive him. In the same way, Buggy is portrayed a bit differently too.

I'm always talking about this, so I won't go too deep- I think this theory is really plausible because, out of the three members, Buggy is pretty much the only one who actually seems to care, heart and soul, about being a pirate. A real pirate. Crocodile and Mihawk are more business-focused because they see the safest option to make a name for themselves and be powerful and, you know, stable. Buggy, on the other hand, wants to follow his dream. Something he left behind because of Shanks and now that Shanks is doing the same, he will not stay behind once again.

Honestly, the reason I say these two will respect Buggy more is because in his speech he is referring to Mihawk and Crocodile as people who are settling for nothing when they could have everything. He mentions something about them probably having big dreams before Cross Guild and somehow forgetting what being a pirate truly means. As I said, out of the three of them, Buggy is the one with more qualities as a pirate and a lot of reasons to be going after the One Piece.

I like to think Crocodile and Mihawk will see this. They respect determination and strategy skills amongst other things, and I am guessing they will see these qualities in Buggy. But most importantly, I think Buggy's dream is what will make them have dreams once again too, and go higher than they could've possibly done on their own. This manga is all about dreams and these two, clearly business-focused, betrayed, and tired men, have given up on theirs. So of course Buggy is going to make them see they can achieve greater things.

They will see his qualities and skills and especially his determination and I would not be surprised if they actually ended up respecting him as an equal. Buggy would be-- Confused and still pretty much afraid of them, but they'd give him room for more ideas. Also, the way he manages to hype up his crew and make them follow him and their dreams is something Crocodile and Mihawk are unable to do if it is not inflicting fear. Buggy is the only one out of the three who's actually respected and loved by his people, surprisingly enough for them. And now that he has everybody on that island excited for finding the One Piece, there is no way they can go back. It is inevitable that they end up seeing Buggy with more respect. Not saying they will be best friends and die for each other but, in the matter of alliance/business, I'm pretty sure we are getting Buggy sitting at the meeting table with them.

Also, it is a great way to show character development for Buggy. Put two of the most respected, stoic characters in a room with the clown and make them see his true potential. Make them be equals instead. That would do wonders for Buggy as a character. Cross Guild was an unexpected trio, but Cross Guild RESPECTING BUGGY??? That is a great way to show development in a refreshing way for the three of them.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 10/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Yknow,

The more I think about it...

This is looking a lot more like an Infected AU.

P.S. already apologies for the Hamilton reference laksjdlksaj I couldn't help it.

----------------------------------------------

Lucifer is having a hard time breathing.

Beyond the safety border is a sea of red flowers of a kind Lucifer has never seen before in his lifetime. They seem to have sprouted from the crawling roots.

The King of Hell would've even said it was beautiful- he would've been in awe what with the flowers shimmering under Sloth's source of light creating serene waves whose sounds can lull one to sleep.

He would have.. if it weren't for what's coming out of it.

A thick, black miasma is seeping its way out of the flowers' mouths causing the suffocating air in the previously cleanest place in all of hell.

Roo's presence is more prominent than ever. Belphegor and her people at the site are all wearing masks to protect themselves from the dark mist.

Belphegor's voice makes him come down from the skies.

Belphegor: Lucifer!

Lucifer: What is this?

Belphegor: Sloth lost power for an hour which we guess is Roo's doing. When it came back... all these flowers were here. Most inhaled a bit of the miasma but no immediate effects. We have required everyone to put on a mask to be sure. With the sudden onset of this presumably toxic air, evacuation to Lust is starting earlier than expected.

Lucifer: That's good.

Belphegor: The sealing ritual will start in a day or two. Satan wants to be sure there are no more surprises once we start.

Lucifer: He's right. t will just be a waste of time and resources.

Belphegor: ...Lucifer?

Lucifer: Hmm?

Belphegor: Will I lose your respect if I admit that I'm afraid?

Lucifer turns to his old friend (sibling, really), eyes growing soft.

Lucifer: As long as you won't lose yours for me.

Belphegor: You're afraid?

Lucifer: Yes. Just like I was when I rebelled against heaven. Or when I was made King of Hell. Or when Charlie was born. I'm as afraid now as I was before.

Belphegor: Oh..

Lucifer: Am I worth any less to you now?

Belphegor: No! Of course not! You will always be my, our, King. When you say jump, we ask how high. If you wish to go to war with Heaven, we shall ask when.

Lucifer smiles a bit. He was just teasing Belphegor. He and the Sins have endured Hell's greatest hardships together- he doesn't think he can lose respect for any of them if they tried.

Lucifer: Then there's my answer.

Belphegor: I- thank you.

Lucifer: I have to get going now. The sooner I find her, the sooner I can get back.

Belphegor: Are you sure that she will provide assistance for Hell's problems?

Lucifer: Let me worry about that.

Belphegor: Of course, do be careful on your journey, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Thanks, Bel.

Lucifer mimics opening a curtain to create a portal to the living world. He's about to go through when the Sin of Sloth calls his name once more.

Belphegor: Lucifer!

His sister gives him a deep bow. Murmurs around them spur as the people of Sloth have never seen their Prince act like this before. Lucifer can't blame them, it's not like he and the Sins ever interact in public. They don't know that Belphegor and the others always make sure to show Lucifer their loyalty to him.

Belphegor: I- we- have the greatest honor to be your obedient servant.

Lucifer looks around and sees that all the people have followed suit in bowing.

Lucifer: And I you.

And with that, he finally leaves Hell.

------------------

The moment Lucifer sets foot on Earth is a whiplash. It has been a while since he even ventured outside of Hell despite being allowed to- too guilty to leave because if the souls his actions had dammed to hell can't, then he too shouldn't-

He feels the cool breeze caress his face and play with his wings like a child would. There are birds up on the trees singing, fish in the nearby pond splashing, and then a few deers looking at him with curious eyes. Wow, Alastor's still following him.

Lucifer casts an invisibility spell on himself and prepares to fly. Once he was up in the sky, he took in one last appreciative look at the scene.

Lucifer: You've grown, Eden.

He says to no one and leaves.

A gust of strong winds suddenly blows through the forest below, causing the animals to sing their sounds along with the rustling leaves of the trees and grass.

If the fallen angel stayed a while longer, maybe he would've heard the wind utter a reply.

'We've missed you, dear angel.'

--------------------------------------------------------

What to look forward to in Part 11:

Luci's thoughts as he travels around Earth.

The meetup

[boxboxlewis]

Prompt: duck soulmate au 🦆

There's a rubber duck sitting neatly on the back of Daniel's drivers room sofa.

Daniel is getting used to the Alpha Tauri motorhome. It feels, like everything at AT, like a shitty proof-of-concept mockup of the real thing over at Red Bull: flimsier walls, smaller rooms, worse catering. But like—it's fine. He's not going to be there for too long, hopefully. Everyone's friendly, at least. Everyone's glad to have him back.

This duck, though. "Yuki," Daniel yells. He doesn't take his eyes off the duck.

Yuki sticks his head round the door. "Yes?"

"Did you put this duck here, mate?"

"Why would I put a fucking duck in your room. Daniel." Yuki doesn't sound impressed. He vanishes.

It's probably—journalists have been asking a lot, recently, about Daniel's lack of soulmate. He's thirty-four and not a hint of a goose. If you're going to get one, you usually get it by thirty, and Daniel had given some unwise quotes, earlier in his career. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to get goosed, right? I'm a very soulable guy," spoken straight into the Netflix cameras, is one in particular that journos like to throw back at him.

He'd thought, when he and Max got back together, that maybe—but. No goose, still.

The rubber duck feels like a mocking reference to the whole no-soulmate thing, and if Daniel's honest, he doesn't love it. He gets his phone out and texts Max. Some prick put a rubber duck in my drivers room.

He can see Max typing on and off for a few minutes before a reply comes through. Why do you assume it was a prick. Then, Maybe a very handsome boyfriend put it there.

Right, ok. Daniel looks at the duck again. Now that he knows it's from Max it looks friendlier. Almost cute. Why did you put a duck in my room, baby?

Max is typing, pausing, typing, pausing. At last he sends I'll tell you later.

Daniel finds a spot for the duck on a shelf, and kind of forgets about it.

Max wins, obviously. He wins the sprint and he wins the proper race on Sunday. Daniel is happy for him and also queasily resentful, love and envy curdling together in his throat. He pushes the envy aside pretty well, he thinks.

He's watching Max give a post-race interview, standing to one side behind him like some loyal political wife whose husband is explaining to the press that he's definitely not going to fuck a staffer again. It's fine. Max says that Red Bull have a very good car. He enjoys driving it. He says it like it's impossible for him to imagine not enjoying driving, and Daniel feels a tug of fondness somewhere in his chest. He can't resent Max, not really.

Then Max says, "Ask me about soulmates."

The journalist—it's someone from F1TV, Daniel thinks, but not someone he recognises—blinks at Max. "About... sorry, you want me to...?"

"Ask me," Max repeats, in his direct, throaty voice. Daniel loves him: that's all. "About soulmates."

"Right, yes," the journo says. "Er, Max, can you tell us your views on soulmates?"

"Well first of all I think they are very stupid," Max says immediately. "Who wants some smelly goose to follow them around? And also I think, they are bad because they can make people feel that their love doesn't matter, if they don't have a soul bond. But the love you build with someone because you both want to—I think, that is more romantic. To me."

The journalist smiles brightly at the camera. "Well, there we go! That's race champion Max Verstappen on soulmates! Now let's—"

But Max isn't finished. "For me, I would not even want a goose," Max says. "I would rather have some little rubber duck, that my lover had given to me. That would mean more, I think."

There are cameras all around them, but when Daniel steps forward and looks a question at Max, Max gives him a tiny nod, so: Daniel kisses him.

The rubber duck, assisted by Max's nephews, is the ringbearer at their wedding.

[royalwilmon]

this is a prequel of sorts to always on the tip of my tongue! a glimpse into wille and simon's very first taco tuesday. eventually (like, after all of tomt is published, so basically never) this will be one part in a series of mikael pov insights into wilmon's relationship, but i wanted to share this for now! enjoy!! <333

if he likes you, he'll smile

Mikael had been working at Geronimo’s for nearly two months the day that he met Wille and Simon. 

He didn’t even think he’d be in the job that long. He had just been laid off from another corporate bullshit position and had been enjoying a proper midlife crisis when another eviction notice forced him to resort to bartending again. Geronimo’s FGT was decidedly not his kind of place. He hated how touristy the area was, hated the shitty bands the owners constantly had in for live entertainment, and more than anything, hated how monotonous the job started feeling just after a couple of weeks. 

He wanted to quit. He was seriously considering giving his notice. He nearly did several times, but for whatever reason, he kept hesitating. It was good that he had a job for now, but he was already restless. Something was missing. Mikael didn’t know what he would do or where to go next, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was invisible here. Mikael couldn’t even remember the last time he had an honest-to-God conversation with someone. In this town, the idea of him disappearing forever without a soul noticing he was gone was more reality than fear. 

And then, one day, on a Tuesday in autumn just like any other Tuesday, Crown Prince Wilhelm sat at the bar right before him. 

Mikael didn’t give a shit about the royal family. He was surprised he even recognized him. He probably only did because Wilhelm was around the same age as Sanna, his daughter. Mikael remembered the headlines when Erik passed away. It was right after Mikael got into that last big argument with Nea before she packed everything they owned, left, and took Sanna with her. He remembered watching the videos of Erik’s funeral on the news, seeing pictures and closeups of Wilhelm, and just thinking about how young he looked. 

He still looked young now. His hair was shorter, his face more angular, and he didn’t look sad like he always did when he was on the news. Quite the opposite, really. He had another person with him tonight, a shorter boy who looked even younger, whose smile seemed so bright and genuine that Mikael almost felt blinded by it. As the two boys slid into their respective barstools, bright laughter filled the room, and Mikael thought that today would be different. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know if the change he felt was necessarily a good one, but it was different. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to address the prince in any sort of particular way. For a moment, he thought maybe the prince was trying to be discreet, and he shouldn’t address him at all, but the pair of security staff who followed the duo inside and positioned themselves nearby made it clear that Crown Prince Wilhelm was here. Plus, people around the restaurant noticed him and started staring. All eyes Mikael could see were on Wilhelm. 

If the attention bothered Wilhelm and the boy sitting beside him, they didn’t let it show. Mikael couldn’t imagine that it didn’t. He felt awful for the kids. As the stares turned into whispers turned into audible speculation, Mikael felt the urge to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and leave them alone. But if he was going to quit this job, he at least wanted to do so on good terms so he could still have references. He did not need to have to explain the fact that he was fired because he lost his temper in front of a prince to his next employers. 

Realizing that he was staring, too, and was maybe now part of the problem, Mikael cleared his throat, leaning forward on the bar and raising his voice so Wilhelm and his friend could hear him. 

“Can I get you boys something to drink?” Mikael asked, trying his best to sound casual and uninterested.

“What do you have with tequila?” Wilhelm asked. His voice was teasing, his smile playful. Mikael was caught off-guard. He hadn’t spent any amount of time thinking about what the Crown Prince might be like, but this young, smiling boy was nothing like what he might have expected. 

Mikael didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes a little. He picked up a drink menu and placed it down in front of Wilhelm, dragging his finger around the portion of the menu that listed their cocktails and detailed which tequilas they had on the shelf. 

Mikael watched Wilhelm’s smile twist into an amused smirk before he looked down at where Mikael was pointing. 

“Mmm, I’ll take a ginger beer, please,” Wilhelm’s friend said, reading the drink menu over Wilhelm’s shoulder. Mikael nodded and reached under the bar, opening the cooler and pulling out a glass bottle. He placed it in front of the boy, who smiled at him brightly and thanked him. Exceedingly polite. 

Mikael took a moment to size up the prince’s companion. He certainly didn’t seem royal or even royal adjacent. He looked astoundingly normal. While Wilhelm was outfitted stylishly and professionally in a collared shirt and smart sweater, the other boy came simply dressed in jeans and an old hoodie with the drawstring missing. The two boys looked like they came from two different worlds, but at the same time, there was a sort of familiarity and ease between them that felt… right. 

“How spicy is the spicy margarita?” Wilhelm asked, looking up at Mikael with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that Mikael didn’t quite know what to do with. 

“No. No, Wille,” the boy cut in before Mikael could even open his mouth to answer. “You can’t keep pretending you like spicy things. You’ll take two sips, spend the rest of dinner complaining about it, and end up wasting the entire drink.”

“You don’t know that,” Wilhelm grumbled, pouting dramatically as he looked back down at the menu. 

Mikael had to bite back a chuckle. It was amusing how comfortable the boys seemed with each other. The boy called the prince Wille and teased him knowingly. It was strange, seeing someone so famous casually sat in front of him, so strikingly human. Mikael felt drawn to the prince and his friend, almost like he was a part of their world. Or, maybe stranger, that they were a part of his. 

“I’ll order the House Margarita if you can tell me what’s in Geronimo’s Secret Margarita Mix,” Wilhelm said, looking at Mikael with that same playful smile that continued to catch him off guard. 

“It’s written in the employee handbook that if we tell someone, we have to kill them,” Mikael said, without thinking. He had a moment of doubt when he thought that maybe threatening violence against a prince might not be the smartest move, but at Wilhelm’s widening smile, he continued. “It also explicitly states that we do not grant exceptions regardless of rank. The only way one can learn the secret of the Margarita Mix is if they have concerns about allergens.” 

Wilhelm’s friend laughed at that, beaming at Mikael with a thousand-watt smile. 

“Oh, I like you already,” he said. The boy looked at Mikael closer now, considering him in the same careful way Mikael had just done with him. After so much thought about how working in this part of Stockholm made him seem invisible, in this moment, he felt almost unnervingly seen. “I’m Simon. Best friend of Wille. Official title. What’s your name?”

Still apprehensive, Mikael just pointed to his chest, where a nametag was pinned to his apron. 

“Mikael,” Wilhelm read, grinning wide.

“Good, he can read,” Mikael muttered to himself before he had a second to think better of it. 

His gaze flickered over to Simon, who looked like a kid at a candy store. Clearly, he was delighted that Mikael was instantly willing to poke fun at Wilhelm. Mikael didn’t know why he was chasing the approval of this… kid. Especially at the expense of the actual Crown Prince of their country. It was something to do with Simon’s smile, Mikael thought. It felt familiar. It reminded him of Sanna. 

Mikael knew his face fell at that realization. He also knew that Simon had caught it, and Mikael watched as his smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second. 

“Literacy is one of his better qualities,” Simon said to Mikael, glancing over at Wilhelm with a fond roll of his eyes. 

“It’s ‘Gang Up on Wille’ day, huh?” Wilhelm muttered, looking up briefly to glare at Simon. Simon just laughed lightly, looking down at the food menu the hostess had given them when they first sat down. 

Someone in Mikael’s position would have to be blind not to notice the rush of pink on Simon’s cheeks. Mikael remembered what it was like to be that age, no older than nineteen or twenty if Mikael had to guess. He recognized Simon’s exact blush from his early memories of Nea. 

Mikael wasn’t ready to make any assumptions, but he was briefly curious. He thought he would have heard something if the prince was gay. Or bisexual or whatever, Mikael didn’t know. Then again, maybe they were trying to be discreet. But, Mikael thought, there were definitely places more discreet than a busy restaurant in the middle of Gamla stan, just minutes away from the royal palace. 

So, they were probably best friends. Still, Mikael noticed the way Simon looked at Wilhelm, like he had just hung the moon. It wasn’t nothing. 

None of his business, though. 

“I’ll have the House Margarita. Salted rim, please. For now, you can keep your secrets,” Wilhelm said, smiling at Mikael again. “But next time, I’ll find a way to get you to tell me while also sparing my precious life.”  

“Precious,” Mikael scoffed, causing Simon to let out another breath of laughter. 

Mikael opened his mouth to ask to see Wilhelm’s ID before he stopped short. Do members of the royal family even carry identification? Mikael knew Wilhelm was over eighteen, but he was still legally required to ask. Unless there was an exception for princes? He didn’t think there would be, but he also had no reason to know. Would Wilhelm get mad at him for asking? He couldn’t help but glance over to the security guards, who, admittedly, looked terrifying. 

Mikael thought back to how he wanted to quit this job before they fired him. He did not want to have to tell the story of how he was fired for not carding the Crown Prince. 

“Can I see your ID?” Mikael asked, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. 

Wilhelm looked surprised for a moment, but he instantly reached into his pocket to remove his wallet and his ID, which, apparently, he did carry with him. That was good to know. 

“I’ve never seen you get carded before,” Simon said to Wilhelm, beaming ear to ear. “This is the best day of my life. I hope the food is good, Wille. This might finally be our place. It feels right.” 

Mikael glanced down at Wilhelm’s ID (which was weird, so extremely weird. Wilhelm had so many names and probably the nicest picture Mikael had ever seen on an ID) before handing it back to him wordlessly. 

Mikael set to work making Wilhelm’s drink, thinking that their interaction was over for now, but Simon spoke up again, surprising him.

“So, Mikael,” Simon said, his voice curious and friendly. “Have you always lived in Stockholm?” 

The answer to the question was no, but Mikael was a very private guy. He didn’t want strangers asking him personal questions. It was none of their business. Especially not the prince’s. 

Mikael finished pouring the last of the ingredients into his cocktail shaker before answering Simon’s question with a frown and a shrug. It wasn’t a yes or a no—it was just an acknowledgment. Simon seemed to take the hint, and he just smiled at him with a nod. Understanding, gracious, unnervingly kind. 

Simon and Wilhelm were quiet while Mikael finished making the drink. They looked around, admiring the space. For all of its faults, Geronimo’s FGT was fun. Decked out in colorful textiles, weird bird taxidermy, and neon cacti, the place felt like a fever dream interpretation of the American Southwest. Mikael did love it, and so, as it would seem, did Simon and Wilhelm, who each wore small, pleased smiles on their faces as they took in the atmosphere of Geronimo’s. 

Giving the margarita a few good shakes, Mikael poured it into a mason jar with a salted rim and slid the drink over to Wilhelm, who thanked him profusely and wasted no time downing half the drink with one prolonged sip.  

“Nectar of the gods…” Wilhelm mused, putting the jar down with a satisfied sigh. Mikael still didn’t know quite what to make of Wilhelm, but he thought that he liked him. Or, at least, he was pleased that the prince seemed to approve of his bartending skills. 

“Anything to eat?” Mikael asked, using both his hands to point at the pair of menus in front of Wilhelm and Simon. 

“It’s Tuesday, so definitely tacos,” Wilhelm said, with so much enthusiasm. 

“Which tacos would you recommend?” Simon asked, looking up from his menu to Mikael. 

“They’re all fucking great,” Mikael said, truthfully. Since starting here, Mikael had tried and enjoyed pretty much the entire menu. “Birria are good. Fish, too.” 

Mikael watched Simon and Wilhelm exchange a look, wordlessly communicating before Simon nodded and grinned, turning back to Mikael. 

“Perfect, we’ll try those,” Simon said, before glancing back at Wilhelm. “And we’ll split them so we can both try both.” 

“And queso, too. Please. As much as you’re willing to give us,” Wilhelm added, before doing something weird with his eyes. Mikael thought Wilhelm might have been trying to wink, but he wasn’t sure. He might just have something really wrong with his vision. 

Mikael left to put in their food orders, and then, a little reluctantly, went back to work. As much as his curiosity made him want to linger by Wilhelm and Simon, there were other patrons sitting at his bar, and more drink orders coming in for him to work on. Even if he had literal royalty at his bar, Mikael couldn’t afford to give them all of his attention. He was cutting his rent a little too close as is. 

While Mikael was able to busy himself with the Taco Tuesday crowd, he did occasionally try to listen in to Simon and Wilhelm’s conversation, just to get a better idea as to what their deal was. He wanted to know why they were here, of all places.

It sounded like they were catching up on the past week or so of their lives. Simon must have been a student, probably here in Stockholm, as he spent most of his meal talking animatedly to Wilhelm about various classes and professors. Wilhelm was listening intently, nodding along and peppering in questions and comments throughout. 

Mikael realized that their appearance at Geronimo’s was really quite simple. Wilhelm and Simon were two friends, meeting for dinner to catch up on each other’s lives. There was nothing fancy, no royal banquets or expensive wines or anything. Just two friends sat at a bar, eating tacos and talking about their day. 

It was… endearing. 

When it was getting late, and their plates were all but licked clean, Mikael approached Wilhelm and Simon again, leaning against the bar opposite them. He offered them a sort of smile, a slight purse of his lips that was just about as friendly as his face could get. 

“Good?”

“Fucking great,” Wilhelm grinned, repeating Mikael’s praise from earlier. 

Giving the boys a satisfied nod, Mikael placed the bill between Simon and Wilhelm. Simon let out a loud bark of laughter before pushing the bill directly to Wilhelm. 

“Why do I always get stuck paying?” Wilhelm said, teasingly. Still, he didn’t hesitate to immediately take out his wallet and hand Mikael a card, smiling politely all the while. 

“Wilhelm, do not get me started today. You are already on such thin ice,” Simon said, his voice surprisingly serious. Simon must have had plenty of thoughts on the excessive amount of cash Wilhelm surely had at his disposal. It was surprising—in a good way, Mikael thought. Wilhelm seemed to have a friend with a good head on his shoulders. Polite, engaging, and willing to challenge him. 

Mikael really, really liked this Simon kid. 

He also really, really missed Sanna.

Mikael ran Wilhelm’s card and returned it to him. Wilhelm pocketed his wallet, thanked Mikael again, and then started to get up. 

“You’ll be working next week, right Mikael?” Simon asked as he stood. Mikael was surprised at the question and didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Simon for a prolonged moment, raising an eyebrow. “Next Taco Tuesday. We’ll see you here again. Next week?” 

Mikael shrugged and smiled a little. He supposed he would stick around until next week, at least, if that meant seeing Wilhelm and Simon again. He was still curious about them. He wanted to listen to them more and try to understand them better. 

“Next week, then,” Wilhelm smiled. He crinkled his eyes in that weird and awkward way again—probably a wink. Then, with a final wave, they left Geronimo’s, security detail in tow. 

Suddenly, Mikael’s monotonous job felt like the most interesting place in the entire country. Maybe Mikael would quit next week. 

But for now, he’d stay. Make a couple of margaritas. Eat a few more tacos. Have a fucking good time. 

[a-998h]

hi, I hope you don't mind that. I want make an order. I would like a cult! Sagau fatui harbingers (Pulchinela plantonic, the rest all romantic) for Fem! Creator with character of Nastya (from cartoon Anastasia 1997.) She has a brave, astro smart, kind, short-tempered character. The creator remembers almost nothing about herself, trying to remember her past and who she is. She also has love line with Dottore (and once sorry Y/n hit him hard on the cheek and he was shocked). As in the previous request, you can come up with a continuation of this story. (Pulchinela plantonic, the rest are romantic)

(The closest character I could find is Anya from this moive and I've not seen this movie, so don't judge me).

You're trip to Snezhnaya was coming to an end. The harbingers have kept you mostly inside the palace. Being very boared you plan your escape. Sneaking out at night would work in any other region, but Snezhnaya getting below freezing at night. Sneaking out could still wrok, but it's not a good idea. So, you waited until the harbingers were at a meeting so you could escape.

When you did mange to escape you explored the city. You explored as much as you could. Exploring lead you to the local shrine and statue of the Creator. You had gotten used to people comparing you to her. The freedom you felt was new. You've tried finding out who you are, for as long as you can remember. You're search took you to dead ends. You decide to start serching for answears again. You walk into a city libraryand start looking at the books. The serch leads you to a worn, old looking book. Pulling it off the self you start reading. It is talking about the Creator, and how great they were. It gets boring, untill it mentions the fact that the Creator supposedly died in Snezhnaya. You remeber a young man in Fontanie telling you there was an energy coming from you. Deciding this could be a lead, you plan to go to the spot where the Creator died. Following the route, it ends to a stone. This pissed you off. You had braved the wild winter weather for a stupid rock.

You punched the rock in anger, which then made you feel a tingle run through your body. Looking at the rock, it is now glowing green. The rock breaks open to reval a locket. Putting it on, you feel yourself being sucked into your mind.

In a black void, you see fragments coming together. As the fragments come together you see memories. They show someon who looks like you creating the mountains, animals, and many other things. You think you're having a cold induced delusion. This theory is ruined when you see the figure adress themselves with your name. In Teyvat, no one was allowed to name their child after the Creator, or any other gods. You breathing picks up, your heart beats so hard that your ribs might break. When you get out of your head, you stare at the locket. A beam of light shots out of it. Following the light, you run into monsters that make it their mission to try and kill you. It gets on your nerves so much that you decide to beat the monsters into the ground. When you get to where the locket wanted it's revealed to be another rock.

"Another rock... I think I've lost my mind," You tell yourself.

Getting close to rock, it has words written on it. You stared at the words and you could understand them. Thing is, you never really knew Teyvat's language. You needed others to read things for you, and that made you feel helpless. The rock said, here lays the soul of our god. It wasn't refering to the Tsarita because she was still alive. Touching the rock energy follows through you. It scaes you. Getting to your feet you hear a voice. Looking behind you, you see Dottore.

"I was looking everywhere for you," he scolds.

You had started getting a crush on him over the month. His features and intelligence drew you to him. You saw yourself married to him, if you ignore the human experiments. He drags you back to the palace nad after everything that's happened today, you were not in the mood for this. You yell at him to let you go, but he ignores you.

"Hey! Let me go!" You yell.

He continues to ignore your yelling. This pisses you off even more. You raise your hand, palm open, and full of rage. The next thing Dottore knows, you've slapped him right across the face. He looks at you in shock. There is a staring match between you two. You see how you left a large red mark on his cheek. You lead him inside and to the guest room you were staying in.

"Wait here," You tell him.

He waits for you to come back. When you do come back with an ice pack he smiles a bit. Putting the ice pack on his red cheek he can't help but smile. When he thinks his redness is gone, he leads you to the meeting room. You sit in the seat that has been chosen as yours. The harbingers stare at you, while even more obession than normal. Dottore takes his seat and looks at you.

"Turns out our guest is more than a королева look a like," He says.

There is an unseen tension in the air. Dottore pulls out a vital of your blood.

"When I took this sample, it was red now it is a glowing gold color," He explains. He expalins how he found you in the forest near the rock. Turns out the rock is the grave of the Creator. The relization that you're the Creator hits everyone hard. The harbinger starts worrying that they weren't respecting you enough and you starting panicing because you might have to quit dancing.

"Well, it seems the other archons have not been taking care of you," Pulcinella mutters under his breathe. Pierro stares you in the eyes.

"It seems you will be staying in Senzhnaya until further notice, " he tells you.

Their romantic antics and attention grabbing tactics increase. Even though he now knows you're a god, Pulcinella still treats you like the young lady he sees you as. Your crush on Dottore goes from one sided to mutual. He brags that he is your lover, even if you haven't even kissed yet. Scaramouche treats you a bit more respectful. They never made you stopped dancing, they think it would be to cruel. They try and help you regain knowledge and memories.

In the end, if they weren't obessed before they are now and they never plan on letting you go.

[secretmellowblog]

I’m not coherent but there’s something fascinating about the way Javert’s inability to lie goes from being a source of strength to a source of deep vulnerability.

In earlier chapters Javert’s honesty grants him confidence and strength:

“He raised his head with the intrepid serenity of a man who has never lied.”

But after the barricades, his inability to lie makes him vulnerable around Jean Valjean— he struggles to lie to him and conceal how much he’s affected him, unable to confess his emotions to Jean Valjean because he can’t confess them to himself.

He tries to pretend nothing has changed between himself and Jean Valjean, but refers to Jean Valjean with the formal “you” without being aware of it. He gets instantly emotional the moment he recognizes Jean Valjean outside the sewers, in a way that he was not when he recognized Jean Valjean at the barricades. He tries to lie that he will wait for Jean Valjean in the street and be there to arrest him, but telling that lie seems to physically pain him, and Jean Valjean almost doesn’t believe him:

He added with a strange expression, and as though he were exerting an effort in speaking in this manner:

“I will wait for you here.”

Jean Valjean looked at Javert. This mode of procedure was but little in accord with Javert’s habits.

There’s a line in his resignation in Montreuil sur Mer that describes Javert’s eyes as being so clear that you can see all the way down to the very bottom of his conscience— which is so funny to me. That is a TERRIBLE trait for a police spy. Being so honest that people can see your entire soul is a HORRIBLE spy trait. Who made this man a spy. Who sent him to the barricades.

There’s a weird paradox to Javert’s honesty. He is a “mouchard”/police spy who uses the word “mouchard” as an insult, to describe the kind of liar he doesn’t want to be— and whose coworkers have to carefully leave him out of their corruption schemes because he wouldn’t stand any kind of dishonesty. At the barricades he’s easily captured after revealing his full name address and social security number to a question a better spy could’ve lied their way out of. He’s just not willing to lie, at all, for any reason— even though it’s his job. When he has to follow orders, he’ll gaslight himself into believing incorrect information (ex. “Champmathieu is Valjean”) rather than lie.

Post-barricades Javert is the only time we *really* see Javert struggling to lie to someone else that he feels things he does not feel, and believes things he does not believe…and it’s kinda endearing how he’s so bad at it. He sucks at it a lot.

And that’s just really fascinating, as a character note?

Javert never lied because he was always “irreproachable,” and felt that he had nothing to hide. Whenever he did commit infractions, he would honestly confess his failures and demand punishment. He’s always been stoic and calm, but he’s also always been so transparently honest you can see to the bottom of his conscience.

But when he’s no longer “irreproachable,” and when has things to hide— his honesty becomes this weird source of vulnerability.

[project-sekai-facts]

What's ur fav piece of trivia for every* character?

(*or at least as much as you can recall off the top of ur head)

my favorite trivia for characters is usually just whatever i think is funniest so just keep that in mind. that's not always the case but you might see it become a pattern. oh the other thing is whatever is most soul-crushing so yeah.

Ichika - either the fact her name comes from how her parents met (because i think it's really sweet) or that she accidentally discovered miku when she was watching videos on her dad's tablet and opened a recording of a miku concert

Saki - she used to listen to the song Time Machine when she was in hospital (at Ichika's recommendation) to remind her of family and friends. It's the in-universe reason why she is featured on the cover. This is actually one of my favorite facts in the game overall.

Honami - she is surprisingly good at flirting

Shiho - not one I've posted before, but in Run! Sports Festival! she couldn't bring herself to throw any of the balls in the ball toss because they had cute animal designs on them

Minori - she once passed out because Haruka wished her happy birthday.

Haruka - she likes penguins because she thinks the way they waddle is cute and she likes how round a lot of penguin merch is

Airi - she followed all of Shizuku's campaigns and bought all the magazines she was featured in when she was still a member of Cheerful*Days. She insists it was just research.

Shizuku - either that she usually has a thermos of miso soup on her to eat after practice or archery club or that she isn't good at texting. i haven't posted either of these before

Kohane - again one I haven't posted yet, but her favorite photo she's taken of Count Pearl is one of Pearl eating mice. the rest of VBS are surprised that she isn't squeamish about that sort of thing (i dunno what they're talking about that sounds like a very cool photo).

An - the possible symbolism of the black stripe on her new school cardigan. hello to the person who submitted that i am still not over it.

Akito - in Cinema he's the only person to sing solo during the first two choruses, the others don't get solo parts in the chorus until the end of the song. i think about this one a lot actually

Toya - he can't swim

Tsukasa - he's the comedic relief and there's a lot of really random shit i know about him because of that, so my favorite fact about him is whatever will have the most impact in the moment if i were to mention it out of nowhere. for a less vague answer, this one although i consider it to be one of my worst posts

Emu - she's very good at replicating cartoon faces. i like this one because it raises a few questions about whether the L2Ds are still exaggerated or if she just looks like that and no one questions that she actually has a cartoon face. what if project sekai ends with them all becoming self-aware.

Nene - either the fact that she thinks the forest has good graphics or that she called rui's mom "auntie" when she was younger because i think it's cute.

Rui - i like a good reference and i appreciate that he sometimes references famous people and media.

Kanade - she's left handed. i also like that her family name was made up specifically to contrast with the rest of N25.

Mafuyu - either that it's shown one time that she can see ghosts and then it's never brought up or referenced again, or that the "mom's cooking" listed as her favorite food might refer to the bunny-shaped apple slices her mother would make for her when she was a kid. i also like the detail that her eyes being two-tone is because she inherited the eye colors of both her parents.

Ena - twitter user. also despite loving cheesecake, she doesn't like cheese. girl what the hell.

Mizuki - they started out editing by making AMVs for a magical girl anime they liked. Amia comes from the name of a character from that anime. also did you know they put ice cubes in noodles because of their sensitive tongue. ice cubes.

Bonus - some side character stuff I like

Kotaro's favorite food is strawberries but he doesn't like strawberry flavored things for whatever reason

Asahi and Sakurako's family names are Chinese mythology references

Tatsuya's hobbies are motorbiking and fishing. these are not things you expect to go together

Nagi hated tomatoes but she would eat them in front of An

Iori hates spicy food, whilst Mio's favorite food is super spicy ramen. Meanwhile Mio doesn't like cream, but Iori likes crepes (which usually have cream on them).

Souma started listening to foreign music after Arata left for America

gbr i forgot about the vocaloids for a second but before i call it a day i think it's incredibly funny that Len cannot reach the stools in crase cafe.